#instead of just experiencing a thought and immediately throwing it out the window for peer review like this place

[corviiids]

god i need to start doing youtube or something so that if a post blows up i can get money instead of what i get on twitter which is inconvenienced

[screechthemighty]

"Screech how are you pumping out three chapters of this fic in a few weeks" deadass I don't know. Please do not expect this level of output moving forward, I just hit my stride out of nowhere and this chapter came to me really quickly. I have no idea if the next one will be as fast. Anyways, here's a new chapter!

the unknowable tomorrow | a tristamp fanfic part eleven: wolfwood

cw: gun violence, self harm, religious trauma (mentioned)

.

When Wolfwood emerged from the portal, he was tense and ready for anything. Which was a damn good thing, seeing how his sudden appearance scared the daylights out of a man with a rifle.

“…hi.”

The man pointed the gun at him. Instinct kicked in. Whoever this guy was, he clearly wasn’t an experienced fighter. Wolfwood had him disarmed and unconscious in seconds. “Amateur hour,” he grumbled as he checked the ammo left in the rifle.

He couldn’t get too overconfident, though. He’d lost his only vial; if he got shot, he’d stay shot. The twinge in his ankle, at least, gave him a reminder of what pain had felt like before.

More shots went off nearby. Wolfwood immediately dropped down to cover and started scanning the area. He was on a roof in a town that looked a lore more like how he remembered town, just smaller and newer. The shots weren’t directed at him; it sounded like at least three distinct guns, one on a nearby roof, two more coming from windows, all aimed down onto the streets. “Will you quit that!?” someone yelled in frustration.

“Will you stop shooting at me if I do?” called back someone else.

Wolfwood knew that voice.

A quick scan on the streets revealed a familiar tuft of blond hair peering out from an alleyway. I’m gonna kill him, Wolfwood thought. Assuming whoever was shooting at him didn’t kill him first.

“I’m just trying to leave! There’s no reason for all this!” Vash ducked back into the alley. “Bullets are hard to get, you know.”

“So are Plant parts. So, you can either hand it back over or – “

Vash tossed something out of the alley. It shattered when it hit the ground, letting out plumes of smoke and a really nasty smell. Vash used the distraction of it to dart out of the alley and towards Wolfwood’s building. It was a smart move, but the smoke hadn’t spread enough to hide him from the guy on the roof.

Crack!

Vash stumbled and hit the dirt. Wolfwood immediately aimed and fired. He hit something, if the puff of blood was anything to go by, but if couldn’t tell if the shot had been fatal. No time to double-check. He ran to his left, throwing the rifle’s strap over his shoulder as he made his way to the edge of the roof. More shots were fired, but he didn’t feel any heading towards him. Good; he still had the element of surprise.

He was just barely able to lower himself down and use the bricks as footholds to get to the alley without making his ankle worse. From there, Wolfwood ran towards Vash. He hadn’t gotten back up, instead curling up with his head over his hands. Fortunately, the smoke had spread out enough to give Wolfwood some cover as he ran over. “The shit did you walk into?!” Wolfwood yelled.

Vash looked up. “Nico?!”

Wolfwood grabbed his jacket and started dragging him. “I swear, you’re gonna get yourself killed one day without me!” One shot came dangerously close to hitting them. “C’mon, get up!”

Vash struggled to his feet. He had to lean on Wolfwood to run into the alley, and he left a blood trail as he went. Damn it. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad. Wolfwood shoved Vash in first before backing in, rifle aimed, trying to see through the smoke. “How many?”

“Uhm…six. Seven? Maybe six?” Vash collapsed with a gasp and started rummaging through his pockets. “Did you get the guy on the roof?”

“I got both guys on the roof. You’re welcome.” Wolfwood glanced back Vash’s way. Vash was wrapping some gauze around his leg. It was hard to tell how bad it was when he was wearing black. “What’d you do?”

“It’s a long story.” Vash finished tying off the bandage and then reached into his coat again. He found something in his inner pocket, then relaxed. “I’ll tell you once we’re out of here.”

“Sure. Fine.” There was a pistol strapped to Vash’s leg—not just a pistol, Wolfwood realized, but the pistol. “Please tell me you have ammo.”

Vash laughed sheepishly. Wolfwood groaned. “Gotta do everything around here…” He fished around in his pockets until he found the two .22 bullets and tossed them to Vash. “At least tell me you have an exit?”

“This way.” Vash caught the bullets easily, but had a harder time standing up. He was able to hobble on his own, at least. “Just one thomas, though.”

“I can live with that.”

They stuck to the shadows as best they could, but the place was lousy with people who were really pissed at Vash for some reason. It felt like they barely made any progress with how often they had to duck back behind corners or wait behind a trash can until people had run by. Wolfwood thought about pressing the issue of what the hell Vash had done, but kept the question in his back pocket. Something told him the answer was going to deserve a lecture, and they really didn’t have time for that.

After enough close calls to take years off Wolfwood’s life, they finally managed to get to the edge of town. The only thing standing between them and a much speedier exit was the stretch of sand between them and the cluster of rocks Vash had hidden his thomas in. “I don’t hear anyone,” Vash whispered.

Wolfwood grabbed his shoulder and tilted his head. Vash was right; it was quiet, but that didn’t make him feel much safer. There could still be people in the buildings.

But if you stay here, you’re definitely going to get caught. Make a call, and do it fast.

“Count of three,” he whispered. “Okay?” Vash nodded. “One…two…go.”

They took off.

Shouts started following not long after, but Wolfwood was prepared for that. He spun around, rifle aimed. Just one guy, but from the fuss he was raising, it wouldn’t be long until there were more.

The rifle felt light in his hands compared to the Punisher, but any weapon could do some damage if you knew how. And the Eye had made sure Wolfwood knew how.

He pulled the trigger. Another cloud of blood. The screams suddenly stopped. Wolfwood turned around in time to see that Vash had stopped running. He looked upset.

Nope. We’re not doing this today.

Wolfwood threw the rifle back over his shoulder and grabbed Vash as he ran past him. “Don’t you dare!”

“But he might be – “

“Not our problem!” Wolfwood expected Vash to put up more of a fight, but even though he was a fully grown adult now, he didn’t. He must’ve been just young enough to remember who was in charge. Good thing, too; Wolfwood might’ve been strong enough to carry him, but flailing limbs would bring him down just as quicky as excess weight.

He didn’t set Vash down until they were behind the rocks and the thomas was clearly in sight. Vash tried to run back out right away. Wolfwood grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to go!”

“But that man’s hurt!”

“And you’ll be dead if you go back there! And I’ll be dead from following you!” Wolfwood grabbed Vash’s shoulders. “His buddies will look after him. We’ve got to worry about us. Okay?! So either you can get on the thomas or I can knock you out. Your call.”

Vash stared at Wolfwood as he weighed his options. Wolfwood’s life against that of a total stranger. His eyes flooded with tears. They were blue, not gold, but for a second Wolfwood felt a stab of guilt as he remembered Livio. It had always been so easy to move the kid to tears—even gentleness could do it—but he always felt bad when he did.

But sometimes it was for his own good. And thank God Vash made the right call, getting on the thomas without another word. He gave Wolfwood a hand up, and they rode away.

Wolfwood set his attention on their back as quickly as possible. There was no way it would be this easy. “What kind of transportation did they have?” he asked. Nothing. “Vash?” Still nothing. Wolfwood kicked him. “C’mon, Blondie, you’ve got to tell me what we’re dealing with, here.”

Vash’s only response was to change their direction. Wolfwood risked leaning over to try and get a look at his face. There were a few tear tracks running down his cheeks, but his expression was more determined and frustrated than sad. “Yes or no, do you know where we’re going?” Wolfwood asked. Vash nodded. “Okay. Fine. I’ll watch out backs.”

That was going to be easier said than done. Wolfwood was still absolute shit at riding, and there was a good risk if he had to shoot, he’d fall off. Worry about that if it happens. Right now, you’re the eyes and ears.

For a while, there was nothing—just enough time that Wolfwood started to feel hopeful. Then, the wind carried the distinctive sound of an engine to them.

Damn it. Of course.

“We’ve got company.” Wolfwood squinted against the sunlight. “I think…two cars? Do they have a charging station?” Vash changed directions again. “Is the ship nearby? Rock structures, canyons…anywhere we can lose them?” Nothing. “Vash.”

“I’ve got it,” Vash said finally.

“Can I get a hint?”

“I unplugged their cars so they won’t be running on full charge. And a storm’s coming.”

“You had me until the second part.”

“They can’t use solar panels in a storm, can they? That gives us more of a chance to get away.”

Damn it. The logic was there. Wolfwood hated that. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Mobile colony. They should be about a day away by now.” Vash glanced over his shoulder, then urged the thomas faster. “Hold on.”

Wolfwood did, but made sure to check over his shoulder as they went. That was the thing about transportation in a No Man’s Land: Cars were faster than a thomas and provided more shelter, but a thomas could go more places and didn’t have to worry about a battery. In a chase, it came down to whether or not the bird could evade the vehicle until it overheated or ran out of juice. Those weren’t the kind of odds that Wolfwood liked to play with; it was why he’d favored a bike, until he’d lost it the same day Vash picked him up.

I really wish I had Angelina right now. It’d give him a feeling of control over the situation, if nothing else.

The storm snuck up on them slowly, starting as a distant haze that they raced into. Visibility went down the deeper they went. The sound of the cars chased them into the sand, but was eventually blocked out by the wind. Wolfwood had to duck his head and use Vash as a shield against the storm. After what seemed like an eternity of swirling sand and tension, Vash steered them into a cluster of stone and metal. It looked like semi-collapsed building. Wolfwood wasn’t sure if he trusted it, but it kept the sand out, so he decided to keep his doubts to himself. The way Vash nearly fell over when he got off the thomas was a reminder that he had other things to worry about. “Easy…”

“I’m fine,” Vash said immediately. He glanced down, then did a double-take. He was definitely bleeding out of the bandage, not by a lot, but enough to be noticeable. “Uhm…”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes as he got off the thomas. “Sit. Now.” He started rummaging through the saddlebags. “You got a first aid kit?”

“It’s in the next pouch over…no, to the left.” Wolfwood heard the sound of shifting sand as Vash sat down with a huff. “It’s really not that bad.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wolfwood paused to stick a cigarette in his mouth before pulling out the aid kit. “I’m still taking a look.”

There was a lot more he wanted to say, a lot more questions he wanted to ask. But the image of Vash’s tear-filled eyes kept dancing through his head. He was much older now—an adult, really, basically the same face as the man he’d known once, right down to the sunglasses—but those eyes were still too young. This wasn’t the Vash with over a century of experience. Hell, for all Wolfwood knew, he was only an adult in body, not in years or in mind. Wolfwood knew a thing or two about how that felt.

So, for now, he’d do what he’d do with the kids. Fix the scraped knee first. Lecture them about safety later. Even if he was really tempted to start lecturing.

When he turned around, Vash was carefully peeling up the leg of his pants, wincing as he did. “How bad does it feel?” Wolfwood asked as he fumbled through his pockets for his lighter.

“Less bad than getting my arm cut off,” Vash answered immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, wise guy…where the fuck is my…”

Vash pulled something out of his pocket, gave it a practiced twirl, and turned it on. The lighter. Wolfwood had forgotten he’d given it to him. Vash’s smile looked so much younger then, almost like the teenager of the last time. “I refilled it for you,” he said.

Despite his frustration, Wolfwood smiled. “Appreciate it.” He lit his cigarette before crouching next to Vash. “All right, let me take a look.”

Whatever had hit Vash had cut a trench through his leg. There was no debris stuck in there, at least none he could find, so he focused on getting it cleaned and stitched back up. Vash didn’t squirm, limiting his discomfort to a pained grimace and the occasional mutter of ow, ow, ow. “Should’ve thrown two of those things if you didn’t want to get hit,” Wolfwood noted as he tied off the last stitch.

“That was the only one I had,” Vash admitted. “I wasn’t even sure it would work, so I think this is kind of a win?” His grin grew even more sheepish as Wolfwood glared at him. “Not a win?”

“No.” Wolfwood wrapped a bandage around Vash’s leg. “Feel better?”

“Lots. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Wolfwood replied. Then, he flicked Vash between the eyes hard as he could.

“Ow?!” Vash squawked.

“What the hell was that back there?”

“I…” Vash’s cheeks went pink. “I know that wasn’t my best moment…”

“You got shot. What did you do?!”

“What makes you think I did something?” Vash crossed his arms and pouted. “Maybe they’re just mean. Did you consider that?”

Wolfwood crossed his arms right back. It became a standoff, the two of them staring at each other as the wind whistled outside and Vash’s thomas fruitlessly nudged through the sand for something to eat. Vash finally relented. “I…kinda…took something,” he mumbled.

“…you what.”

“It wasn’t stealing! Listen.” Vash pulled something out of his coat’s inner pocket and held it up. “Do you know what this is?”

Wolfwood had no idea. It looked like a little piece of metal with some squiggles on it, suspended in a clear container. “Doesn’t look like anything worth getting shot over,” he said.

“This is one of the primary components for managing Plant output,” Vash said. “They’re hard to get. Ship Three can technically still make them, but it’s really labor-intensive. Those people stole it from another group’s water plant.”

“So, you volunteered to steal it back?”

“That wasn’t the original plan. I wanted to just talk to them. I thought…” Vash carefully cradled the part in his hands. “…maybe they took it because they needed it, too. Maybe I could convince everyone to work together, somehow. But…” He shook his head, suddenly looking disgusted. “They just stole it to resell. That’s what they do over there. That’s why I took it instead of talking to them.”

Wolfwood wasn’t surprised. That kind of thing happened all the time in the future. Sometimes you had to weight the risk of fighting to get your property back against the embarrassment of paying three times the actual price to recover it peacefully. It must’ve been a con older than No Man’s land for people to be pulling it this far back. “So…” Wolfwood pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “…you, what, left Ship Three to help these people?”

“I didn’t come out here for them specifically. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do about…” He gestured expansively. “All of it.”

All of it. All the heaps of bullshit that ate No Man’s Land alive. That had been ever since the Big Fall and probably would until the second coming.

And Vash wanted to “see if there was something he could do about it.”

“Why do you look like that?” Vash asked quietly.

He sounded so young again. It was the only thing that kept Wolfwood from raising his voice. As it was, he had to take a deep breath to maintain what composure he had. “Why?” he asked.

The question that had been plaguing him since the first day he met Vash.

“Why…what?”

“Why do you want to see if there’s anything you can do about this shitshow?”

“Because…people need help. And I can…”

“But why does it have to be you?” Why take their bullets, their stones, their hateful stares? Why carry the weight of other people’s bullshit, as if he didn’t have enough on his own shoulders? “You should be back on the ship right now.”

“Yeah, but I can’t do anything on there.”

“Who said you have to? Why…” Wolfwood took another deep breath. “Is this about your brother?”

Vash’s cheeks went pink again. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“Are you sure? Because I swear, if this is you self-flagellating again for the Fall - “

“It’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I know my own motivations, thanks.” Vash’s jaw was set in a tight line, his eyes hardening behind his glasses. “Shouldn’t we want to help each other? Not helping is what’s keeping us in this mess.”

“That’s all well and good, kid, but I’m not sure you’re thinking about the cost, here.”

“I am not a kid anymore.”

The sudden snap of Vash’s voice sent a cold chill up Wolfwood’s spine. A part of him whispered that he should back off no while Vash was still forgiving, but his eyes drifted to the bandage again. To Vash’s prosthetic. They mapped the dozens of scars that weren’t there yet, but would be one day if Vash didn’t stop.

He should have made it about that. But he wasn’t very good at this.

“I probably killed that guy back there,” he snapped back. “Is that piece of junk worth it?”

Vash flinched back, his eyes growing wide and horrified. For a moment, Wolfwood was torn between guilt and stubbornness.

Then, Vash’s gaze went dark. “Well,” he said. “That was a stupid, shitty decision on your part, wasn’t it?” He stood up in one fluid motion, shoving the box into his coat as he did. “But that’s got nothing to do with me.”

And with that, he stalked away. He couldn’t go far—the structure wasn’t very big—but his turned back and angry body language made the distance feel much larger.

Wolfwood was frozen in place, his mind yanked in multiple directions. Fear at the anger he’d glimpsed in Vash’s eyes. Frustration, because this idiot just did not get it.

Pride and confusion, because this wasn’t the passive Vash who took almost every barb Wolfwood had thrown at him in the future with a sad smile or a kicked puppy look. But where the hell had this new Vash come from? And why was he gone in the future?

Wolfwood didn’t know. He just knew this conversation had gone sideways, and he wasn’t sure what to do to fix it. Great! Nicely done, idiot.

He didn’t trust himself to try again just yet. Instead, Wolfwood picked back up the rifle and started checking it for damage. He’d seen weapons like it, even been trained with one, but the materials of this one felt different. It had probably been made with Lost Technology. This would be an heirloom piece in the future. The kind of gun you gave a name.

Like what? Punisher 2?

Wolfwood shook the thought away and kept working.

He’d cleaned and re-assembled the gun and taken stock of his ammo by the time Vash came back. “If you’re worried about me, can you just say that?” Vash said as he sat down.

Wolfwood was flooded by the sudden urge to smack the kid, but he knew he’d be in the wrong this time. Vash was right; it was just annoying that he’d said it out loud. “I am worried,” Wolfwood relented. “You don’t exactly have a great track record with unnecessary guilt.”

“I know.” Vash fiddled with his zipper as he spoke. “Brad and Luida already talked to me before I left. Trust me, I’ve thought about it. This isn’t about what happened. I just don’t like seeing people in pain. I never have.” He shrugged. “Call me softhearted, I guess.”

He was. And it was going to get him killed.

“It’s not just about the guilt, though.” Wolfwood started re-loading the rifle. “You said that you were gonna try to convince those people to work with the other group, yeah?”

Vash nodded. “If they both need the part, it makes sense for them to work together. There’s no need to steal.”

“Maybe. But what if you couldn’t convince them? What if there wasn’t a plan that could help everybody? What if one of the groups decided it wasn’t worth the gamble and they’d rather focus on their own people? Could you fault them for that? How would you pick who to help?” He slipped the last bullet in place and met Vash’s eyes. “Is that a decision you’re capable of making?”

“…I…”

Vash trailed off. The more he thought about it, the more distressed he looked. “I…I’d find a way,” he insisted finally. “I wouldn’t just give up.”

“I’m not asking you to give up. I’m asking you to consider the cost. Someone’s gotta pay it.”

“Not always.”

“But most of the time.”

“Well, if it’s me, I don’t mind – “

“But. Why? You don’t know these people. Half of them would shoot you dead if they thought it’d benefit them—and don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen it every day I’ve been alive. They don’t care about you. Why…” He gestured towards Vash’s leg. “…why hurt yourself for them? If it’s not guilt, then what?”

Vash’s hands stilled. He stared down at his leg. For a minute, his eyes looked distant. “…I wanted to give up after Tesla,” he said. “On people, I mean. I would’ve taken Nai and left the ship if I knew how. Rem talked to me every day, brought me food when I felt too sick to eat…even when I hated…”

His voice broke on that word. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and kept going. “She asked me if I was really going to let go that easily. I had let go, and…I don’t like who I was then. I promised myself I would never give up like that again.” He met Wolfwood’s eyes. “She died for everyone who survived the Fall. She went back so she could save as many people as possible. How could I do anything less? Don’t you have someone you care about like that? More than anything?”

Wolfwood’s heart felt like it stopped beating for a second. You know I do, he thought. Except this Vash didn’t know, not yet. But he’d asked the question the same way…

“I do,” Wolfwood admitted. His hands gripped the rifle. “I choose them every time.”

And he’d resigned himself to the scars it put on the soul. As many as the scars Vash would bear on his body, he realized.

“I feel the same way,” Vash said. “Just…bigger. Does that make sense?”

It did. And it didn’t.

How could one person hold that much care in their heart?

Even for people like me?

“You’re insane,” he said finally.

Vash laughed. “A little bit, yeah.” The laugh didn’t last long. “Do you really think that man is dead? And when you took care of the guys on the roof…”

Damn it. This conversation again? When Wolfwood was still struggling with what Vash had just said? “I don’t go out of my way to be nonlethal,” Wolfwood said. “I told you, I choose…”

He cut himself off. Guilt clogged his throat immediately. It was a lie, or it would be a lie for Vash in a few decades. How dare Wolfwood let him down with those words?

And when did he become one of the kids?

Wolfwood knew. It was the second he’d held Vash in his arms and soothed him back to sleep. Every smile and childish laugh and wiped away tear. Just like with the other kids who’d wormed their way into his heart.

Just like Livio.

Vash’s expression was unreadable. He looked away from Wolfwood, out the window, down to his hands. “I…don’t want you to do that for me,” he said finally. “Okay? Please don’t do that for me.”

Yep. This again.

“Even if killing keeps you safe? And don’t you dare ask me to just let you die, because that’s not…” And there he went again, talking as if he wasn’t going to do exactly that.

Fortunately, Vash seemed to take Wolfwood’s burst of self-loathing for a different emotion. Either that, or he was too distracted by whatever was making him look so distressed again. “That’s not the only solution, is it? To kill?”

His voice wavered. There was something else behind those words, but Wolfwood couldn’t figure it out. He focused on the question instead, just as it was at face value. Of course, there could be other options. He wasn’t Bluesummers, ready to deal out death like it was candy. But in a place like this, sometimes you had to make the call. A lot of the time you had to make the call. Otherwise, what the hell have I spilled all that blood for?

Wolfwood’s hand instinctively flew to his shin, trying desperately to silence the thought. Vash, of course, noticed. “Is your ankle okay?” he asked.

“’s fine.” Vash started digging through his pack anyway. The sudden lack of eye contact made speaking a bit easier. “If I promise the lethal option will be a last resort…is that good?”

It was as far as he could make himself go. He was a little surprised that, after some silence, Vash actually nodded. “Thank you for hearing me out,” he said quietly. “I know, it’s a big ask, I’m just…” He produced a jar of some kind and a roll of bandages. “I’m trying to figure some things out. Here, let me take a look.”

“Nah, it’s…” Wolfwood hesitated. “I’m sorry for what I said. Implying that guy was your fault…it was my call. Not yours.” Granted, it was a call he wouldn’t have had to make if Vash hadn’t been an idiot, but it wasn’t about that. Not really. “You don’t gotta look after me. I can do it.”

Vash stared at him for a long moment. Again, he caught Wolfwood off guard by smiling. “I forgive you,” he said as he handed over the supplies. “I know, you were worried.”

“Didn’t have to be a prick about it, though.” Wolfwood tugged off his shoe, then started carefully unraveling the bandage. “That said, can you promise me you’ll value your life the same as you do everyone else’s? Please? Because I will send you the hospital bill if I start getting stress ulcers.”

Vash’s smile immediately grew teasing. “Maybe you should stop smoking if you’re so worried about ulcers.”

“Fat chance, ki – “

His ankle was fine.

No, not fine. It was still all cut up, and even his untrained eye could tell the stitches needed to stay in a bit longer. But consider how little he’d taken care of it, it looked…fine. It was healing well. What in the…

“You don’t need to put a lot of the ointment on there,” Vash said. “Little goes a long way.”

“…right. Yeah.”

What did you do?

Lack of proof and fear of the answer was the only thing that kept the question in his head. But Wolfwood’s gut screamed that Vash was somehow responsible. He just couldn’t figure out how.

Conrad didn’t change me that much, did he?

It took Wolfwood all of two seconds to decide that he didn’t want to know the answer to that. He applied the ointment and rebandaged his ankle. “Are we gonna sit the storm out?”

“Probably for the best.” Vash stood back up to pat the thomas’ head. “Just so she doesn’t inhale too much sand. We can leave as soon as it stops. Assuming…”

The two of them looked around. No sign of a portal. “Well, that doesn’t bode well for later,” Wolfwood said wearily. “You want to take a nap while you still can?”

Vash ended up laying down, but not sleeping. He stared up at the ceiling and hummed to himself. Wolfwood watched the sand swirling around outside, wondering what awaited them when they left.

At least he finally had a weapon. Even if he’d promised Vash that he’d consider the lethal option the last one, having the ability to defend himself again made him feel calmer than he had since all of this started.

Punching his way out of a solution was fine in a pinch, but he really preferred this.

.

They finally emerged from their hideout when the sands slowed down to a haze. Wolfwood was on edge, listening hard for anything that even remotely sounded like an engine. The whistling of the wind made it hard to hear, and the setting sun didn’t help with his nerves. They had to hunker down in a cluster of rocks that barely provided shelter when it became too dark to see. The moons had waned down to crescents, and even the biggest one didn’t provide enough light.

“So,” Wolfwood whispered. They technically had a watch order set up, but he couldn’t sleep. “Everyone get their act together back on the ship?”

“Yeah, they did.” Vash kept stroking the thomas’ head as he spoke. “I am going to go back there. I don’t plan on being out here full time or anything.” Thank God for that. “Actually, I promised I’d be back before they put Brad and Luida into deep sleep.”

“Into what now?”

“Oh, uh, suspended animation. Most of the people in the Seeds fleet were asleep when they were traveling, and the technology still works on the ship. Everyone decided to put crew members in rotation so we could cut down on resource use and keep people alive for as long as possible. Especially people with important research skills. Brad and Luida got put in the same rotation, so they’ll be going under soon.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I do have other friends now. And I help coach the kickball team with the kids sometimes, though I think they think my head’s a target.” Wolfwood snorted. He could picture Vash getting beamed in the head pretty clearly. At least it was a slightly less lethal fast-moving object than a bullet. “I’ll miss them, I know I will. But I’ll see them again.”

“They’re not gonna put you under?”

“They thought about it, but they ran some tests on me. I guess my cells are behaving similarly to a non-Independent Plant’s, and they can live much longer than humans under the right circumstances. So we’re holding off unless I start showing visible signs of aging.” Vash grimaced. “I didn’t really want to get put in a pod anyway. Even if it’s just to sleep.”

“That’s fair.” And he’d never have to do it, far as Wolfwood knew. Vash would look the same in 150 years as he did now, just more tired. “Shame it’s in a pod and not a whole room. Think it’d be nice to nap through some of the bullshit.”

Vash laughed quietly and leaned against him. “You’re just saying that because I’d be staying out of trouble if I were asleep.”

“I actually meant it, but that’s a good point. You sure you don’t want to skip all this?”

Vash nudged Wolfwood’s ribs. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“Don’t you tell me what to do.” Wolfwood tried closing his eyes again anyway. The space wasn’t very big, but the proximity of the thomas and Vash was strangely comforting and warm, not suffocating. It reminded him of nights when Livio or some of the littles couldn’t sleep and a bunch of them ended up bundled in the same bed.

Sleep came a lot easier after that.

.

The truly infuriating part of this trip didn’t end up being the baffling-ass conversation with Vash, or the shootout, or the general fact that Wolfwood was still doing this. It was the fact that he spent most of the next day grinding his teeth into a find powder from stress for nothing. The guys who’d been chasing them had lost their scent and never showed up again. No one nearly got eaten by a worm. The worst thing about the day was the monotony of it. Nothing but sand and sun, sun and sand. It was so mind-numbing that Wolfwood didn’t even mind when Vash started chatting away.

“So…do you have a favorite food?”

“Noodles,” Wolfwood replied. “Any kind. Doesn’t matter. Let me guess, you’re mister sweet tooth?”

Vash laughed. “That obvious?”

“I saw how fast you went for dessert back on the ship.” And would continue to in the future. The guy could pack away doughnuts with terrifying efficiency. “You’re still eating out here, right?”

“Yes, Nico.” Wolfwood couldn’t see Vash’s face, but he could hear the eye roll. He’d smack Vash for it if he wasn’t worried about unseating himself from the thomas. “What do you do? When you’re not following me around, I mean.”

Wolfwood was tempted not to answer, but figured a half-lie would satisfy Vash better than nothing. “I’m an undertaker,” Wolfwood said.

“Oh. That sounds depressing.”

You have no idea. “It pays the bills.” Just not with money.

“If you didn’t have to worry about money, what would you do?”

Wolfwood knew immediately. It was a decision he could never remember making consciously, just something he’d known. He’d never intended to leave the orphanage. He would’ve stayed. Helped Miss Melanie until she was too old to run the place, then take over. Helped as many kids as he could until he was too old to run the place, or died, whichever happened first.

But that was impossible now. No sense in dreaming about it.

“I’d do the same thing,” he said. “Someone’s got to, right?”

Vash fell silent. Wolfwood wondered if he’d heard something in his tone and guessed at the emotions underneath. If he did…

“So, if all those stories about the dead coming back to life ever come true, you’ll be the first one to know?”

…he was polite enough to move right past it. And Wolfwood was grateful for that.

“Sure would. Lucky me, huh?” He shook his head. “Good thing I’m a decent shot…unless you want to tell me we can’t kill walking corpses, either?”

“No, they don’t count. Their ticket’s already filled out.”

“…huh?”

“Their ticket. Everyone gets one when they’re born. You’re the one who decides what your destination is, or…at least, that’s how it should be. When other people change your destination for you…” He shook his head. “It’s one of the worst things you can do to a person.”

Wolfwood thought about the Eye. Pictured the child he was and the man he’d turned into. He wasn’t going to act like he was faultless—his choices were his own, at the end of the day—but if they hadn’t showed up that day, would things have turned out different?

Would he ever have stood a chance?

Blessedly, the sight of something in the distance kicking up dust gave Wolfwood something else to dwell on. “Reckon we should be worried about that?” he asked.

“Nope!” There was a smile in Vash’s voice as he changed directions. “That’s exactly what we’re looking for.”

Vash hadn’t been kidding yesterday when he said it was a mobile community. The setup they joined more resembled the caravans that followed some sand steamers then it did a town. Shouts rang out as people recognized Vash.

He’s back!

Thank God…

Do you have it? Please tell me you have it…

Vash pulled up alongside one group of riders and held up the chip. More cries rang out, prayers of thanks or sobs of relief. The cries of people who wouldn’t have to see their people suffer from lack of food or water.

Vash hadn’t bought that joy with too much blood today.

Wolfwood knew he wouldn’t always be that lucky, but he tried not to think about that too hard. Not when Vash looked so happy at having helped.

Wolfwood ended up tagging along with Vash to reinstall the Plant’s chip, but just as quickly wished he hadn’t. The decorations inside the Plant’s designated truck were a little too religious for his taste. Nothing matched the Eye’s iconography, but even the sight of a simple shrine was enough to make his mouth feel dry. “I’m gonna go out in a limb here,” he said quietly, even though it was just the two of them, “and assume you haven’t been chatty about your, uh…”

“Familial relationship? Hell no,” Vash replied. “They already think I’m some kind of chosen one because I’m good with her. I’ve been dodging invitations to speak at their services. No disrespect meant, it’s just…” Something chirped as Vash carefully inserted the chip. “…awkward. Imagine if people were worshipping one of your siblings as a fragment of the divine.”

“Oh, I’d never let them hear the end of it. Bully the damn god complex right out of them.” Vash laughed. Wolfwood risked a glance at the Plant pod. “You won’t let him get too big for his britches, right?”

The Plant stayed tightly wrapped up in her bulb, and Wolfwood had to look away. He kept expecting Chapel to round a corner and start lecturing him about his lack of worthiness just for being here.

Vash of the future must have been able to sense Wolfwood’s discomfort, because as Wolfwood’s eyes scanned the room for something to look at it, he spotted what he’d been hoping to see the night before: a portal, right there in the corner.

“Think that’s for me,” Wolfwood said quietly.

Vash looked up. A complicated mix of emotions settled over his face. “Guess I’m out of the woods,” he said.

“For now, since you keep running back into them.”

“It’s a calculated risk.”

“Sure it is.” Wolfwood shook his head. “So.”

“So.”

They stared at each other for a second before Vash stepped forward to give him a tight hug. “Be safe, okay?”

“You be safe.” Wolfwood hugged him back. They were the same height now. Vash felt solid in his arms, grown-up, but still clung to him as if he were small. “Can you think about what I said?”

“Which part?”

“All of it. I want you to be okay. I hope you know that.”

“I know. And I will, if you promise to think about what I said.”

“Okay.” Wolfwood was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to avoid it, much as that pissed him off. Vash’s words had a habit of getting under his skin. “Thanks.”

“Thank you. It means a lot, that you’re willing to listen.”

Listen may have been a strong word for it, but Wolfwood decided not to correct him. Vash held something out as he pulled out of the hug: Wolfwood’s lighter. Wolfwood thought about it, then shook his head. “You hold onto that,” he said. “For next time.”

Vash’s smile made the sacrifice worth it. “I’ll make sure it’s full. See you later, Nico.”

“See you, Vash.”

The nickname was starting to feel familiar again. Wolfwood didn’t like that.

Don’t forget who you are. Don’t forget why you’re here.

Wolfwood adjusted the rifle on his back, rubbed the back of his heel against his bruise, and stepped into the portal.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙈𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙅𝘼𝘾𝙊𝘽𝙎𝙀𝙎. | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

edit by @raeganlolz <3

∘ requests: I tried to use as many as I could that made sense! Hope you enjoy!

“the things i’d do to meet edgy karl’s parents.”

“ok but next time you want to write smut for edgy!karl...post pregnancy scare...karl having a fixation on readers tiddies...like the whole time. -🧚🏻‍♀️”

“i stg this is my last thing ill send in today about edgy!karl but karl letting reader dom him completely.-🧚🏻‍♀️”

“CONSIDER edgy!Karl saying ‘that's my girl’”

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader 

∘ warnings: nsfw (minors dni), mentions of underaged sex, asphyxiation, domination, this being 4k

∘ word count: ~4000 (im so sorry)

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ disclaimer: I made up all the dynamics and Karl lore. This is also an au and I do what I want so

You rolled your shoulders, twisting your back to alleviate some of the stress in your back as your mind raced at the possible outcomes of spending the weekend at Karl’s parent’s place. He seemed to deal with the situation in his own way, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips as he scrubbed the nail polish from his fingers. You wondered if his parents were sticklers for order, then again, knowing Karl, there was no way they weren’t crazy strict. You thought about your own family and what would happen if Karl were to meet your mother.

Karl seemed almost absent-mindedly going through the motions of visiting them like you had nothing to worry about. There were occasions when he even made it clear that you had your life more intact than he did, so it was doubtful they would hate you.

You peered over at him, taking your eyes off the road momentarily as he paused to blow smoke out of his window. “Why do you have to take it off?” You asked, gesturing to his hands.

He scoffed slightly, sitting up and throwing the dirty cotton ball into the small bag beside him. “My mom hates the dark colors,” he murmured, flicking his cigarette bud outside. He moved a hand to settle over your thigh, wrapping his fingers around the flesh. “Don’t worry, I’ll paint them again when we get back,” he chided. “I know it’s the only reason you keep me around.”

You snorted at this, shaking your head at his joke.

The two of you came to a small stop-over town, swapping seats after filling up the tank at the local gas station. Through the crack in the passenger window, you could hear the cashier greeting Karl as if they were old friends, smacking him on the back and walking him out the door with a smile. As Karl sank into the driver’s seat you furrowed your brows. He looked at you with a shrug. “We vacation around here sometimes,” he brushed off, making your mouth twist in disbelief. He was downplaying the extent of his family’s hold over the town.

As the two of you drove through the main street of the town, your eyes snapped to the various stores with his last name plastered on the signs. You nearly asked him about it, instead opting out as you figured he would give you a half-assed answer and only give you part of the story.

His house had its own street, a long winding road that ended in a looped driveway the size of a suburban cold-de-sac. You willed yourself not to let your mouth gape at the sheer size of the mansion as it stared back at you, blocking the moonlight as Karl opened the passenger door for you to climb out. “Stop treating me like the fucking Queen of England,” you murmured, elbowing him as he pulled on his hoodie, shaking out his hair slightly.

He laughed at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth, and pressing his lips to yours in a nearly heated kiss as if to give you a taste of what he had in store of you. As he broke the embrace, his nose brushed against yours. “I can treat you worse if you want, pet?” He offered, causing you to shove him away from you.

“We are literally in your parents’ driveway. Chill out,” you urged, making him chuckle as he laced his fingers with yours, pulling you towards the front door. Your heart hammered in your ears as he pushed open the door. You tugged on his arm. “Shouldn’t we knock first?” You whispered, making him pop his gum and shrug.

As if telling you not to worry, he pulled you the rest of the way in the house, only to be greeted with an old man barely reaching over your height. “Karl! My god, you nearly scared the living daylights outta me!” He hooted, as Karl wrapped his arm around the old man, the two chattering away like the best of friends.

You smiled at the warmth between the two, watching Karl blossom. He moved to stand by you, wrapping his arm around your waist and gesturing to the man. “This is my nanny, Leslie. He wouldn’t leave so I think he just dusts the books in one of the libraries,” Karl joked, making the man swat the air in front of Karl.

You raised your eyebrows. “One of the libraries?” You repeated quietly as if to make sure you heard him correctly.

He smirked at you, disregarding your surprise. “This is my girlfriend,” he introduced, rather proudly as Leslie’s face lit up. He grabbed your hands and rambled on about how he had never thought Karl would introduce a girlfriend to the family.

“I thought I heard Karl’s voice. Did he make it?” A feminine tone rang out into the foyer, capturing Karl’s attention a beat before she had started talking as if he had sensed her. You wanted to smirk at the vision, knowing he did the same when he heard you.

A woman came around the corner of one of the walls, her hair and makeup applied to a professional standard and her clothes were cleanly pressed. She looked as if she had just gotten home from an office job with a corner office. Her intimidating aura vanished along with his as soon as she saw him, scooping him up in her arms as he chuckled slightly. She held him out an arm’s length away, pinching his sides and calling him a beanstalk. Another man a few years older than Leslie entered the room, draped in a flowery apron. He embraced Karl as well, the couple fawning over him like they hadn’t seen him in years.

Karl gestured for you to come closer as he showed you off to the pair, introducing them as his parents. Karl’s mom immediately embraced you, murmuring about how Karl hadn’t brought a girl home in ages let alone a girlfriend and you were quickly being to notice a theme amongst the group.

The house was massive, which you had quickly noticed was even bigger than it looked outside, as Karl’s mother looped her arm around yours, giving you the tour and explaining the extensive history of the Jacobs family and their impact on the house. Leslie and she served as some of the most entertaining tour guides you’d ever experienced as they giggling and joked. Karl walked quietly behind the group of you, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the ceilings and pictures as if he hadn’t seen them a thousand times growing up.

You peered over your shoulder, making sure he was still with the rest of you. He set you a wink, lips curling at the sight of you getting along with his family members.

After you were finally beginning to lose track of time Karl broke into the charade, and after vaguely mentioning he was tired, his mother when into a mock cuddling mode, cooing to him sarcastically, yet letting the two of you slink away for the night with the promise of finishing the tour before Karl’s brother showed up in the morning.

Soon it was just you and Karl again, him leading you up a flight of stairs. The hallways were lit with small lanterns that at one time had probably fostered candles but were now replaced with electric ones. You weren’t sure where to look as the walls were crammed with painting and photographs. Half of you wanted to admire the architecture while the rest of you was attempting to identify who the artist was that had done most of the artwork.

Karl sighed tiredly, popping open a door and switching on the lights. You bit back a smile at the view of his room in its pristine condition. The various shades of blues and greys accenting the features of his bed and various pieces of furniture. As you looked around, he threw his wallet and keys onto the dresser beside his bed, shutting the door to drown out the faint music coming from the kitchen. You sat in one of the massive chairs beside the fireplace, your mind running blank with disbelief. A fire was already burning in anticipation of his return.

You ran your finger along the seam in the leather. “When you said your family had money… I didn’t picture all,” you paused gesturing around you, “… this…”

He shrugged with a small smile on his face. “Do you wanna know a little piece of Karl lore?” He asked, smugly.

You perked your eyebrows at his words. “You know I do.”

He gestured with his fingers for you to come towards him as he walked closer to one of the massive windows. He settled his hand in the crook of your neck, turning you to look across the pond at a few of the other massive properties. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before pointing at one directly in front of you. “I lost my virginity in that one,” he stated, making you chuckle.

He wrapped his arms around your waist. “And to whom?” You queried, as his teeth nipped at your ear.

You could practically hear him smirk. “Her name was Ms. Scarlet back then, but I think she’s been married again,” he answered, making you freeze in his hold. “I think she was between husband two and three.”

“Wait, what?” You turned around to face him.

He brushed his lips against yours. “You jealous?”

You furrowed your brows at him, pulling out of his touch. “Were you of age?” You questioned, voice coming out in almost a winded laugh.

He shrugged, plopping down on the bed behind him, leaning his weight back on his hands. “Not the first time.” He smiled up at you. “She’s a friend of mine’s mom. I cut her grass that summer.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Jesus Christ,” you murmured. “Did you hook up again after that?” It was like he had opened Pandora’s box, a mass of questions echoing like bees within your mind.

He looked at the ceiling. “We stopped before my sophomore year of college, I think.” He furrowed his brows in thought. “Yeah, so almost five years.” Your mouth gapped slightly. “But only when I came back for breaks.”

“You were seventeen?” You stressed. “And when you came back from where?” You sat beside him, attempting to decide if you should be worried or not. Obviously, it wasn’t a fact you could change, but the fact that a woman had him at so young-

He hummed slightly. “Boarding school,” he mumbled, trying not to seem smug. He wrapped his arm around your waist. “I know it sounds bad now, but she wasn’t taking advantage of me or anything,” he assured. “I think you’d like her, honestly.”

“You think I’d like a woman that preys on little boys?” He snorted at your comment and you smacked his chest, making him laugh louder.

He dug his face into your neck. “Age of consent is lower here,” he continued to assure. “Baby, I’m okay.” His teeth nipped at your skin. “Plus, I don’t think I’d know how to make you feel so good without her.” That made you green around the gills. You attempted to put the thought of Karl and an older woman out of your mind. “How did you lose yours?”

You swallowed your questions, deciding to save them for another day. “In a treehouse before I left for college. With my roommate’s twin brother,” you murmured.

He chuckled. “Oh, shit. We’re both bad friends, aren’t we?” He jested.

You shook your head, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I was dating him, actually. It was really brief.”

“The sex or the relationship?” He asked, making two gesture two fingers into the air. He pulled away from you, sending you a small smile. “And what’s his name? I need to know who you’re comparing me to.”

You scoffed. “Clay,” you answered, the image of the boy flashing into your mind for an instant.

Karl’s demeanor changed. “Clay?” He repeated, sounding like you earlier as you wrapped your brain around the extent of the Jacobs fortune. “What does that seem so familiar…” he trailed off in thought. You perked your eyebrow at him, knowing full-well the two could have unintentionally crossed paths on campus.

The next morning, you could have sworn you were on the set of a period piece if it weren’t for Karl’s father’s golfing attire and his mother’s tight black dress as they welcomed various family members into the house. You had finally met Karl’s older brother, an accomplished man with a good job and an even more impressive education, yet each time he attempted to boast about his earnings or the progress he was bringing to the family business, he was swatted off only for his parents to gloat about Karl’s fraternity connections and grades.

You peered over Karl’s shoulder as he showed you Todd’s Instagram post, the two of you scoffing before you liked his picture from your account, making Karl roll his eyes as you snickered.

“… And that being said, renting cars is no longer a strenuous task,” Karl’s brother finished.

Mrs. Jacobs nodded her head slightly. Karl had mentioned the family joke of disregarding what his brother said, even if it was impressive or you were interested. It had been a running gag since Karl was in high school and they weren’t planning on letting up anytime soon. “Yeah, that’s neat. Did you hear Karl learned how to do his own laundry?” His mom boasted with a small chirp to her voice as if Karl were the best thing on the planet.

You bit back a laugh as his brother grumbled to himself, his wife patting his arm reassuringly. “He was also one of the most expensive at KA. Very impressive son!” His dad added, sending him a thumbs up.

You stood with Karl in the living room; his arm draped around the top of a bookshelf you were leaning against as you both listened to one of his cousins talk about a new boat they had just paid off.

Your heels felt tight on your feet as you switched the weight from one ankle to the other, leaning closer to Karl. He moved so his lips were near your ear. “Don’t let him fool you. It’s a hollowed-out log with a rudder,” he chided, making the corner of your mouth twist up.

“It’s not much, but it’s honest,” you mockingly defended. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“Inexplicably,” he murmured back, making you laugh quietly. He let a beat of silence pass between the two of you before wetting his lips. “Say the word and we’ll find a random room and I’ll ruin your makeup,” he whispered.

You scoffed, inching closer to him while your eyes remained on the center of the room where everyone was talking. “How can you be horny around your family?”

You could feel his warm breath against your neck. “Because I’m more focused on you in that tight little dress than Kevin’s boat.”

You took a sip from your cup. “Dirty boy,” you joshed quietly.

Karl smirked at you before his eyes drifted to the front door, a new flow of people filing into the house. You noticed him grow quiet, following his gaze to a woman and a boy around your age. They greeted Karl’s parents happily before integrating into the living room with the rest of you. You could tell by the way his face twisted smugly that the woman was Ms. Scarlet. You drew in a breath as she neared the two of you.

Karl stood up a bit straighter and you bit back a laugh, making a mental note on having to tease him about his MILF. The woman smiled brightly at Karl, pinching his cheek. You attempted to piece together who the boy was and if Karl had mentioned him before.

Karl cleared his throat after they shared their pleasantries. “Uh, this is Nick, but everyone calls him Sapnap, and this is his mom… Ms. Scarlet?” He questioned the last part as she charmingly laughed.

“Oh, no darling. I’m Mrs. Donahue now.” Sapnap rolled his eyes slightly at her words, taking a sip of his drink as she winked at him.

Karl smirked. “Right, congratulations. Anyway, they’ve been our neighbors for years-”

She cut him off, squeezing his arm. “Oh, come on! We were trying to marry Karl off to one of Nick’s cousins and finally join the families, but it’s just funny how things work out,” she stated. You wracked your brain, attempting to figure out if it was a dig at you or Karl. The two of them went off on a tangent about the array of Sapnap’s cousins that Karl had had to take on dates and whatnot.

“So, you’re dating Karl then?” Sapnap asked you, more of an aside as they had seemed to forget about you.

You nodded; the fact still rather foreign to you when given the chance to think about it. “Yeah, I’ll claim him,” you joked. “Did you guys go to the same high school?” You asked, attempting conversation.

He looked at you tiredly. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been classmates since we were little.” You hummed in interest. “I mean, since he fucked my mom we haven’t been hanging out or anything,” he added as if you had been itching to ask.

You had been.

You snorted at his words as he smiled slightly. “Sorry, that’s not funny,” you apologized, covering your mouth.

He shook his head, laughing softly. “No, it definitely is, don’t worry.”

“How did, uh… that affect you guys?” You asked, biting back your humorous response.

He seemed to relax from his stiffened introduction a few minutes prior. He wet his lips. “Honestly, there’s no going back from that, you know?”

You giggled. “No, I don’t.”

He laughed at your answer, covering it with a cough as Karl seemed to remember you were standing beside him. Sapnap’s mom suddenly spotted an old friend of hers, the two parting from your life almost as quickly as they had entered. You leaned against Karl’s arm.

“I like Sapnap,” you hummed, watching the two leave. “He seems quiet.” Karl shrugged beside you. Your mind wandered to whether Sapnap knew Todd. Part of you wished you had asked him, but you were struggling to remember Todd’s real name anyway. “Did you have fun with your lady friend?” You mocked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, biting back a smirk. “You’re my lady friend.”

You chuckled. “Oh? I thought you’d forgotten.”

Before you knew it, you were pressed against Karl in a coat closet in a remote part of the house, unable to make it to his room before his hands were up your skirt and his lips were attacking your skin. He pinned you against the door as if he were worried you would slip out of his grasp as he ground his hips against yours. His teeth grazed against your neck in a mess of hands and hair.

You pushed him further into the closet before he plopped down in a chair towards the back. The both of you shared a look of confusion as to why it was there yet shrugged and went back to carding your fingers through his hair and tugging at his lips with your own. He moaned into your mouth as you climbed into his lap, his hands gripping the flesh of your thighs before snaking up to slip into the top of your dress and take your breast into one of his large hands.

Kissing him felt strange without his tongue ring; if you weren’t so desperate to get yourself off, you would have complained about missing it.

You ground yourself on his lap, groaning at your newfound friction as he spread his legs further for you, his free hand dragging you against his crotch. You pressed your lips against his neck, biting at the skin, determined to mark him as yours. You weren’t doing it to ward off Ms. Scarlet, no. This was for you, knowing full well that Karl always wore your hickeys with pride.

Your hands went to his belt buckle, impatience taking over as you nipped at his skin, earning moans of pleasure as he let you have your way with him. He pressed his lips to your chest as you freed his cock from its cloth entrapment, stroking him with your hand. “Give me your panties,” he whispered, breathlessly as he hooked his fingers around your waistband. You obliged before angling him at your entrance and sinking down onto him. The two of you let out moans of pleasure, swallowing each other’s appraisal.

The air grew warm around the two of you as you began to roll your hips against him. Your head tilting back as you tried to quiet yourself down, knowing the last thing you wanted was for someone to walk in… again.

Karl’s fingers moved to unzip your dress, exposing your chest to his mouth as your fingers moved to tug at his dark locks. He ground his hips up into yours, a thankful moan slipping past your lips as his tongue pressed against the valley between your breasts.

You pushed him against the back of the chair, capturing his lips against your and slipping your tongue into his mouth. He completely submitted to your actions, wanting nothing more than to taste you as you began to ride him harder. Your nails dug into the back of the chair, your other hand moving to unbutton the top of his shirt and wrap around his neck. “Is she better than me?” You asked; your breath husky and demanding as his teeth flashed back at you, his leering smirk mixing with his blissed-out expression as he tried not to roll his eyes at how good he felt with you taking all of him.

“N-no. Of course not,” he groaned. His lips were pink from your teeth, cheeks flushed with lust and adrenaline as his blunt nails raked up your body to claw at your back. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, voice almost a whimper.

You moved your hand to press your thumb to brush against his bottom lip, loving the pleasured expression on his face as he looked at you like you owned him. “Good,” you answered plainly, swirling your hips and tightening your grip on his neck before you could feel your impending orgasm nearly within reach. He almost smiled up at you. What a little freak.

You moved your hand to fist in the front of his shirt, pulling him up to press your lips against his as you bounced on top of him. He let out a deep moan before you felt him release, making you scoff sardonically. His fingers moved to grip your hips, thrusting against you harder, determined to get you to follow him. You dug your face into the crook of his neck, his teeth digging into your skin.

Shamelessly, you let him drag you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with a flash of heat and relief. Karl kissed you roughly, desperate to taste your moans as if looking for your approval. "That's my girl," he moaned, smiling against your lips.

As the two of you straightened your clothing and cleaned up your appearances, you went for your underpants in Karl’s pocket, but he grabbed your wrist, drawing you to his chest. “You got to be on top, that means I’m in charge of foreplay for the rest of the night,” he answered, pressing a brief and sultry kiss against your lips to wipe away your shocked expression.

“Fine, then I’m in charge when we get back and I’ll send lewds to Todd,” you threatened with an empty conscious on the matter. “Just to make it spicy. Stir it up a bit,” you joshed.

He groaned, making you smirk. “You’re playing with fire,” he mumbled.

Tag List:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole @itgetsatadhazy

[bluewhale52]

Little Black Book: The One You Hate (M)

Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Kim Seokjin, the one you hate.

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED.

Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to lovers, friends with benefit

WC: 3.9k

Warning: swearing, car blowjob, ass slapping, OC loves going down on Seokjin, sex against a window, sex between coworkers, love-hate relationship between OC and Seokjin (more on OC). I guess that’s about it….

A/N: Many, many, many thanks to @rainbhrts94​ for beta-ing this piece. I was experiencing a burnout and having a hard time putting all my thoughts together, and her reviews and suggestions totally helped getting this fic into its final form. Thank you!!  Also, I’m a total dodo when it comes to Tumblr so with some help from @aroseforyoongi​ and @moccahobi​, I’m reposting this with hope that the link works this time round!

Series Masterlist:  Little Black Book

Kim Seokjin was the bane of your existence. 

The cocky, arrogant IP attorney from the New York office had everyone on your floor in an uproar for weeks. You had seen him making one of the conference rooms his home away from home, with a hoard of lawyers and secretaries going in and out at his beckoning. You were watching them with jealousy. Sure, you were a mere junior in the firm and therefore the lowest in the food chain (just slightly above the interns), but you really wanted to be part of the action. 

Then, somehow, during his  last few days in Seoul, you were picked to help him and his team. Your excitement soon turned sour, as you were constantly on coffee and photocopy duties. How could you prove your worth when you were too busy being worked as Kim Seokjin’s personal server? Why couldn’t he ask one of his groupies? There were plenty of secretaries and PAs throwing themselves at him; you bet one of them would be happy to do this… THIS menial job. It was truly beneath your job description, and you started to simply, truly hate the man.

If that was really the case though, how did you end up in his luxury rental car, bending over towards the driver seat, sucking his cock? How did your mouth end up around his shaft, while your saliva dripped down and coated your fingers around his base? Why were your panties getting wetter with every moan and groan that left his lips? Why did you wish he would just spank your ass instead of tugging your hair? Why, when he came, did you gobble up his seed so greedily and lick him clean? Why did you even feel the need to stick your tongue out to him to show him you had swallowed every single drop?

Seokjin exhaled sharply then looked over at you as he tucked himself back in. “You do this with every visiting attorney?” He leered at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Just the one that pisses me off.”

He chuckled. “I should piss you off more then.”

“Are you going to drive me home or what?”

Seokjin started his car. The engine purred, and you pressed your thighs closer together at the soft vibrations that went through the car. “I promised I’d buy you dinner first, didn’t I?”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I had a meal already, thanks.”

Seokjin sniggered as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to drive you home - “the least I can do after all your hard work this week” he had said- and while your little apartment was at the other end of the city from the five-star hotel he was staying, it was indeed the least he could do for you. So when you had settled in his car and buckled your seatbelt, after he had asked if he could buy you dinner, you- in your frustration, because you hated him and you just wanted to go home (god, was that too much to ask)- muttered under your breath on how you would rather suck his dick than have dinner with him. 

You had been taken aback when he broke into a brazen smile, challenging you to eat your own words, and damned if you were going to back down. Deep down, you had wanted to see if this perfect man with the perfect face and the perfect suits tailored around his perfect body (he had legs that went for miles, you hated to admit), also had the perfect dick. 

It turned out that he did, and his perfect dick was perfectly hard when you unzipped him. And so, that was how you went down on Kim Seokjin, giving him a near perfect blowjob, in his car, in the basement parking lot of your firm. (Near perfect because honestly, you could have done a lot more had you had more ample space to move.)

You stole a glance at Seokjin as he drove. His side profile was sharp and too good to be true. Flashes of lights only further highlighted his jaw and cheekbones. You looked away, pouting. 

“I’m flying back tomorrow evening.” He broke the silence. “You gonna miss me?”

You scoffed. “You wish. I’ll finally be able to do real work rather than making you coffee.”

He had the gall to laugh. “I’ll be back in two months. Don’t worry.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. How did you get into this? How could you possibly be so horny for him? Was it your dislike for him that made you like this? You should have known better than blowing him in his car just now. What if he started shooting his mouth off in the office? Or worse, in your personal promised land, THE New York office?

“Seokjin,” you started, “about what happened just now, I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

“Of course, I’m not Yuna.”

You tilted your head at the name. Yuna was one of the senior partners’ secretary. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? She’s been telling everyone how good I was in bed.”

“You slept with her?” You couldn’t mask your surprise. “I didn’t hear anything about it. I must’ve been so out of loop with the rumor mills. Wait… Is that why you’ve been asking me to do all that shit? So you don’t have to deal with her?”

“Smart girl.” Seokjin made a turn, stopping just outside your apartment complex. He turned off the engine.

“And here I thought you liked my coffee. And how I photocopied your endless documents.” You said dryly. “Thanks for the ride.”

Seokjin stopped you before you exited his car. “Aren’t you going to invite me to your place?”

You chortled. “Why, you need a goodbye fuck?” You spat it out, but internally, you hoped your playing hard to get was not going to backfire. 

“Hmm,” Seokjin looked out of the car, eyeing your apartment building. “What kind of bedsheets do you have?”

“What do my bedsheets have to do with anything?”

“500 thread count? Or pure linen?” 

You opened the car door and got out. “Bye Seokjin.”

He got out too, walking you to the main entrance. “I’ll buy you some. For next time I’m here. Two months from now.”

You scanned your access card, but he stopped you from opening the door.

“Not gonna kiss me goodnight, sweetheart?”

You turned to him and leaned forward. But instead of kissing him, you stuck your tongue out and licked him, along his jaw, all the way to his ear. You did not miss the shiver that ran through his body when you closed your lips around his earlobe. Smiling smugly,  you opened the door, and as you were about to walk into your safe haven triumphantly, Seokjin slapped your ass. You stilled yourself, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction. 

“See you in two months, sweetheart.” You heard him chuckle as the door closed behind you.

Kim Seokjin was truly the bane of your existence. 

~~~

He returned to Seoul in two months. You were not keeping track on your calendar, no of course not. You just knew because the commotion was back, as it always was when he stepped into the office. He picked you again to assist his team (Yuna gave you an evil eye for that), and at the end of the work day, when you were filing papers and folders, he slipped a small envelope into your hand. 

“Open it at your desk.” He said in a low whisper. 

You looked at the envelope quizzically before putting it into your pocket. “Is it your credit card? To buy pure linen bed sheets?” You whispered back. 

“Sweetheart, I already bought you a few sets from New York.”

You snorted. Later, when you were back at your desk, you took the envelope out and opened it. You found a note with a gold monogram of Seokjin’s initials at the top. You laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Under his insignia, was a series of digits you assumed to be his mobile number. You saved it in your phone. 

There was something else in the envelope, however. A piece of key card, with the logo of the five-star hotel on one side, and handwritten 4-digit number on the other.  Your eyes widened. Was this an invitation to his hotel room?

You peered out of your cubicle like a meerkat, trying to find where Seokjin was. Then you remembered foolishly you had his number. So you immediately texted him.

– You [18:40] : Seokjin, WTF??? 

– You [18:40] : also, nice stationery

– You [18:40] : it’s me btw

– Seokjin [18:41] : hurry the fuck up. I’ve been waiting for you in my car

You smiled. The time had finally come, you were going to fuck Kim Seokjin.

~~~

You had to admit, high quality bed sheets felt amazing. It hugged your naked body like soft clouds as Seokjin pounded into you relentlessly. His thrusts had caused your body to move, inch by inch, from one end of the bed to the other. You were not complaining though;  the way he rammed himself into you made your breasts bounce back and forth like a pendulum on a string, the feeling was so delicious.

You gripped the edge of the bed as you watched him over you. His usually perfect hair was messy now, his perfect face was void of the usual laser focus expression you normally saw at work and of the arrogant smirk he liked to give you. His broad shoulders and lean torso filled your vision- you had had fun stroking your hands over his pecs, abdomens and biceps. God, you hated how perfectly hot he was. 

You whined pathetically when he plunged his cock and pushed it as deep as he could into you. Seokjin dropped to his elbows, and you welcomed the new weight on top of your body. He stilled, letting his hardness rest inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and could not help but clench around his cock. He groaned against your chest at the sensations. 

“Do that again, sweetheart,” he nibbled and licked your collarbone, “squeeze my cock again.”

You did as he asked, tightening your walls around him before loosening again, repeating the movements and creating your own erotic Kegel exercise around his cock. You could feel Seokjin’s breath faltering on your neck, and before long, you were careening towards your peak.

“Seokjin,” you gasped, “close.”

He remained still, even at your warning. Choosing to work his lips on your neck and up to your ear instead. Finding a spot behind your ear, he licked and nipped at it, sending shudders all over your body and suddenly pushing you to your release. Seokjin held you down as your body shook, willing himself not to come, but the way your pussy walls massaged his cock, it did him in. 

You and Seokjin held each other tight as you both came. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his hips pressed harder against yours as he shot his seeds inside you. Finally groans and moans gave way to heavy breathing, and as your heart rate slowed down, sanity returned. 

You opened your eyes. “God, don’t do that EVER again.” You slapped his shoulder. “I’m super ticklish there.”

Seokjin hummed, and nipped at the spot again. You yelped, but in the process you also squeezed his flaccid cock, still sheathed fully in you. “Now I know what to do when you talk too much.” He mumbled. 

You tried to wriggle away from his mouth, but the more he teased your spot, the more you moaned, and the more your body became heated again. You were all ready for round two, but your stomach betrayed you, for it growled shamelessly. Seokjin’s eyes widened at the sound, and the two of you burst out laughing.

“OK, I’d better feed you before I fuck you against the window.” He pulled out of you, holding on to the spent condom on his dick. Walking to the bathroom, he gestured to the phone on the bedside table. “Whatever you order, order the same for me.” 

And that was how you spent your first night with Kim Seokjin. Fucked out of your brains and eating room service food in his luxurious hotel room. 

~~~

You gave Seokjin your Saturday nights whenever he was in town, which was only about three to four times a year.. You hated to admit it, but you enjoyed your time with him. It was obvious he liked your company too, and your arrangement worked out well. You both wanted sex with no strings attached. You enjoyed arguing with each other, although it felt like Seokjin lived solely to rile you up to get a reaction out of you. He said he was training you to hold your poker face better; after all, didn’t you want to be a successful attorney like him?

And that was the situation you found yourself in that evening. Seokjin kept prodding at you until your temper snapped, and you roughly pushed him to the chaise in his room. You quickly worked on his jeans and his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles, only to find his cock already hard and weeping with precum.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Making me angry turns you on so much, huh?” You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, lazily stroking it a few times before squeezing it gently at the base. Seokjin hissed, but his annoying smirk never went away. 

“You can’t shut up your opponents by going down on every one of them,” he teased, his hand reached out to touch your hair but you swatted it away with your free hand, “no matter how sexy you are when you’re angry.”

You scowled as your hand continued stroking him. Keeping your eyes on his, you closed your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue lapping up his precum. Seokjin sucked in a breath. 

“So what should I do then?” You asked before licking up and down his length. Seokjin threw his head back, enjoying the wetness of your tongue on his hot member. 

“Hmmm… “Seokjin moaned. “Learn to control your temper better, sweetheart. You know how our kind is…”

Seokjin took a deep breath. Your tongue was still busy on his cock. It drove you nuts how addicted you were to the taste of him. “… especially to female attorneys..” Seokjin continued.

“Excuse me?!” you sat up straight, but your hand was still around his member, unconsciously squeezing it a little harder than normal.

“Ouch!” Seokjin yelped. “What are you trying to do? Pull my dick off?”

You sniggered, your grip loosened slightly as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me,” he asked, “how did your last case go? You almost lost because the opposing attorney kept throwing jabs at your gender, am I right?”

Your cheeks reddened. “How did you know about that?” you pouted.

“I get regular updates on you, sweetheart, I like to know how my protege is doing.”

You eyed him skeptically. “Wow, I’m so honored.” Your tone was flat, but your hand started pumping his cock faster. You thought back to the moment you nearly lost your temper in court, and you buried the memory deep. You leaned in and started to take Seokjin’s length into your mouth when it suddenly dawned on you.

“Wait,” Seokjin’s cock popped out of your mouth. “Is that why I didn’t get the promotion? I won that case but I didn’t get my promotion because I was too emotional?”

Seokjin groaned, in desire and in frustration. He looked down at you, kneeled between his legs, eyebrows scrunched up, eyes angry, mouth in a pout, and his hardness in the mercy of your hand. He ran a hair through his hair. 

“Now that you recognise the problem, will you solve it?” 

You nodded.

“So can we please continue?” He asked. 

You nodded again before your mouth returned to his cock. You enveloped your lips around the head, sucking it gently and licking it until you heard him moan. You started taking more of him into your mouth, the muskiness of his scent filling your nose. His hands found your head and held it gently, his fingers carding your hair. 

You continued to lubricate him with your saliva, relaxing your mouth and your throat to take all of him in. You steadied your breathing as you sucked in your cheeks, and you slowly pulled out all the way to the tip, before filling your mouth again. “That’s good sweetheart, you know just how I like it.”

You stupidly beamed at his praise, and it encouraged you to pick up your pace, sucking him faster and harder. His breathing was getting heavier, and you massaged his balls, eager for him to cum in your mouth. “No, no,” he pulled your head, and you came up gasping for breath. “I want to be in you now.”

You and Seokjin undressed immediately, and Seokjin went to the bathroom to retrieve a condom. He rolled the rubber as you positioned yourself by the window. The window felt cold on your back, but your core was wet and hot.  Seokjin lifted you up effortlessly, and your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck. 

Seokjin spat into his hand and rubbed his saliva over your cunt. Then the blunt head of his cock was at your entry, and he pushed it in, inch by inch until he was fully inside you. Adjusting his grip, ensuring he got you secured between him and the window, he started to move. Slowly at first, and once your juices were flowing and leaking, he went faster. 

You felt sweat developing on your back, making your body slippery against the glass. You dug your fingers into Seokjin’s shoulders, anchoring yourself up as he continued to pound into you. You turned your head to the side, catching the city skyline in the corner of your eye. 

“God, Seokjin,” you whined wantonly, “When I get that New York position, will you fuck me like this with the New York skyline in the background?”

Seokjin huffed, his hips not missing a beat. “Sweetheart, you’ll never get the New York position.”

You snapped your head back to look at Seokjin, he was still thrusting mercilessly into you. You pulled his hair. “What do you mean I will NEVER get the New York position?”

Seokjin’s smirk was back. He pulled out slowly then he rammed himself back into you hard, making you mewl. “It means…”

He took his time thrusting into you again.

“… you will…”

Another slow and hard thrust.

“… never get…”

He was hitting the sweet spot inside you.

“… the New York position.”

You cried out at his last thrust. “Because I’m too emotional?” you asked breathlessly.

“Because… “ his mouth was inching closer to the sensitive spot on your ear, “we’re closing that office.”

You gasped, at the news and at Seokjin’s sudden change of pace. He was fucking you fast again, pressing your body harder against the window. 

“Wait.. ah, Seokjin… “ you said between pants, “does that mean…”  

You could not finish your question because Seokin began nibbling and sucking your ear, sending your body rigid as the pressure on your cunt was waiting to explode.

“Yeah,” Seokjin panted. “I’ll be back in Seoul for good, sweetheart.”

You threw your head back against the window as Seokjin continued pistoning into you, pushing you towards and over your climax. You wailed in pleasure as the heat enveloped you. He did not let up at the slightest, his hips kept thrusting into you ruthlessly even as you began to sob from the oversensitivity.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around you tightly to move you, and you both collapsed on the bed, his cock still secure in you. He rolled to his back, bringing you on top of him. He slapped your ass. “Can you ride me?”

You pushed yourself up with your arms, your hair curtaining Seokjin’s face. You started to move your hips back and forth as you tried to get your breathing back. The sensitivity in your sex slowly turned into pleasure once again, and you quickened your pace. Seokjin moved his hands to your breasts, squeezing the flesh and flicking the nipples as they swung before him.

“Does… does this mean you’re gonna be my boss?” You asked between moans.

“Do you want me to be your boss?” Seokjin tugged your nipples, causing your back to arch.

“You’ll scold me everyday.”

“And I’ll fuck you every Saturday.” He thrusted up to meet your hips. “You like that?”

“Fuck no…” you felt the heat returning back to your core. “I’ll just hate you even more.”

Seokjin slapped your ass. “Just admit it, sweetheart, I’m your favorite among all your other fuck toys.”

You stammered as Seokjin thrusted up again, and he took the opportunity to pull you down onto his chest. Planting his heels on the bed, he held you down as he started thrusting his hips to plunge his cock into you, fast and hard. You closed your eyes tightly and felt tears slipping down your cheeks as you came closer to your climax.

“Come on sweetheart,” Seokjin whispered in your ears, “give me one more. Milk my cock.”

You cried out as your body jolted and shook. Seokjin kept holding you down, chasing his own release too. His thrusting became more messy, and he finally came too, swearing and groaning loudly.

You stayed still on top of Seokjin, your heart beating out of your chest, and so was his. You both lay on the bed, bodies sticky with sweat, waiting for the haze of your orgasms to pass.

“If you become my boss,” you whispered, “I want no special treatment.”

“Of course not, sweetheart. The only special treatment you get is I feed you after sex.”

You chuckled. “Speaking of…”

Seokjin rolled you over and pulled himself out. “Yeah yeah, order whatever you want.”

~~~

Today

Seokjin walks into your room. You barely glance up, used to him barging in whenever he likes.

“So, Yuna told me there’s a tall drink of water waiting for you in the lobby.” He plopped down on the little settee in your office. “So naturally I went to see. And you’d better get there before Yuna devours him.”

You glance at your watch. It’s ten minutes to 7pm. You smile softly, leave it to your boyfriend to arrive early. “He’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”

Seokjin ahs. “So, that’s the man who took away my Saturday night fun.”

You glare at him as you tidy up your desk. “Yeah well, he feeds me AND reads me poetry after sex. So, sorry.”

Seokjin stands up as you ready yourself to leave. 

“Besides, now we play Maple Story every Saturday, surely that’s more fun?” You tease him. He chuckles and rubs his chin. He accompanies you walking down the hallway towards the lobby. 

Before you arrive at the glass door separating the inner office from the reception area, you turn to Seokjin and ask, “Do you want to meet him?”

Seokjin thinks for a moment. “Does he know about our history?”

“He knows MY history, but I never share any names with him.” you explain. “He only knows you as my asshole boss.”

“Now I am offended. I thought I was a nice boss!”

“Well, I rant about you too much maybe. But he doesn’t mind, because you know what happens when I get riled up.” You wink. 

Seokjin laughs. “What a lucky bastard. OK, come on, introduce your asshole boss to your boyfriend.”

Published 01022021

[cheri-translates]

In Third Person (a translated one-shot)

This one-shot was originally written by 礼里图 on Weibo, who has given me permission to translate it!

“Love possesses not, nor will it be possessed. For love is sufficient unto love.”

[ 1 ]

It had taken great pains to be transferred to the Special Task Force. Your father, with glittering medallions on his chest, was vehemently against you throwing yourself into such a dangerous den. He only authorised the transfer after you threw a fit for several days.

He thought that your stubbornness stemmed from a youthful vigour, and an unwillingness to simply idle away under his protection. But you weren’t that ambitious. While leading an idle life was your ultimate goal, settling down was your life’s ideal.

Well, if it wasn’t for that person.

-

The person waiting for your arrival is Eli. After reading out the word on his name tag, he shoots you a smile, revealing a set of straight teeth as he exudes an aura of gentility. “Nice to meet you, MC. I’m Eli. Follow me. Captain Gavin is waiting for you.”

You thank him, maintaining an external appearance of calm. Trailing behind him, you murmur in your heart: What kind of a paradise is Loveland City? Why are there so many dashing men?

The Special Task Force isn’t large, and you are soon brought to your destination. Eli opens the door for you, and you see the back of someone standing tall and straight near the window. He turns around at the sound of the door opening, wearing a polite smile on his face.

The afternoon sun encases him. Against the light, you are unable to tell for a moment which one is of a lighter colour - his hair or his eyes.

He gives you a mild smile. “Hello.”

Dizziness consumes you, and it’s as though cotton is lodged in your throat. There are so many things you want to say, but you have no idea where to begin.

He doesn’t remember you. You know that.

“MC.. MC, wake up! Don’t go to sleep! The support team is on its way. Wake up!”

The gunshot wound on your lower abdomen is oozing with blood. You seem to be in someone’s arms. Fading in and out of consciousness, you hear someone calling your name in an unpractised manner. You want to respond, but blood rises up your throat the moment you breathe, leaving him to call out on his own.

In this lifetime, no one has ever called your name so many times before. When the helicopter makes its way to the scene, his relieved and slightly trembling voice propels you to struggle in opening your eyes. But all you see is his defined chin and his name tag coated in blood.

“Gavin?”

“Mm?” The man looks at you, slightly confused.

“Oh, mm... hello.” The profile in your memory and the person in front of you separate from each other. You react with a start, responding incoherently.

Fortunately, the other party doesn’t seem to mind your odd behaviour. He offers you his hand in a polite and business-like manner. “I’m Gavin. We welcome you as a member of the Special Task Force.”

“It’s an honour.”

He shakes your hand. His palm is dry and warm - different from the cold attitude he displays.

“Your Evol is stagnation? You can avoid any physical attacks, and within a set distance, you can indiscriminately freeze your opponent’s Evol.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath coming from Eli behind you. Suppressing the sense of pride in your heart, you look at the wad of documents in his hand, and nod.

“It’s a very unique and powerful Evol.” He places the documents on the table. When his eyes flit to yours this time, you can see that the amicableness in them is more genuine. “We welcome you.”

-

[ 2 ]

You came here because of Gavin.

During a special police training drill three years ago, the both of you were allocated to be in the same group. At that time, you were arrogant and condescending, looking down on everyone else. During the self-introduction, you didn’t even bother listening to what his name was. Back then, you were certain that given your abilities, you’d be able to get through this drill alone, even though historical data showed that 90% of the special police failed at this stage.

Your confidence wasn’t grounded in nothing. When it came to practice drills, every Evolver was important. So, there typically wouldn’t be any risky weapons like gunpowder. And you were certain that you could get rid of every Evolver within your range.

It couldn’t be helped. In this line of work, talent triumphed over everything else.

But things were unusual during that practice drill. You never expected that people from Black Swan would infiltrate the drill. He didn’t intend to expose himself, but you had once read about his Evol. 

Young and overly confident, you wanted to stand out, so you pointed him out immediately. Panicking, he chose to fire a gun. Although Gavin had tried his best to control the wind to alter the bullet’s trajectory, he was too far away, and time was too tight. In the end, you received a bullet to your lower abdomen.

That was the first time you had such a close shave with death. Many nights after that, it was only after recalling the warmth of Gavin’s palm on your wound, and that phrase “wake up”, that you could flee from nightmares.

You had to find him.

-

[ 3 ]

The life of a civil servant is a boring one.

“Are there any Grade A or Grade S missions today?”

“Nope.”

After asking Eli the same set of daily questions, you sit in the relatively comfortable office.

Special Task Force missions are split into six levels of difficulty - S, A, B, C, D, E. Grade S and A missions are typically led by Gavin, while Grade B and C missions are led by Eli.

Although your Evol is powerful, you’ve only been sent out on trivial missions during your past month in STF. Perhaps it was at your father’s behest, or because you were a newbie. You’ve always been led by Eli, and don’t get to see Gavin much. The first time Gavin saw you lifting up and Evolver with ease, he subconsciously scratched his nose and said: “Truly an overkill.”

You also found that it an overkill. Which is why you’ve been trying to get yourself roped into more difficult missions.

Each time, Eli would give you a look which said that you were being too thick-skinned. “Miss, it’s a peaceful and legal era we live in. We don’t get that many major cases. Also...”

“Also what?”

“Also, it’s not time for you to be deployed.” Eli points at your name tag, then at his own. “You’re blue. I’m green. When you’re green, I’ll help you make an application.”

“Get lost. You’re the one who’s green! You’ll be green soon!”

[Trivia] In Chinese,  being “green” means that you’re being cheated on.

“Why are you so agitated?” Eli leans closer. “Why are you so sensitive? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Who says boys aren’t interested in gossip? You roll your eyes at him. “Not for now.”

“That means you do have someone you fancy!” Eli nods contemplatively, a knowing look on his face.

You should have someone you like.

At least, if you don’t have a mistaken definition of what "like” is.

-

[ 4 ]

It’s a fact that the swivelling chairs in the office are not suitable for working. After using the chair for nearly a month, you get a stiff neck one day when you get up too quickly.

While laughing at your posture, Eli points you towards the infirmary downstairs, and tells you that there’s a kind-looking elderly physician who is experienced in Dit Da.

When you push open the door, you don’t see the physician. instead, you see Gavin, who you haven’t crossed paths with in a long while.

His face is deathly pale as he huddles on one of the sick beds. He looks incredible drained, and is currently asleep. The back of his hand is hooked onto an IV, and the top half of his body is exposed, bandages wrapped around his torso. His back is covered with pinkish bruises and brown scars, both old and new.

The door suddenly opens from behind, bringing with it a gust of fresh air. 

“Who are you?”

You adjust your breathing quietly, suppressing the urge to retch. You turn around to see an elderly man in his fifties walking in. He should be the physician Eli mentioned earlier.

“Hey! Why is this man asleep?” Before you can respond, the physician walks over, adjusting the flow of the IV, then tugging the blanket upwards slightly.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Gavin?” The doctor looks you up and down, his gaze settling on your name tag. “STF Member C-24. Are you this fellow’s subordinate?”

“Mm.” You nod, and repeat your question. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Small issue.” The physician holds up the medical record book at the side, pages rustling as he flips through it. “When does this fellow not bring back a body full of injuries after returning from a mission? Do you see that scar on his collarbone?” He gestures at his own collarbone. “If it were three centimetres deeper, it'd have reached his aorta. Even the gods wouldn’t be able to save him.”

Without waiting for you to express your opinion, the physician continues.

“Why are you young people working so hard? You’re already doing such dangerous work, yet you don’t cherish your bodies. Heading out on missions every day and night. Will the Special Task Force cease to operate without Gavin? He’s still in his twenties, yet he’s so tired that he needs to have an IV... ah, did I wake you up?”

You peer at the bed to find that Gavin has indeed been roused from his sleep. His eye bags display layers of fatigue. In a hoarse voice, he asks, “Why are you here?”

“My... my neck is stiff, so I’m here to have the physician do Dit Da for me.”

“...”

The room lapses into silence. Even without lifting your head, you can sense the physician left aghast at the different severity of injuries between the both of you.

“All right.” The doctor sets down the file in his hand, then walks over to you, placing his hands on your neck. “This is simple. Just twist... and done. Hey, why are you crying?” 

The doctor points at your face, stunned. At a loss, he looks at Gavin, as though trying to prove that your tears have nothing to do with him.

You touch your face, and only then discover that your face is damp. Astonished by this involuntary reaction, you use the back of your hands to wipe the wet stains off. But the floodgates have opened, and you just can’t seem to wipe your face clean. In the end, you decide to lower your face, burying it in your palms. 

The tightening sensation in your heart grips you in waves. You have no idea where this sorrow stems from. Or maybe you do. Maybe you have known since a long time ago. 

But you don’t dare to admit it, and especially not in front of this person - that your uncontrollably trembling shoulders have left you feeling ashamed. In countless nights after this, you’ll definitely toss and turn in bed, regretting this moment.

You don’t want him to be curious about why you’re crying. You’re afraid that his curiosity would lead to him uncovering a secret you wish to tell him, but have no idea how to broach.

“Eh... Miss, why are you crying? Did I hurt you earlier?” The doctor sees that you’re crying even harder now, and starts scrambling around for tissues. “I don’t remember exerting that much strength. Ahh, stop crying! I’ll give you some safflower oil?”

“I’m fine...” You summon your entire body’s worth of strength to bring your sobbing to a halt. Doing your best to control your sniffling, your eyes are hazy as you look at Gavin. You ask hoarsely, “Next time, could I go on missions with you?”

Gavin’s gaze lingers on your face for a very long time - until your sniffling gradually disappears. Only then does he ask simply, “The reason?”

“I’m very incredible. I’m really very incredible.” 

Seeing his calm, unmoved expression, I hurriedly rack my brains, and elaborate. “My Evol allows me to control any Evolvers within range, I have a keen perception, and even attained the first place in school.” His expression remains unchanged, and you end with a conclusion, hoping to salvage the situation. “Trust me, Captain Gavin. With me around, you... and the other colleagues from STF will no longer get injured.”

After this speech, it occurs to you that you might have been overly straightforward. You decide to add, “STF lacks an Evolver with spirit. I feel duty bound to answer this call, and step forward bravely.”

The more you speak, the more you feel like you’re building a weak case for yourself, and all you want to do is bury your head into the ground.

As expected, Gavin doesn’t appear to be impressed, and doesn’t even bother altering his expression. In the harsh environment of STF which requires one to numb oneself to life and death, not many people are willing to choose such a path.

But people like you who harbour talent and the mentality of a new soldier wanting to save the world are more common. After all, battlefields always require people who are willing to die in the name of their convictions. They might not be strong, but they are loyal. When it comes to honouring their duty, they are mighty.

He has likely seen too many people similar to you. People who volunteer their services in the heat of passion. With an official tone, he gives you his response. “The STF has its regulations. If you pass the probation period, you’ll naturally have the chance to go on missions with everyone.”

“Also,” he adds. “Reality is much more cruel than what you imagine. Instead of crying over someone else’s wounds, why not think about how to make yourself even stronger - this way, you won’t let yourself or other people get hurt.”

With this, he shuts his eyes, resuming his rest.

He had stapled a non-romantic definition to the reason for your tears. And you have no way of telling him that they were not simply products of a young woman’s fragile emotions.

Crying is a meaningless act, but what else can you do? 

Poverty, coughing, and romantic affection are unable to be controlled.

And you tears are unable to be controlled either.

-

[ 5 ]

Unable to get past the 887th stage of the mobile game, you’re in the midst of strategising your next move when Eli tosses a green ID card onto your office desk. It lands with a “thump”.

You lift your head, looking at Eli as he sits at the desk opposite yours. He throws you a can of beer, and a: “You’re amazing!”

Catching the can, you use a coin to crack it open. The mildly bitter taste flows down your throat, and it’s so cold that you shiver. Even though you already tried suppressing the happiness in your heart, a smile still creeps onto your face. 

“So-so.”

“There’s no need to be so humble!” Eli cracks open his own can of beer. His tone is direct. “I’ve been here for so long, but it’s the first time I met the Director. And it’s all because I assisted a little employee with a transfer. I’m truly basking in your glory.”

You take small sips of the beer, saying the phrase that you once used countless times, and garnered much envy and hate from. “You’ll get used to it.”

Eli bursts into laughter. Before you can roll your eyes at him, he suddenly asks, “Do you like Gavin?”

He’s referring to Gavin. Not Captain Gavin.

You resist the urge to spit out the beer in your mouth. While swallowing it carefully, you crunch the empty can underneath your feet, then toss it into the dustbin situated three metres away. Although it flies in the air in a beautiful arc, it regretfully lands beside the bin.

Eli picks up the crushed can, throwing it into the bin. Then, he holds up his unfinished drink towards you.

“Don’t get so agitated. I was just wondering why someone like you - with such a good family background and powerful abilities - would join a dangerous place offering you such harsh conditions. So I read through your file, and found that you, Gavin, and I were from the same police academy. No wonder you acted a little odd when you met him the first time.. Right from the start, you joined because of him. Right, MC? Or should I call you... Junior?”

You smile, neither admitting nor denying it. Instead, you counter with a question. “Does Gavin know that you’re this gossipy behind his back?”

Throwing his now-empty can into the bin, he straightens his clothes and responds. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t know it yet. It’s a good thing we’re considered friends. So I’d know if he brings you up.” He pauses, then continues. “You should stop caring about Gavin.”

“Why?”

Eli walks over, giving you a pat on the head. “It’s a long story, and I can’t explain it succinctly. In short, if you can forget about him, forget him. If you can’t forget about him, run away quickly. This is the prime of your youth, so there’s no need to waste it on the STF, and there’s no need to waste it on Gavin. Also, we have a Grade S mission tonight, and you’ll be following Gav... Captain Gavin. Make sure you’re prepared.”

Whenever people fall into the river of love, people often say that you shouldn’t waste your youth on one person, as though youth is something amazing. 

But when you think about it, you find that the thing you most cherish in youth, and the thing worth returning to over and over again, is the time you devoted your entire heart to wasting.

-

[ 6 ]

It’s been two months since you last saw Gavin.

In the break room just before the mission commences, you see him decked out in full military gear. He looks so handsome that his picture could be used as promotional material for the National University of Defense Technology.

Expressionless, he scans the team. Finally, his eyes land on you. Furrowing his brows, he asks, “Why aren’t you wearing a bulletproof vest?”

You stare at the new vest at the side, giving him a shrug. “I don’t need it. The enemy can't hurt me.”

Also, you’re worried that the bulletproof vest would be too bulky for your somewhat petite frame.

“Put it on.”

He speaks in a tone which leaves absolutely no room for discussion, and he exudes a rare, imposing manner of a high-ranking official.

Quietly, you pick up the vest and wear it.

Likely sensing that his tone was overly harsh earlier, he steps closer a little unnaturally to explain. “In every mission, there are many uncertain factors. Being overly confident is being irresponsible to yourself.” Saying this, he seems to realise that you aren’t the type of person who would be responsible for yourself. So he adds, “Think about the people who care about you.”

The reason suffices to convince you, although it would have worked better if he had said: “Think about the people you care about”.

-

When you disembark from the vehicle and see a huge, disorderly mass of civilians and Evolvers rushing over, you get goosebumps. 

Evolvers and ordinary citizens have never had a difference in actual strength. The difference lay in talent. Although you were especially terrifying to Evolvers, you couldn’t do much about normal citizens.

On this evening, five of you have been deployed to the scene, and can be considered to be the elites. It shouldn’t be a problem dealing with ten or fifteen Evolvers.

But when you see the vast group of people before you, you can’t help but feel anxious.

“We’ll buy time while waiting for assistance.” Gavin commands in a soft voice, frowning. “I’ve already contacted the armed police. We just need to handle the Evolvers. The civilians will be left to the police.”

Eli and the others nod. Using the car as the base, they form an inverted triangle with you in the middle. This formation takes into account how your Evol provides the strongest assistance. To an Evolver, losing his abilities is akin to being a sheep out of its enclosure.

But your Evol has its weaknesses. And its greatest weakness is you.

You feel dizzy at the sight of blood.

It’s likely a shortcoming resulting from the time you were shot in the abdomen and felt warm blood gushing out of your wound. Since then, whenever you see a patch of crimson or smell the scent of blood, you’d feel dizzy and experience heart palpitations.

Which mission wouldn’t involve blood?

You force yourself to concentrate on the swarming flood of enemies as they rush forward, so that you can use your abilities at the earliest possible instance.

Gavin is standing on your left. It’s obvious that he is on the alert. The veins on his arms are evident, and the surrounding wind rustles from his Evol.

The battle is about to begin.

The other side has also come prepared. Knowing about the existence of someone harbouring the “stagnation” ability, they plan to adopt a human wave attack. But Gavin’s wall of wind prevents them from taking a step closer. Naturally, most of the firepower is targeted towards him, preparing to break your team’s small but sturdy formation by taking him down first. 

You know that Gavin has always been good at fighting, even though many claimed that he rose to his position at such a young age because of his father. But how could the glory of one’s family bless one from escaping death time and time again?

However, even the most fearsome lion isn’t impervious to the bite of a stray dog. He’s gradually unable to hold off the firepower. A small tear appears in the wall of wind. And this is the chance the other side has been waiting for. Without a hint of hesitation, someone takes aim and shoots at the hole. It’s too late for the team to react, and they can only watch as the bullet whizzes towards Gavin.

You lunge forward without a thought. 

Perhaps you were always waiting for this moment, ever since you saw him wounded in the infirmary.

You’re not brave.

But you like him.

And it’s precisely because you like him that you’re brave enough to move forward.

The collision of the back of your head with the solid car results in an earth-shattering noise. The sudden sharp pain makes you blank out for a few seconds, and you hear someone calling your name loudly before you sink into a boundless darkness. 

-

[ 7 ]

When you regain consciousness, you’re in the hospital. Eli is sitting at the edge of the bed, paring an apple.

Noticing your gaze, he responds before you can even open your mouth. “I know what you’re going to ask. Gavin was here earlier, but left after the doctor said you were fine. There are still many things he has to deal with.”

You nod, eyes drifting to the drip tube attached to your hand.

“You’re okay, just a mild concussion. It’s a good thing you had the bulletproof vest on, or you’d be in the ICU right now.” He hands you a poorly pared apple. “Was it worth it?”

Goosebumps appear on your skin at his words, which sound as though they were extracted from a soap opera script.

You take a huge bite of the apple, the sour yet sweet juices filling your mouth. “Don’t ask me whether it was worth it. Ask if I’m happy or not.”

Not waiting for Eli to respond, you continue. “I’m happy. I was able to do something for him. I did it gladly.”

Eil’s hand trembles slightly, then he pats the top of your head gently. “You’re truly a fool...”

-

Later, Gavin pays you a visit. You’ve just woken up from a sweet dream, and the sky is already darkening. He’s standing at the window in a daze. Although you wish to stare at him for a while longer, he’s too sharp, and quickly realises that you’re awake.

“Feeling better?” He turns around and asks.

You nod.

He draws the curtains, letting the remnants of sunlight stream in. Then, he picks the sofa farthest away from the bed, and sits down. You know what he’s going to talk about.

“I hope this wouldn’t happen again.”

It’s exactly what you expected. You shut your eyes. In a hoarse voice, you defend yourself. “You don’t need to care about it.”

After all, you did it willingly.

He frowns and glances at you, as though he’s trying to find the correct words to say. Finally, he leaves you with a stiff sentence. “You don’t need to sacrifice yourself for other people.”

You smile, wanting to respond with: “But you aren’t 'other people’”.

After thinking about it for a very long time, you decide that you lack the guts to say it. 

In the end, you respond with what’s expected of you.

“Got it, Captain Gavin.”

-

[ 8 ]

It’s an old STF tradition to gather for a meal after a successful mission. When you see Gavin dealing somewhat awkwardly with the service staff’s overly enthusiastic ‘interrogations’, you feel like chuckling.

The world works in strange ways. Just a week ago, you were at death’s door. But right now, you’re standing here, watching as Gavin struggles between a half-spicy and half-mild hotpot or a mala hotpot.

Truly, the most ordinary things bring the most comfort.

Foodies love talking about their feelings over a meal. Before, you had mostly interacted with Eli. In the span of a single meal, however, you find yourself growing much closer to the team. Gavin is exceptionally quiet at the table. The person whose expression doesn’t change when faced with ferocious enemies, the most difficult circumstances, is currently red in the face and neck from the spiciness of the dishes. Even the tip of his nose is coated in a sheen of sweat.

He looks ravishing. It’s the first time your heart has fluttered so much during a meal. He seems to be ill at ease, and keeps checking his phone.

In the middle of the hotpot, you receive a call from your father. Gripping your phone, you head to the only quiet spot you can find.

After exchanging a few words with your father, you hang up. 

The clamour from outside drifts over, and you rub your slightly swollen temples. Suddenly, you don’t really feel like going back. You’d rather embrace this rare moment of tranquility.

Coincidentally, once this thought flits through your mind, you hear footsteps approaching. You’re standing on one of the higher stairs, which happens to be cloaked in shadows. If one doesn’t pay attention, they wouldn’t be able to spot you.

The owner of the footsteps leaves you frozen in place.

It’s Gavin.

He has removed his jacket, and is only wearing a white t-shirt. The look in his eyes is even deeper than the shadows. Ever since the two of you reunited, this is the first time you get the chance to observe him from such a close distance.

He coughs lightly at the seemingly empty corridor, then takes out his phone, preparing to make a call.

Despite this unexpected turn of events, you have no intention of eavesdropping. However, making an appearance now would just make things awkward.

While you’re still mulling over what would be the best course of action, the line gets through. 

It’s as if someone flipped a switch on him.

For the first time, you see a gentle expression on his face.

“What are you up to?” He says softly, reminiscent of someone afraid of waking another from a dream.

You can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but you can see his tender gaze and the insuppressible tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Just coming off a mission. I'm tired.”

He leans against a railing next to the stairs, subconsciously loosening his tie. At this moment, all his accumulated fatigue finally pours out in torrents.

He doesn’t say much after this. A faint smile lingers on his face. It seems the person at the other end of the line is planning something, and his smile grows more and more evident as he keeps agreeing with “mm”, “sure”, “anything you say”.

In the end, he glances at his watch, realising that he doesn’t have much time left. Softly, he says, “It’s late. Rest early. Goodnight.”

It’s a beautiful scene - giving someone a call after a busy day of work, talking about weekend plans, sharing each others’ lives, and basking in the joy of having someone concerned about you.

The only regretful thing is that the person on the other end of the line isn't you.

-

[ 9 ]

Only after a long while after Gavin leaves do you drag your numb feet out of your hiding spot. You spot Eli at the end of the corridor, smoking a cigarette. He looks you up and down, as though trying to verify something.

“Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly.

“I’m fine.”

The moment the words leave your lips, you feel your face heat up. Tears spill from your eyes, and you use the back of your hands to wipe at your face.

“It’s just an old habit. I'm like this whenever I get too emotional. Could you give me a cigarette? It’d help me calm down.” You explain, realising that Eli has no idea what happened.

With a conflicted expression, Eli retrieves a cigarette box from his pocket. He picks one cigarette bud and hands it to you. Placing it between your trembling lips, he lights it. It works wonders. The moment you inhale, you feel your entire body immersed in a warm scent. Encased in smoke, you hear Eli speak. “The last time, I mentioned that it was a long story. But if you want to hear it, I can cut it short.”

“I want to hear it.”

“That person is his junior. Gavin has known her for many years, and has liked her for just as many years. All these things you're doing...” He glances at you, then lights a new cigarette. “They don’t mean much to him. You saw the way he looked when he was making the call, right? It’s only for one person in the entire world. Nobody else.”

The tears surge forth once again. While you rush to wipe them away, you berate Eli. “Damn it! Why can’t you be more considerate to how I feel?”

Seeing that you’re crying even more fiercely, he stops his cutting remarks. Instead, he tousles your hair, then rifles through his wallet for a picture of Gavin. “It’s not for sale. I’ll give it to you as a souvenir.”

You take the photograph from him. It’s one that was taken a very long time ago, and its edges are curled. Under the dim lights, you take this old photograph in your hand, and are transported to the time of Gavin’s youth. He’s standing on the roof of the school, his blue and white uniform blowing with the wind. One hand is on the railing, and another is holding on to a paper airplane. With a slight smile, he turns back to look at the camera. Behind him is the azure sky.

Back then, none of these regrets blossomed yet.

“I don’t know if I appeared too early, or too late.”

Eli stares at you, his gaze sympathetic. “Sometimes, it’s not about whether you’re early or late. I’m not sure if you’ll understand if I put it this way - There won’t be another person. There’s only her. Gavin isn’t the sort of person who would like someone because they treat him well. It’s only when he likes someone that he'd accept that person’s kindness.”

“But,” he continues. “Even if the ending remains the same, you can change its course. After all, if you want a wound to heal completely, the best way is to remove the rotten areas. Perhaps what other people say is useless. You could try listening to his answer directly.”

You nod.

Loving someone requires devotion. One will always have to experience all sorts of hardship before it can come to fruition.

-

[ 10 ]

By the time you and Eli return, the meal has almost reached an end. Your colleagues are preparing to head over for karaoke next door. When you are all packed into the lift, you happen to stand behind Gavin. He has his jacket on, and his sleeves are pulled up, revealing a black plaited bracelet on his wrist. No matter how slow-witted you are, you’re able to recognise that it’s part of a couple set advertised by a certain brand a long time ago.

Behind you, a couple of drunk colleagues start causing a ruckus and bumping against your back. In the crowded lift, you shuffle your feet, trying to steady yourself, and trying to maintain a certain distance between the two of you.

Sometimes, you can’t comprehend your strange ego and pride. You’ve seen girls showering the guys they like with gifts, and wearing beautiful dresses to invite them out to movies. But you’ve never thought of imitating them. You’d even secretly celebrate when they get rejected - You were so glad that you were different from them.

But today, you realise that you aren’t that different from them. You aren’t even as candid as they are. 

The lively atmosphere is a stark contrast to your mood. Upon entering the karaoke room, you find a corner and isolate yourself with popcorn. Despite giving out clear signals that you’d rather not be disturbed, the officers pull you over to play ‘Truth or Dare’, calling it a necessary rite of passage for new members.

The rules are simple - when the mouth of the bottle points at you, you have to choose to answer a question truthfully, or do a dare.

You have very good luck, and the bottle continually points at other colleagues, and you get to hear all sorts of gossip, and witness several 'dares’.

After a while, the person responsible for spinning the bottle starts targeting you. When the mouth of the bottle finally points at you, you actually heave a sigh of relief.

It’s better to get this over and done with.

Without any hesitation, you pick ‘dare’. After all, there’s too big of a risk in choosing ‘truth’. A bespectacled colleague reads out your task. 

“Choose one guy in the room, lean in close to his ear, and say the words: ‘I love you’.”

You freeze in place, a million emotions bustling in your heart.

Honestly speaking, you never really believed in coincidences before. You felt that these were just things used to dupe the superstitious. But at this moment, this meaningless game started making you believe that coincidences do exist. 

Perhaps this is what people often call “fate”.

In the midst of the hooting from the audience in response to your task, you deliberately ignore the conflicted expression on Eli’s face. You stand up while your colleagues whip out their phones, ready to snap pictures and videos. They’re all ready to, as usual, capture memories they can look back on fondly each year.

Everyone is exuberant, and nobody notices your apprehension.

Your eyes fall on Gavin, who is seated at a corner. His brows are knitted slightly, expression indifferent. The black earrings on his ears reflect the cold light. When he doesn’t speak, he gives off an aura of not being close to anyone.

You imagine how he must have been like in high school - a bad boy with his hair dyed, riding a motorcycle, causing a ruckus in school, attaining poor grades, and always pretending to be cool by having earplugs in his ears while sitting at the corner of the classroom.

Until this day, a certain impatience can still be felt from this man. It’s very obvious, and can be noted with a single glance.

When your colleagues realise that your target is Gavin, the clamour grows even louder. Choosing a superior as a target of a dare - they must think that you have a playful spirit. You pause before Gavin, and the exaggerated exclamations are about to burst through the roof.

But when you muster the courage to lean in Gavin’s ear to say that phrase “I love you”, the surroundings lapse into silence almost immediately.

Maybe your expression was too serious. Maybe your tone was too sincere. Either way, everyone’s reaction tells you very clearly - you messed it up. The colleagues who were holding up their phones earlier in anticipation are now feeling awkward and not knowing what to do.

All is quiet. 

That is, until Eli breaks the silence. “This round doesn’t count - it’s so boring. Let’s change the target. MC, what about me?”

Gavin purses his lips into a slight smile, patting Eli’s hand which is resting on his shoulder. “Get lost. Don’t use our female colleagues to joke around.”

With this, the tension in the air dissipates. Everyone diverts the topic, and they begin the next round.

In the next few hours, you drink a lot. You puke a lot too, and it feels as though your guts are about to spill out.

Eli is the one who sends you home. He supports you into the car, and you hear Gavin telling him softly, “Give me a call when you’ve reached.”

Because of what he says, you end up crying all the way home. 

To you, he’s the perfect superior. A worthy comrade-in-arms. A righteous stranger. But he’ll never a reliable lover.

That night, you have a dream about Gavin.

In it, you can’t see his face clearly. He’s wearing a loose school uniform, and is alone in the basketball court, dribbling a ball, a plaster on his hand.

It’s a very realistic dream.

You’re sitting afar off and watching him. Occasionally, the ball would roll to a place near you. When you finally think of picking it up, you see Gavin running over. He’s so close that you can see strands of sweat-drenched hair on his forehead. You try reaching out to touch him, but you just can’t do it. It’s as though there’s a transparent film between the two of you. No matter how close you are, you can only be a member of the audience.

When you wake up, you’re facing the ceiling. Someone once told you that you’d forget the contents of your dreams the moment you turn. So you lie stiffly for a very long time, trying to remember as many details of the dream as you can.

Sunlight streams in through the curtains.

You finally turn to your side, and tears stream down the side of your face.

Even in dreams, you can’t obtain a happy ending.

-

[ 11 ]

After that night, because of your father’s position and how you faint at the sight of blood, you are quickly transferred to a commanding post instead of having to be deployed on missions. 

In an instant, you become Gavin’s superior.

Unlike in fiction where female superiors who experience unrequited love torment the target of their affections, or use their position to seduce them, you have no intention of doing so. Instead, you simply treat him much more coldly than a normal superior would.

Occasionally, in the middle of night, you’d have the urge to ask him a question.

"Why can’t it be me?”

But you know that this question has been buried in the last page of your diary, hidden in the corner of your bookshelf. It decomposes in your innermost heart - a place where no one has ever seen.

Because you already know the answer.

On the night when make-believe turned out to be reality, you had leaned in close to his ear, and said “I love you” in a trembling voice. Back then, he had turned his face away slightly, his expression grave and stern, reminiscent of the marble stone that you used to touch when you were small.

You know that it’d never be you.

-

Sometimes, when Eli takes Gavin’s place to give reports, you’d pull him out for a meal and drinks.

On one particular evening when you had drunk quite a fair amount, he leaned on the table and looked at you. “Have you let go?”

You secretly stole a prawn from his plate. While munching on it, you responded, “I’ve let go.”

You truly have.

Which is why afterwards, when you and Gavin were selected as stellar graduates to return to your alma mater and give a speech, the emotions in your heart were not turbulent. 

You vaguely remember that the sunset on that day was very beautiful.

The yellowish golden sun was gradually disappearing below the horizon, as beautiful as a painting - the most beautiful sunset in your life.

He stood by your side with a depth in his eyes - the most detailed stroke in this painting, etched onto your heart.

Although you tried to suppress the urge, you decided to speak. “I always hoped to get a chance to return to this place with you again. I didn’t think it’d come true. I’m left with no regrets.”

He frowned slightly. Even though he tried to conceal it, you could sense a twinge of awkwardness. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but didn’t. 

You chuckled.

“I once thought that the reason why I came to STF, why I went on missions with you, and helped you take that bullet, was for you. But now I know that it was to complete myself.”

“I don’t need a response from you. In my years of youth, meeting someone like you was already my fortune.”

He froze, lapsing into a long silence. In the end, he says: “Thank you.”

His shoulders relaxed, as though he had set down a large boulder, and was relieved of a heavy load. 

You had nothing much to regret. What’s there to regret? As compared to yourself, you’d prefer for him to get what he wanted.

Thousands of years ago, a poet called Su She once said that the flow of the river and the waning of the moon are simply temporary changes. From a broader, long-term perspective, they are never-changing. 

When you first heard it, you weren’t able to draw any lessons from it.

But when you flipped through Khalil Gibran’s collection, you were finally enlightened. After being troubled for so many years, everything finally made sense with just one sentence.

Gibran said: “Love possesses not, nor will it be possessed. For love is sufficient unto love.”

-

[ Permission to translate ]

礼里图: You can move it over if you state the source. It’s even better when more people can like it~

[bangtanblurbs]

young forever

song: young forever by BTS

first experience: strangely enough i have a very visceral memory of when forever young dropped. it was during finals week of my final year in undergrad. the song released on a sunday in the wee hours (or perhaps a monday? - days tend to run together during finals week). i didn’t have many assignments due that year since my course load was light and i was really just coasting into grad school the year afterwards (at the same institution i attend for undergrad). i remember logging onto youtube and catching the video as it premiered. i was stunned. HYYH pt. 1 and HYYH pt. 2 were heavenly to me, so of course young forever was greatly anticipated for me - the aesthetics, continuation of the story, and also simply getting new bangtan music. the cotton candy color pallet loaded onto my phone screen, and RM’s beautiful voice can through my earphones... i was immediately in love. 

every member looked completely stunning. the message i got from the video was... incredibly powerful. the maze. the lyrics. all of it resonated with me, a young woman -- 22 years old -- soon to turn another corner in life. i sat in my dorm room preparing for a busy week, as i was the RA in my dormitory and needed to help my students move out that week... as i prepared for my graduation and transition into my next step in life... i was also shipping out to macau, china for the summer in a few weeks so i geared up for that. this video dropping was almost a breath of fresh air from everything going on. i was able to really sit and enjoy it, but also reflect on my past, present, and the future to come. 

feelings: well, i have quite a lot. as someone who has been chronically obsessed with the story of peter pan since age seven, i’d say that youth is something i value - perhaps a bit too much. what’s interesting though is young forever isn’t necessarily about youth in the rawest sense... it’s also about dreams, reaching the point in your life where you’re happy, with yourself, your circumstances, ultimately your place in life. which i suppose most people equate that with youth, the innocence and naivety of it all. for me, thinking about forever young is kind of about that anxiety we carry as we get younger - have a made good use of my youth? did i squander it, getting caught up in the day to day or bogged down by my demons? the worry that our youth is our prime and when it’s gone, where do we go next? retire? it’s kind of funny thinking about this now as I’m 27 instead of 22. do i feel any older? no, not really - i feel the same. the same energy, the same zeal for life. do i look back on the days when i was younger and think that my youth is gone? no. for me - youth - it’s a state of mind. it’s an ethos, a way of proceeding forwards in my life. i didn’t always think this way - perhaps that was wrapped up in my anxiety about getting older. i used to lament my birthday each passing year - god turning 23 felt the absolute worst for some reason. it’s funny now though - how i almost feel younger, lighter, now than i did. youth should be a feeling of unburdened peace right? ideally it would seem so - but the reality in our world today... youth is pain. youth is struggling. youth is stumbling through the dark and trying to figure out who the hell you are, who the hell you want to be. i still feel like i’m stuck in that place, that place of wonder - of reaching out, exploring, experiencing... i feel as naïve as ever despite the pain that courses through some of my life. 

so back to young forever - how does the song make me feel? it makes me feel at home. at peace. forever we can carry our youth, forever we can approach our lives with childish curiosity, with the energy to follow our dreams, with a dedication to our passion, and an and endless realization that change is the only constant in our lives. despite the ups and downs that might come with living with this mindset - i wouldn’t want to live any other way. what’s the point of continuing to grind hard every day in the cruel systems our society has built if we can’t at least say we did it with voracious appetite to experience fully our surroundings, emotions, and imaginations?

personal connection: it’s rather hard for me to nail down all of my personal connections to young forever. as i mentioned, i have a really strong connection to the story of peter pan. i’ll briefly explain why and how that plays in here - but i must warn you... if you’re uncomfortable with strangers oversharing on the internet, perhaps this isn’t the blog for you to read. i’m quite comfortable bearing my soul to people i don’t know. for some reason vulnerability has never been something i’ve struggled with - perhaps it’s the naivety i love about myself. anyways... here we go.

when i was 17 my best friend passed away from cancer. it was relatively quick. just a summer we spent together gossiping in a hospital room, machines beeping while we tried our very best just to giggle about boys and lament our torturous IB courses. i’d known her nearly my whole life. meeting in second grade - and bonding quickly over a love for the whimsy of peter pan’s story. we’d gush on the playground about flying away to neverland - where we could do whatever we wanted. explore, sing, fly. but she was gone then. gone far too soon. frozen in a youthful state in my mind. her passing is still the hardest thing i’ve ever been through in my life, and i’ve been through some scary shit. immediately when i hard young forever i thought about her. i thought about how she lived. she was fearless. the bravest and strongest person i ever knew, and still to this day, have ever known. knowing her - experiencing her soul - it changed me. once she passed away i had to be strong, my classmates looked to me as their rock, my parents forbid me to cry, everyone pushed me into adulthood way too quickly. i was just a seventeen year old girl. i was having a crisis - i wanted nothing more than to speak to my best friend as i navigated choosing my next steps after high school. but she wasn’t there, and i wasn’t allowed to feel. i was terrified. my youth was gone. nothing seemed fun anymore. youth became pain as i looked around at my peers who were back to normal in a matter of weeks. giggling with one another, moving along with life. i became a robot. quickly i threw myself into school work. i was already a high achieving student but i climbed higher. i worked harder. i had decided that for the life she couldn’t live, i would live it for her. i’d go to the best college i could, i’d do all the things i never dreamed i could. i’d do it for her. but i wasn’t living. i had let my youth go. i was fading away. just a shell. 

it’s funny. or perhaps it’s not. young forever is a comfort song. a comfort song with some incredible darkness in it. the anxiety in namjoon’s verse, yoongi’s speaking to hiding feelings - pushing forward despite what he carries, hoseok’s verse about letting himself go and just giving what he has to keep pushing. their words - that’s how i felt. the song dropped around four years after my friend’s passing. i needed it before then. although perhaps it wouldn’t have “saved me” because music doesn’t save, music gives us the strength and comfort we need to save ourselves (i’m not a fan of taking way my own agency in MY story), it might have offered me a light in an increasingly blurry world. 

a year prior to the song’s release i’d spent a summer in china. my life changed there. i lived with seven incredibly bright middle school girls. that experience, i never thought it would start to heal me the way it did. they were under immense pressure (the education system in china is total bullshit)... and they told me “caroline, youth is pain. it’s not beautiful. it’s a period where we struggle the most.” i’d never heard this. the typical western perspective is that youth is “the most beautiful part of life” - it’s where you fall in love, it’s where you get hurt and you pick yourself up, it’s where you find yourself, you feel invincible. but that’s just it - it’s also where you can get incredibly lost (like the maze in the video). not all of us experience youth without pain. this perspective helped me to heal. i wasn’t so alone - i wasn’t squandering my youth, sure - i was treading water - but that was okay. i could cry. i could feel. and so, at this point i began to write my own story again. rather than living for someone else, i decided to throw the book out the window, to pick myself and run like hell towards what i wanted. to accept the freefall of life. that’s youth. that’s the most beautiful part of life. the part where you free yourself from whatever chains society has on you. youth is only associated with being a child because that who should be the most free. when truly youth, youth is that period in your life when you learn to live for yourself, your dreams. dream, hope, keep going. don’t fucking stop.

so this brings us to 2016. i was weeks away from a new journey abroad when young forever dropped. i was doing better. life felt lighter. i still had a long way to go, but some things i’d gotten right. i gained confidence, i navigated my interpersonal relationships with more poise. etc etc. going to china the second time, it changed me more. i did things on my own i’d never dreamed of doing. crossing multiple national borders, making friends with people i couldn’t communicate with. i opened my heart to it all. and i fell in love with myself. for the first time. i fell in love with how completely i embraced my freedom and coupled it with my drive, my passions. that is what young forever is about. it’s about the struggle but the continued commitment to the state of mind that once you’re free - once you embraced that childlike state of being - you can achieve so much happiness. 

which brings us to now - how do i connect to the song now? much in the same way that i did before. carrying these emotions connected to this song so deeply into adulthood has been incredibly touching. i’ve matured with bangtan. from 2015 to now. i’ve only grown in how i embrace my youth. sure, i have to conform at times, play the adult, but the motto “dream, hope, keep going.” that’s what i live by. nothing can change that for me now. i’m still fucking lost, but i’m running like hell. i have my setbacks, my demons, my challenges, but i’ve never been so fucking free. that’s young forever for me. thank you for reading my story. 

song breakdown:

musically: something i truly love about young forever is that it’s really atypical in how it flows musically and the entire structure of the song. it’s creativity run wild - it’s a story and build. and i love that. it starts off slow, soft, with a sweet sadness. the highlight isn’t the backing track, it’s the honey rap voices. it’s absolutely perfect. understated and building. with each new voice that comes in the beat speeds up. it’s like running. which is fitting. because the story in the song is that of bangtan. the lyrics say it, the boys are worried - worried about how well they’ve done, when they’ll stop gaining success, concerned that all of this life will end, wondering who they are in this - the performance the journey. they are quite literally running towards their dreams. we see this in the song lyrically. 

once the chorus comes, we need an increased speed in the beat and the song picks up with the chanting of the mantra. “forever, we are young.” us together, bangtan and ARMY. the song fades into the beautiful clapping beat, the refrains of dream, hope, keep going. musically the song is beautifully understated in a way that can only draw out the listeners’ emotions and highlight the charged encouraging lyrics. the story here is clear and only more illuminated by the musical choices. 

vocally: young forever is such a treat. it’s a rap heavy song, but not in a way that takes away from the beautiful second half of the song which is full of beautiful vocal line refrains and ad libs. it’s a chant song. a comfort song. and perhaps that’s why it’s stuck with me for all these years as one of my ultimate favorite BTS songs. 

when the song begins we are greet by namjoon’s beautiful low rap register. he delivers the rap melodically slow. you can appreciate the way his voice carries emotion and the tempo of the beginning story, of the emotional journey the song embarks upon. following namjoon’s beautiful voice is yoongi. who assumes a slower rap style initially. he has a few parts where he treats us to shout rapping as well - which give us kind of a pleading emotion - we can hear his lament for the pressure placed upon him as he stands in the spotlight. finally, rapline is rounded out by hoseok - i’m gonna say it - this is one of hoseok’s best slow verses. he offers his usual spicy tone, giving the trap style endings to each line. the emotion hits it’s peak with the punch tones and hoseok’s strong committment to his lines expressing his desires, his drive. 

the second half of the song is dominated by the beautiful tones of vocal line. taehyung leads us into the chorus with his beautiful deep register, followed by jungkook’s high tones. the juxtaposition of their voices coupled by jin and backed by jimin’s beautiful melodies is absolutely stunning. rapline takes turns coming in with the refrain “dream, hope, keep going.” all of this mixed together is simply stunning. it’s like hope in vocal form. we have the low and the highs, the singing voices and the speaking refrains. most devastatingly is jimin’s forever ever ever - piercing the background of the song. highlighting the longing - the conviction - to youth - the spirit of it, the beauty of it. the chant portion of the song is also what makes this song so devastating to hear live. everyone comes in, blends together and makes the message resonate completely. 

lyrically: here. we. go. a DEEP DIVE. i think firstly, it’s important to start with the fact that we have a song, young forever, that was released as the epilogue to two devastating HYYH albums. HYYH was the epitome of youth themed albums. it encapsulated everything we associate typically with youth. love songs, songs about pain, songs about healing, songs about not being enough, songs about our dreams, songs about being lonely... it’s all there. both the beauty of youth and the beautiful pain of youth dominate HYYH pt. 1 and HYYH pt. 2. then, those messages, those themes, were sealed with epilogue: young forever. why? well, my feeling is this is bangtan’s way of leaving us with the reality that youth isn’t something that’s fleeting. it’s not an age or state in time. it’s something we carry within. it’s how we approach the things we confront in our lives, how we live and move forward through adversity towards our passions and dreams. 

now - with that out of the way it’s time to dissect some lyrics. there’s quite a lot here in the three rap verses so i truly hope to do them justice. 

namjoon’s verse starts like a story, “the curtain falls” the end of a performance, often used as metaphor for the end of a certain point in one’s life. “the curtain falls and i’m out of breath / i get mixed feelings as i breathe out” clearly the chapter that’s closing for him has been an exhausting one, but he’s not sure about moving forward even though now he has the time to finally reflect and see what he wants next. to me, this speaks directly to where bangtan was at this point in their career. they’d been through the bullshit - the trainee days, the ridicule, the exclusion from the typical korean music system... they’d made it. I NEED U had one awards, RUN did as well, 2016 bangtan had begun to see the fruit of their labor pay off - but with that, what’s next. where do they climb next? what’s to come? there’s that feeling of unease for namjoon. “did I make any mistakes today? / how did the audience seem?” are the next lines, bringing in that sense of reflection. even though now he can breathe - he worries, what’s his impact, how do people feel about what he’s given them, did he have shortcomings? these thoughts flood in and set the mood for the next steps forward. these questions only become more as the pressure continues. the next and final three lines of namjoon’s verse group well together and offer us much more hope that the foreboding in the start of the verse: “i’m happy with who i’ve become / that i can make someone scream with joy / still excited from the performance.” the peace in these final lines, it’s kind of like the rest of the song - starting with the hardship, the unease, what must or has been overcome - mellowing out to realization that things will keep going on. namjoon is at peace with where is at the end of this chapter, he is glad he can stand on this stage bringing smiles to faces, and finally - the buzz of just being able to do music, that remains with him through all of the constant pressure. something about these lines, they’re beautiful.

just like that, yoongi’s verse begins. he provides the same metaphor to the listener. he is standing on an empty stage. the performance is over. the chapter is closing. HYYH is becoming the past for BTS. the struggles, will they be over too as they move forward with their progressing careers? “i stand on the empty stage while holding onto an aftertaste that will not linger for long” he begins - he knows that the high of this moment, the place they’ve reached in this time... it can’t be forever, the emotions of it all are beginning to fade into something else. he then moves on to offer some more insight into how he feels about that unknown of moving on: “while standing on this empty stage, i become afraid of this unpleasant emptiness.” this line seems telling to me - yoongi is someone that gets a lot from recognition, achievement, sharing his works with others. leaving the stage, moving away from this performance moment... it’s hard on him... he feels empty, his moment, his purpose - they’re over... at least for now. the anxiety seeps in. “within my suffocating feelings / on top of my life’s line” he starts to try and explain deeper his emotions, suffocation, a feeling of panic, likely anxiety or pressure induced. what’s next? will it demand more? he’s on top of his life’s line - he feels like he’s reaching his peak, not knowing where to go next, plateau? down? yoongi then lodges into almost a picture perfect description of what society can make us do in moments of pressure where we are feeling anxiety or panic - “without a reason, i forcibly act that i am fine / this isn’t the first time, i better get used to it” he’s going to put on a strong face, suppress how he really feels because at some point there could be another audience, he remains on the stage even if the curtains have closed. he forces himself to do so, and it’s a habitual thing for him. it sounds like truly this is habitual for yoongi - really needing to mask his fear, his panic, his anxiety for the sake of those watching. it tears me up, because it seems like he also knows that this will continue in his future. and the he realizes that keeping the mask on, it’s not something he’s able to do or perhaps interested in doing “i try to hide it, but i can’t.” the final lines of his verse leave us with some unease - they’re unclear - but perhaps they’re speaking to the fact that performing won’t be his forever... “when the heat of the show cools down / i leave the empty seats behind,” so at some point -- the excitement, the hype, it will be gone... those who want to see him, they’ll be gone too, and he’ll move on to what is next. or perhaps this could allude to the fact that the pressure of those watching goes away and he will finally feel comfortable? there’s a lot here. a lot left up and open.

and finally we round out rapline with hoseok’s verse - which leads us into the chorus and refrains. the first three lines of hoseok’s part go hand in hand with one another - they’re a natural progress of coping with one’s emotions and situation: “trying to comfort myself / i tell myself the world can’t be perfect / i start to let myself go.” the chapter is closing and hoseok is trying to tell himself, it’ll be okay. almost like listening to the song young forever - seeking comfort. a home. realizing that things aren’t always going to go his way, he can’t have this moment forever, and sometimes things are going to be ups and downs... the final line is perhaps the most startling, letting oneself go. realizing that there’s some pieces of yourself that are okay to let go, whatever is holding you back, keeping you stuck, sometimes we need to shed that to go forward with the youthful exploration that keeps life invigorating and exciting. or perhaps hoseok is thinking about the day in which he will let “j-hope” go and just be hoseok, without a stage in the traditional sense. “the thundering applause, i can’t own it forever” he moves on saying that this life won’t be his forever, at some point he will need to move on - realize that this moment is down, lose himself to it, and see what is next. yet - even with this knowledge hoseok continues “i tell myself, so shameless / raise your voice higher” it seems that there’s a conflict he’s facing - letting this moment go or screaming as loud as he can to hold onto it, and shamelessly so - letting go of all the constructed norms for how he should behave. perhaps, holding onto his YOUTH even as he grows older in age and should grow away from a youthful mentality. he is raising his voice and hopefully pushing forwards, perhaps just away from this stage and onto an even larger one. it seems this is the case “even if the attention isn’t forever, i’ll keep singing” he states. he will hold onto his passion, keep moving forwards with his music, his voice, his connection to whatever it is that wants to be connected to him - because this is his very soul and being. finally - hoseok closes out his verse “as today’s me, i want eternity / forever, i want to be young.” it seems that hoseok is choosing to be who he is at this moment, his youthful self, as long as he goes on. he will leave this version of himself, this beautiful, loving, hopeful version of himself as his mark on the earth for eternity. 

moving into the chorus we have the iconic title line “forever we are young” which to me, it’s about taking youth forward with you in all that you do. taking your passion, your drive, your love, your hope -- pouring it into all that you do and not letting the outside spoil you and take that from you. keeping your passions and running towards them. that’s the core of the message in young forever. 

jungkook then croons “under the flower petals raining down / i run, so lost in this maze” bringing us to think about how seasons change - flower petals can fall because of their abundance but also because they we are moving into winter. either way, the analogy of flowers is hopeful to me. blossoms on trees - the return in time. not the same blossoms, but just as beautiful as the previous ones. perhaps he’s speaking to the fact that the blossoms are falling now as the chapter is ending - which leads into the feeling of lost, of being in a maze... but the reality is, the flowers will come again. the can come again. so long as they keep running - there’s a chance for this beautiful moment to happen once again. that’s youth. perhaps you have your ups and downs, your moments in the sun (your spring days) and your cold days... but keep running, keep your energy, dream, hope, keep going. and you can return. 

jin then offers the other refrain “even when i fall and hurt myself / i endlessly run toward my dream.” THIS is youth. this is it. that almost stupid attitude of not recognizing when you’re down and out... not recognizing when perhaps you should stop. turning up the energy at your weakest point even when authority is telling you to let it go. this is the essence of youthful hope and energy. even if they’ve failed, even at their lowest point, they’re cementing that they won’t stop until they achieve their dreams. once again. dream. hope. keep going. just keep fucking going. 

finally the other refrain that is repeated throughout the chorus: dream. hope. forward. forward. is the direct translation. but, many would say it’s dream. hope. keep going. this is youth. our dreams, childish and pure. our hope, what we pour into ourselves, what we surround ourselves with - the light that keeps us going. and then constantly moving forward continuing even when our odds look bad. this shit resonates. bangtan did it. they dreamed, 7 boys at a small company. they hoped, holding onto one another, working hard, baby steps forward. they kept going. no matter the ridicule, the setbacks, they pushed forward. these words - they mean the world to me as i’ve pushed through shit in my life. i’m only where i am today because i, by some miracle, internalized this youthful mantra. allowing myself to dream, those moments of hope, pushing forward no matter what. that’s youth. that’s young forever. 

performance: well this is shaping up to be quite a long post. i want to discuss both the MV and how live performances typically proceed. i’ve also attached to this post my personal video of young forever at the HYYH: the epilogue tour in macau. sorry for my screaming in advance. 

MV: the MV is really interesting for the HYYH universe, although the same could be said for save me, which is technically in the universe... BUT the fact that the MV steps away from the storylines and almost takes us into the minds of the characters bangtan is playing is an interesting choice. we start off the video with the boys in a chain-linked fence maze, wandering around, and flashbacks for each of there characters. the overall aesthetic of the video fits with the lyrics and these feelings of uncertainty... the feeling of being lost... wandering from phase to phase in life. early on we see a scene of yoongi burning photos from the HYYH era - truly this song is about death to the past a new beginnings, overcoming the past but moving forward with the pieces of you that are important. the highlighting of the text “꿈 희망 전진 전진” or dream, hope, keep going - making it the mantra of the song. keep moving, keep running. almost it seems like the characters are running away from their demons as well. the members running off into the sunset together? it’s all about endings. new beginnings. but taking them on with determination and an attitude of childlike awe, glee, dreams, and determination. 

performance: we’ve all seen the iconic wembley performance. we’ve probably all cried over it more than once. maybe it’s your comfort video? maybe it’s secretly mine (ha!). i can tell you, experiencing this song live... there’s really nothing like it. it’s understated. there’s no dance. nothing like that. 

in the performances - namjoon appears alone in a starlight stage with the lyrics scrawling on a screen behind him. the lights are all dark, deep blue tones everywhere, it feels dreamy. the entire crowd is brought into a dream like state. it’s fitting, its absolutely fitting and incredibly stunning. yoongi then appears to namjoon’s left and hoseok to his right to be spotlighted for their respective verses. the emotion is everywhere. the song is even more incredible with a live band. you cannot imagine it. the chorus arrives with a change in vibe, a beautiful sunset is projected and the vocal line appears from the floor. all of the members stand shoulder to shoulder and belt the chorus and refrain. and you would not believe how devastatingly beautiful it is to hear ARMY shouting along. forever we are young. kkum, huimang, jeonjin, jeonjin. shouting together. again and again. clapping with one another. waving ARMY bombs. it’s completely emotional. i cried. i cried on the strangers next to me, that didn’t speak my language. there is nothing like it. 

i must also note, the concert i was at we were all distributed lightsticks and banners with 꿈 희망 전진 전진 written on them. this song has been important since it released. it’s the core of bangtan’s rise. it is so important to these boys. and to many of us fans as well.

now - a word about what happened at wembley. bangtan had no idea that ARMY would sing young forever TO them. at WEMBLEY. fans who likely do not speak korean. chanting their mantra to them “kkum, huimang, jeonjin, jeonjin” and singing “foreverrrrr we are younnnnng” and saying they will keep going. they will walk their journey towards their dreams. something about that, it’s incredibly toughing. you and i cannot imagine how that must have felt for bangtan. the moment must have been completely surreal. one of the world’s largest stages, playing one of the most meaningful songs of their careers - a song meant to memorialize their climb to fame, their accomplishments, their youth that they likely felt the LOST during this climb to where they are now. jimin himself said that night “this song. wow. this song helped me a lot when things were really hard.” young forever means so very much to bangtan. it always has. and their fans chose that very song. we chose that song (rather we were there or not). it’s our mantra too. whatever we go through, we are on this journey, and we are not alone. we are not alone. we can muster the strength to carry on with that same youthful zeal for life. watching that video... it’s moving. it’s completely incredible. to be a part of this journey... just wow. 

tl;dr: in conclusion... young forever is one of the BTS songs that has the most touching meanings, and it came at a very delicate time in their career. a time when they were finally getting the recognition they deserved and sought for a long time. a time when they were pivoting from “young” to “young adult.” a time when they likely struggled with a loss of their youth. all of this... it’s powerful because it’s not alien for those of us normal people. we all feel this. i’ve felt it as i’ve gone through tough shit and came out the other side changed, only to have to find my way through the maze and back to myself. youth and being young, it’s a state of mind. i think bangtan sincerely know and believe this. that’s what makes the song and the message it carries so incredibly powerful. so meaningful to us all. thanks for reading yet again. 

[lokidrabbles]

Sweet Knitted Wishes (Loki x Reader)

Loki becomes jealous of reader’s relationship with Tony Stark and reflects on this

A/N: Next portion of my Loki x Reader Winter series! Had a lot of fun writing this one! As always, Gender Neutral Reader! Warnings: Slight jealousy and pure fluff

Loki supposed this was another natural tendency for humans. As he continued to study and acclimate to Midgardian culture he took focus on the change of temperament and behaviors they would display during this ‘Holiday Season.’ He comprehended it enough. It was a time of the year were they would grow closer, bond as comrades and family, engorge themselves with festive foods and drinks, and become even more physically needy than before.

The latter didn’t really phase him much, as he always perceived humans to be physically needy creatures. He would catch wind of how often handshakes, embraces, kisses and pats on the back would occur at Stark’s facility. He had the misfortune of experiencing one of Captain America’s bone crushing handshakes once, perhaps as a retaliation from the last time they battled. Despite this, Loki wasn’t a very physical person, when it came to humans of course. Even his childish tag-a-longs with you didn’t involve much exchange with bodily movements until much recently. And at the most, it involved an innocent kiss in a hidden location where no one could even fathom it.

He figured you respected his personal space as you too became suddenly touchy feely with your coworkers and comrades. He discovered your favorite greetings included side hugs and quick pecks on the cheek, nothing too risque however. For the most part, you got along with everyone at the facility fairly well. For those few unknown workers, you were polite and attentive, just what a model worker would be.

As his observations continued, Loki soon had come to known just how differently these greetings would be with the one Tony Stark.

And he absolutely detested it.

Loki knew you had a different relationship with your boss, one involving many exchanges of teasing remarks and playful banter. These weren’t ill intended remarks however. You had great respect for Stark and it was evident with how you would describe him to Loki. At the same time, you both connected and got along extremely well. You both were smart, witty, had your own individualistic charisma and had a knack for looking out for others. You had told Loki you best interpreted it as having a big brother who will always look after you and call you out on your misgivings.

He knew both you and Stark have had this relationship for much longer than he has been there. And yet, Loki felt as if he should fit that role in your life instead. Not as a big brother, but as someone equally meriting praise. You were also playful and clever around Loki, and for what he interpreted, you also held him in high regard. This was exhausting as the only image appearing in his head was the need to go head to head with Stark in some time of metaphorical battle for your hand.

His possessiveness got the better of him one evening when Stark had surprised with an early holiday gift. Loki had been lounging around your vicinity as you were ready to call it a night. Stark, loudly voicing his entrance into the room, had called out to you to hand you a small gift bag since he wouldn’t be at the facility for the remainder of the week.

It wasn’t until you exclaimed joyously and wrapped your arms around Stark’s neck that Loki felt a strong, uncomfortable pang in his chest. The feeling felt heavy and twisting, as if a hand had reached his insides and crushed it with an immense force. A million thoughts ran into his head and his lips became distorted.

“Tony you little shit. This is so lovely, thank you so much!” You had said, finally releasing your loving embrace from around his shoulders.

“This is so I don’t get any crap from you after I’m back from Europe. Also because now you owe me something even nicer.”

From the corner of the room, both you and Tony failed to notice the grumbling Asgardian with a dark cloud forming over his head. Jealousy wasn’t the right word to describe his anger, but resentment. Resentment towards Stark for being fortunate enough to receive this type of intimacy from you. For receiving your attention and utmost respect in any way possible. And resentment for feeling comfortable enough to be this way with you. Loki used all of his strength to hold back any rabid temptation to whisk you away and keep you all to himself.

But he knew he couldn’t do it, and it wouldn’t be very characteristic of him to do so. 

Loki wanted to send Stark flying through a window again. Now that would be more fitting to his character.

“Hey, reindeer games.” Tony hollered out to Loki, only to be met with daggers for eyes.

“What?” Loki responded scornfully.

“Better stay out of trouble while I’m gone. (Y/N), keep an eye on him for me will ya’?” Tony gave you a quick wink before exiting the room, to which you rolled your eyes heavily at.

Loki remained bothered at the whole incident and he slouched in his seat, defeated at how much Stark had riled him up yet again. From a different perspective, he appeared like a pouty child who had failed to get the attention they wanted. And maybe this is what he had actually felt, the loss of your attention for another man, a man who had defeated him long ago. He knew you’d never see him in that way but the possibility continued to tug at him.

You approached Loki after gathering all your belongings and immediately recognized his ‘moody’ face.

“You okay? Were you waiting long for me?”

His eyes only peered up at you, his expression still rigid. “I’m fine. And no.”

You scoffed. “Tony got on your nerves again huh? I know you hate that little nickname he gave you.”

“He’s a fool but I don’t waste my time being bothered by it.” He was the God of Lies after all.

“Right. Lucky for us, we won’t have to deal with him for a good while. Should be fun for us.” You grinned at him, suggesting some mischief between the two of you.

Even as mad as he was, Loki couldn’t resist smirking at your remark. “It will be quite enjoyable without Stark breathing down my neck.”

“Oh!” You halted for a bit. “That reminds me!”

You jogged quickly back to your desk and rummaged through your drawer, taking out a green gift bag stuffed with white tissue paper. 

Loki’s curiosity overtook him, forgetting his turmoil for a brief moment. He slowly walked over to you as you puffed up the crumpled tissue paper.

“I know it’s a little early but I wanted to give you this before the weather gets any colder.”  You said, handing over the small gift to him.

Loki stood frozen. “I...don’t understand.”

“Of course you do. It’s an early present for you. I just didn’t want to take it out in front of Tony. I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to try it on in front of him.”

Loki’s eyes darted back and forth between your face and down to the gift you held for him. A gift, from you, just for him. He hesitantly reached out to grab a hold of it, brushing past your fingertips.

“You didn’t get anything for Stark?” Loki couldn’t resist asking. This was an opportunity to have his ego boosted.

“Tony has like everything so I’ll probably just order some hard liquor for him or something. I figured no one has really gotten you anything before.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as an offense.”

“Go ahead and open it though, let me know if you don’t like the color.” You said, motioning to his gift.

Loki dug in, pulling the paper out, unsure of what to expect. He reached in and began to pull out something soft, warm, something made of heavy yarn. Loki pulled out the item, revealed to be a large knit scarf, beautifully deep green with with soft golden tassels at its end. He couldn’t possibly resist to think it, but this was indeed his color scheme. His favorite colors. Meaning you had picked this with intention specifically for him. He was running in your thoughts somewhere.

Loki was speechless. “I...um.” “You don’t like it?” You asked, your face slowly becoming dejected which put Loki on high alert. “No, it’s not that. I’m just...taken back a little.”

“Mind if I slink it around you? So you can see if it’s not too scratchy.”

Loki slowly nodded as you reached out to grab the scarf from his hand, your finger gently brushing against his again. He lowered his head slightly, enough so you could fling the scarf gently around his neck, looping it again so it had a tighter fit.

“What about now? Warm enough?”

Loki tugged at the scarf a bit from his neck, shifting it to a more comfortable form. He then took a moment to reflect on how it felt around him. It was puffy, maybe a bit too much for his liking, but he understood how it was intended to keep him warm against the cold winter winds. The heat circled his neck in a soft, gentle embrace, similar to a pair of soft arms encircling his shoulders and neck.

“It’s lovely.” He said, a small smile forming behind the green knitted yarn.

“I’m really happy you like it.” You exclaimed, a small smile also forming on your face. “I gotta admit, I was little nervous you were gonna throw it back at my face.”

“And why would I do that?” You shrugged. “I guess it was just important to me. I wanted to make sure it was something you liked.”

Loki felt a pang in his chest again, but this time it was softer and warmer, and it spread all over his body. Your stupid attention to detail warmed his dry heart. The shimmer in your eyes made him feel worthwhile, and perhaps a tad more significant than whatever Tony Stark was for you. You saw him with eyes of admiration, but this look? His intuition told him it was much more different.

“That’s touching.” He said mockingly. “But thank you. This was a bit surprising to say the least.”

“That’s what the holidays are all about. Ready to head out?”

Loki trailed behind you as you gathered your items and made your way to the exit the facility. Throughout the rest of the evening as you both went your separate ways, Loki continued to wear your gift, disregarding how ludicrous the notion was of imagining your arms wrapped around him. They would be tight, warm, and secure, and would apply as much intention as your gift would have. Tony Stark would have your respect and admiration, but he certainly didn’t share this intimacy as Loki did. After all, humans provided much sentiment in the simplest of objects.

[junggoku]

Lemon Curls and Latte Art - Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

book: Open Heart

pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Nina Valentine)

word count: 6,679

summary: Ethan’s been having a tough time with a case and desperately needs some coffee and time away from the hospital. His small impromptu trip to his favorite coffeeshop may just become more than he expected. (Alternatively: local doctor man goes to get coffee. Gets roasted for 5 minutes straight by cute barista.) A coffeeshop au

A/N: Soooo first and foremost, I’m super excited about this. I’ve been surprised at the lack of coffeeshop au’s in this fandom so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I’d like to give all my love to the wonderful @namkook​ for keeping me sane through this whole project and for helping me every step of the way. I love you and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for putting up with my constantly annoying you with this. I typically don’t like my writing, I’m so proud of this one and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did when working on it. Without further ado, buckle in and enjoy! She’s a long one wheew

Sometimes it was easier to just drown it all out. The rustling of the nurses as they moved about. The moans and groans of patients as they anxiously waited for their diagnoses. The shrill voices of interns trying to suck up to him to better polish up on their resumes, instead of focusing on their damn jobs.

On that particularly busy afternoon, Dr. Ethan Ramsey felt it was especially crucial that he drown out all the background noises and forget about his surroundings for a moment, if he was going to hang onto his sanity.

He had been pouring over a patient file all morning, having reached an impasse. When something like this happened, it was best for him to go out and clear his head. Sighing heavily, Ethan pushes out of his leather chair, leaving the mountains of scans and paperwork behind him as he closes the door to his office with a resounding thud.  

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

Day 1

The chime of the bell above the door signaled his arrival into Derry Roasters, a soft click of the hinges punctuating through the air as his eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting in the quaint coffee shop.  

The scene was completely opposite the hospital, with almost all of the tables here being empty save for an elderly man in the corner with his book. It seemed the cafe was experiencing a quiet afternoon, soft music playing from the small speakers lodged in the ceilings.

Whenever Ethan was stuck with a case he couldn’t quite figure out, he found himself wandering to the coffeehouse, a humble mom and pop establishment that made decent coffee. It was a step up from the caffeinated dishwater the hospital cafeteria served and he didn’t hate it at the very least. It was also close enough to the hospital that he could get to it by foot, but far enough that none of the gaggle of bright-eyed parrots interns would follow him to kiss his ass.

Crossing the distance of the room up to the front, Ethan stops right before the register. Having seen not one soul behind the counter, his hand found its way to the small silver bell waiting by the tips bucket, ringing it albeit impatiently. There was normally always someone waiting up at the front, the usual barista－a short and kindly old lady, her slightly stout face adding to the welcoming atmosphere－felt it necessary to be present at all times to best serve customers so they did not have to wait long. So much for that. Their service is going to shit.

A bright ding reverberates throughout the shop, ricocheting off the walls. With a purse of his lips, he waits for a few minutes for someone to respond to the bell, the dimple in between his eyebrows growing more prominent the longer time stretches.

About to forgo the coffee and just head back, his ears pick up a foreign sound coming from somewhere. Is that...singing?

Singing was perhaps too generous a term. There was a faint humming emanating from behind the door that led to the back, and his ears tickled as it continued for a few more seconds, before the door swung open and a figure stepped out.

Ethan’s train of thought stutters for a brief second as ice blue eyes meet a warm chocolate brown, wide and doe-like staring up at him in surprise.

She’s new.

Silence envelops the room and Ethan finds himself studying the woman in front of him as he does with everyone, an occupational habit he’s honed over the years.

Long, dark brown hair cascades over her shoulder like a wave, a pair of chocolate brown eyes to match the curtains as they peer up at him, a hint of curiosity in them. The new barista is donning a polo the color of mustard paired with the black apron of the coffeeshop. His eyes glance over the silver name tag that brandishes the name “Nina”. Next to the tag, a small frog pin sits crookedly, the silver lining a bit dim from what he expects comes from overwear.

In his musings, he doesn’t notice the barista, Nina, pursing her lips, “Are you going to order something or are you just gonna stare at me all day?”

Shaken out of his thoughts, he raises a brow at the bland tone of her voice, before deciding to ignore it, “The Vienna.”

Slipping his card from his wallet, he sets it down on the counter as she rings up his order, sliding the piece of plastic back to him once she’s finished.

Wordlessly, he starts moving over to a table nearby when she pipes up, “What? No ‘thank you’?”

He spins around, a brow quirked as he meets her eyes. The slight curl of her lips tells him she’s mocking him and his lack of a response.

“Thank you.” He speaks, voice flat and face unimpressed. Her lips twitch.

“Gee, you’re a real charmer, aren’t you. I do need to know if you want this here or to go,” Eyes lit with mirth, Ethan itches to end this interaction and head back to the hospital. So much for that break.

“To go.”

The smirk doesn’t leave her face as she turns around and gets to work, and Ethan is eternally grateful for the conversation being over.

A few minutes pass by before he hears his name being called. Striding to the pick up station where the barista placed his order of Vienna in a styrofoam cup, her cheeks lifted into a winning smile, one she must use on all her customers.

Ethan picks it up promptly, the desire to get back to work coursing through him strongly the minute he glimpses at her face (his mistake) and finds that she’s still staring at him with a strange amusement lighting her eyes.

“Hope it's to your liking, Dr. Ramsey.”

“How do you know my name?”

Nina raises her brow, and throws a look at the elegant Dr. Ethan Ramsey, etched into the fabric of his white doctor coat, “I’m assuming that’s your name since it says so on your coat. If you were trying to go incognito, maybe lose the coat next time.”

With a wink, the barista spins around and disappears behind the door to the back, not giving him time to answer to her quip. Something pricks at the back of his mind as he watches her go. Casting a quick glance down at his coffee cup, the letters Ethonk are scrawled on the curved surface, and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or groan. More the latter probably.

Sighing for what was possibly the millionth time today, Ethan tightens his grip on the cup and makes his way out, feeling more annoyed than when he had come. I’m not coming back here.

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

Day 2

Why am I here?

He sincerely had no idea why he found himself lingering at the front of Derry Roasters a few weeks later, shoes avoiding the crunch of leaves under his feet as a delicate autumn breeze curls through his hair and rustles the pages of the book he had nestled in his arm.

Ethan had initially planned to not come here again for a long while, having no desire to run into that impudent barista from last time, Nina, her name was.  

Annoying.

Shaking away the thought, he pushed the front door open and strode into the cafe, the click of the latch bolt falling back into its frame announcing his arrival once more. The shop was fairly empty again at this time, being so long after the busy lunch rush hour.  

As usual, Ethan made his way up to the register, but his steps faltered for a half second when he noticed a new addition to the counter by the pick up area: a small potted cactus, its thorny arms appearing almost golden bathed in the gentle autumn light streaming in through the windows.  

A little curious, he continues walking and taps the bell once when he makes it to the front.

Unlike before, the door leading to the back whipped open almost immediately after the ding, and out came the petite barista, long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail today. Small specks of what looks like cream powder dotting her cheek and on the sleeves of her peach-colored blouse, the brunette saunters over and plants herself directly across him.  

Chocolate doe eyes instantly find his blue ones and Nina flashes him an amiable smile. Or it would be amiable if it weren’t for the twinkle of mischief he catches in her gaze. He bites back a mental groan.

Ethan opens his mouth, prepared to just tell her his order quickly so he could leave, when she beats him to it.

“Did you see Henry?” Her voice is a little hushed, conspiratorial. Bemused, his eyebrows furrow in place of a question.

“...Henry?”

The barista nods her head in the direction of the pick up station, eyes darting to the potted plant he saw earlier and back to him, “Henry!”  

He’s not sure how to respond. Nina waits for a few beats before crossing her arms across her chest, ogling him for a reaction, “We just got it yesterday. I thought it’d be nice to spruce up the place,” She leans forward, her apron brushing against the register.

“You don’t feel a connection with it?” She pursed her lips, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. The furrow in his brows deepens, not quite enjoying the way she was eyeing him.    

“Why would I feel any connection to a cactus?”

“Well, you are one emotionally,”

Ethan lets out a short scoff, his expression wholly unimpressed, “We’ve had a grand total of two interactions.”

“And the two were all I needed to know everything,” Nina tosses him a tiny smirk, seemingly relishing in getting under his skin, a frown beginning to mar his features. How tedious.

Sighing deeply and already feeling exhausted, Ethan ignores the quip and barrels forth, “The Vienna.” He tosses his card on the surface of the counter, almost impatient as she gingerly grabs it and rings him up, saying nothing more all the while.

Not giving her an opening, Ethan snatches his card out of her grasp the minute she’s done, and turns around to find an empty table far away from the register.

“I’ll bring it over to you when it’s done,” He hears behind him as he continues moving.

Settling into a table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, Ethan sinks into the leather chair and opens his history book, determined to ignore and forget his interactions with the barista so he can take a break. Why he came back here when he already predicted this happening was beyond him. He won’t repeat the mistake again.

A few minutes later, Ethan feels a presence in front of him and peeks from his book to find Nina placing his cup of Vienna on the table. Turning his attention back to his pages, he reads another line from Robert Service before glancing back up.

She was still standing there. Hands clasped together in front of her chest, Nina was peering down at him, blinking innocently.

“...Is there something wrong?”

“No,” She answers, giving a slight shake of her head in emphasis. She still didn’t move.

“...”

“...”

“...Did you want something?”

Her expression shifts promptly, fixing a saccharine smile his way and a sense of dread creeps up his spine.

“Well you see,” Nina sweeps an arm around the expanse of the room, where only one other patron beside him was sitting in the opposite corner, tapping away on their laptop, “no one’s really here.”

He feels a budding headache pricking, “And what does that have to do with me?” He asks, tone flat.

Her large smile widens a little more, “I’m bored and you’re the most entertaining thing here.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of them did nothing, a staredown ensuing with the only sound coming from the ceiling speakers and the tap, tap, tap of the laptop.

Pressure behind his eyes growing, he brings up a hand to scratch at his stubble. Yes, he really regrets coming here today.

“Well what do you want to do then?” The defeat in his voice is evident as Nina starts shuffling over to the chair opposite him, appearing so pleased with herself Ethan could only breathe out another sigh.

“If it’s cool with you-”

“It’s not,”

“-I’m just gonna hang out here with you,” She plops into the leather recliner and beams at him, eyes scrunching into two crescent moons. Huh. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor really.”

His annoyance fading just a smidge, he eyes her, distrustful. Closing his book with a small thud, Ethan leans back, sinking further into the plush material.

“How on earth is you neglecting your work and bothering me when I’m trying to read you doing me a favor?”

Nina flicks her chin at the cover of his book. The glossy surface catches the warm rays of sunshine drifting in through the windows, the text Comrades!: A History of World Communism almost swallowed whole by the natural light.

“I am doing you a favor,” The steam from the coffee mug wafts up and swirls in the air between them, “I’m sure you’re already busy being a doctor full-time, I’m giving you a chance to take a break from your communist endeavors so you can actually enjoy your down time.”

Seeing no point in disagreeing when she looked determined to stay there, Ethan takes a sip of his Vienna, the liquid still warm and settles pleasantly on his tongue. Over the top of the cup, he catches Nina leaning forward slightly as though waiting for his reaction.

Putting the mug back down, he turns his head to the window, content on ignoring her still and watching the people strolling up and down the street outside.

Her quiet voice breaks him out of his reverie, “What’s it like? Being a doctor?”

At the question, Ethan turns his gaze on the barista, finding her peering at him with a mix of curiosity and...admiration?

He shrugs, “It’s alright.”

“...That’s it?” Her head tilts to the side, eyes widening as she silently urges him to elaborate. He’s not sure why he’s humoring her, but he relents and continues.

“It’s...it gives me opportunities to figure out the mysteries of the human body. To find ways to conquer and defeat the things that defeat us,” He keeps his gaze on her, watching as the brunette follows his every word like he’s telling her some universal truth.

Nina nods, seemingly soaking in his explanation and satisfied with it, “That sounds really cool. You’re like a hero,” She laughs a little, a tenderness in it that confuses Ethan, but he doesn’t say anymore on it. Hardly.

A beat of silence falls over them again. There’s no awkwardness in it though and Ethan’s content to let it stretch on.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was younger.”

The spell is broken and Ethan’s attention is now directed solely at her, the barista tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. When he doesn’t speak, she continues, “Always wanted to help people. It just seemed like the perfect job for me to defend those who were fighting for their lives. For their second chances.”

The small frog pin on her apron gleams as she fidgets, light from outside hitting its metallic surface.

“Why didn’t you?” He finally asks, albeit hesitantly, “Become a doctor.”

A wistful look crosses her face and she smiles, “My brother’s health deteriorated and he  collapsed as I was graduating from high school. Things just never worked out,” Nina pauses and considers the room, Ethan noticing for the first time that the other customer had left, no more tap tap-ing sound to be heard.

“But it’s whatever. I like working here. And at least I get to keep my sleep schedule,” She jokes, eyes landing on him again.

Ethan doesn’t speak for a long moment, holding her gaze. At the lack of reaction, Nina begins to squirm, appearing nervous, but doesn’t prod him.

Finally, he finds his voice, uncharacteristically timid, “This place is lucky to have you.”

A blink and a beat later, and a glowing grin stretches across Nina’s face. She chuckles, a soft pink flush dusting her cheek.

Waiting another beat, Ethan clears his throat and begins to move, grabbing his book and nudging the now-drained cup of Vienna away, “I should head back. I have work. At the hospital.” He holds back a grimace. Moron.

Nina tilts her head, the action releasing a couple of strands to fall from her ponytail, “I would hope so, since you’re wearing your white coat,” She snorts when she sees the unimpressed expression on his face, “Go save lives, Dr. Ramsey.”

With that, the barista turns and heads back to work, humming softly as she goes.        

A feeling he can’t place courses through him, sending a slight shiver up his spine as he steps out into the street. Just a chill. With that, Ethan makes the familiar walk back to Edenbrook, the gentle breeze returning and dances through the soft locks of his hair the whole way.

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

Day 3

“Quit stalling already and drink!”

Grumbling, he lifts the cup to his lips, taking a cautious sip.  

The silence settles throughout the room, and Nina leans forward just a little bit, in an attempt to gauge his reaction. He tries to keep his expression blank.

“...Well?”

“...”

Ethan lets the silence linger for another moment before bringing the cup back to his lips. Slowly, a smile begins to bloom across Nina’s face, bright and smug, “Heh. So what’s the verdict, Doctor?”

He refuses to give her the satisfaction of a reply, instead determined to keep his eyes trained on the inside of his coffee cup. His ears pick up a tinkle of a laugh.

“I told you you’d like it,” The barista giggles, her eyes forming crescent moons, as she attempts to stifle the full force of her laughter. Placing a hand on her hips, Nina gazes at him, her self-satisfied grin making a home on the corner of her lips. Ethan decides, right then and there, that he hates it endlessly.  

He especially hates how that cheeky ass smirk makes her eyes sparkle more.

Releasing a bone-weary sigh, Ethan sets the mug down on the table and leans back in the chair, training ice blue eyes on the brunette across from him, “I tried it. Are you going to tell me what it was now?”

Still beaming, Nina sinks down into the soft leather chair opposite him, hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind her ears. Crossing her legs, she glances down at the drained coffee cup, “Espresso Romano. As you can probably guess, it’s a shot of espresso with a slice of lemon served on the side and rubbed on the rim.”

A soft calming song plays in the background, the notes resonating through the air and floats around them, framing the little pocket of the world they were occupying. Nina looks back up at Ethan, holding his gaze as she continues, “The lemon’s zestiness brightens the drink and cuts off the bitterness. Which, no offense, but that looks like something you could use some help with.”

Biting back a retort on the tip of his tongue, he picks up the discarded lemon curl, long fingers absentmindedly playing with the garnish. The silence settles once more between them as he takes in what she said.

In a voice so quiet he’s hoping she doesn’t pick up on it, the words leave his lips: “It’s decent.”

The crescent moon smile she gifts him with tells him that she heard it loud and clear. He doesn’t say anymore, but he doesn’t need to. She hears the rest of what he left unspoken.

“Such a way with words. You really should’ve been a poet instead of a doctor,” Amusement never leaving her eyes, she leans over to pick up his mug and plucks the lemon peel out of his hands, dark brown hair falling over her shoulder at the movement. Soft afternoon sunlight streams in, bouncing off the tan of her skin and for a brief moment, she looks like she’s glowing. Ethan frowns, averting his attention to the space behind her instead.

Humming quietly, Nina stands up and turns, the soles of her white Converse squeaking in protest. Tossing him one more knowing smirk, she begins her trip back to the register, the arm of his empty cup resting on the crook of her finger. A minute later, she disappears through the door into the back area, the gentle music from the ceiling filling up the room in her stead.  

Ethan releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and glances back out the windows overlooking the street, the faint taste of lemon still sitting on his lips.  

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

Day 4

The coffeeshop feels a bit different in the mornings, fresh dew and the gentle rise of the sun blanketing the room, wrapping it in a peculiar warmth. The lack of customers at this time adds to the ambiance, though Ethan doesn’t pay much mind to any of that at the moment. Instead, his attention is aimed at the disheveled barista in front of him and the mayhem surrounding her.  

The next time Ethan walked through the doors of Derry Roasters a week later, he was met with what he could only describe as chaos. A collection of discarded coffee cups littered the counter and drops of milk and cream dotted the floor all around Nina. The brunette ran a hand through her long hair frustratedly, apron stained with liquids.

A quick explanation told him that she had been attempting to perfect the craft of latte art, though Ethan would argue that you can’t perfect something you didn’t even have the basics for. Recognizing that her skills were abhorrent and wanting to please customers, Nina had made it a habit to arrive at the cafe very early in the mornings, where she could practice in solitude. And that was what he had walked in on when he dropped by, having thought to get coffee before his shift later that day.  

He watches her struggle with the milk for another minute, bumbling around like a newborn, before peeling off his white coat, a strand of hair falling just over his eyes at the motion. Nina turns at the rustle beside her and is greeted with Ethan’s tall figure peering down at her handiwork.

Startled, she takes a half step back, eyes wide in surprise, “What...are you doing?”

In place of a response, he rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt and helps himself to one of the aprons hanging on the coat rack by the back area.

“Watching you spill milk on yourself like an infant is getting painful. I used to work as a barista through undergrad so I remember some things...” He pauses, gazing inside one particular mug that was housing what resembled more creamy vomit than coffee, “...though I’m skeptical if it could even help you at this point.”

The flat tone of his voice must have irritated her, as she shoots him a mild glare, a cool determination flashing in her eyes, “That sounds like a challenge, Doctor.”

“It definitely will be.”  

A couple hours later, the work area resembles a battlefield, thermometer and portafilters thrown haphazardly all over the counter, milk and coffee powder strewn across its surface in reckless abandon.

Ethan shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest and focused intensely on the mess she’s making, “You’re not doing it right.”

Nina groans, the sound tickling his ear. Her grip on the pitcher slackens which promptly spills more of its milky contents all over the counter.  

“I’m doing it exactly as you said. You just suck at teaching,” She mumbles, tsk-ing a little at the new addition blooming on her apron. Taking in the growing clutter decorating the counter, Nina lets out a sigh before turning to Ethan, “This feels hopeless.”

“Giving up already, rookie?” He quirks up an eyebrow, a corner of his lips twitching.

She stops and blinks at the nickname, but doesn’t comment on it further, “No!...Just. Ugggh,” With a loud whine that sounds awfully like a puppy’s, Nina sets the pitcher down, knocking it into the thermometer that was sitting nearby. Placing a hand on the surface of the counter, Nina leans into it, sagging with disappointment. The chagrin expression on her face so directly contrasted her usual bright grin that it makes his chest throb strangely.

Clearing his throat, Ethan glances back down at the mugs, highlighting all her failed attempts. Despite the mess, he could still see her progress, the more recent works showing slight improvements.

With a flick of his fingers, he starts selecting some of the cups out of the batch, “These aren’t too bad. The shape is starting to take place.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Nina skeptically eyes the attempts he singled out.

“You sure?” She points to one, “This one looks like a bad rendition of the Scream.”

Gently, Ethan nudges the pitcher and the thermometer towards her, voice quiet but firm, “It’s an upgrade from the foamy blob you made earlier. You’re getting there. You just need to keep working on your technique.”

Releasing a sigh, Nina relents and pours more milk into the pitcher, readying for another round.

Delicate sunshine slants through the windows and catches on the tips of her hair as she bends forward, eyes narrowed at the face of the thermometer. Ethan keeps a watchful eye on her movements, leaning towards her a fraction more.

Despite the intensity coming off of Nina as she tackles the task, Ethan feels curiously light, as though the usual restlessness humming under his skin was dimmed. Hovering a little closer, the weak scent of apples from Nina’s hair tickles his nose, as she turns to heat the milk. Grabbing the steam wand, she inserts it into the liquid and turns it on, the thermometer clinking onto the side of the pitcher.  

When she gets to the part of pouring the milk into the coffee, the hand holding the steamed milk trembles slightly as she tips the wide-mouthed cup of the espresso forward in her non-dominant hand. Stepping ever closer and settling right behind her, Ethan leans his head down until it practically rests on her shoulder, her back to his chest, and brings a hand forward to steady her grip.

At the contact, the warmth of her skin spreads through his fingers, scalding in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

This close to her he can hear the intake of breath, the slight shudder in her voice as she continues, concentrating on the feeling of his hand and the milk as it spills into the espresso.

Morning light grows warmer as the sun rises up higher in the sky, and Ethan loses track of time as he watches Nina pour the foam, successfully forming an asymmetrical flower. The minute she finishes with the last drop, the barista sets the pitcher down, staring wide eyed at her work.

Turning her head slowly, she fixes her stare on him, a look of utter disbelief on her face, “...I did it.”

Ethan’s lips quirk and he nods once, “You did.”

There’s a pause as it sinks in.

“...Oh my god! I did it!” Elated, Nina leaps towards Ethan, throwing her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oof,” He braces himself at the force of her knocking into him. Letting out a snort, Ethan finds himself chuckling at the brunette’s joy, a small feeling of pride spreading through his chest, having spent all day trying to get to this point.

The moment lingers, Nina’s arms still wrapped around Ethan’s broader frame, the thumping of her heart beating against his rib cage. In a tiny, slightly muffled voice, “Thank you.”

Tilting her head up at him, she awards him with a gentle smile, the softness of her face accentuated by the tender curl of her lips, “Seriously. It was thanks to your help today. Guess you really are a good teacher,” Nina quips, a levity about her now that made it difficult for him to look away.

Ethan smirks, “Of course I am. I’m good at everything.”

The barista rolls her eyes all the way up to the ceiling, “Glad to see you’ve got a strong ego.”

“Was it not earned?”

“...Okay yes, but it doesn’t mean you have to be annoying about it,” She grumbles, lips forming a pout.

It takes Ethan another minute to realize that neither of them had moved, the both of them still wrapped around each other. The warmth of her skin bleeding through his shirt, the faint apple scent of her hair tickling his nose once more and he unconsciously leans down.

Nina’s eyelids flutter as she moves towards him, and soon he’s close enough that he can count every speck of caramel in the brown pools of her eyes. The pink of her lips. The small shudder of her breath. Every second that ticks by is another he’s falling...Wait, what?

Ethan jolts, his thoughts crashing to a stop, his entire body tensing. Sensing the change of mood, Nina halts as well, pulling back slightly to look at him, brows furrowed in concern, “Are you alright, Ethan?”

No. He doesn’t respond as he starts extricating himself from her grasp, peeling away from her. The groove in between her eyebrows deepen as Ethan hurries to place some distance between them.

There’s another moment of silence that blankets over them, but this one is different. It’s tense, making Ethan’s gut churn a little.

“...Did I...is something wrong?”

Unable to meet her eyes, he holds back a grimace, hearing a tremble of hurt in her voice as she asks. He stays silent for another beat before glancing in her direction, not meeting her gaze, “No, it’s just. It’s...I gotta go. My shift starts soon.”

Not waiting for a reply, Ethan yanks off his apron, roughly throwing back onto the rack before hastily grabbing his white coat and rushing out the door, never once turning back to look at the barista, whose eyes never left his back as he briskly walked off back to the hospital.      

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

Day 5

“You’re still here, Ethan?”

At the sound of the voice, Ethan looks up from a patient’s x-rays he’d been examining, finding his colleague, Dr. Baz Mirani, standing in the doorway of his office.

Throwing a quick glance at the wall clock, it read 11:54 p.m.

Damn. It’s this late already? He’d completely lost track of time.

Rubbing a tired hand over his chin, Ethan releases a sigh before packing up his things, and leaving his office for the night, brushing past Baz on the way out. He wasn’t going to be able to do much more tonight.

A full effect of autumn had taken root and blanketed across the town in the past month. Stepping out in the night, Ethan lifted up his face, the scent of the fall leaves and cool evening air caressing the tip of his nose. As he moved closer to his car, a restlessness buzzed under his skin and he was unable to shake it no matter how much he tried.

He’d been feeling this way for about a month now. Ever since then.

A flicker of brown eyes and soft smiles crosses his mind and a gnawing apprehension sits in his throat, one that feels suspiciously like guilt. Guilt and...something else Ethan doesn’t want to define yet.

Sighing once more into the autumn night, he reaches his car door, ready to go home to his bottle of scotch waiting for him. The feeling continues to nip at him though, and he pauses when reaching for the handle of his car, the weight in his backpocket feeling much, much heavier.  

Maybe...He suddenly...felt an urge for some coffee.

Before he could talk himself out of it (this is a bad idea), he leaves behind his car and takes off in the direction of the coffeeshop, his footsteps slow and effortful.

The lights are still on when he reaches Derry Roasters, the blinds of the windows all pulled down save for two that overlook the counter. His eyes immediately land on the barista, sweeping away at the floor on the other side of the register, expression tight and disappointed.

The guilt started to creep back in at the look on her face.

This really was a bad idea. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to her yet, after his abrupt exit last time. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, but he certainly wasn’t today.

Backtracking, Ethan began turning back in the direction from which he came, but the movement catches her eye and right away, Nina glances up, brown eyes connecting with blue ones. Ah shit.

Seeing him, the barista’s expression tightens a fraction more, a cool gleam flashing across her eyes, and she frowns before beckoning him to come in with a quick nod of her head.

A weary sigh leaves his lips as Ethan ambles over, the ding of the bell ringing out like it was announcing his execution. The minute he walks in, Nina folds her arms across her chest, still wearing her black apron over the pale blue sweater she donned today.

“Did you need something?” She asks after a long, tense moment.

He doesn’t reply, the lump in his throat growing as he hears the familiar line, ones uttered by him not too long ago. The circumstances in which they were said so different.  

She presses forward when he doesn’t speak, “You haven't been around much lately.” It sounds a little like an accusation.

“My coffee machine’s working again. So I didn’t really need to come here anymore,” He tries to hold back a grimace at how calloused he sounds.

Nina’s frown morphs into a glare and Ethan’s sure he’d rather be toughing it out in the Amazon right now than having to be the object of this woman’s current woe and ire. He’d rather be anywhere else.

He regrettably continues to dig his own grave, “There wasn’t much else this place could offer since I could just get coffee from my office now,” Why the fuck-  

“Well sorry I don’t have much to offer a world renown doctor,” A tinge of bitterness laced in her tone and he holds back a wince.

It was strange how easy it was for him to deal with the people at the hospital, never finding any need to mince words with idiots with fat pockets, and vultures trying to increase their profits at the expense of others. With his patients, always doing his best to be honest with them as they faced their own battles everyday, fighting for their lives. But here, in front of this woman who miffed him and intrigued him to no end, Ethan always found himself hesitating and clumsy with his words.

He stays quiet for too long and his silence, his lack of anything annoys her.

“You really are a cactus,” Nina mumbles, tightening her grip on the broom, keeping her eyes trained to the ground.

Taking a steadying breath, the barista glares pointedly at the crack in the floor before speaking up again, “You’re always like this, you know. I’ve talked to you like five times, and even I can tell you what you’re like.”

He doesn’t speak, the tension in the air making it difficult for him to cut through, his throat closing.

Nina holds up her hand, dainty fingers curled into a fist before she begins counting, “You always have to be sarcastic or ironic about something,” She lifts up a finger, “You’re always grumpy and kind of an asshole,” She puts up another finger, “You’re so closed off it’s sometimes so hard to talk to you because I have no idea what you’re thinking,” She pauses, ticking off another finger as the edge of her glare starts to fade, “...You never say what you mean. You’re so emotionally constipated and you make a habit of running away. You can’t just admit you like something and you always have to find a roundabout way to-”

During her tirade, Ethan had inched closer to her, slipping out what he had hidden in his back pocket. In one swift motion, he presents it to her, shoving it right under her nose and effectively cutting her off mid-rant.

Nina blinks, staring down at the trinket. A small frog keychain sits in the palm of his hand, the plush material appearing velvety under the beam of the ceiling light.  

“...What?”

His other hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck as she peers up at him, wide-eyed and confused at the gesture, “I saw it a while ago. I don’t know why I thought of you but I bought it.” He nods at the pin clipped dutifully on her apron, right next to her name tag.

A long stretch of silence envelopes them and Ethan’s not sure what to classify this one. It didn’t feel comfortable nor was it tense like before. The brunette continued to stare at the item in his hand before gingerly, almost shyly taking it into her hands, rolling it a bit between her fingers.

After another long moment, she speaks up, “My brother...always liked frogs,” Voice airy, she keeps her eyes on the plush and continues, “He got sick a lot, and they always made him feel better. So I would always be wearing them and bringing them to him whenever he got sick again.” Nina glances up at him finally and he notices her eyes glistening with emotion.

“He’s alright now, but I guess old habits die hard. I’ve grown attached to frogs myself,” She chuckles.

Ethan watches her, blue eyes lingering on her frame before finding his voice again, “I’m glad your brother is fine now. You’re a wonderful sister.”

Nina remains quiet, eyes still fixed on the gift and Ethan’s not sure why he feels the need to keep going, “I found it in the gift shop at the hospital.”

There’s another pause as Nina freezes again. As the seconds stretch on, Ethan’s worried he overstepped. Maybe don’t tell her that. Preparing to backtrack and excuse himself from this scenario, he readies an apology on his lips, when he’s interrupted by the sound of a snort.          

She’s...laughing?

Bemusement takes over his face as he blinks, watching as the barista starts curling over, laugh growing in intensity and volume. One peek at his face and she’s launched into another fit.  

Nina continues to laugh, her body shaking as the amusement runs through her small frame. Ethan stands there silently, not sure what he should be doing as the barista keeps giggling, hand clutching the keychain tight in her grip.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Nina’s laughter subsides, fixing her posture and settling her gaze on him, something that Ethan can’t define sparkling in her eyes.

A fond sigh leaves her lips as she regards him, “You make it hard to stay mad,” She lets out, voice delicate like a whisper.  

Nina links her hands behind her back, expression happy and radiant, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. In his daze, he doesn’t notice her moving, approaching quicker than he has time to form a coherent thought.

Nina practically skips towards him, closing the distance between them. Ethan almost reflexively took a step back, the sudden proximity shocking him speechless as he catches the caramel flecks in her eyes, sparkling and utterly captivating.

“So,” Drawing out the one syllable, Nina’s eyes crinkle into those familiar crescent moons, as she lifts herself up on her tiptoes and leans towards him, noses almost touching. Ethan finds himself rooted to the spot, completely at a loss before her as her eyes reflect like stars.  

“Are you gonna ask me on a date or what?”  

Fin.

taglist: @openheart12 @ethandaddyramsey @noboundariesplease @drethanramslay @ethanramseysgirl @senseofduties @messrprongs @x-kyne-x @ethxnrxmsey​ @newcolonies​ @choices-love-affair​ @sekizincimektup​ @nooruleman​ @fightingtheinevitable​ @kaavyaethanramsey @agent-breakdance​ @blueacacias​ @edith-eggs1​  

[nadiaportia]

Prompt 1 - Hometown: “Never Over”

For @arcana-echoes​

Summary: A partisan on the run returns to their roots and with it the guilt over their family’s fate.

Word count: ~2000

Warnings for mentions of arson, death and war.

Considering it’s a tad depressing, I feel like “enjoy” is the wrong word but you know what I mean. And yay for this being the first thing I write for The Arcana in months and feel comfortable with posting! I went with a more flashback-esque approach than I originally intended to and hope it somewhat works out.

They reached Valanguer in the late afternoon, the sun already being more than midway on her journey to the horizon.

A group of people were lounging in the shadows of a large strawberry tree, the one just outside of the village. They saw them approach, but didn’t get up from their comfortable seats. A woman wore the sandy uniform of the Queen’s Men, but that didn’t necessarily have to mean something. It was most likely stolen from a dead corpse and paraded around like a trophy. Some Queen’s Men didn’t stand behind Jacinta’s words or those of her butchers. Ultimately that mattered little to Deirdra, to most of the people who have lost someone at the Loyalists’ hands, but in the moment that might’ve helped them not getting caught and sent to prison.

“There’s a hole in the jacket, right in the sternum.” Eugeni said to Pau, but loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

“Trash’s already been taken out, then.” Renée murmured grimly and kicked a rock out of her path. 

“Told ya, I didn’t see one single llagosta the entire day I was scouting here. They don’t come back to places which they already ransacked. Folks here got lucky though, their village looks better than the one a few days away from here. That place was burned to the ground, nothing but scorched earth.”

Deirdra swallowed and tensed up. They didn’t slow their step though, they knew what they had agreed to. They could’ve chosen to go with Arnau and Lluïsa and seek refuge in the forest but when Rut had come back with the news of the village being free of Loyalists, they knew that this is where they had to be - at least one more time, before death came either at the hand of a firing squad, a bayonet, a wound that wouldn’t close up with the help of magic or get infected regardless how much it was taken care of. Living in a dreamworld where home still looked like home wasn’t what Deirdra wanted.

Something passed by their legs and rubbed itself against them. 

Enkidu was looking up at them, his beady eyes so dark and yet warm that Deidra felt themself taw a bit. They bent over and picked the marten up, gently stroking his fur and holding him close to their chest.

Renée was the only one who approved them, perhaps the only one who felt at comfort doing so but Deirdra felt the others’ worried gazes on their back. Some of them had been in the same position, but regardless of that they all felt with them.

She didn’t say anything but just gently took Deidra`s wrist, caressing it with her thumb. A silent consolation, as reassuring as saying You’re not alone out loud.

The fields where the farmers would grow wheat had been left untouched, or maybe they had already recovered. It has been two years. Everything could’ve happened. Papá had said nothing of burning fields in the letters he, like many incarcerated sympathizers, smuggled out of the prisons where they sat in. It might’ve happened after they took him away. Maybe a villager would know more.

Deirdra had thought of the possibility of someone recognizing them. The marks on their face could be a giveaway, they and Jaume had been the only ones in Valanguer who had them. Maybe the villagers would assume they were from one of the cities, and they might not even recognize them, they had a growth spurt and perhaps the dark blue hair dye was enough to throw anyone off. 

Truth be told, Deirdra was wishing to not be confronted. It might be unbearable and make the experience more real. They had come back to look at the city, not to have someone discover that a lost child came back from the dead.

 Windows were opened cautiously when the group entered the village, and Rut was right; most houses still stood. 

Those that didn’t stood out even more.

Two old men were playing a card game on a shaggy table in front of a house, they looked up curiously when Deirdra and the others passed by them. 

An old woman peered out a door and immediately closed it with a bang as soon as she saw their dark green uniforms. 

Deirdra thought for a moment about potentially being ratted out by Loyalist supporters and forced themself to calm down. Unless the old woman had younger relatives, she wouldn’t be running out to meet the Queen’s Men. They had been gone for some time, or at least that’s what they hoped.

A young man came around a corner with quick paces. His dark curls clung to his forehead and a scar split his lower lip. His nose looked like it had been broken a couple of times, and his brown eyes were steely - but not exactly unwelcoming.

“Greetings, soldiers, Welcome to Valanguer. Are you passing through or looking for a place to rest?”

Llorenç was the son of the mayor, a few years older than Deirdra. Papá would’ve said whether or not he had been a good student, Mamá would’ve talked about everything he had been up to as a free time. 

Pau took up word, as the unofficial leader of the group due to being the most experienced and oldest.

“Greetings. Depends on whether your village is safe or not. My comrades and I would love some rest but if it’s not meant to be, then we will search for our luck in the next village.”

There was no ‘next village’. Rut had told them all so just a few minutes ago.

Llorenç knew that too.

“Would a night be enough? I assume you’re on your way to the capital.”

“Yep.”

“We should talk inside my home, please follow me.”

As Llorenç led them down the street and to the mayor’s house, he introduced himself. He has been acting mayor since last year.

“Last winter some Queen’s Men from the capital came down here. Looking for insurgents and sympathizers. They took the mayor to prison for supposedly providing them with aid and food.”

His mother. Deirdra didn’t give their condolences, they didn’t tear their eyes from the ground. They thought looking at what the war had done to home would be hard to bear but not as hard as it was in reality. It was easier to bow your head and see the dirt that was the same everywhere. And yet they saw the fountain, a ruin of what it had been before where the children used to play when the summers were particularly hot.

The mayor’s house was small, smaller than Renée’s home had been back in the capital, and not all fifteen could fit in the room that served as the mayor’s office. Pau motioned for Rut and, after a brief moment of hesitance, Deirdra to come along with him. They passed Enkidu to Renée who gently stroked his head and followed Pau inside while the others remained outside.

Llorenç’s eyes hung on them for a moment, but there was no flash of recognition in them. He poured himself and his visitors fermented arboç juice.

“I personally have no love for the Queen’s Men. Filthy pillaging murderers, all of them, but the ones who do it because their lives in the city were too boring… those bastards are the scourge upon this land.” He sighed. “But not all people in here think like I do, even in villages like these there are some sympathizers for the Loyalist cause -- even if that “cause” is just killing rebellious youths.” 

Deirdra felt a knot in their stomach. The arboç juice tasted bitter despite its sweetness. Jaume had been such a rebellious youth, and how had his story ended? With a hole in the back of his skull, the most cowardly way to kill someone.

“You leave at sunrise. The Queen’s Men torched the school building that same winter and we don’t have the resources to rebuild it, but it should provide enough shelter for the night.

A shiver crawled down Deirdra’s neck and spine and instead of listening in on what the mayor had to say, they focussed on the flavor of the arboç. They had never particularly liked it but now it was a welcome memory of days long gone that would never return.

They left Llorenç’s home by the time the sun was already kissing the horizon. The sunset was beautiful to behold, the colorful hues overlapping perfectly and fading from orange to red to pink to purple to dark blue. If one looked up, the ruins of Valanguer weren’t visible anymore. 

Deirdra walked the streets with their companions, both giving them a worried look but not daring to approach the issue. 

“It looks better than some other places we’ve been to.” Rut finally said slowly and earned a sharp look from Pau.

“Don’t wander off too far and-”

“Look out, just in case. Don’t be up to any bullshit. I know.”

The both gave each other a look but let them be. Without another word Deirdra turned around and left them behind. 

Valanguer was small, so it didn’t take a lot to reach their destination, but given how often Deidra stopped to look at the houses, they had to admit to themselves they were stalling quite mercilessly. 

Some houses were deserted, the broken windows and kicked-in doors poorly repaired. Those that weren’t reminded them of turtle shells, a refuge where its inhabitants could lock themselves in until danger had passed. The Queen’s Men probably passed by a lot more often than they had at first thought -- maybe they had just left, or were already on their way. Valanguer was a two day trip away from a small town that was known to be full of Loyalist sympathizers, it was a surprise the surrounding lands weren’t infested with llagostes. 

They had left nothing of where the Margalit-Araya used to live. In a village that was burnt to the ground, one blackened ruin didn’t stand out a lot, but here, where mercy had prevailed (until now that was), it stuck out like a sore thumb. There must’ve been nothing left to salvage, and Deirdra felt actual pain at the thought of what had all been lost in the flames. They stood in front of the ruins of their childhood home for a long time, refusing to turn away in an act of self-imposed torture. 

Maybe if they hadn’t left on a whim that night and stayed instead they would’ve been able to take both Papá and Mamá away from here, even if it would’ve ultimately been against their wishes because leaving Valanguer, their home, left leaving behind their lives and leaving behind Jaume, and especially the latter was something neither would have wanted in their sentimentality. And where had they all ended up? Either dead, in prison or on the run, from both those responsible for their -- everyone’s, because they were hardly the only ones -- misery and their own guilt.

Footsteps made them twitch and just from the sound of it, they knew who it was.

“The others said I should leave you alone but I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.”

Renée’s hand rubbed their back and Deirdra felt her put her head against her shoulder. 

“This isn’t how I wanted you to see my home.” Their throat felt dry, like sandpaper, but also surprisingly steady. Deirdra was glad to not feel the need to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” Renée’s lips gently touched their temple and her hand, rough and with calluses, took a hold of Deirdra’s. “When this is over--” She paused, unsure of what to say.

Deirdra turned to look at her and allowed Renée to caress their face, wrap her arms around their neck and pull them close in a hug.

When this is over. They all talked a lot about how things would be when this would be over. Everything destroyed would be repaired, Queen Jacinta chased out of the country and back to her Calpacian liege lords, tail between her legs like any good vassal, and the Orioli would be truly free.

But for Deirdra it wouldn’t be over. And they had the feeling that it would never truly be.

[khromashorts]

Michael, a horror short

He'd definitely heard something. Michael crept out of bed and tip-toed across the room, reaching for the door handle. Slowly, quietly, he eased open his bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

It was in darkness, save for a shaft of intense light cast on the opposite wall at the far end of the hallway. "The bathroom light," he said out loud to himself, realising the door was ajar. "I've left the bloody bathroom light on again."

He took a few paces down the hall, but something was nagging him in the back of his mind. He stopped a metre from the bathroom door, suddenly realising what he'd forgotten: a noise had woken him. Perhaps he'd left the window open as well, and a breeze had knocked something off of the windowsill? His subconscious was telling him he was wrong.

Gingerly, Michael reached out to the bathroom door, feeling the hairs on his arms rise, his scalp tightening. He realised he'd been holding his breath, and silently exhaled. The bathroom door suddenly slammed shut, as if pulled from within, and the sharp crack resounded in the sudden darkness. Michael, stricken by the unexpected shock, found he couldn't get his body to move. His mind screamed for escape, even as his arm disobeyed and reached out to open the door. It was as if he was watching with no control, imprisoned in his own mind and forced to watch when all he wanted to do was flee.

His hand clasped the door handle, pushed it down. The door gently swung open with an almost apologetic creak, and he saw the room was in complete, inky darkness. It was the blackest, most suffocating darkness he had ever seen, and everything about it radiated a sense of wrongness that prickled his skin. As he made to close the door, there was a muffled shuffling sound, as if someone was pulling a heavy, wet sack across the floor, and he froze anew, every nerve on fire now.

He took a sluggish step back, bumping into the wall on the other side of the hallway as a strangled, croaking sound began to emanate from the dark abyss of the bathroom, like some awful death rattle escaping something he couldn't see. This time, he found he could move. He bolted for the front door, throwing his shoulder into it as he pushed down the handle, and he flew out over the threshold, out of the house, away from the hellish sound that was still ringing in his ears. He heard the door slam shut behind him and squeezed his eyes closed for a second to drive out the last echoes of noise.

When he opened them, he was not where he should have been. Instead of finding himself on his driveway, his small silver hatchback in front of him, he was in a dark, narrow red brick alleyway. Tall buildings rose on either side of him, closing him in like some suffocating urban canyon. Black metal fire escapes lined the walls on either side, but none of them looked accessible, suspended just out of reach, and seemingly all bereft of their lower ladders. He spun around. The house was gone, replaced with a solid brick wall. He reached out to it slowly, stroking it with the tips of his fingers before flattening his palms to it. He pushed, and was sure he felt the wall push back. He backed away, putting some distance between himself and the impossible wall where his house had just been before turning back to look at the alley again.

Michael's mind reeled. Was he dreaming? No. No, this was far too real. He'd never experienced such cold, mortal terror in a dream as he had standing in front of his bathroom door just moments ago, and he could feel malice emanating from... from whatever had been in there. Maybe he was losing his mind? Maybe the break-up, piled on top of everything else he'd had to deal with over the last year, had finally caught up with him and just broken him? Maybe his body was locked in a padded cell somewhere, while he - the real he, the lucid he - was trapped here, fighting the nightmares in his head?

He reached out to the side wall of the alley, brushing it with his fingertips, feeling the rough texture of the brick. No. This was real. It was too real to be anything but. He had to find a way out.

The other end of the alley seemed to open up onto a wide street of some kind, and Michael quickly strode toward it. As he came closer, he realised that a chain link fence barred his path. He tilted his head back to look up. The fence reached all the way to the roofs of the buildings. While some logical part of him registered that that was clearly abnormal, Michael's first conscious thought was that there no way he could climb it. He was trapped, and his fear was starting to return, propped up by his mounting frustration. His fingers closed around the metal of the chain link fence, and he leaned forward. "HELP!" he shouted into the street beyond. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

No reply came. He pushed his face closer to the fence, trying to peer out into the well-lit street. It was night, but there were still a few cars on the road, their headlights illuminating the asphalt as they drove by, while a couple of streetlights threw sickly yellow pools of light onto the pavement here and there. He saw someone step into the light under one of the streetlights, casually walking along the street wrapped up in a heavy rain mac, hood up, carrying an umbrella. Reflexively, Michael glanced up again, putting his hand out palm up, as if to confirm to himself that it wasn't raining, and wondering to himself why the person on the street was carrying an umbrella. Shaking the thought from his mind, he called out again. No response. He called again. "Hey! Hey, can you hear me? I need help!"

The person slowed, and glanced around curiously, almost as if they could barely hear Michael. Yet they were only about twenty feet from the mouth of the alleyway. He shouted again and the person turned. Michael realised it was a woman, and he called again. Still no reply, though this time, the woman took a few cautious steps toward the alleyway fence, stopping about fifteen feet away to peer into the darkness. How could she not see him? In the darkness, he couldn't make out the features of her face, but he thought he saw something glint where her eyes would have been, as if something shiny had caught the light.

He drew in a breath, intending to call out to her again, his frustration mounting now, though tempered with the tiniest bit of hope that someone knew he was here. He didn't get a chance. In an instant, the woman was right in front of him, her face merely inches from his own, on the other side of the chain link fence. Michael quickly staggered back, tripping over his own feet in his effort to get away, and fell heavily to the ground. She hadn't taken a run at him; she had just appeared there. One second she was fifteen feet away, and then she was just there.

He sat there for a second, stunned, as he began to hear a low, quiet, throaty growling sound from the edge of the alleyway. Wide-eyed, fighting back sheer animal terror and the hardwired instinct to run, he slowly lifted his head to glance up at the woman's face, but there was nothing there. No face, just a deep, dark pool of nothingness framed by the hood of the rain mac. But he could see her eyes, or what should have been her eyes: two intense rings of red peered out at him from beneath the rim of the umbrella, as if they'd been scrawled there by a difficult child with a crayon in its fist.

She cast her gaze about slowly, as if she knew he was there somewhere but couldn't quite make him out. Michael immediately froze, not wanting to move a muscle and give himself away in front of this... thing. He noticed her head was moving slightly every now and then, and focused on the motion. He could hear her breathing. No, not breathing. She was sniffing at the air, as if she were a predator trying to get his scent, and the realisation turned his blood cold. He fought a back rising tide of despair; seconds ago he had thought she might be his salvation, yet now he was being... hunted? And he was trapped here, in the enclosed alleyway. He tried to focus his thoughts. He had to get out of here, he had to escape, and giving in to that despair would not help him.

He edged away slightly, inch by inch on his backside, and realised now that the ground was wet, as if it had been raining. More than that, he could hear the rain now, even if he couldn't feel or see it - not here in the alleyway or outside in the street. The strange creature seemed to notice it though, and shrieked in annoyance, and Michael had to cover his ears as the sound bored into his skull, a horrifying din like someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard while gargling broken glass. The woman stopped screeching and cast her gaze about again, more impatient now, and Michael decided this was his chance. Keeping his eyes fixed on the creature in the rain mac, he carefully stood up and took a couple of hasty steps back. Her head snapped in his direction, those burning red rings staring right at him, and her hands grabbed at the metal of the chain link fence. He couldn't quite make out her hands either, as if they were made of shadow, but her fingers seemed unnaturally long, pointed, sharp. She made no sound now. Could she see him? He froze, not daring to move, and the creature, seemingly frustrated, began casting her head around again, even as she gripped the metal links of the fence. She must have lost him.

He took a few more steps, and the creature began to shriek again, thrashing at the chain link fence as she did, as if she was going to tear it free to get at her prey. Then, as abruptly as she had begun, she stopped, her arms slowly dropped to her sides, and her body turned on the spot as if to leave. Not her head though. It stayed exactly where it was, those angry red rings peering into the dark alleyway, before that too turned, catching up to the rest of her, and she walked away down the street, looking again like a normal pedestrian huddled under her umbrella against the rain. Michael, breathing rapidly now, his heart threatening to burst from his chest, backed up a few paces and glanced over his shoulder back down the alleyway. He couldn't make any sense of this; he wondered again if he was going insane - anything to explain away the things he was seeing - and forced those thoughts out of his head again. He had to focus. He had to escape first, then he could stop, think, figure out whether or not he had cracked. Right now, it wasn't a priority. He had to run. He had to get away. He had to stay alive.

But he couldn't go back the way he came - it just wasn't there anymore - and getting out onto the street was clearly out of the question. He had no choice but to find a way up. He started to walk back down the alleyway, glancing over his shoulder every few paces, suddenly aware of how exposed he was in the middle of the dark alley with nowhere to hide if the predatory creature came back for him.

He noticed that one of the fire escapes about two thirds of the way back down the alley did have a ladder to ground level. Had that been there before? He was almost sure it hadn't, and he approached it cautiously, as if he expected it to suddenly fly up out of his reach to taunt him. He reached out with his right hand, and was almost surprised when his fingers closed around the edge of it. He let out a small, involuntary laugh of relief, and then heard another sound, like stone shifting against stone. He spun around to face the back wall of the alleyway and was sure he saw it move. It was. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then it started to slide in his direction, the entire red brick wall. It was coming for him.

He immediately turned back to the ladder and started climbing, hauling himself up onto the first landing of the fire escape, and pulled himself along the handrail towards the next set of steps. Every time he reached the next landing, he was facing away from the oncoming wall, but he didn't dare glance back to see how far off it was. He had time, he was sure of it. He just had to keep moving, keep running, keep climbing. He allowed himself a glance up to see how many floors were left above him. He was sure he'd cleared five or six now, but the top seemed no nearer. He glanced down as he ran, and saw that the ground was now very far below him - if he fell, he would surely be dead, never mind the wall.

Finally, the top was in sight. "I'm going to make it!" he shouted to no one in particular, just as he heard the groaning of metal. He reached the next landing and turned to see that the wall was now right on top of him. Though the fire escape was slowing its progress, it wouldn't last long. The unstoppable wall was starting to crush the staircase, tearing it from the wall. And Michael was a long way from the ground. He kept running, his lungs burning with the effort, his legs threatening to collapse under him. He pumped his arms, pounded up the final steps and threw himself onto the roof, a split second before the wall - impassive, uncaring - tore the steps from the wall and sent them clattering loudly into the darkness below.

Michael lay on the roof, wheezing, trying and failing to slow his breathing. Every part of him ached and protested. He didn't have the strength to stand now. He needed a few moments to recover. He rolled onto his back and lay panting, staring up at the bright, twinkling stars that dotted the night sky, the sounds of the other falling fire escapes beginning to recede until there was silence once again.

He had no idea how long he'd been laying there. His breathing had steadied enough now, and though his chest ached and his muscles burned, he forced himself to roll onto his side so he could try to stand. He didn't make it that far. As his perspective shifted and his vision focused, he realised he was not alone on the roof. He rose to his knees as a blinding light shone directly into his face, blotting everything out. He put his hand up to shield his eyes, and the intense light suddenly died away. He shuffled backwards instinctively and blinked, struggling to regain his sight, and as his view of the rooftop resolved, he saw...

[nascent-chaos]

This is another ask that I wanted to ask but I put it separately, what type of monster would Reed be? and if she got turned into a monster for some reason how would each skeleton react?

I had answered a similar ask in the past, but if Reed were to turn into a monster? Now THAT’S a different story!

Her species would still be more or less the same - a plant-like monster, fairly humanoid in terms of appearance (I’d imagine something not unlike Undyne), but a bit more sensitive to her surroundings. 

Sans :: He and Red are the first to find her, both woken by her panicked shouts for Sans early that morning. Surprisingly, it’s Classic who’s the first to brace for a confrontation when he sees a strange monster standing in the doorway to her bathroom and their human is nowhere to be found; it’s only thanks to Red’s timely intervention that he’s kept from actually attacking the intruder first and asking questions later.

Once the misunderstanding has been cleared up and he’s calmed her down… well, if you thought Sans was overprotective of her before, it’s nothing compared to how he is now. After all, she’s managed to make her fair share of enemies as a human, and that will only get worse now that she’s a monster. Is locking her up in the loft like Rapunzel an option? He’d probably seriously consider it, were it not for the fact that she now seems acutely aware of his anxiety and uncertainties - likely because she’s now able to hear his soul just as easily as he can hear hers. He might not be able to keep her in the house at all times, but he’ll certainly make sure to stick with her if she happens to venture off the mountain.

Papyrus :: She’s barreling down the stairs shouting for his brother when he sees her, and initially mistakes her as an acquaintance of Reed or Red’s, who… happens to sound surprisingly similar to their human? And who even knows him by name?

Wait, what do you mean this is his human?!

… Yeah, they’re both going to tag-team against his brother to find out what the heck he’s gone and done this time.

Papyrus is easily the most attentive to her needs as she tries getting accustomed to her new lifestyle, and is one of the most vocal when it comes to expressing his excitement over this change. He’s fascinated by all, and rightly so, as she’s now experiencing everyday things for the first time that he’d have never otherwise given a second thought to. That tingle of rejuvenating magic they all feel when eating? Her first time feeling that in full force makes her shiver and give a squeak of astonishment that leaves him wanting to sweep her up in adoring cuddles. The first time she’s managed to manifest a bullet? He’s over the moon, showering her in praise that leaves her green-tinged skin glowing red with embarrassment. He and Edge are the one that lead the charge in teaching her everything she needs to know, often to comedic effect, but at the end of the day she’s happier and healthier than ever!

Blue :: He had only just returned from his morning run when he notices an unfamiliar figure striding across the lawns and making a beeline for the workshop. He’s quick to call out to them, and they come to an abrupt halt as he quickly jogs up to them. Before he can say so much as a greeting, though, they’ve all but burst into tears, blubbering something about waking up and feeling funny and please tell her this is only temporary, because she has no idea how she’s going to explain this to Muffet, and… ooh.

Ooh…

It’s safe to say the first person that responds to his irritable rasps on the workshop doors will be in for a good talking-to.

Blue tries to keep things as normal as possible, but his attempts at normalcy tend to go so overboard they usually end up as anything but - what might be a quick jaunt up to the store might turn into an over-the-top game of Secret Agent Reed as they try to procure a jug of milk without her being seen (as she claims rather exasperatedly that she doubts anyone would even recognize her all the while).

Stretch :: It’s still in the early hours of the morning when he and the others are down in the lab tinkering on the machine, still attempting to wrangle the oversized tin can after it’s had another one of its episodes. So, naturally, when there is yet another furious banging to be heard coming from the door, they’re each understandably apprehensive - after all, the last time this happened Dust had appeared on their doorstep.

Only, it’s not Edge or one of the others that greet him when he peers outside, but a monster he’d never seen before - and they’re utterly livid.

“What the fuck did you guys do?!”

… Well. That’s not good.

The rest of the morning is spent juggling a nearly hysterical human(monster?) and trying to stabilize the machine once more. After realizing Reed has spent the entire day pacing about the house anxiously, however, he eventually throws in the towel and settles for taking the remainder of the day to try and calm her down. It proves to be far easier a task than what he faced down in the workshop, at least. 

Stretch proves to be the perfect counter to her worrisome side, easily able to quell her stress and get her to sit still and unwind for a bit. Like Hickory, he takes everything in stride and reminds her that the change doesn’t really mean the end of the world - they’re not gonna just leave her like this, so why not enjoy it a little?

And hey, cuddle time with her has just become even more enjoyable now that she fills any room she enters with the scent of fresh flowers.

Red :: He’s the first to sense something’s wrong, hearing her soul thrumming with barely-contained panic from the floor below late one morning. When his nervous knocks at her door are ignored and his calls to her go unanswered he’s shortcutting into her room to see what’s going on…

Only to find a stranger there instead.

Instinct has his magic flaring in his socket in seconds, but he retains enough sense to notice the similarities in her appearance and the fact that he can feel their dread, can hear their confusion and uncertainty and panic in a way he’s only ever experienced with Reed. When he realizes the face that’s looking up at him now is actually hers, that the voice that says his name with such relief is her own…

“… aww shit.”

He doesn’t stray too far from her side over the next few days and is surprisingly… helpful, casually giving her tips for things she seems oblivious to (‘of course yer gonna be tired, rosebud, ya ain’t been outta the house in two days! last i checked, flowers needed sunlight.’). Of course, this doesn’t mean his flirtatious self has taken any time off. If anything he’s even more likely to try sweeping her off her feet - it seems the knowledge that their connection is open both ways now has freed him from any prior restraints he may have put on himself. Firing sultry comments hidden beneath flowery puns that make her blush becomes the norm and Red makes absolutely no attempt to hide the intentions he knows his soul is singing from her.

Edge :: Drawn by the sound of her shouts echoing down the hallways, she runs into him just as he’s exiting his room - literally runs, barreling into him and sending them both spilling back into his quarters. She’s sputtering frantic, barely-coherent apologies as she’s scrambling to help him up, and it’s then that he realizes something is amiss. The skin of her hands is far too green to be a healthy, human color, transitioning seamlessly with the leaves that encircle her wrists. He’d have suspected it to be some ridiculously accurate costume were it not for the magic he can feel thrumming beneath her skin at her touch.

Looking up, he’s actually rendered speechless at the sight that greets him.

He is not happy about this change whatsoever. Not that it’s anything she can help - he knows full well Reed has had no hand in the strange cards fate has dealt her, but damn if he’s not muttering complaints under his breath every other minute. Any instinctual knowledge that would have typically been expected in a babybones seems to have completely passed her by; she lacks any real control over her magic, barely knows how to do something as simple as CHECK someone, and don’t even get him started on her apparent disregard for her own safety. While she says she knows full well the sort of danger she’d be in if she just strolled into down, Edge constantly finds himself doubting her words and is always the first to argue against her so much as stepping out of his sight, much less wandering down the mountain and into town. 

Hickory :: It’s the loud chatter of the others as they pass by that awakens him.

It’s the sound of her terrified soul accompanying them that has him shooting up and rushing to the door to peek outside and see what’s happened.

And it’s the sight of a familiar plant-like monster looking to be in no small amount of duress that has him grumbling to himself, ‘i don’ beleaf this shit…’

While everyone is running around playing body-guard to their human, it’s Hickory who makes sure Reed has a free moment to breathe and takes time to actually relax and remember to enjoy life, different though it may now be. He knows things’ll be fixed in time - until then, why not make the most of it? It’s not like a human gets turned into a monster every day. Like Stretch, he’s one of the voices that tempts her into long cuddles sessions or late-night movie binges or coaxes her into spending her time outside soaking up some sun and enjoying what time she’ll be having off from work.

Black :: He’s startled awake by the thunderous sound of his human bolting down the stars just outside of his room, shouting angrily for Classic in a tone that immediately has him tensed and ready for a fight - which isn’t a good thing, considering it’s a complete stranger he soon finds banging angrily on Classic’s door. He’d have almost thrown them out of the third story window then and there, had he not realized they shared the same voice, the same body language…

And that they called him ‘Sans’ instead of Blackberry the moment they noticed him peeking out from his room.

This… is a headache he really didn’t need.

Black is the one that manages her relations with the outside world while the others try reversing all that’s happened. He’s the one creating her alias, using his connections within the embassy to create the documentation she needs, and dealing with the increasingly-suspicious Muffet who’s eager to know just what kind of chaos the skeleton household has swept her human up into this time. His ability to spin half-truths is going to get quite the workout throughout all of this, and he’ll gripe about it even as he’s skillfully tying up any potential loose end, but at least he’ll have a very thankful little flower waiting safe and sound at home to show for it.

Dust :: He’s one of the last to find out what’s happened, groggily shortcutting downstairs one morning to find everyone has already congregated in the living room and are chittering alongside a very anxious-looking monster he’s never seen before.

And it’s the fact that they’re an unfamiliar face that brings him to a dead halt because by now he’s all but certain he knew every last monster in the underground…

By and large, Dust ends up getting quite a kick out of the entire ordeal. He lacks Classic’s overprotectiveness, something that had developed following events that occurred long before he’d even come to this AU, and as such tends to be a good deal more laid-back and teasing about the change on the whole. Like himself, Reed is largely confined to the lodge and its property, and Dust eventually takes it upon himself to give the new monster the tips and tricks she needs to keep herself from going as insane as he’s gone while under her might-as-well-be house arrest. He’ll accompany her when he has nothing better to do, lazing around as she tends to chores or the garden or goes for walks to shed some of her anxiousness, and makes for a surprisingly decent person to vent to when she’s feeling too antsy and needs to get her frustrations off of her chest.

[kimshavacado]

Dead Heat Ch.4

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage/Mafia AU

Summary: Three extremely powerful families with enough power to bring down entire governments, all with vastly different views on how things should be run. The Min family thinks everything can be solved with money, the Jeon family think everything can be solved with violence, and the Kim family relies more on thought which leads to a lack of action. When Kim Y/N loses her father, she only has one way to save herself and her family. But it involves having to give herself over to a stranger. How the hell is she not supposed to punch him in his stupid rich face?

Dead Heat Masterlist

Warnings: Language

A/N: Hi again lovely readers! You ready for some goddamn answers? I certainly am. Enjoy some soft Yoongi along the way ;)

Chapter 4: Sweet As Suga

It felt like all the air had left your body along with all sense of sanity leaving this hollow shell sitting behind the desk. For a moment you sit like this, still staring at the same photo. You’re running through every possible reason that Jimin might be there. Maybe he’s a prisoner or being forced to do something. Maybe it’s not Jimin at all and he’s got some twin that looks exactly like him.

“Y/N.” Yoongi softly calls you. But you remain fixated on the image, looking for any falsities or things that will give Jimin the benefit of the doubt. That is, until you catch a glimpse of the next photos. You put the first image aside and deflate into the back of Yoongi’s desk chair as you analyze the next ones. Jimin has his arm around the chloroform man, and is laughing. You can’t seem to continue further through the folder so you quickly close everything back inside.

You only realize the tears in your eyes when you attempt to look up at Yoongi. You refuse to let them fall, telling yourself that you’ve been through worse, but have you really? Jimin is literally the person who you trust most in the world.

-Was that person.

You keep cautious eyes on Yoongi as he walks forward to take one of the seats in front of his desk. Something about Yoongi looks soft in this moment, but maybe that’s just because of the fragile state that your mind is in right now. He leans casually forward on the desk and looks directly into your eyes.

“I know what you’re feeling right now, and I know you don’t want to talk about it. But,” he let’s out a sigh. “Do you still want to know?”

The way he is speaking to you is much like the way someone would talk to a child. Normally you would feel like he’s talking down to you, but instead you feel comforted. He’s aware of how fragile you are in your current state, and is taking every step to make sure you only hear if you’re ready to.

After what feels like multiple minutes, you find enough resolve to nod your head at Yoongi, but you’re still not entirely sure if you want to hear what he is going to say, because you want him to say that Jimin has not betrayed you. Yoongi sits back and stares out the window of the study trying to think about the best place to start before letting out a sigh.

“He works for them. The Jeons. Even before he was born, his mother was indebted to them. After her death, the debt fell onto him.”

What a fact to start off with. This wasn’t some new thing. He has been on their side the entire time you’ve known him. He was probably raised with those boys from the photos. Jimin isn’t just working for them, you saw how he enjoys their company. He’s their friend, their brother. Before you can get through processing this, Yoongi continues.

“They plotted for years. The Kims are seen as the weakest of the three of us and are the easiest to get rid of. They had never acted on any of their plans, but they must’ve heard your father’s talks about allying with us. Individually they stand a chance, but together we’re bigger than them.”

Everything he’s saying makes perfect sense, but a part of you is still skeptical. It’s the part of you that want’s him to be wrong about everything so you can be reassured that the person you love most in the world still loves you as well.

After he’s done explaining the politics behind your father’s death Yoongi leans forwards again noticing your mental turbulence.

“There’s one more thing Y/N. He’s the one who did it.” No.

“Did what?” Definitely not.

“He killed your father.”

“You can’t possibly know that. You didn’t even see who poisoned him.” You deny.

“He’s the only possible suspect, besides you. Honestly, you should be relieved I didn’t suspect you to begin with.”

“What do you mean me?

“You had a motive too. You allying with the Jeons could guarantee you the power you’re looking for in exchange for help taking down the Mins.”

“It not that I want power,” you immediately respond. “What I think I deserve is tied to my blood right as a Kim. I want my family’s respect, not whatever power I can get my hands on.” Great, now you have to defend yourself, but at least you’re not talking about Jimin. You’re not sure you could handle anymore surprises regarding him today.

“I can respect that.” Yoongi says after your explanation. “That’s why I didn’t really suspect you. If that’s what you wanted, you wouldn’t have murdered the head of your family to get there.”

Wait, Yoongi knew about my desire for taking leadership of my family? He does realize the events that led you to becoming his wife are the things keeping you from that goal, right? And how long has he known all of this? He saw Jimin at the party, so after that? It’s all too much to be questioning right now, and you find your mind running around in circles until you’re not able to think anymore.

“I… have to…”

“It’s okay. I’ll leave you be for a while.” Yoongi says, saving you the struggle of having to saying anything else. He walks out of the office, leaving you alone again. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the closed folder on the desk in front of you, you decide the only way to escape your mind is through sleep. You leave the office and head straight down the hall to your room, where you crawl under the covers and hope that when you wake up, all the lies will have been a dream.

After a few hours, you wake up in a sweat and are immediately reminded of all the shit floating around in your head from the conversation with Yoongi just a few hours ago. You find that you don’t even want to think about anything right now. After you get out of bed, you decide to take a long shower. Once under the water, you close your eyes and try to imagine the water washing away all the worries, but instead you feel like you yourself are melting away down the drain. That’s when you feel it all at once. Jimin has never been a friend. He was a spy and murderer and you let yourself get close to him. You let your tears mix with the water.

When you step out of the shower you throw on some pajamas and work up the courage the venture outside of your room. Peaking out of the door you see that there is no usual guard to keep you from leaving. You find this strange, but are relieved to feel like you had at least some privacy. You wander around, not really looking for anything in particular. It’s not like you’re snooping either, just traveling through the house looking for distraction. Instead you find Yoongi sitting on the couch in the living room, facing away from you. You aren’t sure if you are annoyed that he’s there. What catches you off guard is a small sense of comfort that you’re no longer alone to steep in your thoughts.

“There’s a pot of tea on the stove if you’re interested.” Yoongi speaks up without turning around to face you.

“Thanks.” You say quietly as you remove yourself momentarily to slip into the kitchen. When you come you come back into the living room you sit directly on the couch next to Yoongi before you realize it. The two of you sit and sip tea in the most awkward of silences that you’ve ever experienced. Finally, Yoongi breaks it by speaking.

“I’m sorry, for everything.” The statement is yet another thing that catches you off guard. He was suddenly so different than the first day you met him.

“What’s your deal?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows while peering at you over his tea waiting for you to ask a more specific question that he’ll actually be able to answer. After a moment you can’t keep it in anymore and have to know.

“You’re like… nice.” You stumble out, words guarded with suspicion. And if Yoongi’s eyebrows could raise any higher they’d disappear behind his hairline.

“Listen, I know you’ve been around a lot of bad people who’ve… wronged you. I understand your lack of trust, but I am an extremely nice guy.” He says the last part of the sentence a little bit too smug.

“Yeah, cause nice guys hold girls prisoner.” At this his eyebrows go the opposite direction and furrow in confusion for a moment before quickly jumping to defend himself.

“No, I was just… keeping you safe. Look, the Jeons are planning something. They were more likely to take care of what’s left of the Kims which is why you’re here. But now they know that we know everything, we could be a target too. So I guess you’re not even safe here either.”

Wow, how reassuring. If your best friend killing your father didn’t kill the mood then Yoongi definitely just did. You two sit for a while basking in the realization that you are royally fucked, until something suddenly comes over you.

“Tell me a story from your childhood, a happy one, not some daddy issues crap.” You say to him and his eyebrows do the thing again.

“Uh… well, I guess I had a cat.” This kind of surprises you, but then again, Yoongi has told you he’s a “nice” guy. Nice guys can have pets.

“Tell me about your cat, Yoongi.” He sighs and puts his tea on the table as you lean deeper into the couch giving him your full attention.

“Uh, her name was… Suga.” You look at him incredulously.

“I got her when I was three, okay!? I didn’t know what I was doing when I named her!”

“Was she sweet like sugar?” You mockingly ask.

“No, she was a jerk really. Hated my guts. My mom always said that she’d warm up to me eventually, but that day never came. Still, I always tried to get her to like me.”

“What happened to her?”

“Mom or the cat?” And at this you freeze. He asked so calmly that it sounded like he’d actually tell you about his mom. You two weren’t really close and it felt like too intimate to ask something like that.

“Suga.” You clarify.

“Would you believe she died of old age?”

“No.”

“Well, Dad thought I’d believe that. But I know he thought the cat was making me soft.”

“Wow, that’s… really horrible.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Yoongi’s story probably could’ve had a happy ending had you not learned about the cat’s death. “How about you, any stories with happy endings?” You really have to think about this one.

“Any of my happy stories involve Jimin. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem that any of them have a happy ending now.” You try to not notice the pity on his face.

“Tell me the happiest moment of your life.”

“But, Jimin is-“

“Doesn’t matter.” He interrupts.

You really struggle to begin telling Yoongi about the night you met Jimin and you two sat under the stars, but as soon as you get into the story, you start to feel better. As odd as it seems, it feels like the memory is lending you some sort of peace of mind. After the story, you look up and see Yoongi has a soft look on his face. It looks good on him.

“So yeah, since then, we sit together under the stars all the time, it’s become one of my passions. I actually saw the ceiling in the main hall and got excited because of the little stars peeking through. Thought it’d be really cool if the entire thing was painted like that.”

“Wow, when you tell stories like that, I almost forget our lives are shit.”

“Yeah well, tragic backstories and dead parents are basically included in our job description.” He laughs when you say this.

You two spend the night sharing shitty stories that somehow bring comfort to each other. Honestly, you feel bad for assuming Yoongi’s personality before, he’s a lot like you. When it gets pretty late, you decide you should probably attempt to go back to sleep. Yoongi agrees and says he probably should as well and walks you back toward the bedrooms. Once both of you are at your door, you turn to face him.

“Thanks. For tonight.” You say after awkwardly staring at each other. He lets out a breathy laugh.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

And you watch him walk down the hall to his door. In that moment you realized you were certainly setting yourself up to get your heart broken again.

A/N:  Aww, character development, kinda. Next chapter will take some time since I'll be leaving the country for a bit. I hope to have it up before the end of the month. See you then lovelies!

Next Chapter

@badbyeyoongi

[bluewhale52]

Little Black Book: The One You Hate (M)

Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Kim Seokjin, the one you hate.

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED.

Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to lovers, friends with benefit

WC: 3.9k

Warning: swearing, car blowjob, ass slapping, OC loves going down on Seokjin, sex against a window, sex between coworkers, love-hate relationship between OC and Seokjin (more on OC). I guess that’s about it....

A/N: Many, many, many thanks to @rainbhrts94​ for beta-ing this piece. I was experiencing a burnout and having a hard time putting all my thoughts together, and her reviews and suggestions totally helped getting this fic into its final form. Thank you!! 

Little Black Book Masterlist 

Kim Seokjin was the bane of your existence. 

The cocky, arrogant IP attorney from the New York office had everyone on your floor in an uproar for weeks. You had seen him making one of the conference rooms his home away from home, with a hoard of lawyers and secretaries going in and out at his beckoning. You were watching them with jealousy. Sure, you were a mere junior in the firm and therefore the lowest in the food chain (just slightly above the interns), but you really wanted to be part of the action. 

Then, somehow, during his  last few days in Seoul, you were picked to help him and his team. Your excitement soon turned sour, as you were constantly on coffee and photocopy duties. How could you prove your worth when you were too busy being worked as Kim Seokjin’s personal server? Why couldn’t he ask one of his groupies? There were plenty of secretaries and PAs throwing themselves at him; you bet one of them would be happy to do this... THIS menial job. It was truly beneath your job description, and you started to simply, truly hate the man.

If that was really the case though, how did you end up in his luxury rental car, bending over towards the driver seat, sucking his cock? How did your mouth end up around his shaft, while your saliva dripped down and coated your fingers around his base? Why were your panties getting wetter with every moan and groan that left his lips? Why did you wish he would just spank your ass instead of tugging your hair? Why, when he came, did you gobble up his seed so greedily and lick him clean? Why did you even feel the need to stick your tongue out to him to show him you had swallowed every single drop?

Seokjin exhaled sharply then looked over at you as he tucked himself back in. “You do this with every visiting attorney?” He leered at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Just the one that pisses me off.”

He chuckled. “I should piss you off more then.”

“Are you going to drive me home or what?”

Seokjin started his car. The engine purred, and you pressed your thighs closer together at the soft vibrations that went through the car. “I promised I’d buy you dinner first, didn’t I?”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I had a meal already, thanks.”

Seokjin sniggered as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to drive you home - “the least I can do after all your hard work this week” he had said- and while your little apartment was at the other end of the city from the five-star hotel he was staying, it was indeed the least he could do for you. So when you had settled in his car and buckled your seatbelt, after he had asked if he could buy you dinner, you- in your frustration, because you hated him and you just wanted to go home (god, was that too much to ask)- muttered under your breath on how you would rather suck his dick than have dinner with him. 

You had been taken aback when he broke into a brazen smile, challenging you to eat your own words, and damned if you were going to back down. Deep down, you had wanted to see if this perfect man with the perfect face and the perfect suits tailored around his perfect body (he had legs that went for miles, you hated to admit), also had the perfect dick. 

It turned out that he did, and his perfect dick was perfectly hard when you unzipped him. And so, that was how you went down on Kim Seokjin, giving him a near perfect blowjob, in his car, in the basement parking lot of your firm. (Near perfect because honestly, you could have done a lot more had you had more ample space to move.)

You stole a glance at Seokjin as he drove. His side profile was sharp and too good to be true. Flashes of lights only further highlighted his jaw and cheekbones. You looked away, pouting. 

“I’m flying back tomorrow evening.” He broke the silence. “You gonna miss me?”

You scoffed. “You wish. I’ll finally be able to do real work rather than making you coffee.”

He had the gall to laugh. “I’ll be back in two months. Don’t worry.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. How did you get into this? How could you possibly be so horny for him? Was it your dislike for him that made you like this? You should have known better than blowing him in his car just now. What if he started shooting his mouth off in the office? Or worse, in your personal promised land, THE New York office?

“Seokjin,” you started, “about what happened just now, I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

“Of course, I’m not Yuna.”

You tilted your head at the name. Yuna was one of the senior partners’ secretary. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? She’s been telling everyone how good I was in bed.”

“You slept with her?” You couldn’t mask your surprise. “I didn’t hear anything about it. I must’ve been so out of loop with the rumor mills. Wait… Is that why you’ve been asking me to do all that shit? So you don’t have to deal with her?”

“Smart girl.” Seokjin made a turn, stopping just outside your apartment complex. He turned off the engine.

“And here I thought you liked my coffee. And how I photocopied your endless documents.” You said dryly. “Thanks for the ride.”

Seokjin stopped you before you exited his car. “Aren’t you going to invite me to your place?”

You chortled. “Why, you need a goodbye fuck?” You spat it out, but internally, you hoped your playing hard to get was not going to backfire. 

“Hmm,” Seokjin looked out of the car, eyeing your apartment building. “What kind of bedsheets do you have?”

“What do my bedsheets have to do with anything?”

“500 thread count? Or pure linen?” 

You opened the car door and got out. “Bye Seokjin.”

He got out too, walking you to the main entrance. “I’ll buy you some. For next time I’m here. Two months from now.”

You scanned your access card, but he stopped you from opening the door.

“Not gonna kiss me goodnight, sweetheart?”

You turned to him and leaned forward. But instead of kissing him, you stuck your tongue out and licked him, along his jaw, all the way to his ear. You did not miss the shiver that ran through his body when you closed your lips around his earlobe. Smiling smugly,  you opened the door, and as you were about to walk into your safe haven triumphantly, Seokjin slapped your ass. You stilled yourself, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction. 

“See you in two months, sweetheart.” You heard him chuckle as the door closed behind you.

Kim Seokjin was truly the bane of your existence. 

~~~

He returned to Seoul in two months. You were not keeping track on your calendar, no of course not. You just knew because the commotion was back, as it always was when he stepped into the office. He picked you again to assist his team (Yuna gave you an evil eye for that), and at the end of the work day, when you were filing papers and folders, he slipped a small envelope into your hand. 

“Open it at your desk.” He said in a low whisper. 

You looked at the envelope quizzically before putting it into your pocket. “Is it your credit card? To buy pure linen bed sheets?” You whispered back. 

“Sweetheart, I already bought you a few sets from New York.”

You snorted. Later, when you were back at your desk, you took the envelope out and opened it. You found a note with a gold monogram of Seokjin’s initials at the top. You laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Under his insignia, was a series of digits you assumed to be his mobile number. You saved it in your phone. 

There was something else in the envelope, however. A piece of key card, with the logo of the five-star hotel on one side, and handwritten 4-digit number on the other.  Your eyes widened. Was this an invitation to his hotel room?

You peered out of your cubicle like a meerkat, trying to find where Seokjin was. Then you remembered foolishly you had his number. So you immediately texted him.

-- You [18:40] : Seokjin, WTF??? 

-- You [18:40] : also, nice stationery

-- You [18:40] : it’s me btw

-- Seokjin [18:41] : hurry the fuck up. I’ve been waiting for you in my car

You smiled. The time had finally come, you were going to fuck Kim Seokjin.

~~~

You had to admit, high quality bed sheets felt amazing. It hugged your naked body like soft clouds as Seokjin pounded into you relentlessly. His thrusts had caused your body to move, inch by inch, from one end of the bed to the other. You were not complaining though;  the way he rammed himself into you made your breasts bounce back and forth like a pendulum on a string, the feeling was so delicious.

You gripped the edge of the bed as you watched him over you. His usually perfect hair was messy now, his perfect face was void of the usual laser focus expression you normally saw at work and of the arrogant smirk he liked to give you. His broad shoulders and lean torso filled your vision- you had had fun stroking your hands over his pecs, abdomens and biceps. God, you hated how perfectly hot he was. 

You whined pathetically when he plunged his cock and pushed it as deep as he could into you. Seokjin dropped to his elbows, and you welcomed the new weight on top of your body. He stilled, letting his hardness rest inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and could not help but clench around his cock. He groaned against your chest at the sensations. 

“Do that again, sweetheart,” he nibbled and licked your collarbone, “squeeze my cock again.”

You did as he asked, tightening your walls around him before loosening again, repeating the movements and creating your own erotic Kegel exercise around his cock. You could feel Seokjin’s breath faltering on your neck, and before long, you were careening towards your peak.

“Seokjin,” you gasped, “close.”

He remained still, even at your warning. Choosing to work his lips on your neck and up to your ear instead. Finding a spot behind your ear, he licked and nipped at it, sending shudders all over your body and suddenly pushing you to your release. Seokjin held you down as your body shook, willing himself not to come, but the way your pussy walls massaged his cock, it did him in. 

You and Seokjin held each other tight as you both came. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his hips pressed harder against yours as he shot his seeds inside you. Finally groans and moans gave way to heavy breathing, and as your heart rate slowed down, sanity returned. 

You opened your eyes. “God, don’t do that EVER again.” You slapped his shoulder. “I’m super ticklish there.”

Seokjin hummed, and nipped at the spot again. You yelped, but in the process you also squeezed his flaccid cock, still sheathed fully in you. “Now I know what to do when you talk too much.” He mumbled. 

You tried to wriggle away from his mouth, but the more he teased your spot, the more you moaned, and the more your body became heated again. You were all ready for round two, but your stomach betrayed you, for it growled shamelessly. Seokjin’s eyes widened at the sound, and the two of you burst out laughing.

“OK, I’d better feed you before I fuck you against the window.” He pulled out of you, holding on to the spent condom on his dick. Walking to the bathroom, he gestured to the phone on the bedside table. “Whatever you order, order the same for me.” 

And that was how you spent your first night with Kim Seokjin. Fucked out of your brains and eating room service food in his luxurious hotel room. 

~~~

You gave Seokjin your Saturday nights whenever he was in town, which was only about three to four times a year.. You hated to admit it, but you enjoyed your time with him. It was obvious he liked your company too, and your arrangement worked out well. You both wanted sex with no strings attached. You enjoyed arguing with each other, although it felt like Seokjin lived solely to rile you up to get a reaction out of you. He said he was training you to hold your poker face better; after all, didn’t you want to be a successful attorney like him?

And that was the situation you found yourself in that evening. Seokjin kept prodding at you until your temper snapped, and you roughly pushed him to the chaise in his room. You quickly worked on his jeans and his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles, only to find his cock already hard and weeping with precum.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Making me angry turns you on so much, huh?” You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, lazily stroking it a few times before squeezing it gently at the base. Seokjin hissed, but his annoying smirk never went away. 

“You can’t shut up your opponents by going down on every one of them,” he teased, his hand reached out to touch your hair but you swatted it away with your free hand, “no matter how sexy you are when you’re angry.”

You scowled as your hand continued stroking him. Keeping your eyes on his, you closed your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue lapping up his precum. Seokjin sucked in a breath. 

“So what should I do then?” You asked before licking up and down his length. Seokjin threw his head back, enjoying the wetness of your tongue on his hot member. 

“Hmmm… “Seokjin moaned. “Learn to control your temper better, sweetheart. You know how our kind is…”

Seokjin took a deep breath. Your tongue was still busy on his cock. It drove you nuts how addicted you were to the taste of him. “... especially to female attorneys..” Seokjin continued.

“Excuse me?!” you sat up straight, but your hand was still around his member, unconsciously squeezing it a little harder than normal.

“Ouch!” Seokjin yelped. “What are you trying to do? Pull my dick off?”

You sniggered, your grip loosened slightly as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me,” he asked, “how did your last case go? You almost lost because the opposing attorney kept throwing jabs at your gender, am I right?”

Your cheeks reddened. “How did you know about that?” you pouted.

“I get regular updates on you, sweetheart, I like to know how my protege is doing.”

You eyed him skeptically. “Wow, I’m so honored.” Your tone was flat, but your hand started pumping his cock faster. You thought back to the moment you nearly lost your temper in court, and you buried the memory deep. You leaned in and started to take Seokjin’s length into your mouth when it suddenly dawned on you.

“Wait,” Seokjin’s cock popped out of your mouth. “Is that why I didn’t get the promotion? I won that case but I didn’t get my promotion because I was too emotional?”

Seokjin groaned, in desire and in frustration. He looked down at you, kneeled between his legs, eyebrows scrunched up, eyes angry, mouth in a pout, and his hardness in the mercy of your hand. He ran a hair through his hair. 

“Now that you recognise the problem, will you solve it?” 

You nodded.

“So can we please continue?” He asked. 

You nodded again before your mouth returned to his cock. You enveloped your lips around the head, sucking it gently and licking it until you heard him moan. You started taking more of him into your mouth, the muskiness of his scent filling your nose. His hands found your head and held it gently, his fingers carding your hair. 

You continued to lubricate him with your saliva, relaxing your mouth and your throat to take all of him in. You steadied your breathing as you sucked in your cheeks, and you slowly pulled out all the way to the tip, before filling your mouth again. “That’s good sweetheart, you know just how I like it.”

You stupidly beamed at his praise, and it encouraged you to pick up your pace, sucking him faster and harder. His breathing was getting heavier, and you massaged his balls, eager for him to cum in your mouth. “No, no,” he pulled your head, and you came up gasping for breath. “I want to be in you now.”

You and Seokjin undressed immediately, and Seokjin went to the bathroom to retrieve a condom. He rolled the rubber as you positioned yourself by the window. The window felt cold on your back, but your core was wet and hot.  Seokjin lifted you up effortlessly, and your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck. 

Seokjin spat into his hand and rubbed his saliva over your cunt. Then the blunt head of his cock was at your entry, and he pushed it in, inch by inch until he was fully inside you. Adjusting his grip, ensuring he got you secured between him and the window, he started to move. Slowly at first, and once your juices were flowing and leaking, he went faster. 

You felt sweat developing on your back, making your body slippery against the glass. You dug your fingers into Seokjin’s shoulders, anchoring yourself up as he continued to pound into you. You turned your head to the side, catching the city skyline in the corner of your eye. 

“God, Seokjin,” you whined wantonly, “When I get that New York position, will you fuck me like this with the New York skyline in the background?”

Seokjin huffed, his hips not missing a beat. “Sweetheart, you’ll never get the New York position.”

You snapped your head back to look at Seokjin, he was still thrusting mercilessly into you. You pulled his hair. “What do you mean I will NEVER get the New York position?”

Seokjin’s smirk was back. He pulled out slowly then he rammed himself back into you hard, making you mewl. “It means…”

He took his time thrusting into you again.

“... you will…”

Another slow and hard thrust.

“... never get…”

He was hitting the sweet spot inside you.

“... the New York position.”

You cried out at his last thrust. “Because I’m too emotional?” you asked breathlessly.

“Because… “ his mouth was inching closer to the sensitive spot on your ear, “we’re closing that office.”

You gasped, at the news and at Seokjin’s sudden change of pace. He was fucking you fast again, pressing your body harder against the window. 

“Wait.. ah, Seokjin… “ you said between pants, “does that mean…”  

You could not finish your question because Seokin began nibbling and sucking your ear, sending your body rigid as the pressure on your cunt was waiting to explode.

“Yeah,” Seokjin panted. “I’ll be back in Seoul for good, sweetheart.”

You threw your head back against the window as Seokjin continued pistoning into you, pushing you towards and over your climax. You wailed in pleasure as the heat enveloped you. He did not let up at the slightest, his hips kept thrusting into you ruthlessly even as you began to sob from the oversensitivity.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around you tightly to move you, and you both collapsed on the bed, his cock still secure in you. He rolled to his back, bringing you on top of him. He slapped your ass. “Can you ride me?”

You pushed yourself up with your arms, your hair curtaining Seokjin’s face. You started to move your hips back and forth as you tried to get your breathing back. The sensitivity in your sex slowly turned into pleasure once again, and you quickened your pace. Seokjin moved his hands to your breasts, squeezing the flesh and flicking the nipples as they swung before him.

“Does… does this mean you’re gonna be my boss?” You asked between moans.

“Do you want me to be your boss?” Seokjin tugged your nipples, causing your back to arch.

“You’ll scold me everyday.”

“And I’ll fuck you every Saturday.” He thrusted up to meet your hips. “You like that?”

“Fuck no…” you felt the heat returning back to your core. “I’ll just hate you even more.”

Seokjin slapped your ass. “Just admit it, sweetheart, I’m your favorite among all your other fuck toys.”

You stammered as Seokjin thrusted up again, and he took the opportunity to pull you down onto his chest. Planting his heels on the bed, he held you down as he started thrusting his hips to plunge his cock into you, fast and hard. You closed your eyes tightly and felt tears slipping down your cheeks as you came closer to your climax.

“Come on sweetheart,” Seokjin whispered in your ears, “give me one more. Milk my cock.”

You cried out as your body jolted and shook. Seokjin kept holding you down, chasing his own release too. His thrusting became more messy, and he finally came too, swearing and groaning loudly.

You stayed still on top of Seokjin, your heart beating out of your chest, and so was his. You both lay on the bed, bodies sticky with sweat, waiting for the haze of your orgasms to pass.

“If you become my boss,” you whispered, “I want no special treatment.”

“Of course not, sweetheart. The only special treatment you get is I feed you after sex.”

You chuckled. “Speaking of…”

Seokjin rolled you over and pulled himself out. “Yeah yeah, order whatever you want.”

~~~

Today

Seokjin walks into your room. You barely glance up, used to him barging in whenever he likes.

“So, Yuna told me there’s a tall drink of water waiting for you in the lobby.” He plopped down on the little settee in your office. “So naturally I went to see. And you’d better get there before Yuna devours him.”

You glance at your watch. It’s ten minutes to 7pm. You smile softly, leave it to your boyfriend to arrive early. “He’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”

Seokjin ahs. “So, that’s the man who took away my Saturday night fun.”

You glare at him as you tidy up your desk. “Yeah well, he feeds me AND reads me poetry after sex. So, sorry.”

Seokjin stands up as you ready yourself to leave. 

“Besides, now we play Maple Story every Saturday, surely that’s more fun?” You tease him. He chuckles and rubs his chin. He accompanies you walking down the hallway towards the lobby. 

Before you arrive at the glass door separating the inner office from the reception area, you turn to Seokjin and ask, “Do you want to meet him?”

Seokjin thinks for a moment. “Does he know about our history?”

“He knows MY history, but I never share any names with him.” you explain. “He only knows you as my asshole boss.”

“Now I am offended. I thought I was a nice boss!”

“Well, I rant about you too much maybe. But he doesn’t mind, because you know what happens when I get riled up.” You wink. 

Seokjin laughs. “What a lucky bastard. OK, come on, introduce your asshole boss to your boyfriend ”

Published 01022021

[jojoreadwhat]

i'm the best book you'll never read / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Lucy's POV.

It's been a weekend and three days since Matty tried kissing me under the stars. His breath still a lingering scent that wouldn't subside, so close to my pale skin. Laced with the red wine shared between us and the minty menthol he had threw before hovering over me. Sending this racing chill through my body that was fitting with the warmth of the wine I had consumed. His dark chocolate eyes like daggers against my crystal blues, tracing my face like transparent paper. A scene that wouldn't leave, a scene I was wish I played into instead of pause.

The words replaying in the savory tone of Matty's thick accent, 'You're not one of them' his calloused index finger running over my forehead. Moving the little strand dancing across it. 'Not in the slightest.'  Watching as his rare lips, so defined and gloss-like. Curl into this unconventional smile that was so.. inviting.

I sighed to myself, opening my eyes to the window with the picture perfect scene. Lightly shaking my head to possible mistake I had made. His strange absence painting the bigger picture that all was not the truth, that I was different in that moment. Only because I wanted more grammar rather than the tongue tied language he wanted to perform.

It was best to keep it a subtle memory, keeping me at bay for all the wonders I was expected to see in London. Matty was just an introduction to it all, starting the carpet that would lead me to all I was hoping to find here. Experience.

I looked down at my leather bound in my lap, writing the finishings of my entry before reading the watch on my wrist. Today is my first day working in the university's library. I buckled the strap of my journal, throwing it into my bag before grabbing another coffee for the walk.

++

I walked to the west wing of campus to the building separated from the rest of it, I swear the library for this campus was bigger than two mansions. Three floors full of magic aligned each shelf. A different world for a different day of the week. The smell ventilating so much that I could catch it into a jar like you would sand on a foreign beach.  

I clocked in, placing my belongings into a locker in the back. I bent down to fix the buckle of my mary jane's, before I stood in front of a community mirror. Straightening out my navy and green plaid skirt, readjusting the black tulip hem shirt following the placing of my lanyard over my neck.

Taking a breath, before going to look for my supervisor, Matilda. Blonde long haired woman approaching her fifties. Blue eyes similar to mine and this angelic face that you only seen in those old Victorian paintings in museums. With a very laid back style, a different patterned skirt everytime I seen her during study hall. Loaded with different amounts of jewelry, and smelling of fresh eucalyptus.

She was marking books with little color tags on their linings. Separating them from different genres. I lightly tapped her because you know the rules of libraries, six inch voices. She spun around with a warming smile, kind of like the one my mom gave.

"Ah, Ms. Collins. It's your first day!" She exclaimed ever so quietly.  Placing her arm around my shoulders blades as she directed me. Her light embrace warming me heavily, "I've been looking forward to working with you."

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

Matty's POV.

I stood at the counter of Rocket Records as each strike of the clock moved and people browsed through the plastic wraps of wonders. I was in the mist of heading to uni when James called in a frantic. Ryan, the morning shift had an emergency to attend too. Taking me out of the terrible excuse of books and lectures. So I could stare at the girl a few rows in front.

Friday kept replaying in my head.

The way she danced to the strums of my guitar. The way her face squinted after her first sip of her drink. Her refreshed skin glistening against the neons as she came out of the ladies room. Her little hand in mine as I led her on the outskirts, buying cheap wine to watch the street lights and stars make align in her eyes. That laugh cascade over the sounds of the stale city, making it ever so bright in the night. The way she was so small laying slightly beneath me, how every bit of the details etched on her face. Were what she considered flawed, but to I so beautiful blended. Lastly how guarded her valuable heart was as her small hands barely amounted to the strong opinions running from her mouth.

I smirked in thought at the way her eyes widened when I didn't move my stance. Which them open from fear she was trying to have subside, to the curiosity of why I was still lying there. Showing that what I remarked back was the most truth I had ever spoken. She was not the red head in the bar when she seen her hands resting around me. Not the blonde that left my flat the day I found Lucy in my Creative Writings class. She was Lucy. Lucy Collins, a girl with lines to read and understand.

The little bell over the door had rang, my two friends and bandmates Ross and Adam peering from the sunny autumn breeze. Holding bags of clanking bottles and snacks as they rested them on the counter in front of me.

"It's Wednesday." I reminded. Very aware of the events taking place tonight.

Ross looked at me taken back on my greetings. "It's two days till Friday. We are just preparing." He replied, Adam chiming in beside him with a chuckle. I sighed to myself, taking the tagging gun and running along a pile.

"Is it a big one?" I asked, my mind flooding with papers due and studying to do. As much as I would be usually stoked for the midnight ride, I wasn't feeling it much.

Adam shook his head, "Preparing remember?" He remarked, resting his arms on the counter. "It's just enough for good food, good tunes and some nice company." He added, picking up a record.

"Plus, we think you should invite Lucy." Ross added once more, "She's quite the catch."

For my usual laid back, very unreadable expressions. I could feel the curl in my cheeks with only the truth filling the room. She's a definitely a catch. A catch so difficult to grasp.

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

Lucy's POV.

Matilda had directed to me the front desk, giving me light duty today because we were pretty swamped. It was the middle of the next week now and there was essays and exams due. I felt all the same pain, I had a double whammy of exams on Friday that I was dreading to bits.

I worked with the computer, helping my fellow classmates if we had books available or if they had been checked out. It was definitely a sucky job, I hated the feeling knowing you didn't get to a book in time. It was like getting to class late... And naked to top it off.

Eventually it had died down. Matilda was now at the desk with me, eating peanuts and checking library check out slips.

"So Ms. Collins. What are you studying?" She asked, during my interview it was cut short so she didn't get to ask about why this American was in London.

I helped check slips with her, "Literature. I write." I explained, I didn't really have a direction when it came to what type of writing I was studying. I took up creative writing and women studies as extras cause many books I read were along those lines. But honestly, I just wanted anything to everything about writing at my fingertips. Writing never had directions, just flows.

She seemed pleased, "My daughter is a writer too." She went on, looking just like her I bet, pretty long blonde hair, taking the world by storm.  Writing about experiences she had and was experiencing things as we spoke. Wearing a coat of many colors without any shame. That would be a level I'd like to reach after this.

"I bet you have great stories." She continued, I smiled at her positivity. She had no idea that I only had a first kiss in Junior high and talked to a homeless guy once or twice. All my experiences being so blah and that standing in this library. In a place so new, was more exciting than all of them combined. "I bet he knows that too." She added once more, my face immediately flustering into confusion.

She smiled at my questioning look of her mentions. "He was here a few days ago when you had picked up My Life On The Road." She explaining more specifically, "His eyes were all over you more than the book in his hands."

She went on to describing him but I didn't need more, instead I was beginning to feel more guilt than I already had. Totally judging him by his past when mine was just a sheet of lined paper. Jotted with scarce notes that never even made it to the market, just a list of things I never did.

++

Matilda set the alarm before locking the doors and saying goodnight. Day one of work had been surprisingly smooth than I expected. Leaving me now with enough energy of diving into textbooks and paperbacks of my own. Excited for the fresh bottle of pumpkin spice creamer in the fridge, the Coldplay record that was delivered to the house via email and the half eaten tub of apple crisp flavored ice cream. Waiting to be devoured in the freezer hidden behind the stack of frozen peas.

With the unlikely exciting things to be thrilled about for some when getting home. I retraced the familiar route to the tube that would lead me to my happy events of the night. The mixed aromas of firewood and the brisk winds tickling my nose, I went to slip in my headphones. Finishing from the middle of Moose Blood when the voice I kept hearing replay in my mind. Was now colliding against the autumn winds.

"Hey Blue." His voice sliding down my spine like ice.

Leaning against his car that was dark like the sky above. His hands in the green army jacket over the white and blue of his flannel, edging out all the tone of his build. His black infamous holed jeans meeting at the bottom where his vans were crossed. Casually playing the aesthetic he walked.

I walked towards to him, stopping two feet but only itching to get closer.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked with his absence from Creative Writing remained on my mind.

He smirked, probably mentally preparing for all the questions to roll off my tongue like a ball on the ground. "Abby told me that you were working." He replied, surprised that he went looking for me in the first place.

"Were you hoping I fetched your homework?" I remarked. My mind immediately regretting the bantering remark.

He shook his head, "No." looking down at his shoes. "I was hoping to catch you." Before his brown eyes met mine again, even with the indigo that surrounded us. They were so bright, golds so prominent like the moon dancing with stars.

"The boys and I are having a party tonight." He said, "I was hoping you could stop by."

My mind playing tricks splitting like a Gemini on a off day, one part wanting to cover my face with apple crisp ice cream. The other was Matty opening the door to the passenger seat of his car.

++

The party was smaller than I had thought about on the drive here. Just a handful of friends, good brews and fresh tunes.

Matty grabbed me a drink before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the dance floor. I was never much for parties or the way my hips move off beat. But for Matty's hands to lay on my waist as his wine breath danced along the skin of my neck. I was fabricating more ways in my head for this feeling to be more frequent. The past thoughts of earlier as I was dealing with guilt for Friday. Were beginning to feel sighs of reliefs with all the words Matty babbled and the laughs he caused to ripple against the music.

More people started coming in from the yard, changing the vibe and it was getting more difficult to listen to Matty talk. Finding the words that would fall so easily were being replaced by nods and smiles. Trying to hint a bit that it was beginning to be crowded and he was all I wanted to listen too.

"Let's go to my room." He slightly slurred without waiting for a response, his hand moving from the fabric resting on my waist. Now running along into my hand as he moved through the crowd till we reached stairs.

He turned the knob of a door covered in nonsense stickers of bands till we entered his room. The room loosely matched his door, posters in multiple different sizes overlapping, collages, and a tapestry of different faces he admired plaster on the walls. I looked around, Matty turning on a lamp on his nightstand before sitting on his bed. Silently watching me as I silently observed the things that hadn't fallen from his mouth.

I chuckled to myself as I counted a few more pictures of Prince than Michael Jackson. The first week of his friendliness and his one man protest of who was better coming to mind. "You really think Michael Jackson is better?" I recanted, pointing out some of the snippets of articles I had found. "Okay, maybe. But Prince definitely has killer style." He replied as I shook my head in amusement. Trailing my eyes to the colorful bookshelf with bold names seeping. Picking up Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. A book I had all intentions of picking up in the bookstore back home, but it never made it to the register.

The sound of a lighter clicking as Matty lit his menthol was followed with his towering figuration standing from his gray duvet covered bed.

"Ever read it?" He asked, the cigarette moving with every curl of his lip. Wrapping his fingers around it as he pulled it away to exhale. I shook my head, a look of surprise gracing his face. The English major failing to read a book that fallen between cracks and rolled up lists.

I watched as he brought the cigarette back to his perfectly formed lips, inhaling once before exhaling into a question. "Do you remember your first English class?" He began, middle school replaying in my mind, Ms. Lindsay's pretty floral dress, the posters aligning the walls with every author you could imagine. She was a big part of my decision of devoting my life into words, journals and novels.

Matty's voice breaking me from my memory, "Remember when they taught you to never judge a book by it's cover?" He added, I looked back down at the book that was falling to pieces, the cover was beginning to wear and the colors becoming stale. "Even if it's a over read story or just a plot you'll never fully understand?" Inhaling once again, "Or just a author with too much exposure?" I ran my fingers over it's folded pages, the old and fresh notes made in the indents.

All his questions beginning to connect like the lining of the book. Matty was a book, folded at it's edges, full of knowledge and secrets some old from past lives, some new. Over read like the one in my hands.

I looked up at Matty who was beginning to raise his hand to take another swing of his cigarette. I had other ideas when I gently grabbed his wrist before I reached up and met his lips with mine. He was taken back my sudden action, making two of us. I was nervous about what I had begun but it all subsided when his hands wrapped around my waist. Pulling me closer, tasting what I was about to guard myself from, like he was a banned book that I was going to go through all lengths to read.

[besidemethewholedamntime]

i’ll be there for you

Hello @tomatobookworm here’s your gift for the Geminids exchange! I went with Fitzsimmons and first dates. It was so much fun to write and I really enjoyed it! Thank you so much for your prompt and I hope you like it <3

I’ll be there for you

Summary: 

"She tries to stand up in order to put on her coat but as she does the world suddenly tilts and she stumbles, ungracefully grabbing at the table in order to remain standing. The cutlery jumps, and her water spills over her glass. Fitz is immediately by her side, hand gently on her elbow as he keeps her steady."

On a blind date with Fitz, Jemma suddenly becomes unwell and has to leave. On the car journey home they get to know each other. A Geminids exchange gift!

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

“Are you quite alright?”

Jemma looks across the table at her blind date, who peers at her with concern. She wants to feel affronted, before realising that she’s breathing awfully hard with her hand clutched to her chest, and the reason he’s just asked may have something to do with the fact that she’s just coughed non-stop for two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

“I’ll be fine.” She goes to take a sip of water. “Thank you.”

He looks doubtful. “Are you sure?”

She can understand his concern. Her face feels as though it’s on fire and she’s sure red cheeks and glassy eyes are making an appearance. Yesterday she only had a cold, if it could even be called that.  A sniffle. Throughout the day she’s gotten steadily worse to the point where their starters have only just been cleared and she’s feeling like death has suitably warmed over.

“On second thought, perhaps it is best that we give up for tonight.” She tries to smile at her date, who it has to be said is looking awfully handsome. Usually she doesn’t trust Hunter’s recommendation for dates, most of them being as animal as him, but this one seems different. A good kind of different.

“Of course.” He smiles at her, putting up his hand to signal for the bill. She goes to get out her purse and he waves her away.

“Fitz, no. I can’t let you do that. I’m cancelling barely twenty minutes in.”

“You’re ill,” he says. “And you shouldn’t have to pay when you could barely eat it.”

“All the same…”

But the waiter has already brought the bill on a silver tray that makes the world spin when Jemma looks at it and she concedes to letting Fitz pay right now, and promises herself that she’ll pay him back.

She tries to stand up in order to put on her coat but as she does the world suddenly tilts and she stumbles, ungracefully grabbing at the table in order to remain standing. The cutlery jumps, and her water spills over her glass. Fitz is immediately by her side, hand gently on her elbow as he keeps her steady.

“Oops,” she laughs weakly. “I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fitz takes her coat and holds it while she fumbles with the arms. When her head clears, she’s sure the embarrassment will set in, but for now she can’t bring herself to care.  “Did you drive here?”

“Yes. Of course, I did.” She sees his face, or most of it anyway, looking horrified. “Don’t look at me like that,” she tells him indignantly. “I was feeling well enough to earlier on.”

“So, it’s just when you saw me then, eh?”

This Fitz is quite funny, and she wishes she didn’t feel so ill so she could have had a chance to get to know him better.  Trust this to be the time that Hunter actually picked someone half decent for her to have a date with.

“Must have been,” she manages, before a coughing fit takes her breath away.

Fitz’s concerned frown only deepens. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Jemma resists. “You could be an axe-murderer.”

He looks mildly amused. His eyes are like the colour of the sky, she notes. She wishes she could bottle the colour. She would make a fortune. “I promise you I’m not.”

“That is exactly what an axe-murderer would say.”

“Letting you drive home by yourself would save me the trouble of murdering you,” he remarks, gently taking her shoulders, leaving her free to resist again if she wants to. God, she wishes her head didn’t feel like the inside of a washing machine on turbo.

“Oh alright,” she relents, partly because she truly doesn’t think he’s an axe-murderer, and partly because she already feels like death anyway. “But I’m phoning Hunter to let him know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s just the type you want in an emergency.” But he pulls out his phone and brings up Hunter. “Here, have at it. You wait here and I’ll go and bring the car round.”

She didn’t even realise they’d made it outside the restaurant. It’s dark and the brightness on Fitz’s phone only intensifies her headache. She presses call.

It lasts around a minute and a half, the first thirty seconds of which were Hunter laughing uproariously at the thought of Fitz being any kind of murderer, never mind of the axe variety because his aim is appalling. Then he tells her to feel better, that he’ll pop in on her tomorrow, and to try not throw up in Fitz’s car because it wouldn’t make a good ending for their date, to which Jemma would have rolled her eyes if she could have without almost falling over. Fitz has to take her home because she can’t see straight and not for any of the fun reasons – nothing in this date qualifies as good.

“Hunter know that you’re alright?”

She’s busy staring at Fitz’s phone screen. His screensaver is of him and an older woman, with the same sky-blue eye and soft smile. “Is this your mum?”

He doesn’t snatch the phone back, but his hand reaches out in a flash, before he gently takes the phone from her unresisting fingers.

“You look like her,” Jemma says, feeling like she may have crossed a line with a man she doesn’t know.

Fitz stuffs the phone back in his pocket, taking her elbow and helping her stand up. Stand up? She hadn’t even realised she was sitting down.

“Yeah, it’s my mum.” He leads her to where his car is waiting, all warm and inviting. “Most people say I look like my dad.”

“Oh.” She leans back in the soft leather seats, closing her eyes. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s just a thing.” His voice is different, strained, but he’s trying and he’s been so nice so she tries too and says no more about it. Fitz shuts her door so gently that she wouldn’t even know it had the draught not disappeared.

“Your address?” His voice has changed direction, the driver’s seat now. She would open her eyes to have a look but the spinning world makes her feel sick and she really doesn’t want to be sick in his car. It’s nothing fancy but it’s ever so clean inside, and he has an air-freshener hung up on the rear-view mirror that smells like clean cotton. It’s warm, soft, and rather what she imagines the inside of a tumble dryer is like, complete with the spinning and all.

She warbles her address, hearing him tapping it into the SatNav. She feels the car start to move and the constant movement could send her to sleep but as lovely as Fitz has been, falling asleep might be too far. With the wave of nausea having passed, she opens her eyes. The car is awfully low down than it looked from the outside, and it’s uncomfortably too long before she realises that it’s just because she’s slumped down in her seat, probably showcasing several chins while she’s as it.

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” she sighs, sitting up and leaning against the cool window instead.

He glances quickly over. “Don’t be.”

“I feel horrible.” Both physically and mentally but she figures there’s no need to say it. “I hate feeling like I’ve wasted your time.”

“You didn’t,” he laughs, watching the road. “Trust me, I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Hunter tells me that you’re an engineer.”

“I am. But that’s kind of all I do.” She watches him, and he wonders if he can feel her puffy eyes on his face. He still doesn’t look at her. “I don’t have many hobbies.”

“You don’t?”

“I have boring things, I suppose. I like to read, like to design. I can cook, but the only people that eat it are me or the dog.”

“And are you looking for something more?”

She doesn’t know what posses her to ask it while she’s semi-conscious in his car, when there’s a very good chance that the answer won’t matter to her either way. He intrigues her, this man who seems like someone Hunter wouldn’t know. Maybe it’s the cold she’s dying of currently, or maybe it’s something else, but strangely she doesn’t want this car journey to end.

“Yeah.” One hand scrubs down his face. “I guess. I dunno. Something more could be nice.”

Something more. Had he come here tonight hoping that she could be that something more? Perhaps it’s better than it’s ending now. Something tells her it would be unbearable to disappoint him.

It’s a lot of thinking for her muddled brain and she steers the conversation back to shallow waters. “What’s your dog called?”

Fitz laughs. “He’s called Ben. He’s a spaniel.”

“I like spaniels,” she murmurs.

“Then you’d like Ben. He’s adorable.”

What if this didn’t have to be the end of it? While it hasn’t been the most promising of beginnings, maybe this doesn’t have to be the end? Her and Fitz could be friends, couldn’t they? He could make her dinner and she could meet his dog. These fever dreams float through her head and she does nothing to discourage them.

“What are you smiling about?”

She opens her eyes. They’ve stopped at a traffic light and Fitz’s face glows red. He must think she’s a right idiot.

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “I’m just, uh, you know, thinking about things. A cold does that to you, sometimes. Makes you think about strange things.”

“Ah.” The light turns green and his attention goes back to the road. “Can’t say I’ve ever experienced it.”

“I’m not usually like this, you know,” she bursts out, eager to make him understand. “I’m coming across as a lot stranger than I am.”

“I don’t know about that.” There’s a twinkle in his eye. “Hunter said you were pretty strange.”

“Did he?” Oh that absolute ba- She takes a deep breath. “Well, he can talk, can’t he? I once saw him put tuna on pizza. He has no right to be calling someone strange when he’s doing that.”

Fitz’s face screws up in apparent disgust. “Aw, did he? That’s disgusting. You’re right. He’s the weirdo.”

They’re silent for a minute, Fitz concentrating on the roundabout ahead. When they’re safely over, he tells her, “I don’t think you’re strange.”

She blinks at him. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean I don’t know you very well, but I don’t think you’re strange based on tonight. You’re not well. I don’t judge you for it.”

“What a relief,” she says and finds that, actually, it is somewhat a relief. “I think you’re very nice.”

“Really?” The surprise in his voice surprises her. “Why?”

“You’re taking me home when I almost threw up all over your dinner and you don’t even seem to mind that much. That’s nice, Fitz.”

He shrugs. “Just seems decent.”

She laughs incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Nah, not quite. But I mean any decent person would offer.”

“In case it’s escaped your notice, there aren’t many decent people out there.”

“It hasn’t.” His voice shifts, becomes the way it was earlier. “That’s why I like dogs.”

She nods. “That’s why I like science.”

“You’re a scientist?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Did we not cover this earlier?”

“No, we didn’t get that far,” he says and she wonders how out of it she was. Sitting here, in this warm car, her head feels a bit clearer.

“Oh.” Her cheeks burn. “I’m sorry. Yes. Pharmacology and drug discovery and things.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

It sounds like he genuinely finds it to be so and her heart feels warm. “Yes, it is. It’s complex but also simple in a way. You don’t have to gauge human emotions and try to play to people’s sensibilities. Reaction pathways and feedback loops are what they are and do what they do, no matter what people think of it.”

“That’s why I like engineering.” He’s indicating to turn right and is watching the road intently, giving her an opportunity to study his face once again. It’s amazing how expressive it is. She doesn’t think she could tire of watching it. “Forces and bearings and equations are all the same, really. It works or it doesn’t.”

“Yes,” she says, smiling. They’re about two streets away from her flat now and she wishes they had more time. “Exactly that.”

They pull up outside her door and, as much as when she first arrived in the restaurant she wanted nothing more than her bed, now she finds she doesn’t want to get out of the car. Her stomach drops like a lead balloon, and it’s not the sign of imminent vomiting, but something else, something more.

She goes to open her door but Fitz is out and round and opening it for her before she even has her seatbelt undone. He holds out his arm.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes,” she smiles even though she feels a little bit sad. “Please.”

Gingerly she gets out of the car, the change in height making her feel unsteady on her feet again and she’s thankful for Fitz by her side. It takes them a while,  but eventually they manage to make it to the second floor, and under her instruction he fishes the keys from her handbag and unlocks the door before helping her to the sofa.

“Are you alright?” He asks once she’s sat down.

“Um…” her reply is shaky. Stars float around her field of vision and the berry scented diffuser that she so loved when she bought it yesterday amplifies her nausea by tenfold.

“Where’s your kitchen?” Fitz asks, already looing around. “I’ll get you some water.”

Thank goodness I cleaned is what she thinks while gesturing vaguely in the direction of it. Not that her kitchen is ever unclean but all the same… the last thing she’d want is someone judging her for dust.

It seems like he’s only gone a second and then he returns with a glass of water that she accepts gratefully. “Thank you,” she breathes. “That’s much better.”

Fitz has been rather confident all night, or sure of himself at least. Now he shuffles awkwardly from side to side and she braces herself for what’s to come.

“I’m uh… I’ll let you get some rest now.”

She nods. “Okay. Thank you. Sorry for ruining your night.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles. “You didn’t ruin my night, Jemma. I promise you that.”

She doesn’t entirely believe him but she’ll accept it for now. She leans back against the sofa, letting her head sink into the cushions. “It was really lovely to meet you, Fitz. Thank you for being so kind.”

He ducks his head but she sees a slight simple. “It was no bother.” She goes to get up but he waves her away. “I’ll see myself out.”

Her head swims and so she’s just able to nod, telling herself that the sinking feeling is due to illness as she hears his footsteps recede across the laminate floor. Then, just as he’s almost out the door, she bolts up.

“Fitz! Wait!” She stood up too fast and when her vision clears Fitz is standing half out the door, confusion on his face.

“What is it?”

“The money. I forgot to pay for my half of dinner. Two minutes and I’ll get my purse.”

“It’s fine.” He waves away her offer once more. “You can pay for the next one.” And with a cheeky grin on his face, he’s gone.

She sits down on the couch, a similar sort of grin on her own face. The next one. Perhaps he wasn’t totally put off by her phlegm. There’s so much she’d like to over-analyse and dissect but there’s only enough energy in her to half-crawl to her bedroom and into a pair of pyjamas, and to text Hunter that she got home alive, before she falls asleep.

-x-

In the morning, with her mouth feeling like cotton wool and her head ridiculously heavy, she sees she has an expected reply.

Kept the best til last – thought you’d appreciate him more that way. I expect to be Maid of Honour.

And one of the unexpected variety.

Ben says he hopes you’re feeling better this morning, and also asks if you’d like to go to the park sometime? Fitz might be there too

She smiles softly, feeling herself glow, and hugs the phone to her chest before rolling over and falling back to sleep.

[vsullivan]

Lucky 7 | Steve Harrington x Reader – pt. 5

This chapter is a little shorter than the others, sorry about that! I’ll probably start typing up chapter 6 at work and maybe getting it out tonight! Also, I hope you guys don’t mind me essentially rewriting season 3. I hadn’t intended on changing so much, but I guess my mind wanders too much! I promise that it’ll still have the same general outcome though. And again, be prepared for me to never stop mentioning this, but thank you so so so so so so much for reading. Every like, comment, and reblog means the absolute world to me.

Seven usually wasn’t one to seek trouble - but something urged her to follow the girl’s to Billy’s home. There was something in his eyes that made her sick to her stomach. It was like deja vu. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the last time she’d had that same sinking feeling was when she looked into the eyes of Will Byers when he was being controlled by the mind flayer. She didn’t mention these thoughts to the girls, although she had a feeling they were already thinking the same thing.

Chapter 5: Worry Not, My Dear Friend

Seven usually wasn’t one to seek trouble - but something urged her to follow the girl’s to Billy’s home. There was something in his eyes that made her sick to her stomach. It was like deja vu. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the last time she’d had that same sinking feeling was when she looked into the eyes of Will Byers when he was being controlled by the mind flayer. She didn’t mention these thoughts to the girls, although she had a feeling they were already thinking the same thing.

 There wasn’t much discourse on the way to Billy’s home, the three too nervous jinx anything. Once they’d arrived, Max peered into one of the windows. Waving her hand towards Seven and El, who stood awkwardly a few feet away.

 They quickly joined Max on the porch, and Seven stopped to look between the two girls. Without moving her mouth she told individually ‘We need to be careful, if that vision was true - I don’t know how he’d respond to us sneaking into his house.’

 They nodded in agreement, Seven wiping the blood from her nose as she watch El unlock the door from the inside. Silently, they entered, a rush of cold air embracing them as they walked in - nonof them giving it a second thought considering it was normal to have the AC on blast during the summer. However, no one thought to take a look at at thermometer, which if they had, read a daunting 59 degrees - and still declining.

 Gazing around, nothing immediately looked out of place, but they continued their search.

 Seven made sure that the younger girls remained within reaching distance, but she continued her own scan of the room until she’d noticed a picture frame placed on a side-table. Seven didn’t know why she felt the need to walk over to it, nor why she found herself taking it in her hands. It was just a photo of a woman, one with a sweet smile adorning an aging face as she posed for the camera.

 Seven had never really taken the time to look at photographs before. She usually only glances at them when she visits’ others’ home, worrying that it might be creepy if she went through to examine each one. Hopper didn’t have anything like them at his home, so she really didn’t know what kind of etiquette was acquainted with it. But this time, the owner of this home was not present to make any judgements.

 There was an ocean in the background, but the face took up most of the frame. Seven noticed how the woman had such a beautiful pair of baby blue eyes - ones not that different from the pair that had stared her down from within a car two months prior. Was this woman Billy’s mother?

 Seven looked at her again. She found herself bringing the photo closer to her face, focusing on the eyes once more. She didn’t know why she began searching, why on earth she was drawn to this woman’s eyes...

 Suddenly, she felt the rope in her hands. But this was a picture? Feeling an overwhelming sense of curiosity, she tugged herself into the darkness as she would if the woman was standing right in front of her.

 Seven then found herself standing alone, the familiar black abyss surrounding her until a flood of light poured in. However, unlike any other she had seen, the string of light was short - not stretched out to the point where it looked like it went on for infinity.

 When the light spiraled around her, the call of seagulls could be heard, alongside the sound of ocean waves as they crash into the shore.

 The air tasted like salt, the wind blowing Seven’s hair around. She felt a smile on her lips as she faced a camera. After the camera shuttered, she looked past the lense to see a boy, likely a good couple years younger than Eleven.

 He laughed as he swiped the photo from the device, waving it around as he began singing “Perfect, Perfect!” Seven found her smile widening as the woman’s had in this memory, the feeling of adoration and love filled her senses too. Seven loved when she came upon sweet memories as these, it made having to settle herself in a stranger’s body more bearable.

 Then, her lips began moving as the woman started singing her son a lovely tune. Grasping his hand, she took him on a stroll down the beach.

 ‘Love I get so lost, sometimes - days pass and this emptiness fills my heart’ the boy joined in, squeezing his mother’s hand as they started skipping along the shoreline.

 ‘But whichever way I go, I come back to the the place you are...”

 Their voices faded away as the stream of light came to its end. In the blink of an eye, Seven found herself staring at the picture frame again, into the eyes of the same woman who’s memories she just experienced. That song... she’s heard it before.

 Looking around, she saw Max and El looking at her expectantly. They could tell something just happened by the blood dripping from Seven’s nose. She then put the picture back in the same position as she found it, telling the girls she’d fill them in on what just occurred after they get out of there. They nodded reluctantly, following after Seven as she guided them into the other rooms.

 Nothing seemed amiss in Billy’s bedroom, although Seven did have to shush the girls as they both hissed out ‘ewww’ when they saw a poster of a woman in a bright red bikini hanging on his wall.

 After checking out the kitchen, the only space left to search was the bathroom. They remained cautious as they neared said room, Seven popping her head in before letting anyone step inside. Seeing it was clear, she let the girls slide around her and into the room - noticing it was significantly colder in there compared to the rest of the home.

 Eleven and Max gasped simultaneously, igniting Seven’s sense of fight or flight. Quickly, she stepped forward and her eyes followed their gazes to the bathtub. Taking another step, she leaned forward to see what had shaken them-

 The tub was full of ice.

 “This is bad, oh man.” Max started, her hands bunching into her hair as panic began to overtake her. Seven quickly turned, taking Max’s arms from above her head to set them at her sides.

 “It’s okay, this doesn’t mean it’s-it’s” Max made a face. “The Mind Flayer.” She finished Seven’s sentence.

 Seven sighed, her hands leaving the redhead’s forearms before she placed them on her shoulders instead. “We’ll figure it out.” She managed to smile. “It’s not over yet.” Seven added, feeling the tenseness in Max’s shoulders lessen as she reassured her.

 “You’re right,” the younger teen sighed. “But what now?” Seven turned to El, who’d been silent until she finally spoke “I’ll find him.”

 They’d gone to Billy’s living room, setting his tv to static so Eleven could work her magic. Removing the bandana from around her eyes, El stared back at the other girls. “Heather.” The two looked to each other before turning back to El.

 “Who?”

“Do you really think she’s all right?” Steve spoke, his eyes on the road but Seven on his mind. “Who? Seven? Oh yeah, she’s fine.” Dustin quipped, gathering his supplies together and placing them back in his bag. “You should have seen how she held back the Mind Flayer.” He added, still shuffling around in his sear.

 “I didn’t see it either, but Jonathan said her whole head turned real veiny, blood gushing out of both her nose holes while they were forcing that thing out of Will!” Steve grimaced, but Dustin continued with a voice way too cheerful for the words he was spewing out. “She wouldn’t really talk about it, but she said she saw the Mind Flayer, and it was scariest shit she’d ever-“

 “Okay, okay, I get it.” Steve cut him off, not wanting to hear anymore of how his crush had to endure something like that. “Oh, don’t be such a wussy, Steve!”

 “She helped save Will from that weird demon thing, meaning she’s more than capable of getting El through whatever girl stuff going on.” He added, throwing his hands up in the air, irritated at how pessimistic his friend was being.

 “Yeah.” Steve sighed, discontented. “I guess so.” Realizing his older friend’s moodiness wasn’t going away anytime soon, Dustin rolled his eyes, quickly trying to find something to his distract him from Seven.

 “Hey, why don’t we stop by your house for a second?” He said, Steve threw him a questioning look before settling his eyes back on the road. “For what?”

“I don’t know, supplies? We don’t know how long we’ll be at the mall and I don’t have any money to buy Chinese food!” Dustin heard a sigh, watching how his chauffer turned into a residential driveway, using it to back up and get back on the road in the opposite direction they’d been riding previously.

“Fine, fine. But make it quick.”

-         

ALSO I AM SO DUMB AND LOOKED UP SONGS FROM THE 80′S AND KNEW THIS SONG WAS PERFECT BUT BILLY WAS BORN IN 1967 OMFG CAN WE PLEASE PRETEND IM NOT STUPID LOL its too late to change it, i just now realized this AS IM FORMATTING THE TUMBLR POST 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

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