#tales of me being a dick
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tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid
okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.
Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.
It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.
(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)
There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.
It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.
Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.
Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.
He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.
At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.
This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.
Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.
Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.
Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.
("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)
Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.
Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.
Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.
Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.
Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".
(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)
Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.
He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.
Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.
Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.
At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.
He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.
Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."
And there it is. There's his out.
Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."
The ball starts rolling.
Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.
He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.
It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.
Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.
He breaks the lock by hand.
Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.
The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.
And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.
I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"
I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.
Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.
But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.
Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.
Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.
Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.
Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.
And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#tales of the passerine au#i dont want to overemphasize how much vlad sucks but also i dont want to downplay it. but also i didn't wanna make this post too long#i didn't emphasize enough on vlad's possessiveness but i wanted to make this post as general enough as possible for the au.#for some more wiggle room in the future if i make more posts about this au.#the consequences for Danny repressing himself was not a concern i was focused on for the post but i am thinking about it and mulling it ove#i'll be blunt my main specific reason for why this occurs shortly after tue is bc it means dani doesn't exist yet and it means i dont have#to include her in the continuation of this au. i love that girl but she's a dead weight. i dont wanna come up with an elaborate reason as#to why she's not in the picture when i can just say 'she never created in the first place' instead. i don't have anything for her to do#I don't want to risk giving her a poor plot line just so that she exists in au.#sometimes i really hate just how long my posts get. i feel like it kills my engagement. but i also don't want to make posts that have#a part 1 and part 2 just because I think it got too long.#i feel kinda bad for having Danny take the spot of 'first partner' from Dick. But that was part of the reason i was inspired to make this a#i've already got the skeleton of a reasoning for danny becoming a vigilante being made in my head.#He can't go by Phantom since that risks drawing Vlad's attention -- a new vigilante showing up in Gotham. a place the visited frequently#who goes by the name Phantom? He'd be on that faster than chickens on meat. and nightingale has familial meaning behind it due to being#part of an ancestral name. it follows robin's theme of using it to honor his parents while still having its own unique enough lore to stand#on its own without feeling like a cheap copy. plus the bonus meta reason that it follows the bird theme. which personally is vital to me#my other alternative to Nightingale is Sparrow. mostly because it has good phonetic structure for a hero name. not too many syllables#a good balance of consonants and vowels. dont want a hero name with too many syllables or unbalanced consonants. or worse; both.#my reasonings is that hero names should be easy for a civ or teammate to yell while still being understood. max amount of syllables before#it threatens to become too wordy is 3. If it goes over 3 it should have a balanced consonant-vowel ratio. Wonder Woman is a good example#some things got cut here that were in the initial oneshot. like danny giving bruce his physical ghost core and showing up bloody.#the first son au
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tim saying this in front of jasonâs caseâŠ.
#i cant articulate it but just. the way tim fully and completely believes jasonâs death was a result of his faults/not being fit to be robin#dick is the unachievable ideal for him and jason is the cautionary tale#and i feel like here tim is drawn to jasonâs case bc hes thinking abt what it is to be âunworthyâ of being robin#but actually what hes saying reminds me of bruce#ok yeah i cant really get my thoughts to make sense but. yeah#tim drake#dc#robin 1993
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I feel like I'm going insane. That episode read to me as a lot more tragic than other people are reading it. Yeah they were racist and rich and spoiled and awful but they were just kids. They were all just kids. Lindy was absolutely terrified throughout the whole thing and clinging desperately to what she knew, which was terrible. They could've had the chance to learn and become better but they chose to go die and it's infuriating and tragic because nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves to be eaten by slugs or die of exposure in the woods. Nobody deserves to suffer like that. But they chose it rather than let the Doctor help them because they'd rather stay in their rich white supremacist bubble and he just wants to help and there's nothing he can do.
Maybe it's because one of my core beliefs is that nobody deserves death and suffering. Nobody. Even the worst person on earth can learn from their mistakes and come back and change and everyone deserves that chance. There's no such thing as too late. But they're never going to get that chance because they actively rejected it and to me that's still very, very sad.
#dead men do tell tales#doctor who#doctor who spoilers#dot and bubble#I am losing my mind. I am actually losing my mind#maybe it's because my brain is always telling me that I'm the worst person alive#instead of just saying that no I'm not my response is to say yeah okay and even the worst person alive doesn't deserve to die and can chang#what matters is that I'm taking the next step. and anyone can choose at any point to take the next step#and they actively rejected doing that and it's sad and infuriating#because nobody deserves to die#but they get what they chose#there's also the fact that I was raised by racist trump supporters and had to unlearn a lot of shit#which I was only able to do because I got out of my small town cult bubble and I was actually willing to listen to people#the problem comes when you see assholes and go wow look at those horrible unsympathetic assholes I could never be like them#by treating them as solely monstrous and something completely different from you you ignore your own ability to be monstrous#because you're not like them you're better#even the worst person is still a person and not some cartoon villain#and thinks that their actions are justified#and I'm always looking at people being assholes and going what makes you think this behavior is okay. you clearly think you're in the right#seriously what makes you think this. I want to know your exact thought process so I can stay far the hell away from it#I've been the asshole thinking I was completely in the right and I've seen people be absolutely horrible and justify it to themselves#so I'm always aware that this could be me. I could be being a total fucking dick. so I'm going to study you so I can avoid that#also the next person who says it was because they didn't learn empathy/were unempathetic gets slapped
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had a guy who was definitely high as fuck come in last night RIGHT before closing and before he ordered i told him "just so you know we'll be closing in 6 minutes!" and he went "yeah yeah i know" and proceeded to take FOREVER ordering (not ordering a lot just taking his sweet ass time) and wouldn't stop talking to me after he got his food which was like a minute or two to closing. fuck that guy
#đ#toby's customer tales#he talked SO SLOWLY and what's fucked is he said he had worked at burger king#so i was sitting there in disbelief like. ok. so you know how much of a dick you're being right now. get the fuck out of my store#i HATE having ppl in my store at 5 minutes to closing or later it makes me angry. GET OUT. I'VE TOLD YOU WE'RE CLOSING
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Jason, being a semi-canonic common hallucination in the family after his death, could lead to the stupidest AU ever.
Imagine everyone seeing him â Bruce, half of the time, Dick non-stop, Tim more often than not, and eventually even Alfred starts seeing little boy's silhouette in the corner of his eye, but he never admits it, because someone needs to stay sane in this family.
It is a lot like real-life cases when cult families start to see collective hallucination, and it somehow syncronises in their minds, so they hear and see the same things, you know?
So, yeah, everyone sees Jaybin around.
Everyone but Damian. Damian is a normal one. He also knows his Akhi is alive and well, so whatever. And it takes him some time to figure out that his family is bat-shit insane, but when he does, he decides to use it on his advantage.
Damian, calling Jason: Akhi, you should visit me. It is getting awfully boring here.
Jason, frowning: You know I can't. They think I am dead, and I can't risk my plan, especially now, when Red Hood is gaining-
Damian: We will pretend you are a hallucination.
Jason: ...What?
Damian: So, there is a plan...
So, a few days after this call, Jason arrives at the Wayne Manor. He still thinks his brother's plan sucks, but gaslighting is one of his many talents, so surely, they will figure something out. He can lie his way through this meeting.
Expect, he doesn't even need to lie. His family is actually insane.
Bruce, bumping in Jason:
Jason, staring back: Uh-
Bruce: Wow. You look so grown-up. And we look so alike. Nice one, brain.
Jason: ?..
Tim, leaving his room: Hi, B, hi- Oh, damn. Hi, Jaybin. Nice leather jacket.
Bruce: Right? I guess his ghost just grows up with us now.
Jason: ????
Alfred, nodding along, out of nowhere: Master Dick will hate it. He looks taller now.
All of them: (peacefully leave the room)
Jason: What. The. Fuck.
Jason waits for the moment of clarity to happen as he chats with Damian in the kitchen, but... nothing changes. They really, really think he is a hallucination. So... he starts hanging out around more. Both because Damian is getting angsty, and because it is kinda... amusing.
Tim, stuck on the same case for a few nights, non-stop: Oh, it is really just me and you in this, Jason.
Jason, playing Mario Cart on the table by his side: Maybe take a nap, dude.
Tim: No, I need to figure out this case with-
Jason, rolling his eyes: Red Hood had already dealt with it. Go to sleep.
Tim: ...You are such a good self-care kind of hallucination.
Jason: ...
Damian: Your bets, when will they realise that you are a real person?
Jason: At this point, I am not sure that they will, even if I start screaming that I am real.
Damian: Fair. I bet a year would do.
Jason: ...A year and a half.
Dick visits the Manor. He cooes at Jason, muttering something about "of course, he would have grown up in a punk," and Jason almost breaks his role to hit him on the head.
Jason, arms folded on his chest: You know, you need serious help, dad.
Bruce, blinking at him slowly: Probably. You know what else I need?
Jason: Sleep? Retirement? To stop adopting strays? The list is endless, man.
Bruce: ...Coffee. I need more coffee.
Jason, groaning: What the fuck!!!
Alfred figures out that Jason is real, eventually. Solely because he catches him sneaking a few extra cookies, and hallucinations are not supposed to eat. He plays along with him and Damian until the very end, anyway.
(Damian ends up winning the bet because Jason loses it once and pushes Bruce down the stairs, when he starts reciting some precautionary tale about him. Everyone is flabbergasted.)
#jason todd#red hood#dcu comics#dc universe#dcu#batman#bruce wayne#batfamily#batfam#dick grayson#tim drake#damian wayne#alfred pennyworth
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this is so stupid but hereâs a little comic i made for a little bingo au me and @twisted-tales-told came up with a few weeks ago. pretty much just the idea that jason needed a cover at some point and stumbled in on bingo night and was quickly adopted by the little old ladies there. now he plays every friday and has beef with dora and gets sent home with banana bread :) clara is trying to set him up with her grandson and all of her problems with her land lord have mysteriously been solved :))
being involved in his community is very important to jason and he loves seeing them host community events bc it feels like his home is healing
bonus: none of the bats have the faintest idea what Jason does in his spare time aside from babs and dick is so butthurt he wasnât invited (not pictured: nightwing outside the bingo hall window looking in look a kicked puppy while jason flips him off)
(this is my first comic pls be nice itâs just a sketch)
#jason loves his little old ladies and they love him too#they all want him to marry their grandkids#completely unrelated but red hood has started taking care of any issues that get mentioned at bingo đ#jason todd#jason todd fanart#my art <3#batfam#dick grayson#tim drake#bruce wayne#stephanie brown#batman#batman fanart
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Hotel Phantom
No matter how much they look for it, or how many times Jason goes back to the same empty burned out lot, there is no sign of the mysterious Hotel Phantom.
Bruce, of course, goes near ballistic. Jason promptly tells him to fuck right off.
And yes, is he concerned about the sense of calm he felt there? Of course. But is he also not going to admit that in the slightest if it means accepting help from Bruce, even if he might be enslaved to a secret fae realm? Not a chance in hell, Dickwad.
And as the cases pile up, and missions continue, and the annual Alien incursion passes, Jason letâs it fade. He checked with his occult sources and they gave him⊠not an âall clearâ exactly, but close enough that Jason has labeled it a âwhateverâ in his mind.
At least⊠until heâs in the middle of a car chase with a grenade flying towards his face.
Jason jerks his handlebars to the side, feeling as his front wheel twists under him, losing traction as he goes horizontal and the sound of tires screeching, fire booming, glass shattering and it all goes quiet.
Jason flicks his eyes open. Gentle golden light illuminates the crown moulding and intricate ceiling designs above him.
Thereâs soft piano music drifting in the background, the sound of light chatter and clinking silverware.
Itâs the sort of ambiance that makes you forget al your problems.
Slowly, Jason leverages himself to his feet, able to recognize the pinpricks of glass in his skin but none of the pain that should come with.
Even his leg, that he knows he landed on at an awkward angle, and the 2 broken ribs that are still weeks from healing, they are nothing but a numb pressure on his body.
Instead, Jason lets himself wander forward, taking in the clean air and gentle atmosphere.
âHere for another night, Jason?â A voice jingles behind him.
Jason slowly turns around, finding the same woman, Jazz, who heâd met the first time.
âUhhh⊠Yes?â Jason feels a million questions bubble up, but he doesnât really care to answer any of them.
Except maybe.. âHey do you know where my bike went?â He asks as he trails along behind her to the desk.
âAll vehicles are stored in the hotel garage, it will be returned upon departure, not to worry.â
Jason smiles in response, glad with just the knowledge.
âJust tonight then?â She says calmly.
âYes please,â He says, taking another glance around to take it all in.
âWonderful. Hereâs your key, then. Just find a seat and youâll be served when youâre ready,â She says, sliding a key across the desk with barely sound, then gesturing lightly to the side room.
Jason nods, taking the key as he starts to walk. When he sits down in one of the plush dining chairs across the room, another person just like last time approaches, pulling glass from his skin and setting his leg.
They even apply a gentle salve to the burns on his neck and arms that Jason hadnât noticed. It glows a soft green that seems to defy the golden light.
Jason doesnât quite have enough concern to stop them, but he does ask, âWhat is that?â
The person simply smiles, putting the cap back on and standing, âNothing to worry about, itâs a house mixture to help healing of all hotel residents.â
Something about the way he phrased it tugged at Jasonâs mind, but all too quickly someone else was setting food down in front of him.
âI didnât order anythi-â Jason pauses, looking up at the face of the server, âYou look familiar, have we met?â
He looks like an older version of Danny. Itâs enough that Jason feels the need to ask more questions, though he canât reach a sense of alarm.
The man chuckles, all broad shoulders and baritone, âYouâve seen my face. Iâm Dan, nice to meet you Jason.â
Jason almost asks how they all seem to know his name, but the larger curiosity wins out, âWhy do you work here- or How?â He blurts, surprised by his lack of verbal control.
âDanny saved me. Weâre closer than youâd think,â he says calmly, voice self assured and confident.
Again, it scratches Jasonâs brain, just barely there beneath the fog of calm.
âCan you leave? Do you?â
Dan gives him a look, like heâs said something odd, âWhy would I want to? Just to be hurt again?â
The words bristle at Jason, but when he goes to say something, Dan cuts him off, âYou should relax, youâve had a long day.â It sounds the same as Alfred pushing him to eat and sleep after patrol. With the sense of calm, Jason takes it to heart, eating slowly as Dan walks away with a smile.
Once heâs finished, Jason heads to the elevator, fingers brushing the key in his pocket. Hadnât it been a card last time?
Before he knows it, Jason is stepping into his room, and it looks the same it did last time. The bed just as comfortable, the sheets just as soft.
Jason falls into sleep faster than he has in years, the same as last time, his dreams blissfully silent of laughter.
He wakes up with the sounds of a workshop in his ears, fading as he smells food in the air. Jason stands in the dim light of the room, taking a deep breath that fills his lungs like heâs just run through a meadow.
Itâs disconcerting.
And Jason still canât find it in him to care as he finds his feet leading him downstairs.
Again, he finds Danny at the counter, serving people with a smile that seems to make Jasonâs shoulders sag, his fingers loosen, every part of him opening up like he wasnât covered in injuries.
Although, to be fair, he was pretty sure heâd woken up completely healed.
It makes Jason want to grab him by the collar and demand answers. Makes him want to force everyone to stop just doing nothing, tricking him into whatever wormhole soul eating dimension this is.
Instead, Jason orders an everything bagel with honey & cream cheese, and another caramel latte.
Jason sits at one of the tables set around the open room, his mind pushing to try and connect the dots of the situation around him.
It reminds him of starting out as Robin, when Bruce would drill him on clues for a case, pushing him to figure it out, do better, be stronger, be-
Jason feels the ceramic mug snap under his hand as the pit flares to life with a roar like a caged animal. He surges to his feet, heart pumping and jaw clenched as the stupid latte spills across the table.
What the hell was this? Why was he okay just staying here? He should be pressing them for answers, even just the other patrons. But instead he was lounging around like a civil-
âIs everything alright Jason?â
Jason whips around to see Danny standing behind him.
Their eyes meet, though he swears Dannyâs eyes had been more blue than green last time.
It gives Jason pause, letting his mind settle, the anger disappearing beneath the ripples as they stare.
âEverythingâs fine,â he says ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment as he realizes everyone had looked up at his outburst, âI just got lost in my thoughts, I think.â
âOf course,â Danny says assuredly, putting a hand on his shoulder as he moves past, âYou donât have to worry about that here.â
Jason tries to pull on any of the suspicion that had filled him before, finding it eerily out of reach.
âRight⊠Sorry, that just feels weird to me, I guess,â Jason says, shaking his head slightly like that will dislodge the thick blanket over his mind, âYou sure youâre not drugging me?â
Danny smiles again with a light chuckle that shows his fangs, as though Jasonâs words are silly.
Jason thinks it is a very real concern. Now if only he could feel concerned about it!
âLike I said before, youâre calm because youâre safe, you belong here, Jason,â Danny answers, tucking the rag away with a warm smile, âHow would you like to stay for another night ? Iâm hosting an astronomy viewing tonight and Iâm sure youâll enjoy it.â
Jason glances around the dining room, feeling the way his core seems to be empty of the ruling emotions heâs so used to fighting every day.
This place is like being able to breath for the first time in years without a hand gripping his chest with every breath, âSure, that sounds like fun.â
âGreat,â He smiles again, turning around to return to the counter with a greeting to the next person in line.
Despite his desire to interrogate, Jason finishes his bagel, forcing himself to look around the hotel instead, even if it lacks the paranoid attention to details that he usually carries.
Even so, Jasonâs half-hearted investigation feels more akin to an exploration than anything else. He does finally talk to another one of the patrons, a dark-skinned man whoâs eyes glint with the sound of gears and shuffling sand.
When asked how he got here, he just says, âIâm a friend of Danny.â
âBut then why am I here? I didnât even know Danny before coming here?â Jason asks, letting his frustratingly nonexistent anxiety be filled with curiosity instead.
Tucker pauses for a second, the gentle ambiance of the hotel wrapping around them both.
âYouâre only liminal. You belong here. But arenât meant to be here. Not really. Not yet.â Tucker says voice calm and confident. As though they were discussing their favorite art pieces.
The words make Jasonâs brow furrow, confusion -abandonment- a whisper behind the shield of comfort.
âWhat do you mean Iâm not meant to be here, then why did Danny ask me to stay?â
The sound of desert winds filters through the air.
âYouâd need a key for that wouldnât you?â He says, a playful smirk on his face that sparks mirth.
Jason slips his hand to his pocket, a dull surprise brushing through him as his fingers dig through nothing but sand within.
âYou have a place to return to, donât you? A place that needs you?â Tucker asks, voice just on the edge of imploring.
Again, the words stir something in Jason. This time they are not muffled behind the hotelâs sense of safety. Because itâs not dangerous. Not to him.
Itâs a sense of duty.
His duty to the Alley. To his people. To Gotham.
He has to go back.
Immediately.
Jason turns around, letting himself move faster than he had his entire stay. Itâs not stress, or pain, or fear, but the knowledge that someone needs him, and he wants to be there for them. And itâs enough to push through the sluggish feeling that comes with the calm, leaving him with a perfect level mind and a desire to do more, and do better.
âAre you heading out, Jason?â
He turns his head, pausing in his movements as he spots Jazz stepping through the comfortable lobby chairs.
âYeah, I just decided I have some things that need me back home,â he says calmly, honestly; the words easy and full.
Something in Jazzâs expression pulls tight, but the comforting exterior never falters, âI thought Danny had mentioned youâd be staying the night, for the astronomy viewing?â
Jason chuckles, shrugging with ease and a smile, âIâd need a room key for that. Iâm all good. I have to get back, they need me,â Jason nods assuredly.
Jazz seems to pause for a moment, her head tilting slightly as she looks at him. Then she steps to the side with a gesture of her arm to go on, despite the fact she had never been in his way, âI hope you enjoyed your stay at Hotel Phantom.â
Jason hardly turns back, his feet out the door as glances back, âI di-â Cold city air hits his face and he turns, â-dâŠ.â The streets of Star city lay in front of him, broken glass crunching beneath the grit of his boots.
Jason looks behind him, spotting the boarded up windows and damaged entrance, then in front of him, pristine on the roadside like heâd never left it, is his motorcycle. That heâd completely forgotten about till just now.
âMotherfucker!â Jason shouts, stomping over to it.
He finds his leather jacket -mended-, his Kevlar armor -patched-, his helmet -smoothed and clear of any dents indicating a crash like the one he knew heâd taken, âMotherfucker!â Jason exclaims again. Heâd forgot about his uniform too, how? Something so important, a part of his every day life? How? How did they make him forget something so integral and he just let them!?
Jason feels familiar anxiety rise up beneath his skin, tinged with anger. Itâs almost a relief that he can feel it pulsing with his heartbeat.
Jason finds his phone quickly, seeing the missed calls and messages from Roy immediately as he puts in his helmet, followed by oneâs from Dick.
He presses call as he revs the motor, listening as it rings and then his comm fills with Royâs worried shout and scolding.
He barely notices that his bike runs smoother under him, just slightly quicker without needing more power, just slightly faster to respond to Jasonâs moves, responding in synchronization.
Instead, Jason turns his headlights to Gotham without a second thought. And goes.
â-
Nearly six months later, Jason will be cleaning out a specific pair of tac pants heâd left in a rarely chosen safe-house.
And as he pulls them from the pile of clothes, a small stream of sand will trickle from the pockets, collecting on the floor in a serene, gentle pile.
And as Jason scoops it into his hands, he will remember that sense of purpose. And where it came from.
And the fact that maybe Gotham isnât the only one who needs him.
Even if they wish they didnât.
.
Hotel AU
Jason groaned, holding a military grade field dressing to his wound as he tried his best to walk faster. Gunshots rang behind him and instinct allowed him to dodge, but one bullet still managed to graze him by the shoulder. It only made pain flare up worse, but Jason just sucked in a breath through his teeth and toiled onward to get to safety.
His comms buzzed in his ear, but no one was available at the moment. Jason still muttered a soft, "Requiring backup."
No one answered.
Jason, for an existential crisis-having moment, wondered if he was gonna die again.
Just as he thought this, a hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into another building.
Jason cursed and pulled out his gun with his unfortunately injured hand and pointed it towards his assailant, but then paused.
He had been pulled into a beautiful, first class looking hotel area.
"What the..." he started, before he turned.
An enormously tall woman smiled down at him. She was outrageously beautiful, with long red hair tied into a ponytail and a neat uniform covered by an apron. "Welcome, sir, to the Phantom Hotel! You seem to be in need of some assistance, would you like some help?"
Jason felt eerily calm and level headed, even as he bled all over the floors. "... that'd be nice." He said gruffly.
"Right away, sir." She said with a smile. She waved to someone over to his side and continued to speak. "I'm the co-owner of this hotel, you may call me Jazz. May I get your name for registration?"
Jason still didn't freak out yet. "Registration?" He echoed, as he took in his surroundings.
The hotel was beautiful, with tall ceilings, marble floors, white walls and candle chandeliers that glowed with dim lighting. People that didn't look like Gothamites milled around the lobby and sitting area, all relaxed and chatting amicably. There were a few that were dancing to club music. There was a noticeable bar in the corner of the room that looked unstaffed but was conspicuous in its size and black coloring.
"Yes, sir." Jazz said. "I assume that you're staying the night? We offer breakfast in the morning, and drinks are free all night!"
Jason was silent for a moment. A person wearing a similar uniform to Jazz, with a dark green vest and dark colored apron, approached them and immediately got to bandaging Jason's wounds.
Once again, Jason did not freak. He felt oddly calm, and in the back of his head, he knew that he was safe here. His gut instinct was to collapse on top of Jazz and take a nap, strangely comforted by her presence.
"... why am I so calm?"
Fuck it. He decided to just voice his question.
Jazz giggled. It was a cute noise. "Why wouldnât you be? Thereâs nothing to worry about. We're the same, after all!"
Jason blinked. Then he turned to her as the attendant stepped away with the medical box, Jason feeling all healed up, and he said, "Is a night here free?"
"For you? Yep! Everything is free here."
Jason gave a nod. "Then I'll take a room with a single bed, please. Breakfast is free?"
"Yes, sir."
"Great. The name's Jason Todd."
Jazz smiled, a sparkle in her eyes that made Jason feel all fuzzy with warmth. "Very good, sir. Your room number is 312, on the third floor. Here's your room card." She handed over a plastic card that was procured out of thin air but Jason didn't think about it.
He was mentally exhausted and being in her presence made him feel like he was going to drop and fall asleep on the floor and still wake up refreshed. It was so disconcerting that it was almost not disconcerting.
Jason eventually found the elevator, though not without lingering a little around the area. The vigilante in him was telling him to be careful, even though everything else inside of him couldn't give less of a damn and was telling him to kick back and relax. Jazz, after registering him, had gone to the bar to prepare drinks.
She mixed together alcoholic concoctions amidst a small crowd and the more Jason stared, the more it seemed like the dim light was hiding something. People looked like they were wearing ragged clothes and a lot of them had dark stains. There were quite a large amount of old people as well, along with people with seemingly missing appendages.
The last two details wasn't a bad thing, but the amount of them seemed like a hint to something bigger.
When Jazz made eye contact with Jason, she gave a sweet smile and a little wave, and that was Jason's signal to leave.
He got into an elevator, went to his room, and practically sank into the cloud-like bed before he basically knocked himself out. That night, he had never slept so well.
When he woke up, his body felt rejuvenated and he almost felt peppy. It was as if his previous irritations were only bad days and he had finally struck on a good day for once.
He washed up, miraculously found his wounds all healed up, and when he went to take a shower, his clothes were found on the sink, all washed and patched up. Even his helmet had been cleaned and fixed, pristine like the day he had first gotten it.
Jason could've been more suspicious.
But to reiterate, he couldn't.
Everything about this place was like a mother's hug. It was comforting. It made him feel safe. He felt like there was nothing to worry about and although a small part of him found this alarming, he really couldn't explain why he decided to trust it.
When he came down the elevator for breakfast, he was astonished.
Last night, the hotel had looked elegant and high class. Now, in the morning, everything looked warm and homey.
The various large rectangle tables had turned into small round tables that were densely packed together. The floor was a cool blue carpet and the walls had turned a shade of cream. The ceiling had shrank, but now flowers and vines grew from it, dropping from the ceiling with bright blossoms. The bar had been replaced with a little coffee area, with a young man behind the counter, currently taking orders.
The people sitting around and eating their breakfasts looked different in morning light. They glowed with faint shades of blue and green.
Jason paused to take in the sight, considering this information before he shook it off and approached the counter.
The man, after noticing him, immediately went to the cash register with a large smile on his face. "Hello!" He said cheerfully.
Jason immediately noted the similarities between him and Jazz. They had the same heart shaped face, the same ethereal beauty to them, the same nose and smile. This man, however, had bright blue eyes and dark black hair that swept over his eyes.
"What are you drugging me with? I'm way too comfortable here." Jason blurted out.
The man paused. And then he burst out laughing. Jason couldn't help the few snickers that fell out of his throat too, but they both quickly calmed down and the man explained softly, "We're not drugging you. You're just comfortable here because it's where you belong. Don't stress too much."
He continued to smile reassuringly. "Call me Danny. I'm the owner. What would you like to order?"
Jason's eyes flicked to the menu and then he said, "A California club croissant and a caramel latte, please."
"Coming right up, big guy!"
Jason moved a little bit away to the side so that other people could order.
He couldn't help but contemplate what was going on, but it was a little hard to think being this close to Danny's presence. The urge to fight against his soothed mind and the urge to just relax were warring, but unfortunately, his latter side was winning.
If Jazz had seemed comforting and like a hug, then Danny was the blanket, fireplace, hot chocolate cup and book on a cool rainy evening. It was like Danny was his missing piece that just sucked out all of the fear, misery, and rage inside of him.
It was almost crazy how Jason didn't want to retaliate against them at all.
"Here you go, Jason." A voice interrupted him and Jason looked up into crystalline eyes before something was pushed into his hands.
Jason looked down at his order and then up again. "Thanks."
Danny smiled. "No problem! You're pretty freaked out, huh?"
Jason shrugged. Then he thought about it and he asked, "Can I leave?"
"Of course you can." Danny said. "Come back anytime. For someone like you, you have the opportunity to come by anytime you want."
Jason nodded wordlessly and then, with his order in hand, he started walking to the door.
For one last time, he turned and met Danny's eyes. Danny smiled cheerfully, his eyes squinted in happiness. He gave a big wave and Jason returned it before he put on his helmet and pushed past the doors into the open air of Gotham's polluted and smoky world.
The rose glasses fell off and the pink sparkles faded away with each blink.
Jason stared dumbfounded at his own state of body and mind, as his siblings and family all screamed into his ear frantically, begging to know where he went and how he was.
Jason could only stare at the gray, listless world around him and wonder if he had imagined everything.
"What the fuck?"
#could I turn this into an entire full length fic about the dangers of being too comfortable and a falze sense of security?#with a side lesson on how nothing is truly perfect but the imperfections are what make life worth living#indicated by teaching this lesson to Danny thru Jason(who had to learn it himself) specifically thru some âonly see the stars in darknessâ#yes yes I could#should I?#questionable. debatable.#Will I?#probably not#but it will sit in my brain for a while so kudos#I really really tried to scroll past thru the reblogs but my brain got away from me#batman#danny phantom#batfam#batman and robin#danny fenton#young justice#danny phantom crossover#bruce wayne#tim drake#dp x dc#Jazz fenton#Hotel Phantom#Jason Todd#red hood#Nightwing#dick grayson#is this probably not exactly what op was going for? and just wanted a 100% good hotel phantom#maybe. probably. but thereâs a reason why fae and such were used as cautionary tales for being too good#side note:Jazz is probably almost as messed up as Danny & would probably also really like a place where they never get hurt or be upset#some of Dannyâs actions still have good things because itâs not like heâs trying to coerce people into staying he just wants it to be perfec
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How Michael Met Neil
original direct link [MP3]
(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)
DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: âsuch a profound effect on my lifeâ] as well.
MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.
DAVID: Exactly.
MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, âDo you read comic books?â
And I said, âNo.â I mean, this is ⊠what ⊠'88? '88, '89. So it was ⊠now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books. Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.
DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books
MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on â really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.
And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No."Â And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.â
And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just â I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story. And I absolutely loved it.
So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book â because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point â read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchettâs stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then â and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.
And then eventually when â I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me ⊠and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' ⊠weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.â
And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy." Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick. Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.
Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe. Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. Thatâs interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.
It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman. And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.
DAVID: You'd never met him?
MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like âŠ
And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to â I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA. And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."
I said, âAll right.â
He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?â
I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."
He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.
I was like, âRight, okay.â So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary.Â
And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."
So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, âThis is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.â You know, âThis is eel. This is [blah].â
And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like âmystery dishâ, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.
And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eatâ"
"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."
And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go ⊠one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.
And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"
And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*
[* - delivered in a perfect American âserious law agentâ accent/impression]
And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"Â Â
We'd finished, so we pay our bill. And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil. And we leave. We have no idea what happened.
DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.
MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to â we can't be â it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.
So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.
Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.
We had eaten whale â endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.
And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.
DAVID: Thatâs extraordinary.
MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months. So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"
"No, I haven't heard anything."
And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.
DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.
MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"
I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.
DAVID: Isn't it?
MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.
DAVID: Was there anything inside it?
MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...
DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.
MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.
DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.
MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...
DAVID: Were you involved at that point?
MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.
DAVID: Right.
MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.
And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said â and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it â he said, âWould you be interested?â I was like, "Yeah, of course."Â I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.
But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, âI don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.â But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.
DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].
MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.
DAVID: Sure, sure.
MICHAEL: I can do this.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, âYou know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.â
But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" â and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well. And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."
And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, âI think we've got ⊠David Tennant ⊠for Crowley.â And we both got very excited about that.
And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.
DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, âOh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.â Yeah. You're, what?
MICHAEL: âI emailed Jon Hamm.â
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, âOh, they better not fuck this up.â
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: âAnd this had better be good.â And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, âBut I'm the one who might be fucking it up.â
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.
DAVID: But we have Neil on site.
MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner âŠ
DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.
MICHAEL: ⊠I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.
DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.
MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.
DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.
MICHAEL: Oh my God. Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.
This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as âmy characterâ or âmy performance as that characterâ. I think of it totally as us.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: The two of us.
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.
DAVID: Yeah. Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.
MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.
And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.
You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.
And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you.Â
Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.
DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.
MICHAEL: Thank you.
DAVID: For talking today and for being here.
MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.
#neil gaiman#michael sheen#david tennant does a podcast with...#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#sushi#whale#the cove#oscars 2010#coraline#mini secret compartments#howneilmetmichael#howmichaelmetneil
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There's always people theorizing how the Batfamily hides Jason disappearance and reappearance, but I literally haven't seen anyone use the best explanation: Witness Protection.
Like this literally answers every question. The Death Certificate? They had to fake his death. The empty grave? Obviously it had to be believable. The time when Wayne Heir "Richie Wayne" refused to step foot in Gotham and talk to his father? He was pissed about Jason's (non) death. Brucie Wayne's very real depression after his death? Well he lost contact with his son and he was under immense stress from the government.
Like this literally answers every question I can come up with. Why has no one said he was in witness protection? And if people have done it, send me fics and prompts because I'm obsessed.
And the best part is, the Waynes are so stupidly rich that they could pull it off. Lex Luther could try and conduct his own investigation but somehow he can never find anything concrete. And if he gets too close either Babs hacks them or Tim just calls up Conner for a distraction.
One time Jason gets cornered and asked how he felt about returning to his life after being in Witness Protection. Unfortunately, him and Bruce weren't on the best terms to explain the whole story but he comes in clutch. He spins the tale about how heartbroken he was to see his brother, father and grandfather grieving and how honored he was when he learnt his new little brother idolized him. Tim got ahold of a copy of the interview and will never let Jason live it down.
The media doesn't ask Bruce questions about Jason's death because last time they did he broke down and a suddenly furious reporter chastised them and reminded them that while Jason may be alive Bruce still mourned his death. The picture of Bruce in tears at the interview is currently one of Jason's favourite lockscreens.
Same goes for Dick. Any questions of his brother's death results in (1) Richie Wayne ready to throw hands at any and everybody, (2) his wife (well one of them) Barbara Gordon threatening the reporters or (3) That same Metropolis reporter chastising the whole community again.
#dc comics#batfam#bruce wayne#jason todd#yes the reporter is clark#hes ready to fight for b and dick#vicky vale wonders if jason todd wayne was in witness protection due to something involving the red hood#jason goes on twitter and bashes the red hood's whole persona#dick grayson retweets that red hood is trying and is just a little lost#the official batman twitter likes that tweet#it causes a huge mess for both barbara and jim gordon to clean up#they knew they shouldn't have gotten involved with gothams pet billionaire and his weird kids
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Ok ok so hear me out Twins au. Danny and Damian are twins. And you know the whole story. Danny gets "killed " moves in with the Fenton's and becomes phantom. Ad Damian doesn't know that. Well the magician summoning Damian's dead brother to enact his revenge on him has a very bad timing
"Oh robin. Dont you know the dead can have fangs. I've heard of a little tale. Of how you killed your own brother. Your twin in a quite a cruel and merciless way don't you think?" The magician drawls on over the horribly over used repetitive lines.
But it still stops Damian in his tracks. He can see as his family stop and look at him. With the look of horror and well concern. And he hates it. He can feel their gazes on him and it burns his skin.
He stops and tries to yell at them. To do something. To stop dawdling around.
Until a right flash of green stopped him. The circle lit up as a clawed hand grasped the edge from inside.
Unfortunately the magician wasn't a phony.
The being slowly crawls itself out. It's wearing striped prison clothes with conically oversized shackles? Huh.
Damian muses to himself as he prepares for battle . Must represent his or rather their lives in the league of assassin's.
The being finally looks up and shouts
"HAHA YOU CAN SUC MY DIC WALKER. I MAY BE OUT NOT ON MY OWN VOLITION BUT IM GONNA DO GHOST CRIMES AGAIN . And there's nothing you can do about it. "
"Ghost crimes exist? What even are ghost crimes???" Dick whispered to Jason
"I don't know but I am so angry at the implications of ghost cops. " Jason replies
#dp x dc#danny fenton#danny phantom#danny phantom au#is this done yet?#dc x dp#dcxdp#i guess nobody expects for a ghost to be caged for ghost crimes sentenced to in ghost court with their own ghost lawyers and stuff#Damian's first thought was probably is this fool really my brother?#wait no no no#Damian's first thought was huh i guess that fool will be the one to get sentenced to a crime in the afterlife#and hos second thought aas probably and he got CAUGHT by the ghost police. what was all of those years of training fr??!??!#i need to slep#so goodnight my friends and bogos#wait#damian and danny are twins#forgot this one
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colour me in: palette | jjk (m)
Summary:Â Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise â even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader âł rating: 18+ âł genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut âł warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending đ„ș âł word count: 32.6k âł a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think đ€ âł listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist đ€
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs
DAY 1
âBunk beds⊠Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.â
Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You havenât quite yet deciphered whatâs going on; youâve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that heâs now groaning about.
âWait⊠what?â Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.
Jimin, as agitated as you havenât seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobbyâs upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.
âWeâd booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.â Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. âSo now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. Weâd pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.â
âSame price?â Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.
âOh my god,â Eun whispers, matching Jiminâs drama-loving freak, âthis is⊠weâre being robbed.â
âSo,â Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friendsâ growing hysteria, âwe just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?â
Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if heâs uttered sheer nonsense; Eunâs eyes squint, questioning how heâd dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eunâs, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.
But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, âI guessâŠâ
âYeah, and then, whoâs getting the queen sized bed?â you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and youâre dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. âHow do we decide that?â
âThatâs the question,â Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, âI think weâll have to fight for it, folks.â
ââŠHow?â
Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that arenât feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.
That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, âWeâll just go the easiest way we know.â
The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyungâs closest pals, theyâre bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the manâs tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.
ââŠWait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?â
âDo you have a better idea?â
âWe just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.â
âNo,â Jimin again, âI donât trust any of you to not manipulate this.â
Voices soon mingle, offended by Jiminâs distrust, retorts flying around such as, âOh, thanks for this,â or âWhy would we manipulaââ
âCome on!â Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. âWeâre all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.â
Well⊠maybe heâs not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, youâve grown accustomed to your boyfriendâs warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.
Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkookâs embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, âThis is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you andâŠâ
But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, âItâs okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, weâve got this.â
If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.
And thinking about it, youâve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.
And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, youâd notice.
Notice everything.
How heâd kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, âHi, angel,â without really expecting a response back. Heâd pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.
You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.
ButâŠ
It seems that today, luck isnât quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you havenât got this. Because mere five minutes later, youâre staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.
Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when itâs time to decide between the remaining of you four, itâs not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple youâve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.
Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once theyâve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.
Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You donât get it; arenât they upset about the separation?
Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. Youâve been played so bad.
âAnd what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?â Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.
But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, âNah. Itâs just two nights, weâll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,â he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, âwe canât leave the last couple all alone here.â
You smirk in mock, tilting your head, âHa-ha. Youâre way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Minââ
âCome on,â Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, âsolidarity, baby. Itâll be fun.â He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, âWeâll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?â
Oh, as if you could forget.
Jungkookâs hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You canât predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because youâre reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.
Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.
Your face warms at the thought; youâve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more â you donât think youâve ever been this pumped in your life.
No â do not think about it. Let it come to you⊠carpe diem and all that.
You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for todayâs outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, âOkay. Iâll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.â
Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume heâs tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.
But if you were in his head, youâd know that heâs long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.
Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.
Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.
The pullover doesnât feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You donât think youâll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.
Youâre liking the village; maybe itâs the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. Itâs redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.
And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place â you canât describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.
The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan youâve already settled on buying. Itâs a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.
You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once youâve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.
Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didnât quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, âDamn.â
âI take it you like it as much as I do.â
âDo one of your three sixty spins.â
He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.
You keep asking, âAre you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?â
And he always responds, âNo. Show me another one of the dresses.â
But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he canât control his occasionally occurring ticks â you know theyâre a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.
So you ask, âYou okay?â
âHm? Yeah. Yeah, I think Iâm just tired,â he explains, âdriving all day made me drowsy.â
Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, âI told you to let me drive.â
âYes, butâŠ. I like driving,â he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, âand you were having fun.â
Honestlyâ
Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.
âOkay. Lean back now.â
The road was challenging, Jungkookâs voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling â though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.
A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, âAngel!â
Youâd separated the large group â Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasnât awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.
Your car because youâd be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyungâs vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkookâs hometown didnât dim a single bit, you were a little sad that youâd be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.
Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.
He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.
The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.
Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongiâs sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.
It took you a moment to understand â Yoongi isnât a bad driver at all, as youâve been told by himself, but heâs still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldnât risk it.
Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.
Youâre a handful â but he has confessed a hundred times before that heâd rather have that than an empty palm.
âNo wonder youâre tired,â you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, âPoor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.â
âI mean,â Jungkook starts, âthey both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?â
Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that youâd summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.
So you say, âKind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didnât even think about it. For me, it was already official⊠didnât think itâd need an announcement.â
âMaybe youâre right? Itâs as much of a secret as we are.â
You break into a grin. âRight?â And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. âWhat do you think?â
âOh, you should buy it.â
âYeah?â
âWell, itâd be good to look at and then fun to rip off.â
You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you â face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.
And then, partly to remind him of where heâs sitting right now â not far from an elderly lady whoâs currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.
âUgh, can you only think about that?â you joke, right before wiggling a finger. âThis oneâs expensive. Youâre not ripping off shit.â
âHey, donât scold me. Youâre just as bad!â
âIâm not! In case you donât remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.â
âAh, ahhh,â he teases, cocking an eyebrow, âin case you donât remember, only very reluctantly.â You canât suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. âBut seriously, you look gorgeous.â
âRight! Iâll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party youâll definitely host once youâve established yourself as the nationâs biggest artist.â
And thatâs when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, âDecide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I canât handle both.â
âBut you do every day,â you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, âOkay, okay. Weâll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.â
Where youâll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.
Excited doesnât do this feeling justice.
Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least thatâs what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You donât provoke him further â only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.
You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, âHave you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.â
âYeah, they went into another souvenir shoâ wait, thatâs Eun, isnât it?â
You squint into the distance.
God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.
And youâre so loving the shops. Theyâre small, their owners as hospitable as you havenât met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.
Shit, and the stalls! Theyâre popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks â candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasnât ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.
Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, itâs been a while since you ate or drank â and just imagining the fruity flavour, you canât help but suggest, âOhhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?â
Jungkook doesnât answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts donât seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.
Youâre moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, âHmm, no, I think Iâll get a coffee a bit later. Iâll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.â
You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you canât find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, âOkay. You know where to find us if you need to.â
âGot it,â he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.
Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak youâll reach tomorrow.
So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.
Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eunâs arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.
Itâs still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.
Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like heâs more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.
Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase heâd like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.
And Jungkook waits⊠waits calmly until a voice breathes a, âWhat you doing?â into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, âEverything good?â
Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, âGoddamn, dude. Donât do that.â
âYou look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?â he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. âOh! Is this for me?â
Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, âCâmon.â And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, âAlright. Itâs for her. Iâll give it to her at the wedding.â
âDamn, a little present for the date at a wedding? Youâre down bad.â
âHow did you guess that?â Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkookâs back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, âNot a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?â
âMy lips are sealed.â
Thatâs it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeansâ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. Itâs awkward until it isnât â until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, âListen.â
Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkookâs tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, âI know I said my piece that night already, butâŠâ A grimace, kissing his lips, then, âIâm really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I shouldâve given you a chance much sooner.â
Well, fuck.Â
For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didnât waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the manâs eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.
But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jiminâs stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that timeâŠ
âBut you have given me a chance now,â Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, âand I appreciate that just as much.â
âYou remember what I said to you back then?â
Of course⊠he might remember each detail of that night forever.
âOf course,â Jungkook echoes, âyou said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.â
âAnd I meant it.â
âShe said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.â
Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. âWell, I guess thatâs true to some extent. But itâs definitely not just that.â He reviews his thoughts; then, âItâs more so the fact that you came back.â
That he came back.
Jimin doesnât mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.
Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didnât think he needed.
âAnd in hindsight,â Jimin speaks on, âwhile I disagree with what you did before that,â a sting in Jungkookâs beating heart, âI think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but⊠you want her happy, right?â
Thereâs no debate about this.
âSo much,â Jungkook immediately agrees, âit just doesnât make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.â
âI agree. And you came back, thatâs what it is. Youâre here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of⊠safety.â He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. âMaking her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didnât. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.â
Something to fight for⊠someone to fight for.
How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?
Jungkookâs heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.
âYouâre just half as bad, huh?â he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.
âNo, you.â More snicker. âBut seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with⊠all the issues around her, sheâs repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again⊠added that you do, too. No details, no worries!â
He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that itâs okay, that itâs true.
So Jimin continues, âBut just⊠whenever you might feel like youâre not doing enough â because letâs be real, we all do sometimes â remember that you make at least one person happy.â
Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.
âI never expected to hear this from you, but⊠I really am thankful, Jimin.â
Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. âAnd if it helps. Iâm really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.â
Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jiminâs addition, âAnd by the way, sheâll love that. Will feel like the bride, probablyââ
Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jiminâs eyes follow Jungkookâs, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, âWhat are you guys talking about?â
Youâre so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jiminâs lie nearly doesnât come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, âHe was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows youâll be the talk of the night.â
âCome onnnn,â you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, âthis is so weak. I know you, Park. Thatâs not what you were talking about.â
âIt is!â Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him â but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, arenât there? âI told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you canât contradict that.â
Jungkookâs acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you wonât get anything out of them.
Besides, you love surprises. You wonât ruin it for yourself.
So you wave the white flag, only saying, âI donât really believe you, but okay,â before turning, gripping Jungkookâs hand and adding, âListen. You donât get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.â
And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eunâs curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something likeâŠ
Friendship.
Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.
Tonight, itâs gimbap.
Youâve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how itâs made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.
When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.
Or so you thought.
Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, heâs still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, âDo they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?â
His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybodyâs been posing questions today as if heâs studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.
âNo, this isnât a very luxurious place anyway,â he explains, âand besides. Youâre making me hungry, too.â
Jungkook leans into him as he asks, âArenât you quite close with the receptionist?â Pause. âDo you think theyâd let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?â
âWow, you really are craving it,â Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.
âJungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,â Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.
You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand whatâs going on. And when you find Jungkookâs big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know heâs gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, âIf you charm them, maybe.â
âCome on. I know how to charm people,â he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.
Heâs brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, âGo ahead,â but barely a second later, heâs on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, âDecided to help me?â
âOnly because Iâm hungry, too. Can make them together.â
Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it couldâve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.
Youâre surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?
As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, âThatâs new.â
Itâs quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.
Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know theyâre pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea â and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.
Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.
Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny âOhâ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They donât come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. Thereâs more room there for sure.
They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You canât really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.
You canât believe it. What an odd sight â but good for them.
âThatâs rare indeed,â Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.
You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.
You ask, âHey. Do you play?â
âHm?â Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. âAh. Yeah, I play sometimes.â
âHe plays all the time,â Taehyung corrects.
Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, âIâve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though thereâs still a long way to go.â
âAny song you enjoy playing the most?â you ask, leaning in.
âOhh, youâll like this.â His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know youâve introduced the right topic. âYou like oldies, donât you?â
âI do, actually! How do you know?â
Taehyung chimes in, âJungkook told us. Like literal months ago.â
Perhaps itâs the new sentiments youâre still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.
You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasnât even opened it yet.
Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.
âWait,â you say, âin which context? Iâm nosy, and now I want to know.â
âHe said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is⊠what was it again?â
Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but itâs Eun who answers fondly, âItâs Canât Take My Eyes off You. Ever since⊠always.â
You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, âSo is it true? Do you like me then?â
âI adore you.â
Your face heats up more. âYou didnât tell me what you like playing the most.â
âI would say I enjoyâŠâ
âOr wait. Donât tell me. What if you played it?â
âNow hold onââ
Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, âGo ahead, please.â
You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, âI know you want to.â
Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but heâs just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so youâre barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, âYeah. Alright.â
He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, âWhat should I play? Maybe this?â
His fingers strum a few chords that you donât recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.
You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, âWhatever crosses your mind first.â
He doesnât answer, handling the instrument. Heâs focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, âThis should do,â and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what heâs chosen.
Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.
âWhich oneâs this?â Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung whoâs barely alive at this point. The music probably doesnât help.
But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. Thereâs a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkookâs table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.
And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, âDance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very⊠calm version of it.â
Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, âThe Civil Wars. Covered it.â
âRight.â
The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.
Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the weddingâŠ
You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkookâs elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isnât already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.
Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until heâs reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didnât know just yet.
Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. Youâre filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.
Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, âAnd how did that feel?â
âSurprisinglyâŠâ Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. âComforting.â
âIsnât that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?â
Itâs how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.
The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.
Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when heâ
âYou play?â Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.
Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.
âHow do you know?â you wonder.
âYou talk like you do.â
âI didnât want to give any spoilers,â Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, âso I didnât say anything. But Iâve heard her play.â
âAh,â you voice, ânot often. Was I any good?â
âAs much as I remember.â
Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.
So you grab it for the moment, explaining, âI⊠I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.â You mimic Yoongiâs gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. âAlways enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.â
âDamnâŠâ Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, âYouâre alive, too!â
âThen you should definitely play something,â Eun says.
âYouâre all okay with that?â
âPlease,â Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, âyou donât need our permission at all.â
So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you donât need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongiâs piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.
You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. Theyâre better singers. Youâre alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.
âWise men say, only fools rush inâŠâ
You donât know why you chose this song. You donât know why you didnât settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.
Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didnât realise were shut.
You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.
Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but JungkookâŠ
Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.
If you could guess, youâd say heâs looking at you like⊠like heâd die for you.
Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.
He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if heâs dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadnât played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably wouldâve long failed.
You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.
You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.
You never knew you could.
Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, youâve grown fond of his little gestures. You didnât think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.
A couple months ago, you wouldâve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.
But youâre not. Instead, youâre trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, âSo I take it, it was good?â
âGood?!â Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.
âYou keep surprising me, angel,â Jungkook admits, âI donât know what to do with this anymore.â
âWith what?â
Heâs close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.
Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, âYou chose the right song, didnât you?â
Yeah. A little dose of Elvisâs Canât Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesnât it?
You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.
Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.
And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkookâs shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.
Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You donât know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.
Itâs how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.
Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one youâve been yearning for your entire life.
The end of the night begins with an argument.
Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They donât struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkookâs leg as it dangles off the upper bed.
âIâm going to come up,â you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. âAnd I will be so annoying.â
âIs that news?â he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.
âBabe. I called shots on the upper bunk.â
âYou did not.â
âItâs a lot more fun up there. And I thought youâd like sleeping down there.â
Jungkookâs eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, âWhat made you think that?â
Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasnât too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, âYou had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.â
âThatâs⊠an impeccable argument. I canât even respond to it.â
The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading wonât work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.
âDonât you fart, though,â you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. Itâs okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, itâs worse than not having him beside you at all.
Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.
âWe were lucky with the weather. I bet itâs raining back at home.â
Oh⊠have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?
Jungkook answers, âCloser to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.â
Then, Yoongi, âHopefully itâs as nice at the beach, too.â
âIt better be,â Jimin chimes in, âIâve been looking forward to our game for ages. Iâll play in the rain if need be.â
âOh god, can you imagine?â you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. Youâve been thinking about the game just as much â chaos with a big fat portion of craze. âWe wouldnât even be able to get up if it rained.â
âWeâd get nowhere,â Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.
âThatâs what. Doesnât it sound fun? Wouldnât matter anyway⊠the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?â Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.
And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesnât, Jungkook challenges, âYour competitive side means nothing if youâre gonna lose anyway.â
âDude. Be careful. Thereâll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,â Jimin says.
âTrue, true,â you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, âNow, that, I wanna see.â
The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.
And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, âDo we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.â
But your suggestion proves redundant â because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that youâve fallen asleep.
You canât stay silent for this long; and youâre not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, âI drove all day and still she falls asleep first.â
Yoongi and Jiminâs laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until theyâve fallen asleep, too.
Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. Thereâs a strange yearning in his chest that heâs well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And⊠is this too much?
The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?
Youâve really done a number on him.
The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesnât know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.
âManâŠâ Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.
Sleep isnât an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks youâre off again, he hears a couple seconds laterâ
âKook?â
No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like⊠relief.
âBaby,â he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you â or the darkness below. âYouâre awake?â
âCanât sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other bedsâŠâ
âRight? Me too.â He reaches out for you, hoping youâll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. âAnd⊠I miss you here.â
You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, âIsnât it ridiculous? How we canât go a night like this.â
âHmmâŠâ
âI miss you, too.â
Patience is a virtue he hasnât learned yet when it comes to you.
He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your motherâs thoughts. All possible.
But you⊠distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night isâŠ
Pretty damn shit.
âWait,â he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, âHuh?â as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.
For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once heâs touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what heâs trying to do.
Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, âUhm, I⊠Baby, I donât know if itâs a good ideaââ
But you donât seem to have much of a say in this matter â because youâre soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until youâre nearly pressed against the wall.
He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little â close to rolling off the mattress? â and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.
Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, âYou were saying?â
âI⊠I was saying you feel so warm.â
âMmmh,â he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, âyou are, too.â
âDo I feel better than your bed up there?â
âA lot better.â His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. âMakes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.â
âDonât worry,â you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, âAm exhausted. Iâll fall asleep fast. Especially like thisâŠâ
âOh⊠glad to be of service then.â
You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.
The two of you have gotten used to this. Itâs said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess thatâs what you are for each other.
Even when youâre not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.
Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds youâ
âYou wanted the upper bunk bed,â you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.
He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.
âShut up,â he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. âOkay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?â
You smile. Youâre not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.
âI think I doâŠâ you admit. âI think I figured it out.â
Because.
Because youâve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you werenât nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.
And thatâs when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!
You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.
Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.
âIâm not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,â he says.
âThereâs a railiââ
âStill. One never knows with you. In any case⊠youâre not getting hurt on vacation, okay?â
You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but itâs insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.
Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, âIs that right? Weâll see about that once we play the game.â
You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, âYeah, yeah,â as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, âI really mean so much to you.â
âMhm⊠So very much.â
Itâs too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know heâs blended out the world when you look up at him. You know heâs staring back quietly.
You know what heâs feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.
Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouetteâs mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesnât rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving.Â
He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe thatâs why the moment feels so intimate.
Because thereâs no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.
As he moves back again, he doesnât talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Thenâ
He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, âLove me?â
Your heart.
This treacherous thing â cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. Youâre constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, âPlease love me, too.â
Doesnât he know how easy that is? Doesnât he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That heâs not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesnât need to show anyone that heâs just that.
âNo need to beg,â you tell him, âyouâll never need to beg.â
Another beat of silence. Heâs smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?
Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what itâs like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.
You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, âYou know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. Itâs not that tightââ
âIn theory. But we wouldnât sleep well, right?â he ponders.
Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when youâre not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.
Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.
So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.
He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesnât do this, heâll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.
Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.
DAY 2
The air is much colder up here than you thought.
You canât recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your countryâs geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didnât enjoy heights, but depths.
You knew that early on.
Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. Youâre glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.
But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, âDamn it.â
Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, âCome on, no pauses now! We finally made it.â
That you did. No turning back. Youâve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.
Youâre relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at.Â
Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They donât take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.
Jungkook and Taehyung didnât come with you. Or rather, theyâll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprenticeâs time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.
Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him â partly to not leave him alone, and partly because heâs always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.
Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.
Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, âAngel, as much as I want you here, I wonât be able to talk to you anyway. Iâll be there in no time.â
So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, thereâs another higher, snow-capped mountain.
And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.
Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess thatâs where your serenity ends.
Because the bridge isnât as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but⊠holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say donât look down in moments like these, but you canât help, and God, thereâs an immeasurable distance between you and the ground andâ
Itâs not immeasurable. No, youâre an idiot. But you still canât help it; stare down, gulp.
You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they⊠how do theyâŠ
The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.
Okay⊠okay.
You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before youâ
Scream.
The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the âSee?â over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and youâre uncertain who the fingers belong to, but youâre still ready to fight.
The voice isnât; the startled gasp reveals as much.
You turn, only to find your boyfriendâs eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, âSorry! Sorry, baby.â
âKook! Timing,â you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once youâve grasped the reality enough.
âAngelâŠâ he starts, looking into the hell below. âAre you scared of heights?â
No time to be sarcastic; you donât have the breath to. So you admit, âA little.â
âI didnât know,â he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. âIâm sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.â
His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, âAll good?â
âYeah,â Jungkook promises, âyou can go ahead if you want.â
âMmmh,â Taehyung hums; doesnât sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. âYou need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.â
UhhâŠ
âIs that a good idea?â you mumble.
âIt could be.â
Could be? And if it isnât?
Then again. Youâre here for a reason. Youâd be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that itâs up to you.
So you decide, âNo, Iâll go. I came here for this, and I donât know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!â
âHear, hear!â Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, âSee? Thatâs my girl!â
It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. Theyâre determined to take care of you, constantly checking if youâre okay. And it works at first. But.
The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that youâre not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.
If one falls, all of you do â which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isnât quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyungâs hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkookâs grip.
âGo ahead,â your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. âItâs okay.â
âIâm right here if you need me,â he vows before walking on.
Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, âImagine itâs the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think itâs⊠uh⊠thirty more till the end.â
You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, âAre you kidding⊠Looks like a hundred.â
He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.
So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, âForty-five! I say forty-five steps.â
And then, you count together. Youâre amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, âShould know better than to compete with a munchkin.â
You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, âThis is actually fun,â not noticing that heâs barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.
âWhat a journey, huh?â Jungkook praises, patting your back. âIâm proud of you. Itâll only get easier from here.â
And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.
Okay, you can do this much, at least.
In fact, youâre the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops â the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.
Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, âI know, right?â
Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.
Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.
Youâre above the foggy clouds.
In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.
And the forests â theyâre thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds youâve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?
Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.
The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isnât at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.
This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.
The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, youâll be heading back down. But you donât feel any hurry. Nothing matters.
âThisâŠâ you finally whisper as you catch yourself, âmakes me wanna cry.â
You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkookâs arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, âThen cry. Isnât that what catharsis is about?â
âItâs just so pretty.â
âIt is.â
âLike⊠is this really our world, Jungkook?â You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. âThe same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.â
You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. âThereâs so much more.â
âThere is, right? A lot more,â he confirms.
âLook at this,â you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, âwherever there arenât people to fuck things up, thereâs peace like this.â You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you canât say. âWhat if we became nomads?â
His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.
He concludes, âI think youâll really like it back home.â Youâre confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. âThere are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.â
ââŠDo you already have something in mind?â
âOf course I do,â he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. âI just wonât tell you yet.â
âHa. I wouldnât want you to.â
You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe youâve transcended this realm and entered another.
But as you hear everyone elseâs voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember youâre still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds youâŠ
You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, âWhat did Namjoon want?â
âOh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.â
âSounded super urgent, though.â
âI mean, it kinda was,â he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, âhe needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes andââ
âWait. Youâre still sticking to your own style, though, right?â
His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.
Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, thereâs somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.
You.
Youâre who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.
âOf course, angel,â he says, âI think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.â
âGood. Youâre the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.â His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, âI still donât know what youâre painting.â
âI will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because youâre my muse. My girl.â
He must think that this doesnât wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didnât know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there canât be this many emotions anyway, right?
If you didnât feel it with your own heart, you wouldnât believe itâŠ
âButâŠâ you begin, âyouâll let me see those that I donât inspire, right?â
âOf course. Always.â
Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, âThis really is pretty.â
He doesnât answer. Thereâs no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesnât just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course itâs gorgeous. Of course, your worldâs unique.
Of course, itâs home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.
Thereâs no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But heâs seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What heâs never been used to is people like you.
Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.
Jungkook doesnât answer right away because the right response doesnât come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voicesâ
âI love you, angel.â
Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.
âPeople climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,â he says, his voice velvety soft. âBut I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do⊠I do love you so much.â
You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so youâre briefly displeased but not surprised when youâre pulled out of your daydream.
Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. Youâre soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.
Mouthing something.
And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.
If he could be honest⊠whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. Youâre enough, too â a force of nature, too.
He doesnât need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.
The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. Youâre moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.
Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and youâll wait at the exit.
Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you donât fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.
The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you donât hear it when Eun says, âYouâre both glued to each other, huh?â
Jungkookâs wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, âIs that⊠bad? Too much?â
âWell, definitely much,â Eun laughs, âbut very sweet, too. By all means, donât change.â
âAh. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.â
Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that sheâs ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, âOh? Which oneâs that?â
âJust confirms that I have your blessings.â
Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didnât anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.
âMy blessings?â she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, âAre you joking?â
Which is presumably why Jungkookâs thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, âWell⊠yeah?â
âOkay. And what if I didnât give them to you?â
She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, âUhmâŠâ
âIâm just messing with you,â she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. âBut also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didnât bless you two? Or stop loving her?â
Jungkookâs surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. Thereâs no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.
He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, âNo.â
âExactly,â Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, âyou donât need my blessings. If youâre sure about her, you donât need anyoneâs. Iâll trust the process.â
Thatâs it.
No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didnât? No. Not a trace of doubt.
Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.
Not if everything heâs still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft Iâve been thinking of you all this time.
âBut,â Eun continues; Jungkookâs ears perk up, âif you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but Iâve never seen a cuter couple.â
âAh. Even cuter than you and Tae?â
âMuch. Weâre not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but⊠youâre straight up sugar. Makes me sick.â
Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. âWell, she makes up most of that sweetness.â
âMaybe. God,â Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, âSometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.â
âThe most precious, right?â
âIsnât she?â
Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesnât fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. Youâre deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.
No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.
Heâs here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.
And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, âIâve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?â
No, it doesnât. In fact, Eunâs very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but heâs made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.
âIt sounds just right,â he says.
âI donât know if you already know, but you wonât meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend⊠itâs true.â She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isnât a mawkish one. âSo itâs a big deal to say I want you close to her.â
Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; thereâs a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eunâs gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupidâs arrows in your back until you meet their attention.
Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.
And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but itâs as if he hears it from where you stand.
Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurratesâ
âThank you, Eun.â
âHere you are.â
Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why youâre so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.
You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. Theyâre not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.
Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasnât the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe heâs sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.
You flash him a smile from where youâre floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.
Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.
âI was looking for you,â he says.
âOh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.â
âYeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.â He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, âHey, do you need a moment to yourself?â
Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if heâs intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, âWhat?â
âJust. I know thereâs been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.â His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. âMy battery almost ran out, too.â
Oh. OhâŠ
If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldnât. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybodyâs ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.
You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you canât be there for them, itâs something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.
Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.
Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, âOh, no. I actually knew youâd find me here. Hoped for it.â
âIs that right?â he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.
You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. Itâs outrageously insane, how heâs perched there like heâs allowed to. As if it doesnât clearly state in your book that itâs illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.
âItâs been a while since we were alone,â you tell him, âfeels like we didnât have many moments to ourselves.â
âThen, this is convenient, isnât it? An empty pool in the evening. Very clichĂ©.â
You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, âOthers are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. Weâre the only crazy ones here.â
âItâs warm enough, though,â he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point â thereâs something funny about it. âI bet itâs wet and grey back home.â A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, âAre you looking forward to tomorrow?â
Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.
Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, âA lot! Itâll be a long day, weâll be exhausted, but⊠got a feeling itâll be worth it all.â
âYeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,â he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. âMy childhood bedroom is cosy.â
âIâd hope so. We wonât be leaving it.â
He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, âOf course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.â
âExcept for the wedding⊠sure,â you repeat, as if reluctantly.
As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.
The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.
Thereâs a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, itâs you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?
But he doesnât say any of it â donât you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, âArenât you cold?â
You shake your head, however, stating, âNot yet. Or⊠maybe a little. You can help me warm up?â
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldnât mind if heïżœïżœ
âIsnât this another clichĂ©?â he asks.
âHow so?â
âYouâll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. Youâre a brat,â he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. âNo⊠youâll pull me in.â
âWhat? I wonât.â
âHow do I know that, though?â
âI mean, technically, you donât, and yes, I realise that doesnât help,â you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, âbut, you did just shower. I wouldnât want you to waste more time showering afterwards.â
He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows â the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, âI donât trust you this once, butâŠâ
And thatâs where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.
The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain â a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.
The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you donât belong into a utopian world like this. As if youâre from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.
Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself untilâ
The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.
âUnfair,â you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.
You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, âMy pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?â twice, then thrice and then closes in again.
Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.
Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.
Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender â you canât let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire andâ
âFuââ
The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.
He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.
You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He canât help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, âAngel, youâreâ you brat." Another cough. "Youâre too much.â
And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but heâs faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.
The image makes you choke.
How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.
Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.
Fuck, heâs broad. And fuck, heâs coming right for you.
You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but heâs a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, âTalking about clichĂ©s, baby, huh?â
As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, âWell⊠thereâs a reason why theyâre clichĂ©s.â
âNot wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.â
âYouâre saying it sounds like a bad idea?â you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, âWhat?â before you clarify, âShowering with me?â
âNah. Stop planting this thought in my head,â he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.
You try to stay afloat, but god, youâll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, âStop or I swear, we wonât even make it to the damn shower. Understood?â
âBeastââ
âYou say as if you donât know me already. Donât you know?â he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. âThat I get like this with you?â
âI⊠I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.â
You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.
Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. Itâs hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.
He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesnât tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.
You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when youâre up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, âCome on.â
And once you see him again clearly, heâs already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.
You follow slowly, stroking for a moment â but it doesnât take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.
And in front of him, a lake you couldnât see from the other side of the pool.
Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther⊠burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.
His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you donât move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.
As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, âCome, baby.â
And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.
He says, âOne could almost forget that weâre leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.â
Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight â an exception at this hostel â to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, youâll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.
Youâll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel â no hostel this time â until the day after tomorrow.
âYeah. Just a bit more,â you say, sighing before you let him know, âBy the way⊠I do feel a lot warmer now.â
âGood,â he says, although you donât miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, âanything for you to not get sick.â He nudges your elbow with his. âNot before the big day.â
No, not the big day. If anything, youâre even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous â oh, so nervous. You donât think youâll feel any different until the day rolls around.
What will happen at the wedding? Whatâs the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.
Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?
No. You donât think itâll make you fall for him harder â because you donât need a wedding for that.
A moment like this suffices.
Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, âHey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?â
Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friendâs slip-up. He smirks, and then says, âWell, youâll see at the wedding, right?â
ââŠJungkook,â you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you donât fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, âDid you get me something?â
But heâs unfazed â a good actor. âWait up,â he says, âif youâve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! Youâre too smart for me.â
âCâmon, as if.â You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. âWait. Oh.â
He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, âOh?â
âJeon Jungkook⊠are you proposing?â
And thatâs when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, âI did not expect that. But sure, thatâs what it is.â
âWell, that cancels it out.â
âOh, babyâŠâ He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. âYouâre so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.â
Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.
They never cease. You donât think youâll ever get over this word. You donât think thereâs a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love â his love â for you.
Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.
Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.
Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, âLetâs go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?â
DAY 3
You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because thereâs nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order.Â
You wonât empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; youâll only be here for another night anyway.
But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, thereâs no chance in hell youâre having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.
Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. Itâs only 8 oâclock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.
But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that todayâs schedule doesnât begin before noon.
For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each otherâs company, brief kisses here, modest touches there â until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.
Albeit, youâre distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.
You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.
And⊠there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.
Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.
You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is â whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.
He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, âHey!â
But heâs still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.
You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that heâd have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.
His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand â when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you canât wait to wear it.
Apparently, he canât either.
Because he declares, âYouâre gonna be so fucking pretty in this.â
âYou told me.â
âAnd Iâll keep doing so. My god, Iâll need to keep an eye on you all night!â
You laugh. âAh? Why?â
He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, âSome of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again⊠itâs you.â
âOh, oh,â you voice, tutting, âand the girls? Are some of them single, too?â
âWell, I guess so, butââ
âNothing but. Iâve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,â you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. âNo, youâre sticking by my side that night, Jeon.â
You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, âNo running away with other chicks.â
âAs if, you idiot,â he jests, âeven if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didnât realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else â Iâd still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.â
You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; youâre sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, âOh my god. I so want to witness that one day. Iâm gonna try to get there.â
âI believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,â he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, âIs this part of your attire?â
âWell, now you ruined a perfect surprise.â
âWhat! I donât think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It wonât be any less than you expect.â
You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.
You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until heâs folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.
Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when youâre reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.
You mutter, âGonna have to ask your mom if sheâs okay with me using your washing machine.â
âShe will be, for sure.â
âIâll even hang them to dry myself.â
âYeah?â
âMhm! Shit, Jungkook. Iâm so excited!â you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. âI wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I canât wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool andââ You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, âWhat?â
âNothing, justâŠâ
He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until youâre between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.
Then, he speaks again, âCan you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.â
He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you donât think you fare any better.
So youâre walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, âDo you ever get enough?â
âHmm⊠Do I look like I do?"
âI mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?â you inquire, but heâs already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. âYour eyes look just like they did yesterday.â
âAh, really?â A featherlight kiss on your neck. âSo I wonât have my wish granted?â
âYou⊠Youâre stupid,â is all you say before you prove him wrong â diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.
You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.
And before you know it, youâre moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering itâs a string, not even that matters.
He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in â trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.
But when he realises youâre pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, âThought so. Thatâs,â you touch his hand over your ass, âwhat your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?â
âSorry,â he mutters with a grin â but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, âI⊠if you donât want to, we donât have to though. Iâm okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.â
Oh, the way he touches your heartâŠ
You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, âOh, babyâŠâ
âNo, seriously. Whatever youâre comfortable with, my love.â
âIâm⊠Iâm comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you⊠Iâll be honest with you.â
He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, âDo you feel like you can?â
But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, âAlways.â Swift pause. âKook, Iâ I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but⊠I wonât. As long as youâre willing to stay, I will, too.â
âI will. I promise. And Iâll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose⊠okay?â
Hmm⊠you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know youâre here despite all the despites.
But if you need to, youâll keep dispeling his fears all your life.
So you say, âI know. I know.â Brushing through his hair. âAnd I want this.â
âIt wonât hurt? We just did last nightââ
âIf it does, we can stop. I always want you. BesidesâŠâ You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. âI canât blueball you.â
Jungkook smirks in the way only heâs able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, âBrat, acting like itâd be the first time.â
âYouâre just⊠so hard already. Canât do this to you. Or me. Not today.â
âBabe⊠you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isnât even its final state, you know?â
âOf course I know.â
Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it canât get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.
Heâs in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.
Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.
His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.
And a second later, out of the blue, thereâs a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.
âYouâre so brave,â he deduces, âlike you forgot yesterday.â
âI could never. Maybe⊠maybe Iâm just trying to repeat it.â
âOh⊠smart, smart. If thatâs your wish.â
Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.
Youâre already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. Heâs not wearing anything underneath⊠you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.
And heâs well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, âKiss me again?â
âNot yet. I wanna see you wind.â
âWhyâŠ? Youâre so meanââ
âJust now. Come on. Look at me.â
You do. Youâre met with a hungry beast whoâs yearning for you, simultaneously so soft â easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.
He might be craving you, but heâs not stupid; heâs cautious. Gauging your reaction.
This man⊠this manâŠ
âWant me to push it in?â Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didnât expect the inquiry this soon, but youâre not opposed to it at all.
You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, âPlease.â
âPlease, yeah?â he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance â but then, he chuckles. âBaby. Take care of yourself when I canât. I canât fucking think, you know? But even I know youâre not ready yet.â
âIâŠâ
âJust a bit more, okay?â He slaps your pussy; you wince. âWanna get up and undress?â
âNo,â you instantly blurt, âwant you like this. Right now. I donât care about the shirt.â
âRight⊠so thatâs how it is.â
He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.
Huh.
âIs this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didnât you?â he gathers.
You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âI canât believe you. Stealing my clothes⊠and my perfumes,â he recollects, his voice going up and down. Heâs referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. âWhatâs next? My heart?â
Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he canât really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.
But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.
The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.
Thereâs never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, itâs him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, âOh? Oh, ohâŠâ
Then again, maybe thatâs all thatâs necessary to set the mood further; he doesnât elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques heâs mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.
Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. Itâs obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time â hence, the bruises.
Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe heâll feast on you enough.
Because heâs thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, âMaybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.â
ââŠM-maybe.â
âWish weâd brought the sex toys. Man, I want toâŠâ He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artistâs hand; and you canât help but imagine itâs the vibrator he often handles. âWouldnât that be good?â
âDonât⊠do this to me.â
A smug chuckle. âSorry, bae.â
Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, heâs teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, heâs prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, heâd revel in your whines.
Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.
âJungkookâŠâ you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, âWeâd never get t-to breakfast then.â
âSo? Iâd still be having mine.â
Thought so.
âButâŠâ you argue, no clue why at all. âTheyâd be waiting.â
âI think theyâre just as bad as we are. Câmon.â
You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.
Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.
And you want to close your legs but you canât.
The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, âStop⊠I canât hear you like this,â before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, âWhat if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?â
His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, âI⊠donât know yet.â
âFine. Thereâs time.â
There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, heâs uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.
Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until heâs grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until heâs kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.
Heâs chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. Youâre rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.
Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.
And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks heâs dying and being reborn.
âIâm dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,â he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because youâre right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.
âGlad to hear.â
Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and heâll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.
Heâs gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the buildingâ
âCareful now,â he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours donât need toâ
Fuck.
Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.
Isnât it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, âI donât care who hears.â
Okay. Okay. Then⊠youâll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that heâs loving it. He asks, âCan I go farther in?â
âThought youâd never askâŠâ Yet, it doesnât happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much heâs enjoying your helplessness. You say, âYou are mean.â
âMhm⊠especially to you, right?â
âEspecially to me,â you laugh. âYou say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, wonât you?â
âOhhhh no.â He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if youâve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. âYou will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.â
He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and thenâ bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.
And then, heâs already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesnât prolong at all.
Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, âAm craving this mouth⊠Get up.â
You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.
He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesnât wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.
And youâre careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, thatâs when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.
You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, âWhat do you want me to do?â
Youâre not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.
But you want to submit today; thatâs the mood you perceived. Thatâs what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.
And he notices the shift. âMy god, would you look at that,â he drags, hardly believing that youâre looking at him like this. âBed. Lean over it.â
You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress.Â
He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it â the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.
His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.
You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because heâs soon determined to help â or to rile you up further, you canât say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.
A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until itâs glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.
As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, âYou wanna know, huh?â
âIâŠâ
Youâre not sure what heâs talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, âWhatâs that like? You okay, baby?â
âIâm okay⊠Iâm so okayââ
âAnd so pretty like this. Youâre always⊠so pretty. Iâm so fucking lucky.â
âI want to see you.â
âHow did IâŠâ
âKookââ
âI know. I know you want to,â he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you donât complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, âI know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?â
How couldnât you if he asks so nicely, right?
Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. Itâs high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesnât go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.
Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that youâre not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each otherâs thirst?
Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.
Repeats each time just as he is now, âHow did I end up with you?â Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that youâre more than heâll ever deserve. He adds, âYou want me to prove it to you?â
OhâŠ
Thatâs what heâ
This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.
Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until youâre on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; itâs easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like youâre the only star in the vast, expanding universe.
The only source of light in this darkened room.
âHey,â he calls, even though youâre already looking at him.
He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though itâs impossible in a setting like this â maybe thatâs what he means when he says you reside in him.
Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.
âI love you,â he then proclaims, âand Iâll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.â
âI⊠I want you toâŠâ
âGood. Good, baby. You know Iâll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. Iâll do anything for you.â
You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you donât know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.
So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you donât need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.
You understand youâre close when he pleads, âCan you touch yourself? Please?â
And it helps â considering that youâre already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.
Nothing, but bliss bliss blissâŠ
Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, âWhat happened?â
But the question is redundant â because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.
You ruined the sheets. Youâll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.
âYou squirted all over my dick,â Jungkook still clarifies.
âIâm sorryâŠâ
âWhat? No. It looks⊠it feels soâŠâ
He doesnât need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.
He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesnât; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.
Somehow, youâre even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again â itâs fine, right? Youâre probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.
Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesnât want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.
His next question, however, is an entirely different one, âDo you believe me now?â
You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend wonât let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, heâll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.
You promise, âI always will. From anyone in this world, Iâll believe it the most from you.â
âMy baby,â he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, âOkay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and theyâll knock.â
âOh⊠uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?â
ââŠGreat idea.â
Only, the shower isnât as quick as you anticipated â the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, theyâve just started, though.
Yoongi is the first to speak after youâve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, âYou guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, donât forget.â
âYeah, we justâŠâ You shrug. âWe were organising our suitcases.â
âYeah,â Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. âForgot the time.â
Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, youâre not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.
No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know heâs about to say something bold before he actually doesâ
âOh, you fucked⊠You had the time to?!â
THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ đđŒ
1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fic#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook
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people who act like batman isn't "judge jury and executioner" because he doesn't kill people are like. genuinely so funny to me because. they're very obviously thinking of "executioner" as like. the stereotypical guy with axe who chops people heads off, and not, yknow, the literal definition of the idiom itself, which is about someone who has the ability to judge and then subsequently punish someone unilaterally. which is quite literally what batman does.
he has the ability to decide what is a "crime" to him, he is the one who decides whether people are guilty of those crimes, and he is the one who executes their punishment. the severity of the punishment doesn't matter - he is unaccountable to anyone else, and indeed is allowed to commit as many crimes as needed to reach his arbitrary ideal of "justice."
the ideal of batman is this: a man who is so fundamentally changed by an act of senseless violence that he takes it upon himself to fight back against the rot and corruption in the world. he does this not through political activism, not through ridding himself of his wealth in favor of a greater good, not through community outreach, but through an individualistic fantasy of being a hero.
and you'll say: charlie, but he does do that !!! he donates his money all the time, he funds social programs, hospitals, orphanages, gets people jobs -
and i will say this: so why don't things get better?
because here's the base of it. gotham, at its core, can't get better. no matter what bruce wayne does, there will always be more crime, more villains, more death, more people for batman to beat up in back alleys. because that's what sells.
reoffending rates don't matter in gotham, prison reform doesn't matter in gotham, what actually causes crime doesn't matter in gotham because that doesn't sell books.
and so here it is; dc has unintentionally created a world where batman can't win, but can't be wrong, and where thousands of nameless, faceless, only-created-to-die civilians must be pushed into the meat grinder that is gotham, to fuel bruce wayne's angst and vindicate his constant, tireless, noble fight against the forces of evil.
and then: a new robin, who is poor and who's parents are dead or gone because of this cycle; who is happy go-lucky and hated by editors and fans for being robin, for not being dick grayson, for being poor.
and this robin is written, unintentionally or not, to be angry at the ways in which batman's (the narrative's) idea of justice is detached from its victims. bruce seems perfectly fine to allow countless unnamed women to be at risk from garzonas in his home country, yet robin is the one who is portrayed as irrational and violent.
this robin is not detached from gotham in the way bruce wayne is: this robin is a product of gotham.
(and here's the thing. you can't punch aids. you can't fight a disease with colorful fights and nifty gadgets. and how would robin dying from aids add to batman's story; it would call into question the systemic changes that haven't been made in gotham. how does a child get aids, in batman's city?)
so robin dies, and then bruce (the narrative) spends the next couple of decades blaming it on him. it is jason's fault; he was reckless, he just ran in, he thought it was all a game. if only bruce had seen what was coming, if only he could have known that jason wasn't rich enough or smart enough or liked enough to be robin.
batman gets a little more violent, a little more self destructive. he hurts people more and almost (!!) kills a couple guys. this is bad because it's self destructive and "not who he is." it is not bad because batman should not be able to just beat people up when he's angry.
and then he gets a shiny new robin - who is all the things jason "wasn't": rich and smart and rational and he doesn't put who batman is into question. batman and robin are partners, and jason is a grave and a cautionary tale, and (crucially here) never right.
the joker kills thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be killed.
batman beats up thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be criminals.
and then jason comes back, and nothing has changed. there is a batman and a (shiny! rich!) robin and the joker kills thousands. (because it sells)
and jason is angry - he has been left unavenged - his death has meant nothing, just as willis' had, just as catherine's had, just as gloria's had, just as -
thousands. ten of thousands. hundreds of thousands. written to be killed.
but one of them gets to come back.
and he is angry - not only at the joker, but at bruce (the narrative) - because why is the joker still alive (when thousands-)
here is the thing - jason todd is right. not because the death penalty is good, not because criminals deserve to die, not because of everything he says -
but because of what he calls into question. why is the joker alive?
because he sells books.
and dc has written a masterful character, through no fault of their own, because jason knows what is wrong, and he knows who is at fault - batman. (the narrative)
so the argument that bruce can't kill because he's not judge jury and executioner; the argument that jason is a cop or that jason is insane or that jason is in the wrong here; they hold no weight.
batman can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.
and jason can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.
so he will beg and plead and grovel - he will betray everything that is himself, he will forsake his family and his city and kill himself - just so that bruce (the narrative) will let the joker die.
he was condemned to death by an audience, and after he came back he has spent his whole life looking us in the eyes and screaming, asking, pleading; why is the joker still alive?
why are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands (the number doesn't matter, see, because they're just a number. not people. not real.) why are we expendable for his story? why did i have to die just for nothing to change?
and the answer is money. and the answer is the batman can never be wrong. and the answer is shitty writing. and the answer is -
nothing jason can ever change.
which is the worst of it all. he is a victim with no power, and no one else in the world can see it. he is raging and crying and screaming at his father and his writers and you - and it doesn't matter. jason doesn't matter. and he knows it.
#yes btw i am saying that jason is subconsciously aware he's a comic book character. being dead for literal decades and then coming back#to a different and yet fundamentally unchanged world will do that to you#this is also a huge reason i have beef with people who equate jason's death with any other persons. like sorry. no#jason *died.* forever. he was dead dead. in heaven dead.#he died in the sense that he was never supposed to come back.#your 'heart stopped' or 'was dead for maybe 3 months irl' literally does. not. compare.#also when i say tim is everything jason isn't; by including smart i don't mean jason wasn't smart#i mean tim is *written* to be explicitly in contrast to jason#and by making him a 'genius' the narrative implies his intelligence is directly in contrast to jason's#therefore implying jason wasn't 'smart'#surprisingly little tim hate in this. am i growing from my hate? (no. i wrote a couple paragraphs but it didn't fit. haters stay strongđȘ)#jason todd#anti batman#red hood#batman meta#batman#anti bruce wayne#bruce wayne
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/818de15028359e07f656031819a07a61/126cf38f18b20a7e-31/s540x810/823b73e3ddf33dfc08f8d41456fb2fcad63b5d44.jpg)
dc vs vampires!dick grayson x reader
warnings â mentions of death, weapons, blood, vampire dick duh. unedited as per usual my bad
a/n; vampire dick gets me going like no other so let me know if i should make this a series⊠a more fleshed out series or just more drabbles (does this count as a drabble?) idk im asking the audience
dc vs vampires!DICK GRAYSON who allows you to stay human, as a kindness.
you try your best to hide from him, camping out in different bunkers every few months all over blĂŒdhaven with groups of other survivors. the resistance is slowly dwindling and you know of other groups littered around, hearing tales of how each of them are being turned, imprisoned or simply wiped out.
you know heâs sparing you and the people youâre with to play with your mind. he doesnât truly care for them, and all he wants to do with you is own you like he does the rest of his followers.
you know this, because he comes to visit you in the dead of night when youâre alone.
âhi, sweetheart,â he says, voice as smooth as ever, but you listen intently for the dangerous edge that wasnât there before.
he steps forward and your stomach swoops as it does every time you see the startling red of his eyes that seem to glow in the flickering light of your room. you instinctively grab the knife tucked away in the waistband of your pyjamas, unsheathing it and gripping it tightly as you raise it in front of him.
âstay back,â you warn, unable to say his name.
he glances down at your knife, and grins wolfishly, revealing the sharp tips of his fangs. âhot,â he whispers, taking a step toward you unflinchingly. âyou know i always did love seeing you with a weapon. never thought youâd be turning it on me thoughâŠâ
he sighs deeply, as if suffering from temporary amnesia. you shake your head, slowly backing up. âyouâre insane. you know exactly why. i just donât understand why you donât just kill me like youâve done all the rest.â
dickâs smirk falters for a moment, but his confidence doesnât waver. âkill you?â he echoes, advancing further. âno, no, i saved you. i could have turned you that night, but i didnât. because i wanted you to choose, sweetheart.â
âchoose?â you hiss, gripping your weapon tighter. âto become one of them? to join you in slaughtering humanity? the same humanity you once loved.â
his expression remains blank, and your heart clenches at the fact that heâs unaffected by your words. he doesnât care because he physically canât anymore.
âyouâre thinking too small,â he says softly. âhumanity was always heading in this direction⊠all iâve done is speed it up. i can control it now. no more of the depravity we used to witness, we can be so much stronger. especially with you by my side.â
âyeah,â you scoff, rolling your eyes. âme at your side, watching you rule over everything like some kind of God?â
the next step he takes has you frozen. his presence was overwhelming and youâre paralysed by the way his gaze softens even though you know that every move is calculated. âi donât want to be a God,â he murmurs, cold fingers reaching down to brush gently up your forearm, making you shiver. âi just want you.â
his words hit you like a punch to the chest and all you can do is stare at him. heâs terrifying, but so, so beautiful. youâre sickened by the thoughts running through your head and you screw your eyes shut.
dick takes the opportunity to reach up with his other hand to brush your hair away from your neck, leaning in to inhale deeply.
too late, you realise, his fangs are out as theyâre hovering over your throat, threatening to break skin and allow your blood to flow onto his tongue. he always talks about how sweet youâd taste, how badly he wants to drink from you. you donât bother stopping him â you couldnât if you tried. surprisingly, he seems content with just staying there and you find your voice eventually.
âstop it,â you whisper, voice trembling. âstop trying to mess with me. i know who you are now and it isnât the man i loved.â
dick lifts his head, not bothering to increase the distance between the two of you, allowing you to see the way his expression turns troubled. âiâm still me,â he mutters, careful not to let his fangs show as he pleads with you in the way he once did to earn your forgiveness. âi swear, that hasnât changed.â
âyou are not the man i loved,â you enunciate, tears stinging your eyes as you repeat your words to him like you do to yourself in the early hours of the morning when you canât sleep.
dickâs expression darkens. he catches a stray tear with his finger and tilts his head. his voice is slightly colder now, more detached. âyou still love me. i can feel it. but itâs alright, iâm a patient man.â
he drops a kiss to your cheek, where the tears threatened to flow before stepping backwards. âiâll be back, sweetheart,â he murmurs, reassuring you as if youâve begged him to stay.
and with that, heâs gone. disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he had arrived.
you collapse to the ground, knife forgotten at your side. your heart feels like itâs breaking all over again.
because this isnât your dick grayson. you know deep down that your dick doesnât have pale, ghostly skin that makes you flinch when he touches you. or fangs that glint menacingly when he talks.
but itâs a little hard to remember all those things when he looks at you with those eyes, that in the dimly lit bunker, look as lovingly at you as they used to.
a/n cont.; im gnawing at the gates of dickâs vampire manor begging to be let in so he can turn me⊠pick me, choose me, bite meeeeđ§đ»đ€
#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson scenarios#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson fanfiction#dick grayson#dc vs vampires#vampire dick grayson x reader#vampire dick grayson#dc vs vampires dick grayson#nightwing x reader#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x you
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I can't get over how fucking awful Mythal actually was.
Don't read below this if you haven't finished Veilguard, lmao.
The fact that Solas wore her vallaslin, and somehow still saw her as a friend, and trusted and loved her enough to do everything she asked of him makes me so angry/sad. Friends don't make their friends wear slave markings on their faces. Him being called her lapdog by Elgar'nan makes so much more sense.
And then Solas goes and accepts the blame for decisions that she made, and then manipulated him into agreeing to, and she fucking accepts no fault! If you confront her about the Blight when you meet her in the Crossroads, she basically just says, "not my problem."
And he blames himself for her death because he couldn't convince her to walk away from the Evanuris! But really, sorry Mythal, that's her own fucking fault?! She saw herself as above Solas, so she refused to heed his warnings, and then Elgar'nan killed her because Elgar'nan's a bitch.
And then if you pick the good ending, and Solas sees her again, you cannot tell me that his reaction to her is not one of someone who has been abused being confronted by their abuser. The way he curls around the dagger...Mythal, when I get my hands on you, Mythal...And then she says, "I release you from my service." Bitch. I wanted my Lavellan to punch her ghost with her prosthetic hand so fucking bad, lmao.
Solas was a spirit of wisdom! And she corrupted him from his purpose. If he had stayed a spirit, he would have become a pride demon because of her manipulations.
Cole has a couple of lines in DAI that I can't stop fucking thinking about.
"He didn't want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."
And, "He wants to give wisdom, not orders."
Solas gets to be himself in Inquisition. He gets to return to giving wisdom. Regardless of whether or not you're romancing him, if you're not a dick to him, he offers these beautiful stories about the Fade, and GDL does a fucking incredible job of making each of them sound poetic as fuck. And he's so kind to all the companions. Even Vivienne who has so much contempt for him, and he tries to offer her advice when he notices things about her magic that he finds...unsettling, lmao. Like their interaction about her staff's aura and him being like, "Are you sure that's the aura you want your staff to have, I can cleanse it for you?" And she's just like, "Yup." And he just lets it go.
When he leaves the Inquisition, Solas forces himself to be what Mythal made him. Which makes the line, "You are Mythal's creature now!" so distressingly ironic.
People talk about how he hates the Dalish elves, and Qunari, but that's just factually inaccurate. He's frustrated by the Dalish because he spent how many years fighting to free the elves from the influence of the Evanuris, only to wake from uthenera to find that he is the villain in all their tales, and the Evanuris are regarded as gods. And when he tried to tell a clan the truth, they tried to kill him! And he doesn't hate the Qunari, he hates the Qun. He hates that under the Qun, people do not get to make their own decisions.
Iron Bull's biggest fear is becoming a rabid Tal'Vashoth, and he expresses as much to Solas. And if you play as a Qunari, Solas points out in party banter that Inky isn't rabid.
If you have Iron Bull side with the Chargers, Solas checks in on Bull several times in party banter, assuring Bull he won't become like the Tal'Vashoth that he fought in Seheron. Because Bull has the Inquisition, and his friends, and Solas. And then they play mental chess, and if that's not friendship, idk what is.
And his interactions with Sera, who doesn't think she's elfy enough, so she makes fun of elfy things as a defence mechanism, are fucking hilarious. The way he gets her to talk about the Fade by asking her about the Breach, and what she sees when she looks at it, and you kinda see that Sera is a lot more elfy than she realizes. And then when she realizes it and gets mad, he basically tells her it's payback for her filling his bedroll with lizards. And she just fucking giggles and is like, "yeah, fair." (These two are my absolute favorite characters in DAI and I would die for either of them, lmao) But he kinda makes her connect with her heritage even though she doesn't want to, and I think that's good for her.
Solas also gets angry with Blackwall, not for lying about actually being Thom Rainier, but because Blackwall led his men into fights, and to their deaths in many instances, for nothing more than his greed. And then he APOLOGIZES for that interaction. And Blackwall tells him it's fine, that Solas was right, and he deserved it. And then Solas commends him for taking the first step towards redemption by owning his past and his mistakes.
And then there's him and Varric constantly joking about having to clean up messes made by humans, and "Why are an elven apostate and a dwarf here, again?" Their interactions are some of my favorites, and it's why I firmly believe that if there had been one more wolf statuette to find, it would have been his regret over Varric's death.
Solas deserved better than having Mythal as a "friend." She manipulated and corrupted him. And then let him take the fall for things that she did. She regrets NOTHING about what they did to the Titans. Meanwhile, it's one of his biggest regrets.
Anyway, I love the Egg, and I hate Mythal. That is all. I hope Solas and my Lavellan Inky get to have plenty of Fade-ordered therapy. They both fucking need it.
#solas dragon age#solas#solavellan#veilguard spoilers#dragon age veilguard#mythal#can i fight mythal#in a 7/11 parking lot?#she earned catching these hands
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