#the next instalment of me tunnel visioning on these two

[obisamya]

don't stick your tongue out at me. PENDING TRAIN, EP 4 [translations by @mangocheesecakes 💕]

[it-was-funeral-grey]

Rainy day procedure (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Prequel Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Extra 1 Part 5 Masterlist

Summary: The Grand Bazaar receives an unexpected visitor on a rainy night.

Warnings: explanation about periods including parts of the female anatomy, period shaming, misogyny, mentions of sanitary pads and tampons, female anatomy, rain, mentions of pooling rainwater,

Word count: <2.4k words

Inspired by:-

Author's note: yea, i've seen a lot of people being ashamed of their periods. and a lot of men who make fun of people on their periods, saying mean stuff. I hope i write it in a way that's ok and easy to understand i hope it isn't too ooc too

if i wrote anything regarding this wrongly do tell me!

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

The Grand Bazaar has a big problem when it rains.

For some context, the Grand Bazaar is underground. To enter, you go through one of the three tunnels, which begin above ground along Treasures street.

So, unfortunately, when it rains, these tunnels end up as a drain, leading rainwater to pool in the Grand Bazaar. To make things worse, the Grand Bazaar isn't an open-air area. This makes the place unbearably humid when rainwater pools.

Alas, today is one of these days. Outside, the rain pours. And once again, the tunnels serve as the city's drain. The wooden doors at the end of the tunnel are powerless to stop the flowing rainwater, leading to a stream of it once again spilling all over the floors of the Grand Bazaar.

People of the Grand Bazaar have been petitioning for years for the Akademiya to solve this problem but to no avail. The best the Akademiya did was install a small step at the entrance of the tunnels, which was wholly useless. At best, it only served to trip unsuspecting guests on their way in.

It wasn't a secret. The Akademiya hated the Grand Bazaar and what it represented. They thought the arts were a useless endeavour- a distraction from the pursuit of knowledge. So, they tried everything to get rid of them. Banning public performances, threatening to shut down the theatre, you name it, they've tried it.

But things have changed now. Ever since Nilou's performance at the Akademiya plaza and the whole scandal at the Akademiya, the attitude towards them has improved. Restrictions on the arts have been lifted, and old laws regarding performances have been abolished. Things are really looking up for artists and the Grand Bazaar.

"Maybe it's time we tried asking the Akademiya again," groaned Afshin as he carried his wares away from the door and the incoming rainwater. Afshin's stall, regrettably, is right next to one of the entrances of the Grand Bazaar. "A simple gutter. That is all we want."

Nilou can only sigh at his statement. Mr Afshin isn't wrong, but asking the Akademiya for help is scary. They have been eerily quiet about matters regarding the arts as of late- not imposing rules and restrictions, but not expressing their support either.

"We shouldn't!" retorts Jut. "Let's not bring any attention to ourselves. It's already a blessing that they've gotten off our backs."

"But that's precisely why we should be asking! We should strike while the iron is hot! Who knows when they will decide to impose all those rules again?"

"But what if they decide to do so after we ask? What if they think we're a thorn in their side by asking again?" Jut argues as the two make their way to the stage with large boxes in hand.

The stage is the only place safe from rainwater on days like this. Everywhere else, rainwater will pool, destroying produce and wares. In the past, the moment it rained, losses were inevitable, as merchants could not move their wares away fast enough. But ever since Nilou received her Hydro vision, this didn't become such a big deal anymore. She'll hold back the water until everyone finishes loading their wares onto the stage before letting to water flow naturally into the bazaar. Then when the rain stops, she'll guide all the water into a nearby river. This is the usual procedure for rainy days.

After the last merchant loads their ware onto the stage, Nilou relaxes her hands, letting the water burst through the flimsy wooden doors. Muddy water fills the bazaar, and Nilou sighs again. Clean-up is going to be painful, especially since the rain is much heavier than usual today.

Everyone working in the Grand Bazaar congregates on stage, using the high ground to escape the flooded floor. Nothing unusual from rainy day procedure. Everyone will sit around the stage, complaining about closing their shops early, chatting, or eating snacks. Or, more commonly now, debating whether to ask the Akademiya for help again.

It's just another rainy day. And rainy day procedure was carried out. No one is expecting anything. There's nothing to expect. No customers, no deliveries, no audiences.

That was until a splashing sound was heard from off the stage, followed by a string of curses.

"Hey! What are you doing? It's flooded down there!" Afshin suddenly exclaims. In an instant, everyone's head perked up, turning towards him.

Worried that someone was stuck in the water (although it's barely knee-deep), Nilou immediately puts down her slice of Tachin, bolting to the edge of the stage. Looking in Mr Afshin's direction, she sees-

"Mr Al Haitham?" to say Nilou is shocked is an understatement. Gently parting the water so that he has a clear path to the stage, she continues. "What are you doing here?"

Al Haitham hurries over to the stage, muttering a quick thanks under his breath. By now, everybody on stage has gathered around, watching the unexpected visitor walk up the slope.

"It seems that I've come at an inconvenient time," Al Haitham states, glancing down at his dirty boots in discomfort before looking around. "And it seems that all shops are closed for the day."

"You're drenched! Quick, someone get him a towel!" Someone calls out.

"No need," Al Haitham shoots back. "I'll be heading off now."

And then he turns and begins walking off the stage, leaving everyone stunned.

He's just gonna leave like that?

"Wait!" Nilou finally calls out. He stops in his tracks and looks back at the dancer. "Is there something you need?"

"Well, if all the shops are closed-"

"Now, hold on a second!" Now Jut speaks up. "All our stuff is here! We can still sell you things!"

Some merchants murmur in agreement as they stand up and walk over to their wares.

"You've already walked through muddy water," Afshin says as he pulls out his items from a box. "Whatever it is you're finding must have been important."

Al Haitham looks away for a moment before turning back to the stage. Walking towards the preparing merchants, he glances at their wares.

"I just need clothes-"

Immediately, the merchants begin showing him what they have. Perhaps because of the lack of customers today, everyone seems more enthusiastic than usual.

"I'll sell this to you for a thousand- no, eight hundred Mora!"

"Don't listen to him! I'll give you this and that for eight hundred Mora!"

"I don't need-"

"You said you wanted a shirt, right?"

"Not in that size, smaller-"

"Five hundred Mora for you, sir!"

"Now, hold on-"

Al Haitham is surrounded by hopeful merchants pushing items into his hands, yelling prices into his ear. It's clearly an uncomfortable position to be in. Nilou decides to step in when she sees Jut drop a bottle of spice all over Al Haitham.

"Let's not overwhelm him, everyone!" Nilou declares. "Let's all calm down, ok?"

Right away, the merchants sheepishly back away from the man, who is now holding back a sneeze. Gathering Hydro, Nilou sends a bubble of water towards the spice-covered man, who eagerly uses it to wash off the spice.

"As I was saying," Al Haitham sighs, washing off the spice on his arms over the edge of the stage. "I only need clothes. Sleepwear, preferably. And toiletries. Not textiles, not toys," He turns to glare at Jut. "And most definitely not spices."

With that, some merchants go quiet and head back to their crates. Others stand in a neat row, offering items to the stern man one at a time.

"You mentioned you needed sleepwear? I have some here," the first merchant offers. "Two thousand Mora a set."

"That's fine," Al Haitham looks over the clothes. "Do you have it in a smaller size?"

"No, sir," the merchant replies. "Unfortunately, this is my last set."

"I'll take it."

Slowly, Al Haitham goes down the line, buying items. Sleepwear, snacks, room slippers, and then finally, toiletries.

"I'll also need sanitary pads or tampons as well."

"Eh?!" the last merchant exclaims. "Why would you need- I-"

"…Do you have it or not?"

"I do! It's just that- does your wife have no shame, sir? Making you buy her personal items?" the male merchant begins his rant.

"…Excuse me?"

"No need to explain, sir! I totally understand! My daughter does the same," the merchant continues, unaware of the glares everyone is currently shooting at him. "She complains that she's in pain or that she can't stand up for too long. But we all know it's just an excuse to skip out on work. Women, right? Such dramatic creatures."

The whole stage is silent, save for the sound of water flowing through the doors.

Now, Al Haitham isn't one to argue with others over a difference in opinion. It takes up too much time and energy. But this? He isn't going to let this slide.

"Wow, sir," Al Haitham begins, controlling his tone. But the sarcasm still slips through. "You clearly respect women."

"Well, I do have a wife and daughter! And I was supposed to study in Amurta-"

"Yet you still don't bother to learn how their bodies work," Al Haitham edges closer to the man. "Or perhaps you refuse to. Truly a disgrace to the nation of wisdom. And to all men."

"Why you-"

"Now, since clearly, no one has been able to stand your presence long enough to educate you, I will," Al Haitham is seething now. "You will hold all questions if any, until I'm done."

"Wha-"

"Periods are a natural, biological process that those born with a uterus undergo every month," Al Haitham begins, ignoring the merchant's sound of protest. "During this time, the uterine lining sheds and is passed out through the vagina."

The merchant's face goes completely red.

"Now, why are you so embarrassed?" Al Haitham asks with poorly concealed fury. "Those are just body parts. That also happens to be possessed by your supposedly beloved daughter and wife, no?"

The merchant does not respond. All around, other merchants and theatre workers murmur amongst themselves.

"Now, during one's period, it is not uncommon for muscle cramps to occur around the abdomen, back, and tighs," Al Haitham continues. "Other common occurrences are diarrhoea, mood swings, and fatigue, amongst many other things."

"But of course, it is different for anyone who goes through it. I've never experienced it, so I don't claim to understand how it feels- unlike some people," Al Haitham shoots him a death glare. "Neither do I claim that those who experience periods are faking discomfort because I believe in science and care about the wellbeing of the people around me. Unlike some people."

Al Haitham takes another step towards the merchant, nearly backing him up against the wall of the stage.

"Now, Mr Almost-Amurta, surely you trust science as well?" Al Haitham whispers. "Surely, you care about the women in your family?"

The merchant doesn't answer. He looks down at his feet, perhaps hoping that a hole will swallow him up and save him from the fuming man before him.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes! Yes, I do!"

"Then why," Al Haitham presses on. "Did you say such horrible and untrue things about them? Surely, you must know what they go through. Why the misogyny?"

"I'm not-"

"So shaming them about their period symptoms, which is something out of their control, and assuming that they use it as an excuse is not misogyny," Al Haitham rolls his eyes. "What else have you considered 'not misogyny' in your eyes?"

The man opens his mouth before closing it again. He's clearly at a loss for words.

"I suggest you grow up," Al Haitham tosses a bag of Mora at him before snatching his bag of items out of his hand. "And perhaps learn to listen to the struggles of those around you. Especially those you claim you care about. You don't need to be able to solve their problems. Just don't add to them."

With that, Al Haitham gathers his items, trying to fit everything in one bag.

"If you have any questions, I suggest you ask the women around you. Perhaps learn to listen to them. Archon knows you need to."

And off he went, walking off the stage with an astonished Nilou rushing behind him.

"Ah! Mr Al Haitham! Wait!"

"Yes?" 

Al Haitham has a foot in the water before Nilou helps him clear a path.

"Ah, thank you."

"Mr Al Haitham, just now...with Mr Zar," Nilou doesn't really know what to say. "Um..."

"So his name is Zar." Al Haitham prompts her to walk with him. "Has he given you all trouble before?"

"Well, no," Nilou stutters out. "We never knew he was like that. He's usually so kind, I..."

"Well, now you know. I'll leave the rest up to you all then," Al Haitham replies. Looking at the water around them, he continues. "Does flooding like this happen often?"

"Only when it rains. Usually, it isn't this bad."

"The heavy rain?"

"Yeah. It's usually ankle-deep at worse. Today is bad."

"I see."

They reach the wooden doors, and Al Haitham reaches out to open them. The rotting wood doesn't escape his sight.

"I'll be fine from here."

"Ah, the rain is still so heavy. I can walk you to your destination!"

"No need," Al Haitham states. "You should head back to the rest. And your Tachin."

"Ah, so you saw that."

"Your concern for others is touching," Al Haitham replies, taking a step up the slope. "I'll take my leave."

"Watch your step! It's slippery!"

"I will."

"Bye!"

Nilou watches the man leave the tunnel before turning back and making her way back to the stage. Preparing herself for the awkward atmosphere that she'll be facing in the next couple of seconds, a question suddenly pops into her mind.

Huh, she wonders, as she hears shouts of disapproval from the stage, I wonder who he's buying all those stuff for?

Oh, she'll find out soon enough. 

She, alongside many others, will have front-row seats to this new romance play that is currently showing. It'll be nothing like the usual romance plays Zubayr Theather shows on Tuesdays.

Prepare yourselves. The prologue is over.

Act I is about to begin.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: The siblings are fighting again! We love to see it! -Danny Words: 2,174 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Look After You' -by The Fray

XXIII: You're Not Just Wrong, You're Stupid

Ephialtes bursts into Greek fire flames the moment she gets out of reach. Ara crawls out from her hiding spot to see what Percy and Jason did to the other giant: They trapped him in the lake, unable to reform.

Ara walks up to the boys and checks to see if they're injured. "Well done, you two."

"Same," Jason nods. "You look tired."

"Oh, I'm extremely nauseous," Ara smiles.

Hedge's cheerful screaming makes them look up at the ship and Ara's happy to see Leo, Hazel, and Frank are all on board. Percy looks back at Baccus. "Well? Was that entertaining enough for you, you wine-breathed little—"

"No need for that." The god shows up at their side making Ara jump. "I have decided you are worthy partners for this combat."

"Partners?" Jason scowls. "You did nothing!"

Bacchus ignores them and walks up to Otis first, hitting his head with the pinecone of his staff and dissolving the giant into gold dust. Then he walks over to Ephialtes, who is too disoriented and hurt to fight back.

Baccus raises his staff and the ghosts around the arena incite him to kill the giant, to which he pleasantly complies by lightly touching Ephialtes's nose with the tip of the pinecone.

"Amazing," Ara says dryly.

"That, my friends, is a show!" The god states proudly. "And of course I did something. I killed two giants!"

"We're so thankful," Ara continues with the sarcasm. "Overcome with glee."

"Well," Bacchus smiles. "That was fun. You have my permission to continue your voyage."

"Your permission?" Percy scowls.

"Yes. Although your voyage may be a little harder than you expect, son of Neptune."

"Poseidon," Percy replies out of habit. "What do you mean about my voyage?"

"You might try the parking lot behind the Emmanuel Building," the god smirks. "Best place to break through. Now, good-bye, my friends. And, ah, good luck with that other little matter."

He glances at Ara before disappearing in a grape-smelling purple cloud. Jason rushes over to Piper and Nico, who are making their way to them.

"Was that Dionysus?" Hedge asks them. "I love that guy!"

Ara wants to say a few things that are very unlovable about the guy, but Leo tackles her in a bear hug before she can. "Oh gods, I thought I would never see you again!"

"What?"

"You're alive!" Percy exclaims when Hazel and Frank approach. "The giants said you were captured. What happened?"

"What?" Ara asks again, looking at her boyfriend.

"Oh, just another brilliant plan by Leo Valdez," he says. "You'd be amazed what you can do with an Archimedes sphere, a girl who can sense stuff underground, and a weasel."

"I was the weasel," Frank sighs.

"What?" Ara repeats a third time. "I'm sorry—what?"

"Basically," Leo keeps his arm around her. "I activated a hydraulic screw with the Archimedes device—which is going to be awesome once I install it in the ship, by the way. Hazel sensed the easiest path to drill to the surface. We made a tunnel big enough for a weasel, and Frank climbed up with a simple transmitter that I slapped together. After that, it was just a matter of hacking into Coach Hedge's favorite satellite channels and telling him to bring the ship around to rescue us. After he got us, finding you was easy, thanks to that godly light show at the Colosseum."

"You're so smart," Ara replies with a mix of adoration and hurt. She's gonna miss him.

Leo smiles at her. "I do my best, doll."

"Where's Annabeth?" Percy asks anxiously.

Leo makes a face. "Yeah, about that... She's still in trouble, we think. Hurt, broken leg, maybe—at least according to this vision Gaea showed us. Rescuing her is our next stop."

Ara's glad she got to see everyone again one last time, but now comes the not-fun part of this quest.

"Tell me about the vision," Percy urges Leo. "Tell me everything."

"Let's talk on board," Hazel glances down nervously at the disintegrating planks below their feet. "We'd better take off while we still can." 

Ara walks forward but Leo doesn't let go of her, and it's not like he hasn't been clingy before, but he keeps looking at her as if fearing she'll vanish. 

"Leo," she asks, feeling the waves of anxiety coming from him. "What happened?"

"You used the fortune cookie?" Ara whispers with apprehension.

Leo glances at her with a pout then goes back to his monitor. "The other option was dying, so you see why I had no choice."

Ara hopes he's joking, but even then she can't laugh. "You're not being funny."

"Don't make me feel worse," he looks up again with desperation.

Ara feels guilty, Leo probably wasn't meant to die today, but if he's willing to make such a huge sacrifice just to be reunited with her... ironically, that makes Leo a threat to their survival.

She loves him to pieces, and she'd love to have more time with him, but not at the expense of others, and not to the extent he wants. It's alarming, she's realizing just now that perhaps diving head-first into this relationship wasn't the right call at all.

"You saved us from the giants, but you using the fortune cookie feels like a confirmation of something terrible... Of one of my nightmares."

Leo stays still and looks into her eyes, so unlike him. "That doesn't sound good."

Ara can't cut the line that ties them together, but she can stretch it to stop the sparks that ignite malign fires every time they get too close. She regrets giving in so easily when she met him. 

The girl lowers her voice, looking over Leo's shoulder to make sure Frank isn't listening. "Listen, about my prophecy—"

Frank interrupts them. "I think I found it!"

"There it is!" Leo's focus returns to the quest as he leads the ship to the new coordinates. "Frank, you're amazing! I'm setting course."

"I just read the name off the screen. Some Chinese tourist marked it on Google Maps," Frank shrugs humbly.

"He reads Chinese." Leo informs them with a huge smile.

"Just a tiny bit," Frank clarifies.

"How cool is that?" Leo insists.

Ara watches the boys carefully, it seems these few quests together were exactly what they needed to make peace, and now Leo is even hyping Frank up.

"Guys," Hazel says. "I hate to interrupt your admiration session, but you should hear this."

She helps Nico to his feet, and he starts talking fraily. "Thank you. I'd given up hope."

His eyes are fixed on Ara and Percy, both with the same scowl. "You knew about the two camps all along," Percy points out. "You could have told me who I was the first day I arrived at Camp Jupiter, but you didn't."

Nico's shoulders fall in shame. "Percy, I'm sorry. I discovered Camp Jupiter last year. My dad led me there, though I wasn't sure why. He told me the gods had kept the camps separate for centuries and that I couldn't tell anyone. The time wasn't right. But he said it would be important for me to know..."

He has a coughing fit and Hazel keeps him upright, which Ara hates, because now she doesn't have the heart to be mean to him. "Well, good for you for being an obedient son..." she mumbles grumpily.

"I—I thought Dad meant because of Hazel," Nico continues weakly. "I'd need a safe place to take her. But now... I think he wanted me to know about both camps so I'd understand how important your quest was, and so I'd search for the Doors of Death."

"Did you find the doors?" Percy inquires.

Nico makes a face. "I was a fool. I thought I could go anywhere in the Underworld, but I walked right into Gaea's trap. I might as well have tried running from a black hole."

"Um... What kind of black hole are you talking about?" Frank hesitates.

"Tartarus," Ara says. "He got dragged into Tartarus, the absolute idiot. You could've asked me to go with you—"

"You wouldn't have listened," he says resentfully.

Ara wants to argue, but Nico's not wrong. She would've thought it was an impossible quest, and she would've tried to find an easier, faster solution. But after all she's heard and seen, she knows there is none.

"Nico told me that the Doors of Death have two sides," Hazel adds. "One in the mortal world, one in the Underworld. The mortal side of the portal is in Greece. It's heavily guarded by Gaea's forces. That's where they brought Nico back into the upper world. Then they transported him to Rome."

"Where exactly in Greece is this doorway?" Piper asks.

"The House of Hades," Nico replies. "It's an underground temple in Epirus. I can mark it on a map. The mortal side isn't the problem, though..."

"Tartarus is," Percy replies with a grim expression. "The deepest part of the Underworld."

"They pulled me into the pit, Percy," Nico tries to be strong, but the memories overwhelm him. "The things I saw down there..."

"No mortal has ever been to Tartarus," Hazel gives her brother a worried glance. "At least, no one has ever gone in and returned alive. It's the maximum-security prison of Hades, where the old Titans and the other enemies of the gods are bound. It's where all monsters go when they die on the earth. It's... well, no one knows exactly what it's like."

"Now I understand why Hades hasn't been able to close the doors," Nico leans into his sword when Hazel hands it back. "Even the gods don't go into Tartarus. Even the god of death, Thanatos himself, wouldn't go near that place."

Leo frowns. "So let me guess. We'll have to go there."

"It's impossible," Nico winces. "I'm the son of Hades, and even I barely survived. Gaea's forces overwhelmed me instantly. They're so powerful down there... no demigod would stand a chance. I almost went insane."

"Then we'll sail for Epirus," Percy concludes. "We'll just close the gates on this side."

"I wish it were that easy," Nico responds. "The doors would have to be controlled on both sides to be closed. It's like a double seal. Maybe, just maybe, all seven of you working together could defeat Gaea's forces on the mortal side, at the House of Hades. But unless you had a team fighting simultaneously on the Tartarus side, a team powerful enough to defeat a legion of monsters in their home territory—"

Ara feels her temperature drop even though it's a summer day. This is how she'll die, jumping into the pit even if it costs her everything. She'll meet Mike's fate, trying to stop the monsters from reaching her loved ones. It's a fitting death, it might be the end of her prophecy, and Leo's curse.

"There has to be a way," Jason presses.

"I've got a plan," Ara blurts out.

"What?" Percy scowls. "We just found out about all this."

"I already knew it," she admits. "I've been having dreams, and they all relate to this. I've made my choice, it's all sorted out."

"Wait a minute," Leo intervenes, making a time-out gesture. "Ara, what do you mean?"

She tries to look less frightened than she is. Everything is calculated, she convinces herself, Ara can't let Leo or Percy mess with it, it could ruin their chances. "It's the fortune cookie. It has to be me, I can't let any of you be the answer."

"Ara, you suck at planning," Percy reminds her. "Don't try anything without consulting us first."

"I'm the General," Ara changes the subject knowing it'll shift the attention away from her. "Besides, Annabeth's in danger, why don't you focus on that?"

Percy walks over to the handrail to peer down. "We'll figure out the Tartarus problem later—Is that the Emmanuel Building?"

"Bacchus said something about the parking lot in back? Well, there it is," Leo points, still eyeing Ara with worry. "What now?"

"We have to get her out," Percy replies like it's obvious.

"Well, yeah," Leo tilts his head. "But, uh... There's a parking lot in the way."

Percy and Ara share a look. "Bacchus said something about breaking through..."

"Coach?" Ara says. "Charge the ballista."

He gives them a devilish grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

 Ara has filled her T-Rex bag with all the good stuff: First-aid kit, nectar, ambrosia, and even two packs of food. It isn't enough, but it's all she can carry in her stupid bag. She's taking the T-Rex because it's been with her longer than the Octopi, so it feels like a good luck charm. She's put Lily's dagger in it as well, she'll need it if she wants to survive.

They bust open the parking lot ground and she takes cover near the control boards, nudging Leo's arm. "If Annabeth found the statue, you have to bring it into the ship!"

"Got it! Don't do anything rash while I'm at it!" Leo replies quickly. "I don't care what Nemesis says, she can't have you!"

"This is bigger than us!" she presses. "Percy will take Annabeth, and I'll do the rest. You, Jason, and Frank take the statue—the last lines of my prophecy, Leo..." She makes a face. "I don't have enough time to explain, you have to trust me!"

He isn't happy about it, but they have no time to argue. "Just come back to me, Arae."

She pulls him in for a quick kiss. "Good luck."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh

[namjoonchronicles]

the specialist | five

↳ pairing yoongi, you

↳ genre romance, pretend lovers, angst, eventual smut, office-factory setting

↳ title five |  ambitious one | 5.215k words  

↳ summary how would you convince yoongi to go on with this arrangements when he clearly said he want none of the shenanigans with you? you decided to do things the traditional way, to court him, take him on a date. when on the date, you revealed your (presumed) intention to court him but he vaguely answered stating that dating his superior wouldn’t look right. so he plays hard to get. and you can’t really say you hate a good challenge

↳ warnings none

↳ compressed links one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten  ongoing 

FIVE.

Ambitious One.

I have always been ambitious, my mother said. Tunnel vision once I set my mind onto something. I have always wanted many things. And have always found my way to get my hands on them — no matter what. I wanted many things. I have never wanted someone.

And I reckon, It’s a whole lot different than wanting objects.

There is nothing more depressing than the sight of a lady wanting so much from a man that doesn't know anything about her desire. Hoping for the ripple effect of her desperation would somehow reach him through telepathy. How do you teach your brain to think like your heart? Knowing fully well that they are of different makings? One, thoughts; another, thuds. Connecting the dots with careful calculations, dealing with mathematics is much easier than dealing with emotions. It’s making you physically sick, dizzy, discombobulated.

The last time you felt this severely vulnerable was when you considered leaving your professional field to be an artist. You already prepared the dialogues in your head and answers to questions they might ask. And by experience, you also know that sometimes they don't ask the question you thought they would. And that's where the trouble arises.

You caught Seokjin in a pretentious glance to feign hard work. Provided his long legs, he got next to you from behind in no time.

"You look like a drug addict at the sight of your drug dealer after a rehab, could you calm it down?" He spoke in a soft but hushed tone. His eyes darted at random places in the room, to mask the fact that he too was actually looking at Yoongi—who was in fact underneath a blistering machine fixing and aligning the foil and PVC with his capable hands.

"What are your plans?" Seokjin glides his eyes and himself to the side where you are, curious and in a serious undertone. "It's a little drastic but it might work," you matched his tone. "Sounds a little rapey but sure, I trust you," Seokjin nods. "Why on earth would it even go there, I didn't even say anything remotely sexual," you grimaced. "Rapey — as in intrusive of one's personal space," he adds. "Like what you are doing to me right now," you spat.

He glides his rolling chair away, mouthing, "Fair."

Yoongi could not understand why it was so difficult to screw the nuts in. He had multiple mishaps to face today and one of them is the no. 12 spanar isn't in the toolbox, and the WD-40 anti-rust spray is missing for the nth time today. To add to the problem, the PVC roll broke in half because the new kid he is training, slipped them out of his hand. To which he had to request Seokjin, the executive to order a new roll since he clocked in pretty early.

His knees are bruised from kneeling for hours by this machine and already, he had to go for training for a newly installed packing machine. The engineers asked him when he was free. To be fucking honest, his only free time is his break time.

One final twist and it's screwed. He pulls the foil roll into the feeder, and lets in extra length to finalize the alignment measurements. Then, he let the machine run. It stamps perfectly. He instructed the new kid to watch the machine as he cleaned up. He wipes his greasy hand with a rag he found. He knelt, yet again, by the tool box to hear the door open and close. It was you.

He placed the tools he used one-by-one into the toolbox and when he got to the last one, your hands snatched them faster.

"What do you need a WD-40 spray for?" He asked but not really asking, motioning his hand to take them from you. Repeatedly. "Do something for me..." you demanded, timidly. "No," he darted. "One thing, please," you added.

"I just did overtime yesterday, I will not do another one no matter how much you'll pay," he assumed.

Realizing he stood firmly on his stand, you resorted to, as you said to Seokjin, drastic measures. You hoped and prayed that you didn't have to, but knowing Yoongi as long as you did, you have expected this degree of complication to take place.

You took Yoongi’s spanner and went to run with it. You bolted to the doors.

"What in the fuck—" You heard Yoongi cussed breathlessly, moaning how he has no time for this.

"That thing is heavy, fucking christ," he mumbled tiredly.

Standing outside the glass doors, you held on the handles like it was your lifeline. Speaking of lifelines, your plan only works if Yoongi was in it. And the chance for him to be in it, is zero to none.

He could push the door if he wanted. He could do it with one hand. The strength you had mustered in both arms is a quarter of his left arm. But he assessed the situation diligently in a quick second and he knows that if he exerted more than that, you'll get hurt. What is making you behave that way?

He lets go of the handle for you to set the spanner he wanted on the floor opposed to the door. There is no way for him to take the spanner without tackling you down first. With the glass doors between you both, sounds do not transfer, so you'll have to communicate with sign languages.

You kick the spanner further away with your leg and toes. He groans and tilt his head back, baring his throat columns where his peony tattoos were. It distracted you. That's new isn't it?

Almost at the point of drooling, he tried to open the door so he could get to his tools but you were absolutely persistent.

"I can't believe this is happening," he shakes his head, pinching his forehead between his thumb and fingers, "I got shit to do!" He fusses.

Poking through the gap of the door, you said, "Are you going to help me or not? You help me, I give you your tools back," you parlayed.

You closed the door and he steps back to undo his facemask, mouthing a delicious, succulent, "Fuck you," he smirks.

You chuckled dryly and turned to him once more to show him your glorious middle finger before taking his spanners with you. With confident strides you walk along the long auto-lit hallway and somewhere between your steps, you hear the door behind you open and close.

"What do you want..." his voice, gritty with an attractive rasp.

You tugged a smile on your lips and turned to him.

"Buy me a meal," you said and he made a confused expression. So you motioned a fork and spoon with your hands and smiled.

Yoongi replied with a snarky expression, bit his smile and challenged you through the glass door as if to say, "You wanna try me?"

Seeing that he won't say yes easily, you took the spanner with you. So he hollered from the distance, "McDonald's? Or Burger King?"

"Burger King!" You replied just as loud. "The spanner!" "After I get the meal!"

So persistent.

"What do you want?" He said at the self-order counter.

He taps on the touchscreen for 'Eat In' option, and bolts at the onion rings the same time you did.

"You too???" You beamed.

"Yeah, the onion rings here are great," he said through an expressionless face, shoving one when it was placed on the tray, he wiped his hand on the back of his overalls and paid for the food as promised.

Now seated on the semi-empty fast food chain, Yoongi glances at you who is unwrapping the burger you ordered. He sets his limp crossbody sling bag on the empty chair next to him. His jumpsuit was unzipped up till the middle of his chest between his nipples, revealing the white shirt he was wearing underneath. At work, the multiple chains (read: dogtag, celtic cross and wolf fang) would have caused an issue but if worn underneath the jumpsuit, hidden away from prying eyes, one could escape suspension. The rules are high-school worthy,  but that's how the management wants to be conceived.

“What do you mean by ‘do something’?” Yoongi broke the silence with his gritty voice, fingers nimble on the onion he plans to shove in his mouth next, trying to rake his brain on the enigma that is you.

“I just wanted to have food,” you shrugged. Hoping the lie would be enough but deep down you know Yoongi is suspicious. Yoongi spreads his knees and reclines further back into his chair, lasering menacing gaze on your deceit. Despite him leaning, his bony tattooed wrist still extends over the expanse of the tables’ edge. His other elbow is on the other chair on his right. He cranes his neck back then to the side, and you could see a rough uncolored draft on them. The columns of his throat as he swallowed a thick gulp — such a delicious sight.

“Do I look like four to you?” You clicked your tongue, “On some days…” You begin. He begins to zip his jumpsuit and gather his sling bag, eyes darted at the exit and he clicks his tongue. You clawed his sleeve before he could go any further; the sleeves that he had rolled up his elbows.

“Let me!” you hurried to say and softened when you met his gaze in a brief glance upward from your seated position, “Explain.”

Seokjin crosses his arm whispering, “Yoongi will not pretend, take it from me.”

“I realized that we started off our tumultuous relationship from a misunderstanding that continued to pile on as we worked together and I know now that you weren’t as bad as I painted you to be,” you gulped. Yoongi is back seated on the chair.

Flashes of the words from the period drama you watched alone. The main character persuaded his love interest. Flashback end. Flashes begin. Standing across the table staring at Seokjin, you asked timidly, “Then what do you propose?” Flashback end.

Sometimes I learn to love from the TV screen. I mimicked their words and copied their intonation. To pretend to have feelings. Or to remember feelings, having been devoid of them for so long.

“After the time we’ve spent and how you’ve helped me out with the car and at work, I found out that I’ve been microscopically focusing on your bad qualities instead of the good because I was terrified of…” you fiddled with your nails, gazing down at your lap, “Terrified of liking you.”

Seokjin gazes to the side, at the window panels overlooking the road, “If he can’t pretend, then you’ll have to.”

I have to do this Yoongi.

“And I wonder if you’d consider,” you took a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him, “...Me.”

You can almost hear the crows flying across the room filling the silence that has been casted upon the whole restaurant. Actually, the crows were flying inside the restaurant and the staff are clamoring over them to shoo them out.

Yoongi straightens up in his seat. The way that whole day seems constructed, no, orchestrated to seem like a movie makes him wary. How it unfolds, how it came to be— they’re all so suspicious. He slouched forward and he brought his hand together, lacing each fingers like a prayer.

“What are you plotting, madam?”

I have to be more convincing. He’s not buying.

Yoongi has always been empathetic. According to Seokjin’s experience, if ever Seokjin needed help to fill in a specialist vacant spot, Seokjin would be honest about why the spot is vacant. Whether their motorcycle tires are busted, or their wife’s in labor, Yoongi would chime in. And by experience, you know that Yoongi would drop forks and spoons to help someone with something they couldn’t help with. Didn’t matter if it was a carefully-made lie. And the worst is, Yoongi kept falling for it.

Blinking to the side with your head hung down, you gulped. You didn’t say another word, just a dry scoff, too short a chuckle to hide a broken heart. Your lips pressed into a thin line. You don’t plan to say another word. You want the silence to eat him alive. Convincing, sometimes isn’t about speaking out, or throwing out big emotions; sometimes it can be in the silence. Because when emotion is at play, no words could compensate. Utilizing Yoongi’s strong sense of quiet empathy, you know that this was enough to dissuade his accumulating distrust. Sensing the change in the air, Yoongi’s head dropped and leaned back hoping to see the bigger picture of this strange confession that seemed to manifest out of nowhere. The longer you stayed silent, the heavier, the thicker, the more suffocating — the atmosphere became.

His knitted brows, the creases of his skin between, the lines in his forehead and the little shake of his head signifies a demanding confusion. Then he remembered the look, the gaze you held on him when he was catering you not too long ago. The lingering eyes, the stare. It adds up, doesn’t it?

“You have to understand,” He begins, clasping and unclasping his hand as he spoke in whispers, “I have never seen you in that way before, it has always been work and wanting to lend a hand where it fits,” and I am aware how it looks for you right now that I may have crossed a thin-line but for some reason, I can’t decide if it was love or coworker-ship and I can’t risk both. Yoongi clenched his eyes shut like it pains him to say it out loud, “But you’re my superior. It won’t look right for both of us.”

You swung your head to the side, nail digging into your Prada purse. The leather skin peeling off, unsure if it was his voice or his words that was wavering your fragile strength. This was something the dramas didn’t teach. Suddenly, it almost felt real and you tune your heart out to protect it.

“You’re not answering,” you shake your head, your smile faltering, “I asked if you would consider me… not the executive me, not your superior—me, the one you took riding, the one you cooked for, the one you listened to— me.”

The reflection of you in his eyes, his fluttering lashes as he figures out what to say. His mouth moves, and they sputter words that sound foreign to you. It is almost as if you’ve gone deaf, and you watched the shape of his lips to make sense of what he was saying and by delay, the words string into your head to form a sentence— all you could hear was ringing, high pitch ringing in your ear. The time moves agonizingly slowly and you sat there frozen, and taking it all in.

A week went by.  And then. Two weeks went by.

In your room, there’s a large corkboard. Unfolding the blueprint of the house you wanted, you have thumbtacks piecing all its four-corners. There were pictures of Yoongi surrounding his name card— his interest, his tattoos, the pros and cons you see in him. Your domineering mother and passive father and the qualities they might search for in a son-in-law. The strings connect towards the house; this pretentious status of the house your mother wanted you to have because it would increase your family’s societal status.

”I am already so very successful, mother!” “Really? Where is your house? Your land? Who would believe you?”

Unmarried. No prospect. A burden.

Smiling towards the corkboard, next to an open luggage on the floor, you said, “He didn’t say no.” Yoongi didn’t say no. These past two weeks, you were on a business trip to town, representing the production department in the annual meeting for the headquarters based in Seoul. These past few weeks, your only source of entertainment was Seokjin who was updating you on all the field gossip while you were away. In a phone call, Seokjin mentions something peculiar about Yoongi.

“He had been taking a lot of overtime lately,” Seokjin sighs into the phone, “Without me even asking… d’you think it has something to do with what happened in Burger King that day?”

“It might have…” “What did he say?” “He didn’t say no.” “But he didn’t say yes either, did he?”

Silence from your side, but your smile remains as you reminisce Yoongi’s voice when asked for time to decide, in Burger King that day.

“Did you tell him that doing too much overtime could kill him?” you switched in your seat. “Yeah-yeah I did. But he kept saying that he needed to do something.”

“Which was?” “Dunno.”

Yoongi had the day you returned to work, off. With his bike, clad in black, his black leather jacket and work boots, he walks into a pawnshop. Upon entering, the young boy at the cash register leaves to the back and an older heavily built man replaces him. He wore big chains on his neck, had gold teeth that were apparent when he smiled at Yoongi. Yoongi took off his helmet and greeted him with his chin. A wad of cash was placed on the counter for the older man to take. He combs through the stack of money with a wry smile.

“You can count them out, I’ll wait,” Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. The older man passes the cash to his son who disappeared into the back to take out something from the safe deposit.

This is the something that he needed to do. Recovering his grandmother’s vintage wedding ring. The day that she had to pawn her ring was the day Yoongi went to interview to obtain the job he has now. He promised her on her deathbed that when he could afford to, he would take them back to her.

And so he rides to the cemeteries. With white baby breaths in hand, Yoongi crouches by his grandmother’s name plate, fiddling with the vintage ring he recovered, burdened by the thoughts of the future, something he had never even imagined because Yoongi had always been living in the present.

“Because you said, when a girl spoke to me about feelings, I should tell you first,” he said, his eyes squinting at the glaring sun, “This is me telling you.”

He dug a small shallow hole and placed the ring inside, “And this is the promise I’ve fulfilled. Permission to be happy now, gramma.” The smile his grandmother wore on her portrait now didn’t seem crestfallen like how he remembered it to be. Call him delusional, but she actually looked happy. He walks away feeling like the weight on his shoulder was lifted entirely. He took one last look at his grandmother’s grave and the baby breath he had left, the velvet box the ring came with on top of her name plate next to her portrait — a redefining leap. A fresh start. To the new Yoongi.

It was a little over 6.30pm when Yoongi clocked in for his night shift for the week when he saw you still seated in your office with your face lit by the PC screen. You were skimming through files and keeping up with the changed production plan while you were away. You stood up to update the rosters for your supervisors and machine specialists to see. This is to inform them about the changes and they were required to arrange a task force accordingly. Seokjin might have notified them verbally and through text but this is a formal briefing as per SOPs. Earbuds in your ear to keep you company when you catch the scent of freshly brewed coffee lurking in the dark office. Yoongi enters with a thermos and two mugs.

Looking over your shoulder, you eyed him suspiciously.

“Did you know, the largest spanner in this factory weighs about 2.5 kg?” He pours coffee in the mugs, takes his and leaves behind a smaller spanner and retrieves the heavier one you had been withholding from him. He walks backward, one hand holding his mug, the other shaking the large spanner, and he said, “This one’s 1.1kg.” A smile crept on your face. He disappears into the dark hallway. And you sped to the door sill.

“So it's a date?!” you yelled from where you are, hoping it reaches him, whose silhouette is apparent underneath the automated light in the hallway. “No time this week!” you could hear him smiling, he continued walking.

“Next week then?!” “No!”

That was how it began. Yoongi is doing the trades like you did. Like how you earned Burger King from him. The spanner is the symbol of trade. By leaving behind the spanner to you, he is giving you the benefit of the trade, the power. So you returned them to him. The issue here now is time. And suddenly, Yoongi was bludgeoned with looks and nudged from you, asking “Date?” A folded sticky note that reads, “Date?” Over time, you’ve gotten creative, and almost exposed yourself in pursuing Yoongi.

The “Dates?” were asked through the passover windows, written and folded in his locker, in his boots, inside his helmet, in all his pockets, in his toolbox. Time and time again, he crosses his arm at you, shakes his head and mouthed, “No.”

You sent a screenshot of your Google search to Seokjin. It reads, “How to ask a guy on a date?” followed by, “How to attract an INTP” then, “How to date.”

Seokjin [10:09pm] : Yikes. Seokjin [10:00pm] : Sorry I asked. “H. E. L. P,” you replied.

Seokjin calling…

“Maybe you’ve been too forward, like, the poor dude got spooked,” he starts. “Wow okay,” you grunt.

From the conversation with Seokjin, it seemed like too much effort isn’t attractive. Fair enough, you should have known when the first 3 of your 25 tries didn’t come to fruition. In dramas you watched, the girl wouldn’t have to ask. According to Seokjin, Yoongi would prefer a more intimate approach.

“ Maybe cut down the asking from 25 in a day to perhaps 1 or two—” Seokjin trailed. “ —a day?” “A week,” to this response from Seokjin, you frowned. Face crumpled.

“Inefficient, I wouldn’t have time, I need the house by mid-year next year,” you scribbled down the timeline. “Now, let’s not think of the time. You can’t rush trust,” Seokjin instructs, “You have to be patient.” “I’m a burnt out underpaid and overworked executive, I can’t afford to be patient,” you spat.

Seokjin rubs his face down, “Relationship to Yoongi, heck, to anyone is like a marathon. The finish line being the relationship itself. It’s not how you start, it’s how you end. It’s never about speed, it's about sustainability, stealth and commitment.”

“Speak to me like an engineer, you make zero sense right now,” you massaged the temples of your head.

Machines, calculations, mathematics— connecting the dots from one end to the other have always been simple to me. All the things the world finds complicated have always made sense to me and for that reason, perhaps, other things people thought as simple weren’t so to me. They don’t appeal to me, much less matter to me. It was when I began to work with people that I realized how much facial expressions could say without words. Being direct has always been easy, but now that I know emotions others have, I tend to think more, learn more. 

Have I been neglecting my heart for so long, I forgot I have one? 

Gentler. Like how you heard the female actress in that movie say to her lover. Yoongi had shied away from your advances because you came off too strong. Too eager. Having heard Seokjin’s advice, you had dialed it down by a ton. It wasn’t difficult, but you were more concerned of the time, ever glancing at the digital calendar at every 5 minute interval. Maybe you should forget about it all. Maybe accept your first defeat and run off. That doesn’t sound like you. Fret, you’re clawing at the impossible as of now because this desire of yours requires a third-party who had to be earned by emotions. It probably would have been easier if the target wasn’t Yoongi. But it is too late to change now. The cards are drawn and they spell his name.

What would you do if you truly love someone?

You make amends with your past. Yoongi blinks at the half-bitten biscuit in his hand. He is seated on the roadside, wiping his hand on the back of his black worn-out jeans. Dust flew as cars after cars passed by. His boots scratch the pebbles underneath being the only sound apart from the throttling bikes speeding by.

The tattoo parlor behind him had its shutter just opened. The owner, with his fiery neon green hair, rubbing his eyes as he prepares.

"The alarm died on me," he greets Yoongi at the door. Yoongi cocks his eyebrow and walks in, unconvinced, "Sure it did."

"Heard you were back at the pawnshop," Hansung yawns. "Not to pawn, but to get something back," Yoongi sat himself on the leather seat, peeling off his jacket and black turtleneck. Hansung prepares a bottle of cognac and two shot glasses. In a while, Hansung puts on his black gloves and Yoongi bares his neck. Unprompt, he applies tattoo care balm on his neck.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you want to cover up your skin,” Hansung mumbles to his chest, knees widespread to be in close proximity in order to do his job.

Yoongi didn’t respond. Hansung’s eyes glided to where Yoongi’s skin was still bare. The specks of scars, and healed wounds that his skin endured. Cuts and blades on the columns otherwise invisible to the naked eye. It was these scars that he wanted to hide. Ligature abrasions, permanent scarring, small pale circle scars littered his shoulders and neck, all but his face— his skins were witnesses and proof of a turbulent upbringing.

Yoongi closed his eyes and when he did, those words he grew up to ring in his ears like a broken record.

“How about I break your pretty little face, huh?” 

”Get over here, I need to put out my cigars.”

His childhood was dreadful.

“Hyung is always so strange,” Hansung let out a short chuckle, probably feeling foolish for saying this out loud, “Most people do tatts for the art, and you told me to treat your skin like a canvas. What if one day you wake up and decide you hate what I drew on you?”

“I do it for the tingles. I don’t care what you draw on me,” he replied coolly.

Yoongi showed up with a turtleneck the next day at work. He smells like coconut and mango when he passes by. He senses several head perks up when he walks by. He brought the book he was trying to finish since last Christmas.

“Friedrich Nietzsche,” you typed into your phone once you walked back to your locker. That was very interesting. Especially ‘Beyond Good and Evil’. The idea was to remember what interests him; and that is through the books he reads. As Yoongi was minding his business, he felt a shadow looming over him like a statue.

“I know you’re there, I’m not going on a date with you,” he spat dryly. “I wasn’t gonna ask— “ you screwed your face in disgust.

“Then why are you here, standing there like a ghost? Hm?” Yoongi shrugs, careful not to turn his head to the side because his throat tattoo is healing. “The will to overcome an emotion, is ultimately the will of another, or of several other, emotions,” you quoted. Sitting across the table, just like you did in Burger King, coffee in hand.

“I would not have guessed you were a fan of Nietzsche,” you take a small sip of the coffee in a paper cup, “Bunch of bullshit he is. But then again, fitting.”

Yoongi let out a scoff the same time he shut his book and threw it a short distance on the table, “Who said I was?”

“You were reading him.” “To understand him. The man’s dead.” “Well, I have SEVERAL things I disagree with.” “And so you spoke through his grave?” “IF I must.”

Yoongi squints his eyes toward you, and you squint back.

“One quote of him that I hate to this day, he said and I quote; ‘He who seeks intelligence lacks intelligence,’” you stated. “Why, because it hits home?” Yoongi darts.

“Because it was inaccurate,” you swirled and blew the hot steams away from your coffee. “Really, how so?” he tips his chin and folded his arms, leaning towards the table at you. You were rendered silence.

Yoongi clears his throat and lowers his voice, “It’s not a criticism. He’s not saying the people who value knowledge lacks it or saying that they are stupid. He’s saying that the people who search for something, don't have it. It is in a way, stating the obvious. He, who seeks intelligence,” Yoongi points his forefinger to your temple, “Lacks intelligence,” he taps the tip of your nose. He scrunches his nose, smirking.

“Get it now?” he returns to his laxed self. “I need a pen and paper,” you swallowed the whole paper cup of coffee. Yoongi handed one. Then he tore off a page from the Friedrich Nietzsche book. That sudden move thrilled you but you hoped it wouldn't show on your face but Yoongi caught on.

“So you’re that type of reader,” you grinned, taking the piece of paper from him, “The read and butcher kind.” “ I can’t decide if that’s a slur or a compliment, I’m leaning to believe that it's both?” He pursed his lips and tilted his head to one side.

The wall clock showed 8AM, you stood up folding the paper he gave you after writing something on it, then you pushed it towards him. His larger hand overlaps yours as he takes it. Your hand slips out easily. It was obvious that he fully intended to touch you. The calluses on his fingertips send electric tingles on  your knuckles and you couldn’t even look back at him after you left the cafeteria. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Bookstore. Saturday. Lunch.” You wrote.

Meeting was grueling. With the CAPA incident involving Yoongi finally coming to  a close, you are now helping Seokjin with his CAPA report while the meeting is in progress. All seven executives of the branches were huddled in the meeting room and while the presentation was happening, it was common to see secretaries and clerks handing over notes from the Machine Specialists to their Execs. This time, Jimin passes a note to you saying that it was from your MS.

Unfolding the note, you read a big three letters written with a marker pen, “ Y E S.” You smiled so big, Seokjin looked up from his laptop, his bangs poking his eyes. You gave him a nod and a smile and he too, grins. .

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Copyright © May 5th, 2022 namjoonchronicles do not repost, or claim as your own

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls | k.th.

pairing: art-student!taehyung x creative-writing-student!reader 

rating: m (18+)

genre: angst | smut | fluff | humor | college!au | established relationship!au

summary: One drink too many at Hoseok’s Halloween party, and you’ve blanked out on the entire night that followed. Now, who’s gonna fill you in when Taehyung looks one second away from breaking into tears when you bring it up with him? From running across the university campus in remnants of your vampire outfit, to dealing with your downtrodden boyfriend’s disappointed stares - you’re left with one hell of a day, and zero recollections.

warnings: swearing + talks of alcohol (literally the whole tHEME of the story) + casual use of the word “amnesia” by careless college students + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts, really explicit makeout sessions, dry-humping, lil bit breast play, lil dirty talking, fingering) + love bites galore.

word count: 19.2 k

note: so. issa a humongous beast, i know. i literally cannot fathom how i wrote these many words without posting anything in between. also, believe it or not, i fleshed out the plot for this fic all the way back in June, 2019. it's taken me nearly two years and a HELL LOTTA editing to the basic storyline to finally be able to finish this off. also, i extended this AU to include all the boys, so...kinda had to rope in their stories, too, lol. hope you enjoy this while i go slave off on the rest of the six fics~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

A knock sounded, seemingly coming from the end of a miles long tunnel. You groaned, pursing your lips against the pounding that echoed in your head in response.

Gosh, what was this? Why was your mind so freaking foggy? What did you do last n—

"Angel? Are you in there with hyung?"

You wrinkled your nose, always hating how your boyfriend's entire group of friends had taken to address you by the pet name he gave you—to the limit where you legitimately didn't always remember that "angel" wasn't your name. They said it was somewhat of a "norm" in their group that came into practice when Jin forbade them all from saying his girl's name. Or getting too friendly by calling her “noona” in a really creepy way.

You'd had eight months' experience of this idiocy now, but that didn't make you cringe any less whenever you heard the address.

You tried swallowing past the sand in your mouth, eyebrows wrinkling as you willed your brain to interpret what the voice said beyond your "name."

And then it registered.

In there? With hyung? 

What the hell?

"What? No, hyung, I can’t just rattle the knob to check—what? I might have heard some... wait. Why? What? No! Noona is—no, she's an adult, I'm sure she can make her own decisions! I’m not going to—I'm disconnecting the call, Namjoon-ssi, this is so uncomfortable!"

Your eyes fluttered open in pitch black darkness. 

Namjoon-ssi? Who was referring to your dumbheaded best friend with such respect?

Wait, wait, wait.

…noona?

Only one person called you…

"Jungkook?" you muttered, wincing at how horrible you sounded.

Releasing a deep breath, you came to the conclusion that you were dealing with a hangover. A really, really bad hangover, because your recollection of how you got to this point was nil.

Blinking, you opened your eyes wider, looking around in an attempt to catch bearings of where you were, because the overwhelming heat wrapped around your body definitely didn't remind you of your cold ass dorm room.

You squirmed, attempting to stick your feet out of the warm covers that seemed to be stifling you whole, specifically your legs and your midsection.

"Nuuuu~nghhh…"

You froze.

What the—?

The voice—well, more of a groan that you couldn't really comprehend—had come from somewhere near your rib cage. 

You pulled your arms down from where they were rested under your pillow, wincing at the soreness that'd taken residence in them. With slight shaky fingers, you reached over to where you hoped the nightstand would be. To your luck, your fingers brushed over a smooth table top before bumping into what felt like a button that could belong to a bedside lamp.

Swallowing the cotton wool lodged in your throat, you pressed down with your index and middle fingers, immediately hissing in discomfort when blinding light burned your corneas.

"Whaaa~nuuuuu…"

Something soft brushed against the underside of your boobs. Your eyes immediately snapped open wide, disregarding the killer headache that ensued. Your heart was pounding hard, fear climbing up your windpipe as you looked down.

Your naked boobs greeted your line of vision, followed by a mop of black hair.

You heaved in a huge gulp of air.

No. 

No, no, no, no, this couldn't—

Was this—

Did you—

Were you naked?

You didn't realise when your eyes had squeezed shut, but they fluttered open when a contented hum echoed around you, a small gust of warm breath brushing against your stomach.

"Uh…" You wanted to say something to the fluffy, dark hair moving around over your abdomen, but you were at a loss. 

Why was he lying over your naked body? God, was he naked, too?

What the heck had happened last night?

"Whoa." The fluffball on your abdomen moved completely, and a pair of round, pretty eyes connected with yours past your bared breasts. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to. Good morning, baby."

You involuntarily shivered at your boyfriend's gravelly morning voice. The damn pitch that was deeper than the ocean on the regular, tended to penetrate the layers of the earth itself when he woke up.

But…

Oh, God. You had only ever seen him topless. And only seen, not even touched. Or more. So, waking up to being topless and under him was making your heart beat out of your chest, and your body burn with sparks, all over.

"Um, Tae…"

"Hmm?" Plump lips connected to your skin, dragging over the sides of your breasts.

Your breathing was immediately unsteady even when your eyes widened in alarm. "T—Tae, wait…" You swallowed thickly when he climbed up your body and set his hands on the bed next to your pillow, his face hovering inches above yours.

You breathed in, preparing to speak past the bundle of nerves in your throat, and—froze. 

A corner of your lips twitched.

His eyes were surrounded by huge pools of black, that you could now recall was eyeliner that you'd meticulously applied on him, last evening. The bright red lipstick he'd gone for in order to finish off his vampire look, was now smudged all the way down to his chin. 

Despite the killer throbbing in your head and your panic at your state of undress, you couldn't hold back a fit of laughter at the sight. "Tae, baby—your makeup…" You managed to mumble between bouts of uncontrollable giggles.

Taehyung just grinned at you, shaking his head in silent humor. "As if you're any better. Ooh, look at this!" His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on your neck. "Your neck looks like you got attacked by a vampire, baby."

You smacked his chest with a harrumph, ignoring the warm, firm feel of it, rolling your eyes when he broke into laughter. "Pretty sure you were the one that did it, smartass."

"Well. I don't see a problem with it. We were supposed to be vampire mates, after all." Flashing you a smirk that would've been a lot more irresistible to you if it weren't for all the smudged lipstick on his face, Taehyung rolled off your body to sit at the edge of the bed. "This headache, though… ugh…" He groaned, massaging his forehead with a hand. "How much did we have to drink, Angel?

You slowly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets to cover yourself all the way up to your neck. Your brows furrowed in concern. How much did you have to drink, for real? The way you couldn't seem to recall literally anything from the party last night was kind of a sign that it had gone beyond your limits.

Clearing your throat in nervousness, you lifted the edge of the sheet to take a peek at yourself, breathing a tiny sigh of relief on finding your panties still wrapped around your hips. So at least you hadn't gone all the way, right?

Right?

"Hey, Tae," you called out, stopping your boyfriend on his way to the bathroom. He was clad only in a pair of boxers that accentuated his plump butt, which was also a first time experience for you, but you figured that it was better than nothing. "We, uh, what did we do last night?"

Taehyung looked at you over his shoulder, brows slightly creased in confusion. "What? We went to Hobi hyung's Halloween party, baby, dressed as vampires. Hence the makeup…?"

You shook your head, gulping down your nerves. Taehyung had completely turned around to look at you, now, arms crossed against his bare chest. In spite of the ridiculously smudged makeup on his face, he made a damn appealing sight. You willed your gaze to not stray down to his sculpted thighs for the sake of your own sanity.

"Angel?"

"I—I mean...after," you mumbled with flaming cheeks. 

Your asshole of a boyfriend grinned wickedly at that, moving his hands to place them on his hips. "Uh huh. After, baby? What do you think?" He gave you an exaggerated wink.

You looked down at your fingernails, your entire body almost shivering out of nervousness and each one of your nerve endings inducing sparks all across your body. You were pretty sure you were blushing all the way from your ears, down to your chest.

Soft thumps of feet padding across the floor echoed around the room. You felt his warmth near you before his fingers tapped beneath your chin, prompting you to look up.

You did, eyes widened and breathing halted.

Taehyung's brows were lowered and lips pursed together as he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes. "Do you…do you not remember anything?"

The hesitation in his voice almost caused your heart to stop beating. Why was he being like this? Had the two of you actually done it, last night?

And…you didn't even remember anything?

"Angel?"

"Oh, God, Taehyung! Why do I not remember?" you suddenly cried out. 

"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay!"

What? No, it wasn't.

You'd had sex with your boyfriend for the first ever time after eight months of dating, four out of which you'd spent dreaming extremely lewd and inappropriate dreams about him, and now―and now you didn't remember it!

"I'll go take a shower, and then we can talk about last night. Okay, baby? Hey, look at me," Taehyung softly spoke to you, carding long, elegant fingers of one of his hands through your hair. He cupped your cheek with the other. "Don't worry, Angel, you're just hungover right now. I'm sure it'll all come back once your head's feeling better."

You swallowed thickly, kinda pissed at yourself for feeling so emotional about this, but kinda more pissed at your drunk self for doing the do with the love of your life when she knew she was too far gone to retain the memories.

"I love you, baby," said love of your life murmured to you, leaning in to peck your forehead softly.

"Love you too, baby," you mumbled back, watching, from the corner of your eye, as his shapely ass made its way down the room and into the bathroom.

You exhaled, loudly. Even though you loved him beyond measure and trusted him completely, you didn't wanna talk to Taehyung, right now. He remembered everything from last night, and the torn, hesitant, kinda hurt look in his eyes made you feel insecure and disadvantaged.

You knew you had to cure your hangover first, vent out about how dumb you felt, and have someone reassure you that forgetting about your first time with your boyfriend wasn't the end of the world, before having that conversation with Taehyung.

And you also knew how you were gonna accomplish that.

You needed your best friend.

You’d already pounded on the door like crazy twice by the time you first heard movement from inside. What the hell was Namjoon busy with now? Hadn't he called Jungkook up just a while earlier, causing the boy to wake you up?

It was one o'clock on a Sunday morning, anyway. There was no way someone like Namjoon was busy.

Wait. Hadn’t he been at the party last night, too? You couldn’t really recall, to be honest.

God, what was Hobi serving last night? 

Tapping your feet impatiently, you scratched at your cheek. The water base, super dry moisturiser you’d stolen from your boyfriend’s roommate was definitely not meant to suit your skin type. But you had no choice. You were in a crisis. You had needed to escape the dorm before Taehyung came out of the bathroom, and you couldn’t have exactly walked out with the remnants of last night’s vampire makeup all over your face.

You looked down at your ridiculous attire consisting of the leather shorts you wore last night, topped with a huge, off white sweatshirt you'd found lying over the living room couches. You guessed it was Taehyung's, but you were, embarrassingly, not completely certain and it very well could have been Jungkook's. Either way, it didn't really matter, ’cause, as mentioned before, you were in a freaking crisis. Your feet were wrapped up in the spare pair of bathroom slippers you kept at Tae's.

Exhaling loudly, you pulled up your arm to bang heavily against the damn door, again. "Where the fuck are you, Namjoon? Open up!"

Mere seconds later, grumbles seeped through the door to you, and then it was slowly unbolted.

You were gonna straight up fall into Namjoon and legit beg him to comfort you until your body melted—

"Well, hello there, sexy cheeks! What a pleasant surprise!"

You groaned aloud. Just what you needed to make this morning a bigger headache—your best friend's roadside romeo, can-never-keep-it-in-his-pants, creep of a roommate. "Jackson. Get the fuck out of my w—"

"And, FYI, I was referring to your ass cheeks."

You gritted your teeth. "Where's Joon?"

The cocky guy in front of you shifted to set his hips against the doorjamb. "Sleeping. He came in late, last night. That damned loser was at the party till two am on a Saturday night, and didn’t even bring a girl back home. What a fucking waste."

You squinted at him. "Bullshit. He called Jungkook earlier."

"Yeah, well, he went back to sleep after that. It's Sunday, sexy cheeks, even a nerd like Joon is allowed to sleep in today. He's been working his ass off at the library for a couple nights, anyway."

"Stop stereotyping him." You rolled your eyes. "Will you move?"

Jackson's silver blonde hair moved across his forehead as he tilted his head to look at you with a sly grin. "What if I refuse?"

"I'll stab you and walk over your body."

His eyes momentarily widened, but then he gave a nervous giggle. "O–oh? We won't want that to happen now, would we? Come on in, sexy cheeks!"

"Stop calling me that!" you snapped, walking into the dorm and heading straight towards Namjoon's bedroom.

"What? But that's my pet name for you! I don't wanna call you Angel like the rest of the fucking college!"

"It's just seven guys, Wang, jeez. Also, I actually have a name?" you yelled over your shoulder, fiddling with the awful door knob on Namjoon's bedroom door that was almost always jammed. Like it was right now. Good God!

"Your name? That's so mainstream, babe, have some respect for my vibe, at the very least."

"I'm not your babe!"

"But you could be!"

"I'll slap you, Jackson, shut the—" you broke off with a grunt as the doorknob finally twisted free. But your relief had a super short life, because then you had to nearly cause your shoulder to rupture when you tried to get the door to budge. "Why does this idiot not complain about getting this shitty fucking door changed? He'll get stuck in there someday and die, I'm telling you."

"Whoa. You're contemplating way too many murders for a Sunday morning, sexy cheeks. All okay?"

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "You want me to actually commit one of them?"

Jackson's eyes widened and he slowly retracted his steps to the kitchen, where he presumably was before he came to open the door, given the apron he'd tied over his muscle tee and the random patches of white powder that covered his exposed upper arms. You rolled your eyes once again, and gave a particularly hard push to the door, making yourself stumble in as the door suddenly opened.

Namjoon stood on the other side, though, eyes barely open and silver blonde hair mussed. 

He was shirtless, in the process of trying to unwind a twisted up t-shirt. "Whoa, whoa—hol' up—when did I say you could come in?"

You paused. Your eyebrows lowered. Your eyes narrowed. The audacity?!

"I've seen you pantless, Namjoon," you deadpanned. 

"Wha—is that even a word—"

"Dude, I've seen your penis when it wasn't as big as my pinky toe!"

"Okay, hang on now, it's got to be at least the pinky finger—"

"We were four. It was the pinky toe." You exhaled when Namjoon gave up and went back to getting into a t-shirt over his plaid shorts. "Are you not looking at me, right now? Do you not see what kind of a wreck I am? What sort of a best friend are you?"

"Uh, a sleep deprived one? And, for the record, I actually am not looking at you, 'cause my eyes aren't exactly open and functioning at the moment, anyway."

You shot him a glare, but then exhaled and slumped down on his bed with your shoulders drooped. "I fucked up, Joonie."

Namjoon stopped in the process of blindly hunting for his glasses in the top drawer of his nightstand. He looked at you, complete with his swollen ass eyes and bee stung lips. You would have laughed if your own tragedy wasn't laughable in itself.

"Stop gawking!"

Namjoon shut his mouth and straightened up. "I, uh… You fucked up? Kinda hard to swallow. You're an inspiration to everyone, babe. Angel never fucks up."

You groaned a little upon hearing the wretched "pet name" tumble so smoothly from your best friend's lips. "Angel? Really, Joon?"

Namjoon shrugged, standing on his toes and extending his arms above his head in a full body stretch before he settled on the twin bed next to you. "I've got to, hun. You know how Jin hyung gets when he hears any of us call you anything but Angel."

"He's not here right now, though, is he?"

"Well, I'm trying to practice." He shrugged a shoulder. "So, are you here to pointlessly argue with me, or are you here to discuss how, exactly, did you fuck up? You were with Tae last night from what I gathered out of Jungkook's flustered half-sentences. Did something happen between you guys?"

"Yes?" You grimaced. And then you thickly swallowed. "I… I had sex with Taehyung.”

You looked at him when Namjoon had been silent for too long. He was blinking at you. "I don't see any fucking up happening, Angel, only fucking Tae."

Oh, how you'd slap him into the next galaxy if you had the energy at the moment. "Kim Namjoon, I swear to God—"

"Okay, okay, sorry. So. How does having sex with your boyfriend equate to fucking up? What'd I miss?"

You sighed. "I was completely hammered, and don't remember a single thing."

Namjoon's eyebrows rose very slowly. "Wait…what?"

You frowned. "Don't make me repeat it, Joon."

"I'm not, girl, but. Just. I—I don't seem to comprehend."

"I had sex with him for the first fucking time, Namjoon, and I don't remember a single detail! You know, I wanted to know how it all went down, how intense, sexy and gorgeous he looked on top of me. I wanted to save it to my memory. If he was on top. Otherwise, what he looked like when desperate and begging below me."

"Wait—"

"But I remember nothing! I'm so embarrassed, Joon! Maybe he put those gorgeous ass fingers of his to good use. I bet he did!"

"Hey—"

"I don't even know if he ate me out or if I sucked him off, because I would have loved to, before we—"

"Holy fuck, stop! I don’t wanna hear that, gross!" Namjoon pressed both his palms against his ears, his face pulled into an expression of utter disgust. His mouth opened, probably to give you a piece of scolding, but then his gaze dropped to your exposed collarbones and his eyebrows raised. He removed his hands with wide eyes. "Now, I don’t know about those dirty freaking details, and I don’t want to—but I can guess that your night was definitely passionate. Maybe a bit rough."

You frowned, following his line of sight—

And then sprung to your feet with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit! What the hell—"

"Whoa—"

You gripped the neckline of the hoodie and tugged it away from your chest. "He left bruises, Joon, these aren't just bites!"

"Wait, wait—"

"God damn—" You struggled to wrestle the hoodie off your body.

"No—"

"I need to fucking see, Joon—"

"But I don't!" Namjoon squeaked. 

You managed to remove the hoodie completely, your hands busy patting around your boobs to feel for bruises. You looked up at your best friend to find him turned away with both his palms pressed up against his eyes.

It took you a moment to realise that he was throwing a fit about you being topless in front of him. You exhaled. "Must I remind you that you've seen me pantless, too, Joon?"

"We were kids! And now we're not! I don't wanna pop a boner for my childhood best friend that I've shared poops with!"

You grimaced. "You won't, Joon. It's as you said—we've shared poops. It's physically impossible for us to get turned on by each other."

"I'm still a straight guy, though, and boobs are boobs."

You clicked your tongue, choosing to walk into his bathroom to, partially, save him from dying out of panic, but mostly analyse your upper body in the mirror. 

You hummed to yourself when you found a blossoming patch of pink right under your left boob, and an almost navy spot above your right nipple.

You fought a whimper of despair. Sex with Taehyung seemed like something that’d get you wet by memories alone. But you'd already missed your first chance to make them.

You grumpily stomped back to Namjoon's bed and collected the hoodie you'd tossed on it. Pulling it over, you smacked a turned away Namjoon upside his head. "I'm dressed, loser."

"Not wanting to see your boobs makes me a loser?"

"Making a big fucking deal out of it while I'm stuck in a very embarrassing and kind of an impossible situation does!"

“Oh my God, fine! Let’s just talk about that stupid, overthinking brain of yours.”

Your mouth falls open. “The fuck? I’m not overthinking, Joon, for the love of—”

“Okay! Just—stop with all the cursing, you sound like Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get the basics down, then. Observe, analyse and calculate. You’ll tell me about how you feel in certain...areas of your body, and then we’ll conclude if any sex even actually happened or if you’re fussing over nothing. ’Kay?”

You dumbly blinked. If any sex even actually happened? You didn’t need any testing for that, Taehyung’s face had been more than enough to tell you. “No?” you sneered at Namjoon. “I know it happened. I need to know how to recall the details. Do you know, like, some brain exercise or something? Like, running a mental disk defragmenter of sorts?”

Namjoon sighed. “Listen—”

“Also, can you please dye your hair and stop twinning with the asshole next door? I feel like I’m talking to him and it makes me wanna puke.”

Namjoon sighed again. “He’s gonna dye his hair to match mine like he always does, it’s pointless.”

“Then shave it off.”

“Ouch, woman.”

“What?” You scowled at him, rummaging through his wardrobe to try and make yourself slightly more presentable. “And get ready. We’re gonna go get some breakfast. Greasy and cheesy. And you’re gonna tell me what to do. And I’m calling Munchkin to join us.”

As you carried a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom, you heard your best friend murmur something like, “this is gonna be a long day.”

Taehyung sat sprawled all over the living room couch, barely looking up when Jungkook's room's door opened. His eyes kept digging holes into your phone that you'd left behind when you made your—very obviously hurried—exit while he was in the shower. Why, though?

Taehyung was fucking confuddled.

"Oh, finally!" Jungkook's surprised voice floated over to him moments before the boy himself rounded the couch to look down at him, entering his peripheral vision with a water bottle in hands. "Where's noona? Tell her to call Namjoon hyung, he rang me up…worrying…about her…um. Hyung? You okay?"

Taehyung blinked, raising his brows as he hummed in question, refocusing his gaze on the younger boy. "What?"

"Did you, uh, hear anything I said?" Jungkook looked at him cautiously, taking wary sips of water.

"Yeah, I heard." Taehyung looked down at his hands. "She's not here, she left."

"Left? On her own? You didn’t drop her off?" Jungkook sounded innocently curious. He chuckled. "You still hungover, or what?"

Taehyung sighed. "Well, no. But she didn't ask me to drop her. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Also left her phone behind, for some reason."

"Maybe she was in a hurry to get away from you after last night?" Jungkook's eyes were wide in alarm even before Taehyung shot him a glare. "Sorry, I didn't… Um. That was a stupid joke, I don’t even know why I said that when I don't even know anything. Um. Sorry."

"No, you're probably right," Taehyung regretfully mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "She was gone within five minutes."

"And is that why she stole my hoodie, too?"

Taehyung's head snapped up, again. What did he mean by that? He found Jungkook frowning at one of the armrests of the couch. "The fuck did you say?"

Jungkook's big, innocent eyes looked at him in panic. "I—I mean, I left it here after I spilt ketchup on it! Remember yesterday's lunch burgers? And now it's…well. Not here."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, secretly exhaling in relief, while at the same time annoyed at himself for thinking stupid shit. And also at Jungkook for making him think it. "The hell, Kook? How does that mean she took it?"

Jungkook squinted at him. "Okay, so then did you take it? Because I sure as heck didn't touch it, hyung."

Taehyung stilled, realising that the boy was probably right, because the top you'd worn last night was still lying on his bedroom floor. He bit his lip. Had you actually been in such a hurry to get away? Get away from him?

Did you…hate him for last night? But you'd very clearly reassured him that you wanted it and were ready and you looked actually excited about it. 

You’d looked really excited about it.

But maybe you were too sloshed to think then, but were trying to avoid him with your mind sober. Maybe you regretted agreeing.

Oh no. Oh no.

"We were drunk off our asses, last night," he tried to fruitlessly dissuade Jungkook, his voice coming out tight. Because what did it even matter if you'd already changed your mind? "Maybe your drunk ass used it to clean up your whizz and then threw it out your window and forgot?"

Jungkook's gaze turned even more speculative. 

Taehyung looked away, eyes landing back on your phone. Distress gripped him.

"Um."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Say it."

Jungkook cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Taehyung looked up to meet his shifty eyes. "Did you, uh. Did you and noona have a fight?"

Taehyung slunk lower in his place. "No, but we would now."

Jungkook cleared his throat in response before soundly gulping down water.

Taehyung almost laughed at his discomfort. The younger probably felt Taehyung needed some sort of counseling or suggestions, but he really didn't. And it wasn't just because he and Jungkook were not the best of friends despite being roommates for nearly a year now and part of the same group of friends for nearly six. No, he actually did not want it because that would make him worry that much more. He'd rather talk to you—apologize to you and try to make you understand as much as he'd be able to—whenever you decided to contact him.

Not that Jungkook would be good at consoling him, either way—the boy was horrible with words and had zero tact. His world revolved around gaming and studying music and minimal human interaction, a complete contrast to everything Taehyung was. Which was somewhat of a reason why they worked out so well as roommates.

"Uh…we…um. Nevermind." Jungkook turned to leave.

Taehyung mustered a chuckle. "Say it, Kook." 

"Do you wanna go to Jin hyung's?" he spoke in a single breath.

Jin—the oldest in their group of friends and also the one Taehyung was the closest to—lived in a four bedroom apartment shared by Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin, and often, Jin's girlfriend, too, which was owned by a family member of Hoseok's. Namjoon, your best friend and the final member of the group, lived in a dorm on the other side of the campus, similar to Taehyung's own, with a school friend of his.

Now. Jungkook, being the youngest of the entire lot, was extremely insecure and conscious of himself around Jin. And so, despite nearly licking the very ground Yoongi walked on due to the guy's musical prowess that Jungkook was a fan of, the younger boy always tried to avoid visiting the house if not for extreme case scenarios when the entire group gathered there for activities that he was not allowed to skip. He usually just called Yoongi over.

And he was suggesting they visit? This had to have taken some guts.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna go to that house?"

"Well, not really." Jungkook's cheeks tinged pink. "But you look like you could use Jin hyung's advice and stuff. He also, um, makes yummy hot chocolate. Jimin hyung and Hobi hyung could cheer you up, and. Um. Yoongi hyung could help me with my…semester project?"

"And here I thought you were being thoughtful!" Taehyung let out a laugh. “You just want Yoongi hyung’s help, you selfish brat.”

Jungkook ducked his head. “A little bit of both?” He clicked his tongue, whining. "Come on, hyung, I'm trying here!"

"I know, I know." Taehyung rolled his eyes but nodded, ending Jungkook's misery.

He eyed your phone and released a shaking, nervous breath. 

“Well, I'm sort of driving myself nuts by sitting here. Let’s just go.”

“This is a disaster.”

You thumped your head against the table, groaning. “Gee, thanks, babe. Makes me feel so much better. I should’ve just gone back to the dorm. Wendy would’ve given me ice cream, at least.”

Your other only-best-friend-in-this-world—other than Namjoon, that is—rolled her mascara laden eyes. “It’s not my duty to make you feel better. I’m here to show you the mirror and be honest, not give you ice cream and kiss your boo-boos like your pussy roommate. That’s not helping. That’s ignoring the problem.”

“Fair point.” You sat up and looked down in your lap. “So. Do you honestly think I’m doomed?”

“I honestly think you’re stupid.”

You shot a glare at her.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! You yourself said you both had your lower regions covered, right?” At your nod, she clicked her tongue. “So you’re not even sure if you had sex, in the first place. And even if you did, so what? He’s your freaking boyfriend, bitch! Grab him and do the do whenever!”

“Will you tone it down?” 

You jumped. And then scoffed when Namjoon settled on the empty chair on your other side, putting the tray of your frothing, steaming beverages down between you three.

"Tell me why you nicknamed this one munchkin and not guerrilla, again?" Namjoon grumbled, scowling at your girl best friend. "She's got their lung capacity."

"Because she's got munchkin legs," you mumbled, hurriedly bringing the styrofoam cup to your mouth to taste nirvana. “Ah, this is so good! And she walks super slow, like a freakin’ munchkin.”

"Oh, so that's also an insult?" Namjoon looked at your best friend with gleaming eyes. "I thought it was a pet name!"

Her eyes narrowed at Namjoon for a second, before her expressions dropped into a lascivious smile. "You thought it was cute, didn't you?" she dramatically batted her lashes, leaning closer to Namjoon, pushing her voluminous chest out. “You think I’m cute too, dontcha, Joon bug?”

Namjoon, immune to her dramatic, completely unnecessary seduction, blew a raspberry in her face. 

“Ew, you animal!” she shrieked, flinching away as droplets of spit rained on her face. “Gross!”

“You asked for it,” Namjoon deadpanned, sipping from his cup. 

“Guys,” you began. “Can we please talk about what I should do?”

“Uh, can I please also mention what you should not have done?” Munchkin squinted at you. At your noncommittal shrug, her expressions morphed into a sharp glare. “Sneak out. I mean, he’s your damn boyfriend of nearly quarter of a year, babe! Why the hell would you want to confide in Captain Dumbass, over here, and not him?”

“My IQ’s greater than you, but other than that—valid point, dude.” Namjoon turned to stare you down. “When it all winds down, and you end up sorting it out, he’s still gonna be hurt that you ran away, man.”

You bit your lip. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I forgot my phone at his place, too, so I couldn’t even text him.”

This time Munchkin turned her horrified gaze at Namjoon, and Namjoon at you. “What?” he squeaked. “You haven’t even texted him this entire time? Why didn’t you ask for my phone?”

“It’s almost three,” Munchkin mumbled. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” Her eyes suddenly turned wicked. “Imagine the angry sex.”

You snorted, bitterly. “How? I got fucking amnesia after our first time together, remember? I don’t even know what to imagine.”

Your best friends groaned in unison.

The second Hoseok invited them in, Jungkook went off like an arrow towards the direction of Yoongi's room.

Taehyung gave a dry chuckle, raising his eyebrows at Hoseok’s puffy eyes as he waved his hand before the guy’s face in greeting. “Good morning, hyung!” he said with fake cheeriness to grate on the elder’s nerves. 

Hoseok gave him the most venomous scowl Taehyung had ever seen on the guy’s face and walked away.

“He was cleaning up till six am and then Jin hyung woke him up at nine to go grocery shopping!” Jimin called from his slump on the couch, past the entry hall. “Poor guy didn’t even get to get his dick wet in his own party.”

“Of course you’d mention that,” Taheyung snorted, moving to join Jimin in what seemed like a Netflix marathon. “What’s this?” He nodded towards the 50-inch.

“Pretty Little Liars,” Jimin mumbled, lifting his feet enough to make room for Taehyung and then rested them back in his lap. “It’s a story of some girls. Who lie. Because that is all that girls fucking do, apparently.”

Taehyung, despite his mental disposition, found himself snorting in amusement for the second time. “Where’s Jin hyung?”

“Dropping noona off at Jackson’s. They’re in a fight, so don’t ask him about her.” Jimin raised a brow. “All okay?”

“They're fighting? How're you handling it?" Taehyung teased, well aware of Jimin's fear of conflicts between the group's oldest couple, and got a glare back. "And, not all's okay. Kinda had a shitty night.”

“Could not have been shittier than mine. You came in with your babe, made out in every corner of the house, held her when she did a keg stand, leftmaking out—what could go wrong?”

Taehyung grimaced but didn’t protest. “When did Jin hyung leave? I didn’t see him on my way over. Why’s Honey noona even friends with that pretentious jackass Jackson, nobody likes him,” he chose to comment on Jin’s girlfriend’s questionable life choices, instead.

“Nobody but Namjoon. Don’t forget they live together. And he and noona are family friends, you know that.” Jimin frowned. “Why’re you so eager to see Jin hyung? He didn’t really say when he’d get back. Maybe he and Honey noona are…making-up. If you know what I mean. I sincerely hope they are,” he added with a despaired stare skywards as if tossing a prayer up to God.

“Shut up, pervert. I'll just text him.” Taehyung waved a dismissive hand, pulling out his phone.

Jimin cleared his throat. “At least ask me why my night was shittier, you ass.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, shooting Jimin a flat look. “You didn’t get laid, I already know it.”

“Well, that, yes. But also, the circumstances leading up to me not getting laid? Ugh.” Jimin scrunched his nose. “So there’s this cute, little, busty babe, okay? Shaking her boobs up in my face, and I know she wants to fuck, but. I can see how sloshed she is, so I, you know? Hold back.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, still typing away on his phone. “Doubt that.”

“I did, okay? Wait till you hear the rest of it.” Jimin’s head dangled off the armrest, upside down and Taehyung could only see his neck as he spoke. “She comes on too strong, and at one point—I can’t resist. But when she’s on her knees, she’s so confused that I… man, I felt so bad. She was wasted, dude!” Jimin pulled himself back up, nestling his head against the armrest as he frowned at Taehyung. “So I tell her no. She cries. I try to comfort her, but she just keeps sobbing. And then she fucking throws up all over my carpet and—I still fucking try to take care of her. And, you know, after I’ve given her hugs and a water bottle and so much pep talk—her phone rings and she says she has to go. Now, get this.” Jimin sits up, now scowling at Taehyung. “She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Taehyung couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst out of him, his head rolling back against the back of the couch as he held his stomach. Just the one time in his life Jimin tried to be a gentleman, it backfired. But it served Jimin right for trying to get into everyone’s pants. He told the guy as much.

Jimin scoffed. “I don’t try to get into everyone’s pants, dude. I’ve never tried to turn the charm on you, have I?”

“’Cause you know you’d fail.”

“I would not and you better believe that, Kim Taehyung.” Jimin suddenly licked his lips and sat up to get into Taehyung's personal space. “You see these lips? They—”

“Yah, Park Jimin! Get your paws off my dongsaeng!” Jin entered the house with a booming yell.

Taehyung sighed in relief, grateful for more reasons than one. “Morning, hyung!”

“It’s afternoon, brat!”

“I thought he was your dongsaeng?” Jimin mocked. “And for the record, he’s mine, too.”

“I’m barely three months younger, Jimin, fuck off.”

“Tae! Leave this idiot be and go wait in my room. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Taehyung stood up to locate Jin to find the older one heating something up in the microwave, aggressively pushing things around. It was a strange sight. Jin’s temperament was always cooler than a cucumber. And he especially tended to his kitchen appliances and utensils with an impossibly tender hand. He was clearly agitated, completely unlike how he normally was. Was his fight with his girlfriend that bad? 

As if sensing his gaze, Jin looked up, concern shining in his eyes when they met Taehyung’s. Taehyung imagined his own must have reflected it back. “You okay, hyung?”

Jin sighed. “Been better,” he tiredly mumbled, running a hand down his face. “I saw your texts. I gather you haven’t eaten?”

Taehyung nodded, silently, walking around the couch to join the older in the kitchen. Settling on a stool, he observed Jin's furrowed eyebrows and set jaw. Something had to have happened recently, or he'd have noticed something in Jin's behaviour earlier.

“I haven’t eaten either, hyung,” Jimin yelled from the living room, sounding offended instead of whiny or seductive, for once. “This sort of favoritism is too much, even for you.”

Jin narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “You know, every time Honey ignores me, I'm immediately reminded of how you could have taken that blonde to your own room, Park Jimin. So no, the favouritism isn't too much. And for the record, you’re more than capable of feeding yourself. This one? Not so much, right now.”

Taehyung hung his head, curious about what all Jin just said to Jimin, but also immensely floored by Jin’s concern for his own well being. Despite clearly not being in the right state of mind himself, he was still caring for Taehyung. He mentally thanked Jungkook for bringing him here.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung placed his hands on the kitchen counter. “When I didn't see Honey-noona at the party last night, I thought it was work related. You two often skip parties to catch up on your beauty sleep and all that. Is something the matter, hyung?"

Jin extracted some sort of noodles from the microwave and shut his eyes. "She's mad at me."

Taehyung's eyebrows rose. Jin and his girl had been together for over five years, now. They were past the stages of fighting over petty things. It had to be serious. "Oh?"

"And it was triggered by something that idiot did!" Jin finished, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin.

The latter clicked his tongue. "For the last time, hyung," Jimin called out, sounding exasperated, "she’s mad over something else. The sooner you figure that out instead of blaming me every time you meet her, the faster your fight would be resolved.” He peeked at Jin over the couch's back. "And can you please make a quick work of it? I hate this phase…"

Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted up. Escaping the blame—classic Jimin. “What, exactly, did you do, Jimin? What blonde didn’t you take to your own room?” he asked, repeating Jin’s words from earlier.

“Irrelevant. He’s actually correct,” Jin interrupted, walking out of the kitchen. “You'll understand when I tell you. But right now, let’s talk about your problem. Come on.”

Although Taehyung was both curious and worried about Jin’s fight, he was more downtrodden due to his own situation at the moment, so he decided to follow the older boy upstairs, to Jin's room.

On entering the room, Taehyung slumped into Jin’s armchair while the man himself turned on the lights and made his way towards Taehyung with a water bottle and a huge bowl of reheated chicken noodles in hands.

Taehyung uncapped the bottle as soon as it was handed to him, not realising how badly parched all the worrying had gotten him. 

“I, uh, went to the shop you texted me. Have you guys really talked it through?”

Taehyung’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, swallowing a huge gulp of water.

Jin cracked a smile for the first time. “One of the thirteen texts you sent me was about this shop, remember? It was on the way, so I dropped by to look around, but I couldn't really choose—”

Taehyung’s phone rang, interrupting Jin. It was Namjoon. They both frowned.

What if the guy was still calling to ask about you, like he did this morning? Taehyung had assumed that you’d have talked to Namjoon, at least. His eyes widened when it hit him — you’d left your phone behind, how would you contact anybody?

He looked at Jin. Jin crossed his arms in front of his chest, gesturing to the phone with his eyes. “Pick it up.”

With sweaty hands, Taehyung picked up. “Hey, Joon hyung.”

Silence. He frowned.

“Hello?”

More silence. And then a hushed, indecipherable whisper sounded in the background which was followed by what sounded like a slap. Taehyung’s breath hitched.

“Angel?”

A sharp intake of breath filtered through the speakers to him. But then nothing else.

“Whe—” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Tae.” Your voice was light, airy, almost like a whisper, but it managed to weigh down on his heart. “I’m okay.”

Of course, you were. You’d chosen to see Namjoon, apparently. Why wouldn’t you be okay?

“I—I’m sorry for leaving like…that. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way.”

Taehyung was at a loss. “Wrong way? Angel, I…” He exhaled, shutting his eyes. In what way had he taken it? In what way was he supposed to take it? “Why did you leave, baby?”

No response. Taehyung’s heart seemed to keep on sinking.

“When can I see you again? We need to talk about last night. You know that, right?” He licked his lips and looked up at Jin. At the elder’s nod, he continued, “we need to finalize what we discussed. You get me?”

“I’ll see you tonight, Tae.” Your voice sounded tightly wound with emotions.

Taehyung took that as a good sign. “That’s great. I’ll be…I, uh. Just text me when you get to the dorm. Your phone’s on the coffee table. I’m at Jin hyung’s, I’ll come immediately.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Um. Tae? I love you.”

Taehyung could breathe again. “I love you, too, Angel. I love you so much.”

He’d barely disconnected the call when Jin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get some food in you and come with me. I went to the shop, but couldn’t really make the right purchase. You’ll have to do that yourself.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But I already told her to come see me! You nodded!”

Jin rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of noodles and stuffing them into Taehyung’s mouth that was hung open in surprise. “Because we have plenty of time, genius! It’s three in the afternoon. We’d be able to make it back before six, at any cost. Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung took the bowl of food from him, his appetite announcing itself as soon as a bite of savoury deliciousness touched his tongue. Stuffing his face, he nodded at his phone. “Could you please put that to charge? It’s almost dead.”

And then he smiled to himself. He was gonna make everything right, tonight.

“I’m pretty sure five o’clock doesn’t count as ‘night’ in any culture across the globe.”

You ignored Munchkin’s sarcastic remark as you stepped out of the car, and gave Namjoon a grateful peck on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here, Joon.”

“Great. Ignore me and then cry when there’re consequences.”

Waving a butterfly wave at a fuming Munchkin and a chuckling Namjoon, you stepped into Taehyung’s dorm building. You knew you were early, but your nerves didn’t allow you to sit still at Namjoon’s place. You didn’t dare go back to your own dorm, knowing how chaotic Wendy tended to get and not able to muster the energy you usually needed to deal with her.

Taehyung lived in the larger, spacier and definitely pricier North Dorms. They were more like mini-apartments, with individual rooms and a living room area along with a whole kitchen instead of the tiny kitchenette you had with your own South Dorms. Namjoon lived in the East Dorms, similar in design to these, but in a wackier condition and slightly less pricey.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You would take your phone, text Taehyung to inform him of your arrival, have a glass of water, and patiently wait. Jungkook wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, so you’d have some time to yourself before Taehyung for here, which you planned to utilise by giving yourself mental pep talks. 

You were gonna come clean to your boyfriend and tell him that you remembered none of last night, profusely apologise for panicking and running out on him, and then, if the mood allowed for it, request him to give you a refresher that you’d be sure to memorise properly, this time.

The door was opened. Jungkook immediately jumped, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw you. “Oh, my God!”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Hey, Jungkook. May I come in?”

He gaped at you for a few more seconds before shaking his head as if to break his shock induced trance. “Ye—uh. I mean, yes, you could, but hyung’s not home.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Just as you’d made to move ahead, Jungkook stopped you. His eyebrows were arched. “Unless, you don’t wanna see him and are here to grab your things—in which case, I really won’t let you in.”

You frowned. “What? No, I need to get my phone so that—”

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook blocked the door with an arm. “You’ve got to talk to hyung once before making any rash decisions, and I won’t—”

“Wait, what? Rash decisions?”

“—might be a bit young and inexperienced, but I will not be an accomplice in the ploy to get Tae hyung’s heart broken—”

“Heart broken?” You balked at him while Jungkook kept on spewing stuff that made absolutely no sense to you. “Jungkook?”

“—no clue what actually happened, but because you really should’ve stayed to talk instead of running away from hyung—”

“Jungkook!”

“—not been emotional, but this really kind of hurt me, too, and you have no idea how much hyung was—”

“For fucks sake, Jungkook!” You held the guy with both his shoulders, making him immediately shut up. “Are you even listening to me? Stop speaking!” 

He blinked. “Um—”

“Stop!” You held a finger in front of his face. “Zip it up. Zero noise. Absolute silence.”

At his nod, you retracted your hands and pushed past him to enter the dorm. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up your phone which was kept on the coffee table—just as Tae had told you it would be—and opened your chat box with him.

Tae❤ hey babe, im here ik im a bit early but dw, take your time i will wait i love u 🥺

SENT at 17:03

“I have come to talk to Tae and apologize, Jungkook,” you finally said, turning to face the guy who was still awkwardly standing at the open door. “Now please shut the door and go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna be here, waiting till he comes. I’ve texted him.”

Jungkook closed the door, very slowly, still looking at you warily. “You aren’t going to break up with him?”

“What? Of course not! I love him!”

He visibly relaxed, even letting a hint of a smile swim onto his face. “That’s good to hear. I thought I’d messed up.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose up in confusion. “Wait a second, you had messed up? How?”

Releasing an immensely loud sigh, Jungkook walked up to sit next to you on the couch. “Uh…” He bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Well, you all know how horrible I am with words, right? It’s half the reason why I don’t talk much. I get too upfront, accidentally, and it gets horribly worse if I’ve deduced a situation wrongly and spoken about it.”

You gave a small chuckle. Jungkook was adorable, at times, looking way younger than his age. Not that you knew his exact age. You were certain he called you noona just because Taehyung was his hyung, and not because he knew your exact age. You could turn out to be younger than him, and he’d give you the same amount of respect and formality. “You just did that to me, a few minutes back.”

Jungkook shut his eyes with a wince. “Exactly. I did something similar this morning, and said stuff that I had no way of knowing facts about. And…” he trailed off again, this time squinting at your...well, boobs.

You immediately straightened. “Yah! What are you looking at?”

Jungkook looked up with rounded eyes. “That’s my hoodie.”

You looked down at yourself and physically cringed. You were the worst girlfriend in the world to not be able to tell the difference between your boyfriend's hoodies and his roommate’s. “Oh, God. Oh no, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Jungkook gave a small, awkward nod. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”

You shook your head at yourself. “It’s been a horrible day, Kook.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with that."

You both sat in silence for a while, and you recalled how you’d imagined you’d get peace and quiet because Jungkook didn’t talk much. You mentally snorted. The guy hadn’t exchanged as many words with you in eight months, as he did today. 

Your eyes fell onto the TV in front of you. You squinted at the animated, white-ish balloon-ish things.

"Is that Soul?" you speculated.

Jungkook's cheeks and ears pinked. "Um, yes."

You lifted the remote and wordlessly unpaused the movie.

Settling on the carpet on the ground next to the coffee table, Jungkook munched on some nuts as you both watched. 

The movie was good – really good and engaging, so much so that you didn't check your phone for over an hour. When it pinged with a message, you suddenly recalled that Taehyung hadn't responded to your text. Sitting up, you grabbed the device to check.

18:23 Munchkin😾 (1 new message) 

You sighed in disappointment. 

Scrolling past your best friend's inquisitive message, you got to your chat with Taehyung. You frowned. The message hadn't been delivered, yet.

"Want some?"

You looked up with a start to find Jungkook's hand holding the bowl of nuts to you, his head still facing the TV. You cleared your throat. "Um, no, I'm good."

He retracted his hand without a word. "You okay, noona?"

You bit your lip. "Taehyung hasn't received my text, yet."

This time Jungkook twisted his neck to look up at you. The odd angle made it difficult to discern what expressions he held, but knowing him, it was probably surprise—his resident facial expressions, next to only occasional grimaces.

"He said he was at Jin oppa's and would come here as soon as I texted him, but…"

Jungkook hummed, turning back. "He is there, yes. We went together, but I left early because Yoongi hyung had to go to his studio. And I don't like to hangout with anybody else in that house."

You snorted at that, sobering the next second. You exhaled. "I think I should call him."

Jungkook gave a simple nod. You stood up with your phone to your ear. But then you stopped, mid-step. Taehyung's phone was switched off.

This was very unlike Taehyung. 

You pursed your lips in concern. He'd sounded fine—if not more than a little low—when you talked on the phone. He didn't sound angry, that is to say. Did something happen in the meanwhile? You wondered what it could be, because as far as you knew, you hadn't done anything wrong other than running off to Namjoon for help. But it had been nearly three hours since your talk, so you couldn't really be certain about Taehyung’s mood anymore.

You were at a loss. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just stay here and wait? 

But what if Taehyung was really mad for some reason and didn't come at all, and you had to stay the night? You were certain he wouldn't appreciate you staying in his dorm with his male roommate alone, overnight. Taehyung was far from an insecure or controlling boyfriend, but put in his shoes, even you would be irked if he were staying over at your dorm with just Wendy around.

You groaned at your chain of thoughts. What were you even thinking? This was so stupid. He would be here any minute, and this would all come to an end. You really wanted to slap your drunk self for putting you into this mess. Or, you realised, you could slap Hoseok for throwing the stupid party with memory wiping liquor, in the first place.

You sat back down on the couch with a thump. You were being unreasonably paranoid.

You took a few deep breaths, looking from your phone to the TV screen, and then at the back of Jungkook's head. "Jungkook?"

He hummed in response.

"I need some advice."

Jungkook turned to look at you, eyes wide in evident alarm. "No. Please no. I'm horrifyingly bad at that."

You clicked your tongue. "Tae's phone is switched off. He never turns his phone off, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked taken aback as well. He probably knew the fact. "Maybe it got discharged?"

You sighed. "Jin oppa's house has plenty of chargers and charging points."

Jungkook looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with his hands as he trained his gaze at your feet. "Um. I… I am not sure what…" he trailed off, biting down on his lip, looking beyond lost. "I don't even know what happened."

You shut your eyes and massaged your forehead with both hands. "What happened is that I got extremely embarrassed about…well, yesterday. Something—something happened which made me too nervous to face Tae. Coming here after so many hours, I thought I was ready to apologise and talk it through, but the longer it's taking him to get there, the more uncertain I'm getting."

You took a breath after you'd poured it all out. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to understand your situation and give advice. But he prompted you to tell him – and it flowed out.

You shut your eyes tighter.

"If—if you think you're not ready," Jungkook suddenly began after a heavy silence of a few extended seconds, "you can step back and take a breather. Take some time to yourself, analyse and then build up the courage. In my experience, saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum." 

His words gave you a pause. Namjoon and Munchkin's words came back to you. Taehyung was your boyfriend—you could talk to him, whenever. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Well maybe because you didn't want the situation to deteriorate further. Jungkook was right. You should rethink your decision of coming clean to Taehyung, lest you create more problems between the two of you by upsetting him.

"Does… does any of that help?" Jungkook hesitantly asked you.

You gave him a big smile "I think it does."

As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the door reached you. Jungkook's head whipped around to look at it.

You breathed in, preparing yourself.

“Why’s your phone turned off, hyung?” Jungkook accosted him at the door.

You saw your boyfriend over Jungkook’s shoulder. He was frowning, and was seemingly yet to notice you. “My phone?” He brushed a hand over his trousers’ pockets, dark, curly bangs brushing his eyelids as his head bent. You bit your lip. He was irresistibly handsome without even trying. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung enunciated, looking up at Jungkook very slowly. “I left it at Jin hyung’s. Did you say it was off?”

Taehyung stepped into the dorm, wide eyes immediately colliding with yours. “Um. Hey,” you squeaked, standing up.

“H—hi,” Taehyung stumbled on his words, eyes roving first on your face and then the rest of you. He momentarily frowned, probably recognizing Jungkook’s hoodie on you, and then met your eyes with a hesitant expression on his face. “How—how long were you waiting?”

You bit your lip. He seemed to be feeling guilty already. You reckoned it would be better to not add onto it. “Not long,” you simply responded.

Taehyung took baby steps towards you, while Jungkook glided around the place, shutting the door, turning the TV off, and then exited to his own room. You looked down at your feet, only looking back up when Taehyung’s own entered your vision. “Angel,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His deep brown eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate. “What happened?”

The simple question made tears prickle the back of your eyes. 

It was always so simple with Taehyung. He was never pretentious, never impatient, never expected the world out of you—and yet you did not share things with him like he deserved. Why did you always have to be so self conscious?

Something must have shown on your face, because the next second had Taehyung frowning and stepping forth to cup your face in both his palms.

“Hey, hey, what is it?” he murmured very softly, swiping his thumbs at your cheeks to wipe off the wetness trickling down your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay, come on,” he soothingly whispered before collecting you in his arms.

You rested your forehead on his collarbones, pulling your lower lip in to grab a hold of your emotions as you wound both your arms around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tae,” you mumbled into his skin.

He inhaled and then exhaled, almost as if in relief. “I love you too, baby. I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head.

Pulling away, Taehyung held you by your upper arms and bent to peer into your eyes. His olive green Cuban collar shirt swayed with his movement, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned chest. Realising how highly inappropriate it was to be thinking lascivious thoughts with tears in your eyes—when your boyfriend was trying to comfort you—you swallowed and focussed back on his eyes. 

“Now, tell me. What happened this morning?” Taehyung questioned you with a boundless softness in his gaze.

You cleared your throat. "Can we – can we move this to your room?"

Taehyung nodded, readily, wrapping his elegant fingers around your elbows to lead the two of you into his room. 

As you settled on the edge of his bed, your eyes caught your top from last night's outfit placed neatly folded at the top of Taehyung's dresser. You pursed your lips.

“So.” Taehyung sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulders into yours.

You licked your lips, gathering courage. “I…this is gonna sound bad, babe, and, um, insulting even, but…” You turned to meet his eyes, desperately searching for any recognition. But you were met with cluelessness, and a subtle hint of apprehension. You sighed. “I — I had too much to drink last night, Tae.”

You felt him stiffen. His eyes gave away nothing. You waited for a couple heartbeats, expecting some indication that he was catching onto what you were trying to imply. Taehyung said nothing, though, and his face remained unmoving.

You looked down at your lap, wringing your fingers together. “I don’t know if I had too much, or if the combination made it so, but… I don’t—” You cleared your throat when your voice broke, chancing a glance at your boyfriend who was still as a statue. “I don’t remember a thing from last night. It’s all…a blur.”

Taehyung seemed to have stopped breathing, too, he’d gone so still. Very anxiously, you lifted your gaze to look at him.

You almost wished you hadn't, though. He looked shattered. Crushing disappointment was all over his face, hitting you like a lead arrow, and he wasn’t even looking at you. 

You felt like running away, your cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. You tried to put yourself in Taehyung’s spot, employing your trusted tactic to discern how someone else must be feeling, but your head was too fuzzy with the unease you felt. You were mortified.

Taking a staggered breath in, you stood up on shaky legs. “I’m — I’m sorry, Tae,” you uttered, unsure if you were heard. “I really wish—”

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I understand,” Taehyung cut you off, suddenly, obviously trying to save face given the tight smile he had pulled up to flash at you beneath his saddened eyes. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, shaking your head very slowly. “No,” you said. “It’s not okay, Tae. I — I wanted to make it memorable, too. Cherish the memories for life, however cliché might that sound. But I… I really blanked out, Tae.”

Taehyung’s brows got a slight crease in them by the time you were finished. But his eyes—those damned pools of love that you’d gotten so used to seeing boundless love in—looked strangely defeated. It almost felt like you’d done more than not remember a night of sex. 

But then you reprimanded yourself by underlining how it wasn’t just any night of sex—it had been the first time you and the love of your life became one. Knowing how sentimental Taehyung was, it had to have hurt him tremendously. This time you were very easily able to put yourself in his place and realise that you’d be pretty pissed if he had no recollection of something precious to you. You took a step away, suddenly overwhelmed by immense guilt. 

“Did nothing come back to you?” Taehyung asked, lips pouted and eyes rounded. “After so many hours, too?”

You shook your head, slowly. “I really tried, baby.”

Taehyung looked unconvinced, taking you by surprise. 

He didn’t, by any means, think that you were lying about it, did he? You wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend’s overthinking brain.

“I think I — I need a break,” you blurted out, watching in horror how any remainder of color left Taehyung’s face. Jungkook’s words came back to you: saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum.

“A break?” Taehyung gawked at you.

You quickly shook your head. “A breather. Space. Some — some time to get over my embarrassment.”

Taehyung looked confused, but you couldn’t bear to wait and extend this conversation. Twisting in place, you rushed out of there, on your way to your own dorm, this time. 

Taehyung sipped on Hoseok’s cheap beer, unseeing gaze stuck on the TV as some football match played on the screen. Next to him, Seokjin and Hoseok sat with their own bottles in hand. They were, decidedly, much more aware of the game than he was. 

“Gah! That was a red card, come on!” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed at the referee.

Seokjin snorted. “This referee is blind.”

“Or sold,” Hoseok grumbled.

Taehyung blinked, unable to focus on the game however hard he stared. Shaking his head, he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.

His soul had almost left his body when you'd said you needed a break. You wanting to be away from him after last night would have been his biggest nightmare come true.

But then you asked for space. To get over your embarrassment.

Why were you embarrassed? He couldn't, for the life of him, decipher that one. Did you really regret last night that bad? Had you changed your mind? Or was it something else altogether?

But what the hell could it even be, then?

Hoseok cleared his throat, drawing Taehyung's attention to the redhead. "You could try out a new painting, Tae. It'd be a nice outlet, and, y'know? They say you create your finest art when you got a heavy heart."

"Pretty sure that's not what they say, Hobi," Seokjin deadpanned.

"Something along those lines, hyung, catch my drift." Hoseok scowled at Seokjin. “Art’s supposed to take your mind off stuff, right?”

Taehyung exhaled, proceeding to chug down the rest of the drink in his bottle. "I can't," he murmured. "Angel is…" He stopped, shut his eyes and exhaled. "She's been my biggest muse ever since I met her, hyung. I can't paint when we're fighting."

Seokjin noisily exhaled, puffing his nostrils up. "Then maybe you could—ah, I don't know, invest in a different sort of art?"

Taehyung frowned at the guy in confusion. Hoseok, though, seemed to have gotten onto something. His head of flaming red hair bobbed erratically. "Yes, yes! Great idea, hyung! You should come with me to the rehearsal hall for some time, Tae. It's been ages since you've been there. It'd be a good distraction, take your mind off all this disappointment and hurt."

Taehyung clicked his tongue. "I'm not disappointed. I'm—I'm just… just hurt."

Seokjin sighed. "You mean you aren't even the slightest bit irked that she used the excuse of missing memory to evade your…well. You know." He gesticulated with a hand around the other. "You are, aren't you?"

"Not really." Taehyung frowned and shook his head. "I mean, well. yes. Of course, I would've preferred if she didn't try to evade it and just talked to me. But maybe she really can't recall anything, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, what's the difference, either way? It all boils down to the fact that she has backed off. And that is what's…" He broke off, taking in a shaky inhale. "What's hurting," he finished on an exhale.

They all went silent for a while. Seokjn hummed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You love dance and you love Hobi’s routines, so… it could be therapeutic to you. But don’t force yourself, we’ll think of something else.” 

Taehyung exhaled, swiping a hand down his face. He really did love Hobi’s routines and it really had been ages since he’d been to the rehearsal hall. “No. No, I want to. I’ll join you tomorrow, Hobi hyung.” He passed the man a half smile, and got a full back. He huffed out a breath. “You guys wanna crack open something stronger than this?” he asked the two older guys, gesturing to his empty beer bottle.

Seokjin raised his hands in surrender. "I've got work, tomorrow."

But Hobi, the resident booze-man, grinned like a cheshire cat.

Your day had been hell, and your night was going to be, too.

After ignoring your calls for an hour, your best friends had texted you back telling you they were too busy to take your calls. They would have known, of course, what you’d talk about and prioritized their personal businesses above it.

You weren’t bitter about it, or anything…

Okay, you were. You were really really bitter.

Because Munchkin was at a party, trying to rope in some guy she’d had her sights on for a while. Needless to say, she was gonna be busy for the night. And Namjoon was working on some project for extra credits for his class tomorrow.

Your relationship being at the verge of splintering was, apparently, less important than a coveted hookup and extra fucking credits.

Your mother had sent you her customary checking in texts asking about your well being, and you'd made a whole hypothetical situation to ask her if temporary amnesia could be cured with some brain exercise.

Did you drink too much at that party you were going to? Are you okay?

You huffed a breath out, irritated but at the same time feeling really loved at your mother's accurate deduction of the situation. You texted her you were okay, she asked about Taehyung's well being, you said he was okay, too, and at the end she suggested you see a doctor if this felt too uneasy.

You thought about it for a while, but then realised a doctor wouldn't take you seriously. 

yeah right, mom! if docs started treating everyone with temporary amnesia on campus, he'd be dealing with nearly the entire student population

The conversation with your mother certainly failed to help in any way. You had no solution at your hands and your mind wasn't taken off it, too.

You stress-ate a pint of choco-chip icecream for dinner and watched reruns of Victorious on your laptop. You cried when Beck and Jade broke up. And then you slept with your laptop still running the show in the background.

You had a fitful night’s sleep, riddled with horrible nightmares switching between you begging Taehyung to tell you what you’d forgotten but him just crying because he was so hurt that you forgot in the first place, and Taehyung never wanting to talk to you again because he thought you were lying about forgetting your special night.

You finally sat up in your bed at close to six am. Having had enough with the mess in your head, you decided to beg your best friends to help you out, one more time.

Seventeen minutes past six of the morning saw you on a conference call with Namjoon and Munchkin.

“I went to bed at four, bitch, have some mercy—”

“And I didn’t sleep at all, I’ve been working on the project the whole night, and—”

“Guys!” you wailed. “Please help me out here! I am at my wit’s end, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I don’t know who else to talk to! I swear if I did, I would not be bothering you two like this!” You exhaled when they’d both quieted down. “Not that you’ve been much help, so far,” you added under your breath.

“I did not sign up for being insulted first thing in the morning!” Munchkin protested. “And Joon, what the hell is up with all your late night working sessions, lately? Don’t you get enough time during the day?”

The comment had you momentarily distracted from your own issue as you furrowed your brows. “Good point. He’s been spending more odd hours than usual at the library, too,” you said, recalling how Jackson had told you about Namjoon’s frequent nightly visits to the library.

“What? I—I do work during the day, guys,” Namjoon jumped to his defense, “but… the work’s a lot, okay? Also, almost the entirety of my Sunday went into comforting Angel. Being an economics major just eats up your time, okay? And—and I really need a couple extra credits—”

“Stop, you’re rambling,” Munchkin interrupted, sounding bored.

“And obviously lying,” you added with a shrug, even though they couldn’t see it.

“What? What? I’m not—”

“Honestly, Joon, nobody has time for your theatrics, okay? If you’re sneaking around with a girl—although I’m willing to bet my nail extensions you’re not—it’s cool. Do whatever,” Munchkin sounded half asleep, but what she said rang true with you, too.

“Absolutely. We won’t pry, and won’t judge.”

“It’s not a girl, guys, come on—”

“Already bet on it.”

“You mean it is something, then?” You squinted.

“Wait, how did this conversation go from Angel’s crisis call to a semi-intervention on me?” Namjoon protested, bringing you back to the ground.

You groaned. “Oh, yes. No, sorry, we don’t have time for diversions, right now. Help me resolve my crisis first.”

Munchkin clicked her tongue. “I still really fail to see what the big deal is? So drinking gave you amnesia like a total weirdo. Yeah, okay, it kinda sucks, but it’s not the end of the world! You two love each other! Move past this! Make new freaking memories, and get over it!”

You bit down on your lip. “I… I would have done that, eventually, but… you guys don’t know what happened last night.”

“Yeah, we do. Sort of. You left thirty seven messages in the groupchat, so we get the gist,” Namjoon reminded you.

“Okay, so you do know. So. Guys, it’s become a big deal because Taehyung has made it into one. His behaviour last night…” and you launched into a retelling of your whole encounter with Taehyung at his dorm.

For the better part of an hour, your dear best friends listened to you go on about how Taehyung seemed heartbroken because of your missing memory, and how you felt he didn’t even fully believe you when you said you didn’t remember anything. You also brought up, time and again, how this one incident was gonna end your relationship. 

“Okay, okay, hold on!” Namjoon finally interrupted your rampage. “This is all rubbish!”

You stuck your bottom lip out, turning to your side in your bed. Wendy had been out the entire night, last night. You wondered what she was up to because she wasn't the type to sleep around or go to parties. Maybe she had a sleepover with some of her girlfriends. You honestly couldn’t strain your mind over this on top of everything else, so you shut your eyes. 

“Firstly, Taehyung isn’t gonna break up with you because he suspects you’re lying about the memory loss. That’s just stupid and unlike him, and I’ve known him longer than you,” Namjoon continued. “Also, I still think the key to this whole issue is communicating. You need to open your mouth and ask the guy what happened last night. Don’t be demotivated by his saddened face, push through.”

“But… you know, Jungkook said to me that sometimes saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum. And I literally said the absolutely worst combination of words I could to Tae, last night! Almost made him think I was trying to break up with him. How shitty—”

“I bet he’s not even thinking about it right now. I bet my hair extensions on it,” Munchkin interrupted with a snort. “He’s probably sleeping off another hangover. Boys always end up drowning the conflicts in their lives in alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes. “As opposed to what you do? And stop betting your extensions on things.”

“But, she’s kinda not wrong, Angel,” Namjoon intervened, “you’re definitely overreacting a bit. Jungkook has hardly ever known what he’s talking about, all through his life. You’re letting his words affect you? All you can do, right now, is have a decent conversation with Tae where you hold his hand, look into his eyes and ask him to tell you what exactly happened last night.” He paused. “The night before, now, I guess, ’cause it’s morning…”

You sighed, opening your eyes to blink at Wendy’s empty bed. “I don’t know, guys… He looks so freaking shattered and disappointed every time I try to talk to him, it just feels like a slap to the face.”

“Ugh, stop thinking so much about everything,” Munchkin groaned. “And if talking to him seems like such a humongous challenge, then talk to someone you know he would have confided in.”

You sat up at that, eyes open wide. “Jin! Jin oppa! Tae shares everything with him, and he even went straight to his place after I left his dorm, too! He would know everything.”

“Now, now,” Namjoon began with a nervous lilt, “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to ask around when you could ask—”

“Shut up, Namjoon, it’s a fantastic fucking idea,” Munchkin cut him off.

“Yes. Yes, it’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, checking the time. “It’s past eight, he would’ve left for the restaurant. I can make it after my Scriptwriting class and catch him during his lunch hour! Thank you, guys, thank you, so much!”

“Great to be of service. Now let me go back to sleep, I’m skipping all my classes today,” Munchkin muttered into the phone.

“For the record, I still don’t think it’s such a great idea—”

“Nobody cares, Namjoon, go back to sleep. You have a boring-as-fuck class in less than two hours.” With that, Munchkin disconnected your three-way call.

You tossed your phone to the side and laid back on your bed. This could actually work out. You could ask Jin to fill you in on what’s been going on in Taehyung’s head, and then go talk to your boyfriend with full preparation.

Noon couldn’t come sooner.

Jin’s face was pretty expressionless when he got into his usual lunch booth and met your eyes instead of his girlfriend’s. He didn’t look surprised, at all. He literally didn’t even blink, just gave you a once over and reached for his bag to fetch his lunch out. That should have been your warning sign, but blinded by your own selfish goal, you missed it.

“Oppa, hello,” you respectfully greeted him, wringing your hands in your lap. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced, but I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming if I told you beforehand. You know why.” You looked down at the table, at Jin’s lunch of some salad and a smoothie. “I—I think you do, at least.”

You waited for Jin to say something, but he simply kept chewing. His eyes looked at you so blankly, he almost seemed to be looking through you. This was nothing like the Jin you knew. Either he was in a really disturbed state of mind, or he was really mad at you for what happened between you and Taehyung. 

You suspected it was the latter.

“Um,” you couldn’t find the right words to say. “I—I tried talking to Tae about this, but he gets really upset and unbelieving and I… I lose courage.” You swallowed. You were losing courage now, too. “So—so, oppa, did he… Taehyung, he… what did he say about last night?” You bit your tongue. “I mean the night before. Hobi—Hobi oppa’s party’s night.” You focussed your gaze at your sweaty hands resting in your lap. “I drank God knows what combination of alcohol, and…and can’t seem to recall the events that followed us leaving the party. Taehyung is really worked up about it all, so…” You looked up to meet Jin’s flat stare. “Will you tell me what happened that night? What—what Taehyung’s been so worried about?”

Jin sipped at his smoothie, smacked his lips, and had just opened his mouth to say something, when a familiar voice rained down on the two of you from the side. “Well, this is fabulous!” 

You jumped, snapping your head to the side to see Jin’s girlfriend standing close to your booth in her waitress outfit, lunchbox in hand and rage on her face.

“So, now you have engagements during lunch, too. Great. Just great.”

“Unnie, I…” You trailed off as the woman silenced you with a sharp glare. Tossing another one at her boyfriend, she twisted on her heels and left the break room. “I… what did I do wrong? She—she did recognize me, right?” you nervously asked the stoic wall sitting before you.

“Taehyung is upset because you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of this fictitious memory loss—that doesn’t happen in real life, mind you—to get out of the promise you made to him while drunk,” Jin told you in a slightly high pitched, obviously enraged, and nearly unrecognisable voce. 

You gaped at him. “I really do not remember, oppa! Why would I want to forget about my first…” You slowly came to a halt as it hit you. “Wait, what did you say? The promise I made to him? What promise?” you rasped, bewildered.

Jin scowled at you. "What first time were you going to speak of? I don’t know about the intimate details of your relationship, and I don't want to, because that isn’t material here.” You ducked your head as your cheeks pinked. “You two drunkards were getting all emotional about loving each other a lot and wanting to stay together forever, so Tae proposed the idea of sealing it with a ring.”

You gasped. “I—a promise ring?”

“Mm hmm,” Jin hummed with pursed lips. “And then, when you got sober and realised you shouldn't have made that commitment in a haste, you ran out on him, instead of telling him straight up. And since then you’ve been confusing him with mixed clues instead of properly talking to him about what you want.” Jin’s jaw was set. “Why can’t you just have a proper talk, huh? Why do you women have to be so mysterious and expectant about things? Use your freaking words, for one damn time in your life! Men can’t get into your head to guess shit! Say it, and maybe we’ll be able to resolve it! Use words to describe what you actually want, and maybe I'd be able to get it done!”

Jin was breathing hard, his eyes were blown wide and a few veins in his forehead looked close to popping. You swallowed, feeling nervous, confused, dumbstruck and a tad bit scared for your life, at the same time. “Uh… you?”

Jin blinked, and the hazy, mad look lifted from his gaze. His lips parted and he sighed very noisily. “No, not I. It’s just… I started to project my personal issues onto you. Sorry about that, kid.” He forwarded a hand to pat your shoulder in apology. “You got what you came here for, though, right?”

“I… yeah, I guess. Although…” I cannot believe that that is what I forgot. No wonder Taehyung looked so downtrodden.

Gosh, you were a fool!

“Thank you so much, oppa!” you announced to Jin, getting up with a new spring to your steps. “I’ll get going, now.”

You bounded out of the restaurant. You literally could not believe what you’d just learned. Smacking a palm against your face, you shook your head at yourself. 

You concentrated, again, this time to recall conversations from last night instead of actions. And surprisingly enough, some of the fog cleared away as you started recalling things…

…you are beyond toasted in this shimmery polyester top and leather shorts you’d worn as your costume. The minute you step into Taehyung’s room, you are scrambling to get out of them.

Your boyfriend chuckles as he locks the door after himself. “You’re more than welcome to take it off, and more, babe.”

Your mind has gotten kind of hazier than you’re used to. But knowing how Tae always makes fun of you for being a lightweight — which you’re really really not, Tae just holds his liquor better than you do — you avoid bringing up your state of mind. You laugh at his teasing remark.

Within seconds, you have thrown off your top and shorts, and are snuggled between Taehyung’s covers. He himself has stripped down to his boxers. You give a lazy smile as your eyes rove his torso. “What happened to wearing pajamas when we cuddled?” you tease, sleepily.

Taehyung gets in bed next to you, rolling over to pull you to his chest. He smirks down at you, complete with his vampire makeup. “Too balmy tonight. And too tired to find pajamas.”

You giggle, burrowing yourself into the warm, soft skin of his chest. You poke a finger into his pectoral muscle.

“Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re muscly, babe. Those oversized clothes hide you well,” you observe, licking your lips as your hands smooth over his chest and stomach.

“And you’re sexy,” he responds in a rasp, eyes stuck on the cleavage exposed by your bra. “Do you usually sleep with this on?” he asks, snapping the strap against your shoulder.

You wince, shaking your head. “It’s too hot to wear a shirt, so…”

Taehyung pulls you in closer, staring deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Despite all the ridiculous makeup, your heart skips a beat at his intense stare. You nod.

His hands slide behind you to unhook your bra. You gasp when the clasp is released. “Relax, baby. It’s just me,” Taehyung whispers to you in a soothing voice. “I won’t even look if you ask me to. You know that, right?”

You do. But you also do. Want him to look, and more. As the garment is pulled away from your body, slowly, Taehyung’s eyes remain stuck to yours. Your own water at the love, admiration and respect you feel for him in the moment. Actually, not just in the moment. Always.

A sob escapes your lips. You rush to wrap yourself in his arms, again. “Baby?” he sounds worried. “What—what happened, sweetheart?”

“I just love you a lot, Tae,” you speak into his skin in a nasally, snot-filled voice. “A lot. You’re my most precious gemstone in the whole world. Never leave me, baby. Never ever.”

Taehyung presses a multitude of kisses to the crown of your head, and you feel wetness seep into your shoulder when he nuzzles your nape. “I love you too, my babylove. And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

“Promise?” you mumble. “This is forever?”

You feel him nod against you. “Forever, baby. I promise.” He pulls away from you, eyes still on your face as he wipes away your tears and the obviously ruined makeup if his own is anything to go by. “Do you want to seal it? With a promise ring?”

You gasp. This is the stuff from teenage romance novels that you’ve always dreamed of. “I… Yes! Yes, Tae, oh my God, yes, yes, please yes!” you happily chant, grabbing both his hands and wringing them around as you roll in the bed.

Taehyung chuckles, calming you down by pulling you in for a kiss. The familiar heavenly feel of his pillowy lips has you quieting down and kissing him back. His palm slowly travels up the curve of your waist to curl around the side of your breast. Your breath hitches.

Taehyung brushes his tongue against your lower lip, and pulls back. “Is this okay?” he asks, giving a slight squeeze.

You almost squeak at the sensation, rapidly nodding your head like a dummy. Smiling, he captures your lips again and massages his palm over the peak of your breast, squeezing when you moan into his mouth. You lose yourself in his taste and touch.

His lips travel lower to your jaw, peppering kisses on their way. You release a sigh of bliss, hands carding through his hair. His teeth scrape over your collarbone, quickly latching onto the skin of your neck. You cannot hold back the whine that leaves you, sensations travelling down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Mine,” he breathes into your skin, sponging kisses over the bite he has just left. “Only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you breathe out, rolling on your back as he presses his face against your sternum.

“You’ve made me the happiest man, bub,” he breathes onto your chest, a finger drawing patterns around your navel as he cuddles into you. “I’ll get you that ring and prove myself to be the best boyfriend, in the world. I’ll love you more than you ever thought was possible.”

Tears trickle down your eyes at his words. “And I’m gonna be the best girlfriend in the world to you, baby. You’re my dream come true. My real life prince charming.”

He doesn't say anything for a while, just hugs you tighter. His lips feathers soft kisses to the tops of your breasts, and a hand plays with imaginary patterns on your stomach. And then you feel his head getting heavier. You want to ask him if he’s sleepy, but you cannot even open your eyes with how heavy they’ve gotten. You breathe out as he holds you closer, and slowly drift into sleep...

Your eyes watered as the scenes played out in your head, everything you’d been unable to recall gradually coming back. You realised you’d been going about it the wrong way, trying to recall your passionate moments, when it had all been an extremely emotional affair.

You bit your lip as you called Taheyung’s cellphone. You were gonna beg for his forgiveness and then kiss him silly. You loved this boy so much, oh God.

The phone was picked up after three rings. “Hi, kiddo!”

You blinked at the unexpected voice and greeting, but then recognised it to be Hobi’s. Oh how you wished you could yell at the guy for making your life miserable by mixing drinks at his damn party. You exhaled, though, and tried to clear your head. “Hobi oppa, hey. Where’s Tae?”

“At the Kappa rehearsal hall with me!” Hobi cheerfully told you. “We’re doing a k-pop routine today. You know how he gets with those, right? He’s been practising this one move that he can’t get right for so long, ugh. Do you need a message conveyed?”

You frowned to yourself. It had been a while since Taehyung visited the rehearsal halls. Was he trying to distract himself from the disaster you’d brewed up for him? Very likely. “No, no, I’m gonna…” You stopped yourself. Maybe an element of surprise would work better. “I’ll call later, when he’s done,” you said, instead, already mapping a way down to the university campus and the rehearsal hall as you hailed a cab.

You received Hobi’s text on your way, stating that they were all leaving for the ice cream parlor opposite the building and that you may contact Taehyung now if you wanted to. You were kind of grateful they’d all left the rehearsal hall. You weren’t sure how you’d call Taehyung aside in an echoing hall with mirrors and Hobi’s dance team. And what would you do if he refused you? You weren’t prepared for that kind of humiliation. An ice cream shop, you could do.

On reaching your destination, you exited the cab, determined. You looked up at the striking capital K embossed in gold atop the Kappa rehearsal hall. Then you turned to look across the street and spotted a quaint, cosy looking ice cream parlour painted in beautiful pastels. You crossed the road with hurried steps.

You took a deep breath in. You were gonna apologise your butt off, and then kiss him in the middle of this very place if you had to. God, you felt so guilty! You were gonna make this right.

As you pushed the door open, the entry bell tolled, alerting the girl behind the cash counter of your presence. As she flashed you a bright smile, you realised she looked familiar. She had a really kind face. Maybe you’d seen her around the campus, maybe she was one of Wendy’s friends. 

You stepped in and returned her greeting with a small smile of your own. Then you looked around to spot Taehyung and Hobi’s group. Hobi caught your eye first, standing out with his fiery red hair.

You walked over. “Hey… everyone,” you greeted the table, awaiting Hobi’s reaction and hoping he’d be kinder than Jin. Although half of Jin’s ire seemed to have come from his personal troubles which you really had known nothing about beforehand. You smiled when Hobi’s surprised eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Oh! Hey, kid!” Hobi greeted you with a huge grin, easing your worries. “You, uh, you came here, whoa!”

You gave a bashful shrug, awkward because you didn’t recognise anyone other than Hobi on the table.

And then you did a double take at the table. You didn’t recognise anyone, indeed! Where was Taehyung?

Hobi noticed your searching eyes. “Oh, Tae went back to the hall, he’d left his phone. He’ll be back in five.”

You exhaled. That wouldn’t do. “I’ll catch him back there, no problem.”

Hobi shrugged his shoulders, without question. “He’d be in hall G.”

Nodding him a quick thanks, you took off, leaving the ice cream shop, and crossed the road back to the rehearsal hall. As you stepped foot onto the linoleum floor of your university's most coveted rehearsal hall, you realized you’d never been here before. Past the revolving gates, you encountered a small reception area where you had to show your college ID to get yourself checked in.

When the man passed your ID back to you over the counter, you made your way down the corridor which was lined by various gates that were numbered alphabetically. These were probably the individual halls. The corridor, you noticed, ran quite long. God, how huge was this place?

On reaching the door marked with a G, you stopped. The door wasn’t fully shut like all the others you’d walked past, right now.

You gave it a slight push, peeking in. Taehyung’s shapely butt greeted you as the guy leant over on the floor, rummaging around for something. Probably his phone. You gaped at the sight for a few extended seconds, before realising how you were being a creep.

You cleared your throat and gave the door a firmer push, opening it wide enough for you to step through. Taehyung’s wide eyes met yours in the mirrored wall he was sat before. You sucked in a sharp breath as his attractiveness smacked you in the face, yet again. Dressed in plain black joggers and a loose fitted t-shirt, he should have had nothing on your white colored high waisted shorts and pale blue button up, and yet he looked like a freaking Greek God, while you...well. You really just looked like a potato trying to play dress-up in front of this guy, swear to God.

He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his eyes following your movements through the mirror as you stepped in. His gaze seemed apprehensive and he really didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak, anytime soon. “Hi,” you whispered through a scratchy throat.

Taehyung’s eyes travelled down your body, making you blush from the inside out as they lingered on your legs. “Hey,” he finally said, audibly exhaling as he sat down, this time, to rummage through some towels and water bottles lying on the floor next to the wall length mirror. “You done with your breather, overnight, then? Can you give me a ring? I can’t find my phone.”

You bit your lip at his caustic tone and taunt. And also at the lack of an address. No babe, no angel? You’d really hurt him. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you quickly said, holding back the flood that was filling up your heart as you fished your phone out from your pocket.

The buzz of a cellphone’s vibration filled up around you. Taehyung bounced back to his feet, attentively kicking off a soaked towel, and there, on the floor, you saw his phone. You disconnected the call as he picked the device up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, breaking your heart with the formality and the repetitive lack of address.

He walked up to you on careful steps, eyes scanning your face as if accessing something. You breathed in. “Tae, can we talk?”

His eyebrows did a thing where one of them rose and the other lowered, very slightly. You nearly creamed your panties. “Depends,” he gruffly said, looking away to inspect his phone. “Are you gonna run off in the middle of it, again?”

You winced, ducking your head in shame. “No. No, absolutely not. Never again, I promise,” you mumbled. You looked up and caught a brief glimpse of his shattered expressions before he pulled on his mask of indifference mingled with slight bother. You felt like shit. “I’m so so so sorry, baby,” you said without any ado. “I acted like a complete idiot and—and really hurt you.”

Taehyug’s whole body seemed to deflate. With his lips pursed and eyes shut, he shook his head. “That you did, babe. That you did.”

You clamped your lower lip between your teeth. “Forgive me? Please?” you breathed out in a really desperate voice, ready to beg on your knees if you had to.

Taehyung opened his eyes with a tired sounding, noisy exhale. “It’s… well, of course, I’ll forgive you, Angel. You’re the love of my life,” he said with a small smile while his eyes still emanated immense sadness. He looked so heartbroken and lost that you just wanted to give him a tight hug. “But, baby. Why? Why did you go through all this trouble of faking memory loss? You ran out on me twice within twelve hours, you know. It hurt like a bitch that you couldn’t just talk to me about wanting to back out. I would’ve understood, baby. You were drunk and emotional, and I—”

You gasped when it hit you. Faking memory loss? Wanting to back out? Oh no. “Tae!” you interrupted him, stepping forth to put both your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to splay them and push them into his toned flesh. “You’ve still got it wrong. I didn’t fake any memory loss, baby. I genuinely did not remember. I promise. I didn’t lie.”

Taehyung frowned, looking confused. “What? But…why did you leave like that in the morning, then?” he asked in a soft voice, looking vulnerable as his hands came up to loop around your wrists.

Your skin as well as your heart warmed at his familiar touch, and this time you did splay your fingers out a bit on his pectorals. “I…” You felt your cheeks and ears heating up when you realized you’d have to actually tell him what you’d assumed you’d forgotten. “Um, Tae, we—uh, we were nearly naked when we woke up, you remember?”

Despite the situation, a corner of his lips ticked up and his hands left your wrists to wrap around your waist. “Uh huh, vividly. What of it?”

You felt the heat climb down your ears, to your neck. You looked down at his beautiful collarbones to avoid the intensity his eyes suddenly shone with. “Well, it — it made me think that maybe, you know… stuff might have happened between us. Um, you know…?”

When you felt his hold slacken, you looked up to find Taehyung gaping at you with his jaw dropped really far down and eyes as round as golf balls. “You thought we had sex?” he squeaked, face contorting in horror. “No…you thought you forgot that we had sex,” he corrected himself, horror growing on his face as you pursed your lips in silent acquiescence.

“I felt horribly embarrassed,” you quietly confessed, making his grip on you tighten again. “Our first sexual encounter was — well, is going to be something I remember and cherish for the rest of my life. I hated myself for blanking out on it.”

“But you could’ve asked me!” he desperately said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Yeah, about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I kinda did, but somebody just gave me suggestive glances and confuddling freaking words that concreted my doubt of us having had sex!”

Taehyung grimaced. “Yeah, I was tryna tease, but it came back to bite me in the butt.”

You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle, sliding your palms past his shoulders to grip his neck.

“As it stands, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at you with parted lips and big, innocent eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that.”

You looked in his now regretful eyes with love bubbling in your chest. “How could you ever think I would wanna back out, baby?” you whispered, leaning in close enough to taste his favorite strawberry milkshake on his breath. “You really are my most precious gemstone in the whole world, Tae,” you relayed your words from that night, making his eyes widen. “My dream come true. My real life prince charm—”

With a growl Taehyung captured your lips in his. You melted in his embrace, nails digging into the back of his neck as you drank your fill of him. Your lips moved in sync, the most natural rhythm in the world to you. You had missed this, missed him so much, in just a day. You really couldn’t live without this boy. He was your whole world.

His tongue swiped past the seams of your lips to delve deeper, and you allowed him entry with a deep moan, going lax in his arms as he plundered your mouth. You felt him move you around, and then a cold surface was pressing into your back. Taehyung sidled up to you, his planes molding smoothly into your curves. You sighed into his mouth, tasting him to the fullest as you ran your own tongue over the ridge of his upper teeth. His chest vibrated with a groan, making you shiver.

You closed your teeth around his lower lip and sucked, making him gasp and push against you harder. His own teeth scraped against your upper lip. Goosebumps spread all over your body.

His arms left your waist to pull at your own, slowly travelling down your shoulders, to encircle your wrists and pin them next to your head. He pulled away with a heaving chest, and you gasped in a large breath. Your eyes fluttered open.

He looked good enough to eat with his eyes shuttered, dark hair brushing his miles long lashes, and lips cherry red with your kisses. “I love you so so much, my babylove,” he whispered, strawberry scented breath washing over your face.

You inhaled his essence. Your eyes watered at the love reflected in his own. “I love you, too, Tae. I love you forever.”

Pinned between him and, you could now tell, the mirror, your heartbeat quickened when he licked his lips. Without another word, he leant down to sponge open mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Tae,” you breathed out, “we’re in...publi—ah!” you broke on a gasp when he licked a strip up to your jaw.

Your eyelashes fluttered as he came back up to look into your eyes with his own darkened in lust. “You didn’t cover the marks, did you?”

Your breathing almost stopped at his deep octave. Nearly trembling in his grasp, you shook your head. “I w—w—wore a shirt to… hide ’em,” you managed to breath out, going insane under his heated stare.

He let go of your arms to unbutton the collar of your shirt. You looped your fingers through the waistband of his joggers, chewing on your lower lip when he undid another button. And another. And then another. “You look really fucking sexy today, by the way,” he grumbled into your neck, leaning in to lave his tongue over the deep purple marks he’d left there. “Love the shorts.”

You bit back a whimper when his teeth scraped against the flesh just beneath your collarbone. 

“I happen to remember another mark,” he spoke into your skin, nose dragging down your sternum and sinking into your cleavage. One of his fingers came up to drag against the top seam of your bra. In a swift motion, he scooped the cup down to free your right boob. One of his fingers came up to encircle your nipple, making it peak immediately. Humming in satisfaction, he moved the shapely digit up to rub against the mark you remembered he’d left there. “Would you look at that.” His voice was now a growl, hot breath warming the skin of your breast as he spoke. “My baby looks so pretty.”

That was your last warning before Taehyung was engulfing your peak into his mouth. You stopped breathing. Frozen in place, your thighs tingling at the sensation and your core clenching in anticipation, a breathless heave left you when his tongue flicked against the pebbled nipple. You desperately clutched onto him for dear life, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt at the waist and the other coming up to grip a tuft of his hair. “Tae...hyung,” you whined, eyes screwed shut as he sucked hard.

He let go of your boob with a pop, only to tease his mark with kitten licks. You were gonna die. 

One of his hands glided over one of your thighs, hooking under your knee to lift your leg up and slot himself further into you. Your eyes flew open when you felt the stiffness between his legs. He felt hard. And he felt huge. Gulping, you tugged at his hair to pull him away. He separated from you with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly as if to focus on your face as he breathed through his wet, rosy, parted lips.

Sexy fucking beast.

As you looked into his crazed eyes, he pressed harder against you, pushing his length against the crotch of your shorts. You whimpered, your fists tightening on him when the zipper of your shorts bumped into your clit. Taehyung’s eyes lit up with interest. He repeated the motion. You threw your head back, giving up when he picked up pace, rubbing against you with his own breathing laboured.

Sweat beaded your forehead, and his hand came up to support the back of your neck, palm of the other still holding up your leg to provide him with the required leverage. You let out a guttural moan when he leant in to lick at your nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Tae…” you sighed, attempting to collect some semblance of your sanity, but failing.

Taehyung sped up, almost rutting against you, and you rolled your hips against his to match the pace. His mouth latched onto your neck, shooting off sparks down to your core and fueling the fire bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to combust. “My baby,” he grumbled into your ear, scraping his teeth against the flesh behind it. Your entire body shuddered. “Only mine,” he growled again.

You nodded blindly, gasping when he bit down on your flesh. His hand suddenly left your neck to brush down your front, tweaking your nipple, and settled onto the waistband of your shorts. His eyes met yours through the haze of lust you two were choking on, and you gave him a nod of consent. He deftly unbuttoned the garment, hips not ceasing for a moment as his fingers glided down your abdomen. 

The first contact his fingers made with your clit was explosive. Your back arched off the wall, mouth falling open on a silent scream. He nudged against your bundle of nerves twice, before moving down your wetness to sink two of his gorgeously slender fingers into you. You had been flooding your panties since the moment your eyes met. Both his fingers slid right in. His hips stuttered to a halt, lips falling open on a gasp. Your hand left his head to clutch at his shoulder, pulling him in further when he let go of your knee.

“You are soaking, baby,” he breathed, awe and surprise spilling off his throaty timbre. His fingers curved in you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that had taken you months to locate properly. He did it in under five seconds, and now he was playing you like a violin. You were gonna die!!! Your eyes fell shut again. His fingers were merciless, massaging your insides and pushing against your warmth. “Yes, you like that? Do you like that baby, hm?”

You managed a broken nod, gasps layering on one on top of the other. “T—Tae…Tae…”

“Come on, my love. Let go,” he whispered, swiping his tongue over your trembling lips before latching onto them.

A stroke of thumb against your clit, and you fell apart with a vibrating groan into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach suddenly expanded into a tsunami of sensations that travelled down to every single nerve ending in your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as waves over waves of blinding, white pleasure crashed into you. Your legs jittered beneath you, spasming beyond your control.

It took you longer than a few seconds to come back to the land of living. You were not used to this.

You opened your eyes excruciatingly slow, as if waking up from unconsciousness. But when you did, Taehyung had already extracted his hand back from you, righted your bra, buttoned up both of your garments, and was now licking your wetness off his fingers with his eyes shut. The sight made you thump back against the wall, jolting his hand that was holding onto your waist and making him open his eyes in surprise.

You looked at him from under your lashes, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “What…” you panted, “the hell…”

Taehyung had a starved look in his eyes when he met yours that, despite just having had the best orgasm of your entire life, made you wanna throw him on his back and ride him to the high heavens. “I take it you liked that,” he murmured, cradling your waist in his arms.

“Liked it? Are you insane?” you scoffed. “Taehyung, I…” you heaved a breath out, picking up your leaden arms to rest against his shoulders. “I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable and at the same time protected.

Taehyung, contrary to your expectations, gave you a sincere smile instead of the smirk you’d envisioned. “Makes me the happiest man. I love you so much, you know?”

You giggled, pulling your lips in. “I love you, too, you insanely insanely sexy man,” you teased, making him scrunch up his nose in embarrassment. Something poked your thigh when you shuffled closer to him, and you gasped. “Babe, what about you… your… um.” Your wide eyes pointed down at his nearly fully erect member. 

Taehyung gave a laugh. “Well, we can always go back to the dorms and take care of it together,” he suggested, making your cheeks flame up and your battered pussy reignite in excitement. “I was dry humping you like a thirteen-year-old. Couldn’t let our first sexual encounter be about that.”

“You were lucid enough to think about all that?” you asked him, genuinely curious.

“No, that was a lie.” Taehyung gave you a bashful shake of head. “I was a goner, babe. I just…” His tongue came out to lick at his lower lip. “I just had this sudden urge to feel you. Couldn’t control it.”

You shakily exhaled. “Your fingers are amazing. No, you are amazing,” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. You suddenly pulled back with your eyes wide. You looked around the hall, frenetically. “Wait, this place doesn’t have cameras, does it?”

Taehyung laughed with his lips pursed. “Of course not, darling. Who do you think I am?”

“A really sexy guy who missed his girlfriend?” you teased again, and this time, he kissed you in retaliation.

Pulling away, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Wait,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for something.

You had a guess what it could be. 

Pulling out a plastic case that obviously housed a ring, Taehyung sucked in his lower lip as he looked at you. Pinning you against the mirror, he popped the box open between your faces. Your eyes left his to look at the ring — a simple, silver band with a dainty knot embossed on it. Your eyes watered.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled through a clogged throat.

“My angel, my other half, the love of my life,” Taehyung whispered, paying no heed to the tear that travelled down his cheek, “do you promise to be mine forever?”

You sobbed. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you nodded, frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I promise to be yours forever.”

He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Sobs wracked the two of you as you hopped into his arms, tucking your legs around his waist when he lifted you off the floor. “I love you so much, oh baby,” he sobbed into your neck.

“I love you, too, my love, I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, after crying for a while, admiring how cute the ring looked on your hand, ensuring that Taehyung wasn’t even the slightest bit hard, and nearly leaving his phone behind again, the two of you exited rehearsal hall with your entwined hands swinging between you. 

“So,” Taehyung suddenly commented, a sly smirk on his face. “Bet you can’t get amnesia about coming for me in Hobi hyung’s rehearsal hall, huh? Even if you tried? Mission accomplished!” 

You gasped, raining down smacks on him right there, on the side of the road. He was gonna tease you about your wrong interpretation of that night, forever, it seemed.

“Hey, I was kidding!” Taehyung exclaimed, sheltering himself with his arms. “Let’s go ask hyung what he mixed with the vodka that gave you amnesia in the first place!” 

You stopped with your attack. That seemed like a great idea. You were dying to ask the man that, yourself. “Let’s.”

As you two walked back to the ice cream shop, your ring glinted, reflecting sunlight. You looked at Taehyung who was grinning to himself. 

You were the happiest, today, that you had ever been in your life.

note: angst by the virtue of miscommunication is my fav sort of angst to write. in the original draft, this story was to end when OC got back to Tae's dorm to sort things out, but then my mind said naAAHHH. mORE ANGST!!! lmao, anyways. thank you for reading! jin's story should be up next, if all goes according to plan. wait around~ 😘💕

© bangtae-sohotddaeng | 2021

[descendantofthesparrow]

Protective P2 - Harry Hook x reader - commission work

(gif by Val on twitter) 

Protective p1 (OG version, bad writing made in early 2019)

Protective p1 (V2 REWRITTEN VER made in October 2020)

commissioned by @thebookbakery

=

You stared wide-eyed at the letter held in your eyes; sent, written, and signed by King Ben himself.

Dear Mr. Harry Hook and Ms. (y/n) of the isle. His Royal Majesty, King Ben of Auradon, and his Councilor Ms. Evie of the Isle, hereby request the pleasure of your company, for the upcoming academic year at Auradon prep. Please notify his Majesty’s couriers of your response to this request.

-we’d love to have you three with us here in Auradon, you and your child deserve a better life, will you come? If you accept you will be picked up one week from your response date and will live in the dorms until graduation. - King Ben

It had been around two months since the whole ‘kidnapping ben for the wand’ situation, and Ben had not been able to get you, Harry, and your baby off his mind. And before anybody else could stop him; he made the arrangements for the three of you to live in Auradon, and sent the very invitation you were holding now.

You stood from the barrel you were sitting on and walked into your shared room with Harry, holding up the letter as he looked up from feeding Arella. “what’s up-“ he paused as you turned the letter around and let him read it. His eyes went wide “holy shit, is-is that fer real?!” he stood, gently moving Arella into your arms and taking the latter, reading it over and over again “holy shit it's real-we-i-you…” he looked back up at you, reaching out for your free hand and intertwined your fingers “should we do this?”

You thought about it for a moment, then looked down at Arella, smiling as she played with your jacket straps “yes…yes we should” you smiled up at Harry, who seemed unsure of this decision but he would follow you into oblivion.

“Okay, I trust yeh” he mumbled, kissing your lips and then Arella’s head.

-

Only a week later, you and Harry were packing the last of your things up to leave for Auradon, Gil had been invited as well, already at the other end of the tunnel to wait for the limo with Dizzy; who had also been invited.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and picked Arella up off his bed, cradling her carefully in his arms and leading the way out of his room and onto the main deck, where the rest of the crew were waiting.

They all said their goodbyes, Desiree and Drey cooing at Arella and Harry let crew say their personal goodbyes to her. Bonnie squeezing you tightly as you patted her head “stay safe you two” Jonas mumbled, patting Harry’s shoulder as he took Arella from him “and take care of the pirate princess” you and Harry nodded, the crew waving goodbye as you walked off the docks through the tunnel.

You stood with Gil and Dizzy a few moments later, waiting anxiously for the arriving Limo. And behold a minute later it pulled up, the driver stepping out and unlocking the back, helping the four of you load up. Harry took all your bags and stuffed them in the trunk, Dizzy sliding into the car first and taking Arella for you to get in easier.

Harry and Gil soon got in and Harry slid next to you, wrapping one arm around you and the other on Arella, rubbing his thumb on her chest as her tiny little hand curled around his forefinger hanging from your shoulder. “we ready?” Harry whispered, leaning in close to you. You nodded with a nervous smile and Harry kissed your cheek “let’s do this”

-

Two hours later the limo pulled up to Auradon prep, where Ben, Evie, Carlos, Jay, and Ben’s mother all stood ready to welcome the four of you. Dizzy bolted out first as soon as the door open and leaped into Evie’s arms, the two squealing with each other in excitement at Dizzy finally being in Auradon.

You weren’t surprised Mal wasn’t there, she didn’t trust or like Harry or Gil at all and probably felt betrayed by you for siding with Uma after she left.

Ben stepped forward as you, Harry, and Gil climbed out of the car, holding a sleeping Arella in your arms. Evie and Belle immediately went soft at the sight of her but kept their composer as Ben stepped forward with a smile “Welcome to Auradon: Ben said happily, clapping his hands together “first I want to apologize it took so long, and second; thank you for accepting my invitation. I know it was hard to make that choice in both trusting me and leaving behind the isle and your family” you knew he meant the crew “but I promise they will soon follow and now;” he gestured back to the dorm building “let’s get you all set up.” You nodded, letting Evie step closer and coo over Arella.

“oh she’s so cute~” Evie giggled, pressing her fingers into Arella’s (not as pudgy as it should be) cheek softly, your baby girl gurgled and pushed Evie’s hand away, Evie laughing quietly at it “oh I love her already…(y/n)?” you hummed, not looking at her as you followed Ben through the halls of the building “im sorry I left you”

You looked into her eyes, softening a bit as you could only see sincerity in her eyes. “i-“ you started, lifting Arella in your arms a bit, her head cradled in your arm. “i-…don’t forgive you, not just yet but” you smiled at her as her face fell but rose in hope at the ‘but’ “we can start with being friends again?” Evie beamed and nodded, looking over at Jay and Carlos who were letting Evie talk to you first before they tried “and them too, I can tell they want to apologize…Mal thought” Evie winced at that, yeah; Mal would probably take a long time to come around. She had even cussed (y/n) out at the hideout after Evie the boys told her about (y/n)s relationship with Harry and her position on the crew.

‘she betrayed us as soon as we left! We can't trust her! Or Harry! they might lead Uma right into Auradon to destroy it!’

To say the least, Evie and the boys distanced themselves from Mal; after seeing her very narrow tunnel vision, they didn’t want to hear her bitch about (y/n) and Harry’s arrival at Auradon.

Evie hoped she would come around soon though; she missed the days of the five of them running around causing chaos. But reminiscing about the wicked old days could be saved for later, as Ben had led the group to one of the dorm rooms.

“Harry, (y/n)?” Ben called, Harry humming and looking up from Arella as he made faces at her “this will be your dorm room” Harry looked surprised at that, he had expected the dorms to separate them but-

Ben opened the door to reveal a large room, two full-sized beds by the windows (that could be easily pushed together), a crib, a newly installed mini kitchen with a working stovetop, a large dresser (two actually) flowing with baby blankets, baby clothes (designed by Evie), toys, baby food, diapers, wipes, anything a young parent could ask for.

“guys” your voice cracked as you walked into the room, Arella already reaching for the teal octopus plush sitting in her new crib “this is-i-holy shit!” Harry walked up behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders as he looked around the room with watery eyes.

“I don’ know wha’ ta say” Harry croaked out, turning back to Ben; who just smiled.

“a thank you would be nice” Ben joked then waved it off “we’ll let you settle in, Gil, Dizzy?” the two turned to Ben, who waved them out of the room “I’ll show you to your rooms” Gil gave you and Harry a hug and kissed Arella’s forehead, running out of the room after Ben and the others as he closed the door.

“we’re actually here” you breathed out after a moment of silence, slowly spinning around the room. “actually in Auradon”

“aye,” Harry muttered, noticing your bags had already been brought into the room “kinda weird we’re not ‘ere ta destroy it” you chuckled, handing Arella to him and checking over her new items, Harry cooing at her and lifting her into the air, her adorable baby babble echoing around the room.

A few hours later, everything had been unpacked and set up, Arella was dressed in one of her new outfits, of course, designed by Evie; a tiny red jacket that copied Harrys iconic one, black shorts, booties, and a white t-shirt with a spray paint hook on the front. “hi darling” Harry cooed, kissing his daughters cheek multiple times as she giggled “ah yeh look so badass~”

You laughed at his adorable behavior with your kid and walked over to him, slipping on one of your new jackets from Evie and kissing his cheek “and you are so cute” Harry flushed but accepted the compliment, bringing Arella to his chest and enveloping her in his arms as you grabbed Arella’s dinner. “come on, Ben said we were going out for dinner tonight” Harry hummed, grabbing a baby sling and putting it on, then slipping Arella inside.

-

You sighed, setting down your book bag next to the door and closing it with your foot. You appreciated the fact that FG gave you and Harry only four classes a day (and switched the two of you off so Harry took care of her in the afternoon while you took the morning shift) so you could attend to Arella more often than not but that didn’t prevent you from being exhausted from them.

You looked up and cooed, Harry was on your now connected beds, asleep with Arella sleeping on his chest, his arms curled around her safely. you quickly took a picture with your phone and sent it to Evie, who immediately sent back several heart-eye emojis.

You put your phone on the table and walked over to the bed, carefully climbing on and resting your chin on Harry’s shoulder, reaching up and caressing Arella’s soft cheek. Harry grumbled as he felt you and took one of his arms off of Arella and wrapped it around you, pulling you even further into his side “afternoon my love” you mumbled, leaning up and kissing his cheek “how’d she do?”

“ ‘ad a lil’ tantrum afta’ yeh left, missed ‘er mommy but” he yawned in the middle of his sentence and pushed his cheek onto your head “she did good, fell asleep ‘bout n’ ‘our ‘go”

You hummed and rubbed your thumb on Arella’s chest, she hadn’t even moved in the few minutes you had been on the bed “that��s good, did she eat her lunch?” Harry sleepily nodded and was already falling asleep again, following Arella’s lead.

You stared at the two loves of your life, and you thanked whatever gods that had intervened in your life to let you meet Harry almost two years ago and saved you from meeting a bad end with the Gaston twins. And then you had fallen for him and fallen for him hard. And you didn’t regret going behind your friend's backs to be with him; not if it resulted in the greatest thing you had ever made, that was sleeping on his chest.

-end-

so this was a commissioned 2nd part to one of my very first stories i posted on here back in 2019, that was rewritten in late 2020 and i never planned to continue it, but i was commissioned to do so and im happy with how it turned out~!!!! :3

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[whyarewecalledtheshipname]

i don't really know how to articulate what i want to talk about in this post

Which is the weird feeling i have , about "kh4". I have no real basis, for this feeling, it's literally just, a guess, not a hunch. Just. An opinion, basically.

That, i always get. When i hear this line of thought of like. That kh4, will, resolve some major plot point. That like, the next major arc will all come to a head, in that game. Bc if it did, i feel like. It'd feel rushed. Maybe that's what all the mobile games are for, but . Still.

And i, that's why it feels so weird, odd, to me that the next "main/major" kh game coming out is kingdom hearts 4. Like. Idk? Like i said, idk what exactly im tryna say. So if im just repeating myself, then.

Idk, it just felt to me (whatever that means) that, the next game focusing on either sora and/or riku, would be more of an in-between game? A set-up game? A foreshadowing game? Maybe I'm just too , im probably definitely tunnel-visioning, and framing my thoughts like CoM too much? Lol bc , obsessed. But.

I, basically. Like, Kh4. Does not have to be defined by its "number status". I guess. Given the "side games" can also be main installments that follow and progress the main storyline. Maybe it could be the other way around as well. Where, if com and ddd can be direct direct sequels to numbered titles, then numbered games could also serve to set up future major plot points without resolving them in the same game. If that makes any sense.

I guess now that ive typed shit out, what im trying to say is that i am reminded of this sometimes whenever i see, like i said, whenever i see/hear kh4 being talked about as a game that will resolve a major plot point regarding the main story aka sora and riku's story.

I would imagine the "best" way to continue from 3, is to focus on sora (which, going by the one trailer, seems to be what would be the case). But a good example of what i mean regarding the issue of "resolving" sora and riku's stories, would be to have two separate segments. I don't necessarily mean within the same game, tho it could, ig, depending on whatever length/depth the devs want to go for. Point is, shared game or not, I personally feel like sora and riku both need a dedicated, route. For people to go through.

I dont mean like, sora and riku both need a set-up game/segment each, and then a separate game would resolve what would eventually be their (shared) plotline. If anything, i feel like it could work out if we played through sora's stuff in 4, and then riku's route (again, whether it's within the same game or in a separate one) could serve as the resolution game.

Im not making sense but, i just wanted to overthink and overexplain about the feeling i have. Regarding "everything will climax in kh4!" I just dont feel like it should, ig is what im saying.

And again, im not saying that "bc kh4 is a numbered game, the current arc will be forced to resolve in that game". I like seriously doubt that would be the case. Bc, duh, the last arc just ended in 3. And i also know the phrasing of "x plot point will be addressed and resolved in 4" is literally just the best/only framework we have right now. We cant rly predict what game will come out when, and what would happen in each one. But if we treat this phrase literally for just a moment—

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV Quick Rundown - 17 - Valentine's Day

Hello! A bulletpoint list of just the lore, facts and interesting quotes for episodes of the podcast, the live shows and the novels, for quick catch up!

Trust everyone. Welcome to Night Vale.

This episode revolves around Cecil reporting the aftermath of Valentine's Day, which is less of a holiday and more an awful metaphysical event where things associated with the holiday are used to hurt, maim and murder people as well as destroy buildings.

There used to be a 'Marshall's Gorge and Golden Dune' housing development. Coyote Corners and Cactus Bloom are heavily damaged.

The Randy Newman Memorial Night Vale Airport is something that exists. It's changing it's schedule due to the fact that they just learnt about the atmosphere and sun. Flights will be delayed, or happen in the past. 'All arriving flights have been cancelled except those from JFK, LAX, and XTA which will continue on the usual routine of unscheduled arrivals that are a complete surprise to both the pilots and air traffic control, based on routes that appear to violate the simple laws of physics and geography. '

Martin McCaffery is the local TSA representative.

Security measures at the airport include the usual, as well as crawling through a lengthy pitch black tunnel while a recording of a monotone male voice lists possible ways of dying. Many people are also concerned with privacy issues involving the voice of a small child that comes through strategically placed ceiling grates, asking them to name every person they have ever kissed.

Martin then draws a quick sketch of a strange elongated dark figure crawling out of a kitchen refrigerator, after which he immediately insisted that he had no memory of creating the picture and no idea what it could mean.

The City Council is trying to make 'dance' the new official town language. Opponents say it is discriminatory towards the physically handicapped, plus less than 10% of the towns population has ever taken a lesson let alone masters dance. An anon insider says that the bill is funded by lobbyists from 'Cheryl's Little Princesses Dance Studio'. 'Then the anonymous insider's pupils grew until they eclipsed the whites, their tongue slid out from their knife-gash of a grin, and their hair would not stop graying and growing.'

There is a 'corrections' section in this episode which corrects things said in a episode of Cecil's show which we were not privy to. Personally, I think that's hilarious.

The previously mentioned (like, waaaay previously) Valentine's Day art installation at the mall is cancelled due to the whole place being flooded with poisonous gas.

Pamela Winchell is still speaking out against Hiram McDaniel's interest in becoming mayor.

The post office is finally back open. The clerks have been replaced by strange cloth wrapped figures who hum tunelessly and turn in place, these same figures are also everywhere in the post office. People who enter become dizzy and nauseous and have visions of strange jagged peaks and a churning black ocean. Also, stamps now cost two cents more.

Most delivery companies refuse to enter NV because "it is cursed" but at least Amazon still delivers. As their slogan says: Amazon.com. The only website now. Where did the rest of them go? Do not ask. Do not ask.

Weather: "Neptune's Jewels" by Mystic. thatgirlmystic.com

Stay tuned next for me saying “Good night, Night Vale. Good night.” and then he says it lol

[buckyjamess-archive]

𝓼𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷 | 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter nine • so we're nearing the end, just a couple chapters left :') • tag yourself or send me an ask • wordcount: 2.1k • warnings: violence, mentions of blood and all that, angst.

summary

once a test subject and once a weapon, you, better known as seventeen live a peaceful life in the shadows of society until an old friend drags you into the world you so desperately want to leave behind but at least you're not the only weapon.

masterlist - previous - next

"this is it– god, it's been so long." Whispering the last few words, Jill halts in front of the familiar, big and heavy metal door that's slightly a jar. 

Wrapping her hands around it the best she can, a groan leaves her lips- thinking back to the times she got in, did it get heavier? Jill looks up to a vibranium arm above her head, one that unlike hers, janks open the door with a force that's got her stumbling back a few steps.

"Okay, we get it." Jill huffs "you want to see your girlfriend but we need to take it easy. We're not alone." 

Bucky, having had a tunnel vision since arriving in cold Russia, huffs, barely paying attention to either jill or Sam- not afraid to end someone's life that in-between him and finding his girl. 

"Buck, man, we don't even know how y/n is– she might even try to kill us." 

"She won't." Bucky hisses back "you don't know her!" 

Sam raises his hands up in defeat and slowly nods "okay man, didn't mean to piss you off." 

A small fist hits against his back hard, it doesn't hurt, doesn't sting but it makes bucky turn his head around, meet with the annoyed and angry features on Jill's face.

"You need to fucking stop," she hisses through gritted teeth "yeah, you know y/n but you know jack shit about seventeen– she might've told you a thing or two but she doesn't remember shit herself. So unless you want to die, you better watch it."

Taken aback, Bucky and Sam share a look of surprise and watch the short redhead duck underneath Bucky's arm and into the big open area behind the door. 

It's big, bigger than bucky expected the place to be. Big but set up small; a cryostasis chamber installed in the dead center, one he remembers all too well. A chair bolted to the concrete floor, straps on each armrest and each leg. A desk filled with files and a computer not too far away from that. Surgical cart with little filled and empty bottles, unused and used syringes and a pair of plastic gloves. Apart from the big fan blowing air into the space, it's dead silent- empty.

Walking further into the space, he can only imagine how much pain and sorrow it all had and still brings you. Strapped to that chair or frozen in that chamber with seventeen etched into it. His eyes land on the file on top of all others 

'Project seventeen' 

Turning the file, he's met with pages of unreadable handwriting, scribbled nonsense he can't make out. Russian, English all combined. Signed off with names he heard before once or twice and he wonders if you had worked with the same hydra soldier as himself. He closes it again, eyes falling upon the small picture taped to the computer screen- you but younger, way younger. A shiver running down his spine at the realization it's a school picture; were you really here that long? Taken to this place as a teen? 

"Oh my god-" Jill's voice bouncing off the walls catches the attention of both men "they were going to kill her." 

With one of the bottles between her thumb and finger, she shakes the see through liquid around "this shit is like– stuff puts you in fucking misery, hurts like hell; it's fast but," 

"Why would they do that?" Sam asks confused

"I don't know– I've never seen this either." Picking up another bottle and inspecting it thoroughly, Jill looks back up at bucky "they usually use this stuff for soldiers who didn't pass the test, let's hope she isn't fighting the serum." 

"Wouldn't that be easier for us?" Sam quips again 

"Yeah, also means y/n will remember everything she's doing and is going to do right now..in detail." Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, eyes glued onto the woman "that's what causes all her nightmares." 

The conversation ends abruptly when the sound of heavy boots come running down the corridor outside the room; a man fully dressed in a camouflage uniform and hat on his head slips in, hand holding up his other arm, a stream of blood dripping down the side of his face and horror written all over his face. He quickly runs up to the group and slides down behind the desk before casting his eyes to Jill. 

"Jill?" 

"Dad?" 

The two stare at each other in disbelief leaving both Sam and bucky speechless and confused 

"What are you– stupid question, you're here for your so called friend." The man chuckles and looks up at the two men "how cute, you brought some friends." 

"Man, she should've ended your life when she had you." 

"She will," the man breathes out "I've created a monster." 

Without a warning, bucky and Jill get dragged away from their spot; Sam's hand wrapped around two arms as he pulls them behind the chamber- bucky sees the Jill & seventeen etched into the metal, surrounded by flowers and hearts and for the first time it hit bucky; Jill really was the only constant in your life even when you were brainwashed 

It's silent again, dead silent, a needle could be heard upon dropping. Leaning aside a bit, curious, bucky his stomach sinks, a heavy brick landed straight on to his chest; it's you, dressed in that same suit, same hair and everything you were on that cctv footage but there's a dark red spot coming through the fabric on your left side, blood dripping down your arm right into the floor and from where he stands he can see the purple bruise around your eye and jaw. Brows knitted in concentration. He can't quite see what you're doing while standing at the cart with medical supplies but he's smart enough to know you're filling the syringe. 

Your head snaps back, not at him nor Sam or Jill but at the men sat behind the desk. Foot slipping across the floor, something so soft a normal human wouldn't be able to hear. Bucky is still amazed at the feather light steps you take, not a sound as you make your way to the desk and stop right in front of it and with a quick reach around, the man is lifted from where he is and thrown across the room with ease. 

You're hurt, he can see that. You're not using your left arm and you're limping your way to the cart once again, grab the syringe from and march to the man who's begging for his life as you wrap your hands around his neck and lift him back on his feet but you know no mercy, the needle jabbed straight into the side of his neck, serum disappearing in the men's bloodstream. 

It's quite once again as you watch the man slide down the wall, rubbing his hands around his throat as he gasps for air, skin turning a bright red. You used the serum that would've killed you to kill your creator. smart. 

Bucky is both amazed and scared but mostly concerned about those visible injuries. 

Your head snaps back once again as Jill slips on air, nearly face planting herself. A string of whispered curses leaving both Sam's and Bucky's lips. Jill stands up straight, all three in your line of sight

"Hi, seventeen, remember me?" 

You're tired and hurt, sure you heal faster but losing blood fast is something no super soldier is immune to but you're trying, keep on fighting when the shield flies your way once again or a vibranium arm tries to stop you. 

You'd kicked away Jill first thing; flying across the room as a plastic bag, back hitting the concrete wall with such force, it had knocked her out on impact. Bucky refused to fight you, taking a beating the best he could without snapping back; only stopping you in an attempt to get you back. Sam fought back hard and relentless, taking your injuries as advantages. You were getting slower, more predictable with your moves and from where you'd kicked bucky to the ground, he sat, eyes never leaving your fighting figure and how the life slowly drained out of you.

the shield flies through the air once more and with one hand you try your best to stop it from knocking you out. Flying straight into your hand and abdomen, the impact makes you slide across the floor. With a loud clunk, the shield falls down- shaking on your legs, you drop down with the shield. 

You're there somewhere, aware of every kick and blow- acknowledging the hurt but the hydra part of your being is stronger and set to kill anyone in this facility hydra you got tired of. 

With effort you push yourself back into your feet, left arm staying close to your body and the dark red spot growing bigger with the minute– you pick up the shield. 

"y/n, stop," Sam breathes, out of breath "you're hurt." 

y/n?

Shaking the thought out of your head, with a scream you throw the shield to where Sam is standing and jams into the glass of the cryostasis chamber. 

You're weak and tired, even seventeen seem to notice and realize you're not going to win this fight. fight it flight; It's flight, you can't stay here if these people won't kill you, the remaining soldiers in the building would. 

"Let us help." Sam speaks up again, calmly "y/n, it's us." 

y/n? 

With a loud, displeased groan, you straighten your back and take a few steps back before you turn on your heels and scramble your way to the door, ready to disappear into the dark corridors again.

Getting back on his own feet, Bucky rushes to Jill, laying both hands on her shoulders and shakes her.

"Is she breathing?" Sam quips from where he's standing and pulls the shield out without much effort "is she alive?" 

Shaking the girl once more, Bucky feels for a heartbeat and there is- thank god "yeah, she's alive." 

Sam nods and runs up to the pair and inspects Jill for her injuries before tapping bucky in his shoulders "she'll be fine," he states "it's y/n who needs help." 

"I'm not fighting her s-" 

A loud gunshots coming from behind the door interrupts bucky; the thud of a body falling to the ground is followed by an ice cold silence that brings shivers to both mens spines. They hold their breaths. 

Another gunshot

Still the silence feels wrong, something is off and it sends the two men bolting forwards and into the corridor where they're met with a man lying on the ground, a puddle of blood forming around his head. Averting their eyes up, they're met with your figure.

You let the gun that's in your hand fall onto the ground with a loud thud and quickly place your hand against the wall next to you for stabilization, other hand pressed against your stomach, seeing red and covered in blood. You raise your hand to inspect it. 

Bucky sees it for the first time since arriving, the confusion, pain and terror in your eyes instead of the black anger filled ones. You're back, his girl.

It takes a second for the men to add one plus one. The gun that's on the ground, the two gunshots and you with a new deep red mark forming in the fabric of your suit. You're shot.

With a few steps backwards and a quick glance up to the men, you stumble when you lose balance. Knees buckling as you fall down and within seconds the two men are by your side, still that little bit of hydra that's slowly seeping out like the blood, you fight back with what energy is left. Struggling to get back on your feet and swat away Bucky's hands with your own before pushing him away. 

Bucky doesn't budge, not this time. His vibranium hand curls around yours, tights and the hiss coming from you lets him know you're not going anywhere. 

"Doll, stop it." 

Doll, it had been his pet name for you. Used whenever he called for you- god, you loved it and he knew and the silly pet name is what seemed to bring you back on earth. The hand that's tensed up in his relaxes and a small smile forms on his lips when he catches a glimpse of you in those tired eyes before they roll to the back of your head and with a sweep of his arm around your knees, he catches you before you hit the ground again. 

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[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 1: Return to Mistward

Here we go! the first chapter of my rowan POV of Queen of Shadows! Please let me know what you think!

tw for thoughts of self harm, very minor

word count: 3832

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter 

Rowan awoke abruptly, gasping and retching over the side of the bed. Bile pooled in his throat, and it was an effort to keep from vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach onto the cold stone floors of the fortress.

It had been the dream, the same dream. The visions that had tormented him for what now felt like months – though it had barely been a week since they had begun.

Aelin on her knees. Maeve towering before her, darkness wafting in deep pools around her feet. Black iron everywhere, keeping her chained to the floor. Keeping his queen locked in place.

Lorcan and Rowan appeared beside Maeve, whips clutched between their fingers. Aelin looked at him with betrayal in her eyes, and Rowan had to watch as he and Lorcan cut her skin to ribbons. As they cut her just like the men of the salt mines had cut her. As her master had cut her.

Maeve just laughed.

And that was usually when the screaming began. They were Lyria’s screams, but they fell from Aelin’s lips.

Rowan knew they were loud, knew the sounds coming from his queen were enough to echo through the castle, to shake its very foundation. But somehow, in the dream, he felt distant. Removed from them.

The sounds of her agony brushed his face like rose petals. Like a silver mist.

Cool. Soft.

And yet they made his heart pound through his chest, hammer and chisel on stone, splintering it apart. Piece. By. Piece.

Even now, he could still feel those screams radiating through his very being. Rippling through his soul like a rung bell. It felt as though their tender sound would never leave him.

It made Rowan want to tear out his own throat.

But instead, he slowly sat up, taking in slow breath after slow breath. Trying in vain to calm his pounding blood.

Rowan had been in Mistward for eight days now. Eight long days, and eight even longer nights. And he still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping in an empty bed. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it again.

It felt wrong to sleep in this bed without Aelin by his side. A bed they had shared for months, long enough for Rowan to get used to balancing himself on the edge of the mattress. Long enough for him to get used to hiding his desire from her, particularly in the mornings.

Her scent still lingered, almost like a friendly ghost haunting the stone alcoves. But soon, even that would be gone. Along with her muddy boots and lent garments.

Rowan had always slept on the side of the bed facing the door, providing Aelin as much protection as he could – even in his sleep. Aelin got the window side, where often, the moonlight would stretch its fingers across her golden hair, marking it with silver.

Now, it felt like an invasion to spread out, to brush against her side of the bed. To touch her moonlight.

So Rowan kept to his edge, and let the moon mark the empty space where his Fireheart used to rest.

For a while Rowan just lay there, letting himself be completely useless. Wallowing. But as the minutes slid past like hours, and Deanna finally slipped below the horizon to allow Mala to stretch her golden fingers over the land, Rowan dragged himself out of bed and prepared to face the day.

Each piece of steel he strapped to his clothes felt heavier than the last.

Rowan wandered down to the kitchens, his boots silent in the fortress corridors. It was still early, and Mistward was quite awake yet. But the kitchens, as usual, had been bustling with energy long before dawn.

From the top of the stairs, Rowan could hear chopping vegetables, the quick opening and closing of the bread ovens, the cursing of burnt fingers. The melody of Luca and Emrys preparing for the breakfast rush.

Rowan slid in as quietly as he could, grabbing a mug of stew and snatching a loaf of bread when Emrys’ eyes were averted, then retreated to a back corner to wolf it down.

“Hurry up with those vegetables, Luca! No time to waste – the stock should have started simmering over 15 minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry Emrys, it’s just that Elentiya used to deal with this.” Luca frantically shoved the mixed vegetables into a pot, and moved on to carving at a mysterious slab of meat. Roast duck, perhaps?

“I know I know.” Emrys said, exasperated. “Just get it done. Malakai will be down in a minute to take you away, and then I’m going to have to finish this all myself.”

As if the old male had summoned him, Malakai appeared in the entranceway, his lined face haggard with missed sleep. He nodded at Rowan, then snuck behind Emrys to embrace him.

“See? What did I say,” Emrys teased, a smile in his voice, “Now I’ll be without both my helpers to get breakfast on the table.” He snuck a kiss on his mate’s cheek, then twisted out of his grip to stir a massive vat of scrambled eggs, grabbing a handful of chopped chives from Luca’s cutting board and tossing them in.

Luca started working more furiously than ever, cutting bread into slices and portioning soup into bowls. Malakai reluctantly let go of his mate, then, surprisingly, looked up at Rowan.

“Prince Whitethorn,” he cleared his throat lightly. “Thrain has asked if I would join him beneath the fortress today, to help install the new iron gate. And Randall is over at the healer’s compound this morning, so – ”

Rowan frowned. He thought he knew where this was going. “ – would it be alright if you took Luca on patrol this morning?”

Rowan sighed. It wasn’t like he had anything more important to do. He gave the male a small nod, then said, “Emrys, if you need him this morning, it can wait until after breakfast is done.”

The old male didn’t even look up from the stove. “Thank you, Prince Rowan. Now Luca – ” Emrys gave the young male a daunting list of instructions, the boy’s face noticeably paling.

Malakai nodded at Rowan once again, kissed his mate, grabbed one of Luca’s slices of bread and cheese, then disappeared out the kitchen door, presumably to head for the tunnels beneath the fortress.

Rowan finished eating just as the demi-Fae began to arrive, told Luca he would be back in an hour, then left out the back door and headed into the forest, his limbs stretching into a slow, loping run.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken charge of Luca’s training since his return to Mistward, and he was starting to realize that he rather liked the young demi-Fae. No matter that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was almost like a very, very young Connall – always full of questions, and going around with that naïve, bright-eyed innocence. So impressionable.

His run slowly transformed into a sprint, his muscles burning with exertion.

It was strange to feel the boy beginning to warm up to him after all these months. Finally opening up, and asking all those questions burning on his lips. And it was nice that Malakai and Emrys seemed to trust Rowan with him, even if it was just to guide him through the basics of sparring, or run with him around the borders of the fortress’ lands.

Rowan knew that Malakai and Emrys were at least a little bit confused as to why Rowan was back, but they hadn’t asked too many questions, for which he was grateful. Malakai and the other leaders wanted an update on the events in Doranelle and to know the Queen’s response to the Adarlanian attack, but all Emrys wanted to know was whether Elentiya was all right.

Rowan told them as little as he could, saying that he had informed Maeve of the details of Adarlan’s attack on the fortress, that she was responding accordingly and would keep them informed through the usual channels. He told them that Elentiya was on her way back to Adarlan, and that he was here on his queen’s orders.

Rowan just didn’t specify exactly which queen had ordered him to return, and they did not ask. But somehow, he thought that Emrys suspected. That male seemed to be able to see through anything.

Rowan felt that Emrys and Malakai were wondering why he hadn’t gone with Aelin, but they didn’t say anything. And for that, Rowan was even more grateful. Because he didn’t have an answer to give them. He barely had an answer to give himself.

Rowan knew that Aelin hadn’t been telling him the whole truth on that pier, but he hadn’t wanted to push. She deserved her space, deserved to go back to Adarlan alone, with a clean slate and without a hulking ass like him hanging on her coattails at every moment. Even if it drove him completely insane.

Rowan’s feet pounded into the earth as he sprinted through the trees. Maybe this morning he would reach as far as the sea.

By the time they said goodbye, the captain’s scent had completely left her own. There was no trace of him left. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t still want him, or that when Rowan saw her again, the scent wouldn’t have returned.

There was also that prince, the Havilliard boy. They were friends, at the very least. And surely a match between their two houses would be politically advantageous. The first daughter of Brannon Galathynius, and the first son of Gavin Havilliard, combining their houses? Certainly something Aelin would be considering.

Rowan ripped past a patch of thorns, their barbs digging into the skin of his forearms. He didn’t pause.

Aelin had only mentioned her cousin a few times, just in passing, but Rowan had heard of Aedion Ashryver. Knew all the stories about the wolf of the north. Even knew about the rumors that had circulated, several times over, that a marriage would be arranged between the two of them.

It could be a smart match, the two cousins. Aedion was respected and admired throughout the western continent, and beloved by his people. It would solidify Aelin’s position within Terrasen, and secure her more support within her nation. He even had his own legion of soldiers he could promise to her cause.

Rowan’s breaths were sharp in his throat. He pushed himself even harder.

Then there was the matter of her former master. Aelin had never been clear about her relationship with Arobynn Hamel, whether he was father, brother, or…lover. The word turned Rowan’s stomach.

He was now practically flying through the trees.

Aelin had told him that she needed to go to Adarlan alone because Rowan would be too much of a distraction, that he would only make things harder for her if he went with her. And that was true, at least in part. But Rowan thought that the real reason she wanted to go alone was because she needed to deal with Chaol and Arobynn without him there to complicate things.

Arobynn… Rowan sighed, gritting his teeth. Rowan wasn’t sure he had ever desired the death of another human being more than he had Arobynn Hamel’s.

Aelin had been so hesitant, so reluctant to say anything about her former master. But those scars spoke volumes.

He had chained her, had abused her, manipulated her, and then beat her bloody. He had tortured and killed her lover. Her Sam. And then he had sent her to the salt mines, where she was whipped and starved and had nearly been destroyed.

Rowan wanted to tear Arobynn limb from limb, wanted to rip out his fingernails and chain him up in the dark and leave him there until he started to lose grip on what was real and what wasn’t. There was no torture too extreme, no punishment that he didn’t deserve.

But if Aelin decided to forgive him, decided to let that monster back into her life, Rowan would have to live with it.

And it killed him.

Killed him to have her headed over that sea, towards enemies who had already nearly succeeded in killing her, and who had tried over and over and over again. And most of all, it killed him because he had no idea when he would see her again. No idea if he would ever see her again.

His legs kept pushing him forwards, his lungs fighting to keep up.

She didn’t want him. Aelin didn’t want him by her side.

Another ragged breath.

He would learn to live with it. Would learn to deal with that burden.

In. Out. Forwards.

Aelin would marry another, be it for love or politics. And Rowan would be there for her no matter what. That was the promise he had made, and that was the promise he would keep.

So he ran, pushing through the undergrowth until he could feel the sea air on his cheeks, until the wind whispered of caves and sand and foam and spray. Rowan sprinted right up to the cliffs, jerking to a stop.

He looked out over the deep blue water with sharp, determined eyes. As if he looked hard enough, he would be able to see her on her little ship, sailing away from him across the blue ocean.

But of course, the sea was as empty as it always was.

His breaths ripped through his chest, but before they calmed, Rowan had already shifted into his hawk and was soaring through the sea-tossed air. Heading back over the trees he had just run between.

This run had become a part of his routine. And while he told himself it was just exercise, he knew that it was really so he could run over the paths he had spent so much time with Aelin on. So he could feel like she was still with him, even fleetingly.

What had taken him nearly an hour to travel on foot took him barely minutes in the air. And soon, he was swooping down over the fortress and shifting to land on his feet outside the kitchen door to collect Luca.

Ever since the battle, the ward stones had been useless and silent, the barriers permanently fallen. Rowan had spent some time examining them, and though he could find no obvious flaw in the ancient stone, he also could find no remedy. Their magic was simply spent, and it would not come back.

As a result, the residents of Mistward had spent a significant amount of time and energy on designing replacements to secure the fortress; higher walls, stronger battlements, sturdier outer gate, larger drawbridge. These improvements were well underway by the time Rowan had returned a week past, and he had gladly thrown himself into the effort.

Even now, as he waited outside the kitchen for Luca to arrive, he could see various workers laying the foundation for the new gate and battlements, and others pulling a large wagon filled with quarried stone for the outer wall. Rowan would likely spend his afternoon among them, either with the men in the small quarry a mile or so away, harvesting stone blocks, or with those who were currently building the scaffolding to contain the stones as they were laid in place.

He wasn’t exactly looking forwards to it. The days were getting hotter as summer grew nearer, and though the day had barely begun, it already was promising to be sweltering.

Luca finally appeared at the door, Emrys’ voice calling from across the room reminding him to be careful, and that he would see him in the evening for the dinner rush, and to stay safe. Rowan disguised a small smile.

Luca glanced up at him briefly, then jerked his eyes away and skittered out of the entrance, making for the fortress gates. Rowan followed without a word.

“Malakai told me I was supposed to run the southern perimeter, and then work on my sparring forms.” Luca’s eyes met his, then flitted away again. Luca’s scent was mellow, buttered toast and apple slices, but right now it was sharp with anxiety and excitement.

Rowan nodded at the boy, and they took off towards the south, passing by sentries who waved and smiled at Luca, but didn’t seem to know how to greet Rowan. Most looked down and away, or raised their hands in half a wave which they quickly gave up on. Rowan ignored them.

Public opinion of him had shifted since the battle, but not by that much.

They ran in silence for a while, Rowan alert and watchful, though they found nothing of interest. Luca was demi-Fae, but since he couldn’t shift, they were confined to a much slower pace than Rowan was used to. Meaning a run that would have taken him minutes, took them over an hour.

By the time they stopped for water, Luca was panting, but determined. Rowan handed the boy the water skin, which he eagerly gulped down. Rowan stripped off his light cotton shirt, now soaked in sweat, and hung it up on a branch at the edge of the clearing.

Luca’s voice floated over to him, “Do you think Elentiya is ever going to come back?”

Rowan paused for a moment. “I don’t know, Luca. But I don’t think so.”

His brow was furrowed. “How long are you going to stay here then?”

“I don’t know that either.”

The boy almost laughed. “I used to think that you knew everything.”

“No one knows everything.”

Luca shook his head slightly, glancing around the forest, his lips curved upwards into a sly grin. “But I still thought you did – well, if not everything, then at least everything important. Bas – ” Luca’s voice stumbled a bit over the other boy’s name, “he tried to tell me different, but I refused to listen to him.”

Rowan’s heart sunk. Bas. He had been so young, only a little bit older than Luca. He hadn’t known any better, had just wanted what everyone did – to be accepted. To be safe.

“I killed him, did you know that?” Luca’s gaze turned to Rowan’s. “I was the one who killed him.”

Rowan nodded. “I guessed.”

His eyes jerked away again, his feet scuffing the earth. “I still forget that he’s gone, sometimes. But it was the right thing – what I did. Wasn’t it?”

Rowan sighed, frowning slightly. Luca looked back up at him, worried. “The world is a complicated place,” Rowan said finally. “Answers are almost never as easy as that. But yes, Luca. I think that you did the right thing.”

The boy’s face darkened, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Rowan let the silence continue, just waiting. Knowing that he might be the only person who could soothe this ache for the young demi-Fae. It was a responsibility that he didn’t take lightly.

“Sometimes – ” he broke off, and though his face was turned away, Rowan could see that his eyes were lined with silver. “Sometimes I wonder whether I still want to become a warrior.”

Rowan considered his answer carefully before he responded. “Warriors are many things, Luca, not just soldiers. Malakai has been a warrior all his life, but his days are filled with the duties of a leader, not with violence.”

“That wasn’t really what I meant.”

Rowan waited.

“I meant – I’m not sure why I’m doing this anymore. I mean why do I even want to be let into Doranelle? It doesn’t seem much better over there than it is here.”

“Then let me ask you a question in return,” he said plainly. “Do you think that what you’re learning is worthwhile?”

Another pause. “Yes…” Luca said slowly. “Or at least I think so.”

“Then I would say don’t worry about whether or not you will pass your tests, and be let into Doranelle.” Rowan turned, and began walking through the clearing, scanning it over. “Many demi-Fae come here, and spend all of their time wishing to be somewhere else. Then when they don’t achieve that goal, they end up lost, and angry.” Rowan grabbed a long, sturdy stick from the ground and turned back to the young demi-Fae. “Instead focus on what you are in control of.”

Rowan threw the stick over to Luca, who caught it just before it smacked him in the face. The boy wiped at his eyes, then nodded.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Rowan guided him through the basic sparring forms, grabbing another stick for himself as they staged mock battles. They exchanged choreographed blows until the sun began to pull them into midday, and they returned to Mistward.

Luca traipsed off to join the other young sentries, and Rowan spent the rest of the afternoon toiling over a ten-foot section of the new outer wall, laboriously hauling piles of stone and fitting them into place with smeared vats of pale-grey grout.

It was hard, physical labor. The kind that filled your muscles with a satisfying soreness at the end of the day. But it did not fill his mind.

Instead, Rowan spent the afternoon mulling over his conversation with Luca.

That boy really did have a way of worming through other people’s barriers.

But it was more than just that. It had almost reminded Rowan of living in his uncle’s house, when he was still learning the fighting arts and was recovering from the deaths of his parents. He had been surrounded by cousins, both younger and older. And today with Luca – that is what it had been like back then. Learning and teaching alike, giving comfort and advice when asked.

It was a time so distant, it felt strange in Rowan’s mind. Like they were the memories of another, completely separate person. Someone who didn’t exist anymore.

But this morning, he had reappeared. If only for a moment.

It was like putting on old clothes, made unfamiliar by time. The memory stretched tight over his new frame.

Rowan realized that he missed Sellene and Endymion and all the rest, missed their mess and chaos, and the countless children underfoot. It wasn’t likely he would see them again anytime soon. Nor that their meeting would be under anything resembling decent circumstances.

When they ate dinner that evening, Luca sat at Rowan’s table. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Rowan recognized the gesture for what it was.

And that night, when Rowan finally curled up at the edge of his mattress, his thoughts fell to family. To children. And what they would look like if he shared them with Aelin.

Rowan gritted his teeth at the idea, but he was unable to banish it. And so those thoughts coaxed him slowly to sleep, where he lay in the fortress of stone, surrounded by silver mist.

Just barely out of reach of the moonlight.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter

···

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[spacestationdaedalus]

post-canon JM but make them vigilante monster hunters

never seen a single episode but i think this might be the plot of supernatural? idk i bugged the server with this and now other ppl have to see it.

tw for general monster-related horror and descriptions of it, and very very mild injury

ao3 link here!

...

It's late. Again.

She sighs, rubbing at her eyes until starbursts dance in her vision. If her lab manager knew she was in here at god, is it already 3? in the morning, he would probably have a fit. But it's not her fault her work has been so. Uncooperative. Realistically, she could be doing some of this at home, but the lab computer already has everything she needs, and it's so much easier to focus here.

Well. Most of the time.

Her water bottle is still half full, but she decides a walk to the vending machine at the end of the hall would do her some good. She can stretch her legs and get some caffeine at the same time. Best of both worlds.

Right then, a sound cuts through the air. It's a dull roar, crescendoing to a peak that it maintains for a handful of seconds before fading away. As jumpy as she gets this late, she hardly bats an eye as she digs her wallet out of her backpack. It's a common sound to hear in the building, one that you get used to quickly once you spend some time here. The university has a wind tunnel it uses for classes, as well as research. She's seen it before, used it first hand - even down in the basement of the building, the roar of the compressed air tank when the valve is switched practically shakes the foundation. That's how you tell the first years apart from everyone else. They're the ones who jump when they hear it, looking around in confusion, and sometimes fear. But it doesn't take long for it to become background noise.

She's more concerned about the fact that it's so late. Some poor graduate student, down in the basement in the middle of the night running the tunnel instead of sleeping. Or doing literally anything else. Unfortunately, she can relate.

The door shuts with a weighty slam behind her. The silence of the building is even sharper after the echo of the wind, and she fights down the urge to shudder. The hall is long, dark - the university installed motion activated lights in most of the buildings a few years back, and the effect they create as she walks down the hall is surprisingly eerie. The fluorescents flicker on with the faintest clicks and hums as she walks below them, boots clicking against the tile floor. She's a fast walker, always had been - and the incessant sound of her footfalls in the quiet somehow puts her even more on edge.

The pale light from the vending machine reflects against the linoleum in a way that could be inviting. In theory. But it's really more off-putting than anything else, like the sickly glow of a motel sign off of the interstate, flickering a destitute "no vacancy" into the night. The selection is slim, but she punches in the code for an overpriced iced coffee that feels cool and familiar in her hand.

The scream of the wind tunnel comes and goes again, louder, now that she's outside the lab. She can't help the unease creeping down her spine in the wake of its silence. On one hand, it's a comfort to know at least one other person is in the building with her. But even then, the still quiet it leaves behind is always worse, and it sends the hair on the back of her head standing at attention.

It only gets worse as she walks, and she fights the urge to look over her shoulder. Everyone knows the feeling - when you're a kid, and you sneak into the kitchen in the dead of night to get a drink, only to sprint back up to your room as soon as you can because you're so, so sure something is coming for you.

And now that she's thinking about it, she can't not think about it, which is as futile as it is frustrating. She tries to force it down along with the beating of her heart, but the fear simmers beneath the surface like a pot on the stove, two seconds from boiling over. She's already more than halfway back, just a few more seconds and she can slam the lab door shut behind her and feel almost safe.

The roar of the tunnel, again. She can't help the jump, this time, on edge as she is. Strange, they don't usually run it so many times in so few minutes-

A thought comes to her then, without warning, the way they do when you realize you've forgotten something important. She remembers the conversation with striking clarity - Ajay, her roommate, working on a big research project. He needed to test his prototype in the wind tunnel, and he'd lamented to her over dinner the other day that a replacement part they needed downstairs wouldn't arrive until next week. Which sucked, because he has a deadline for a paper submission coming up and needed more data-

Most of this is useless. But she remembers, now, better than anything she ever has, that the wind tunnel hasn't been working all week. The lab is closed, would be until Wednesday, until the new part comes in.

The roaring shriek comes again, pounding against her eardrums in a way it never has before. Oppressive. Almost hungry. It's closer, it's louder.

It's behind her.

She turns. As she chokes on her own heartbeat and sinking dread, she turns.

And something is behind her.

Thin and wrong, inky black and too many limbs. A long torso with a long head attached, crooked on its neck. Gaping white sockets where eyes would, should, be. It has no mouth, and yet she knows with absolute certainty that it was making that sound. A mocking imitation of something so familiar.

And she knows, an anchor sinking into pitch black water, that it's going to kill her.

blood blood i need blood your blood your face you

It's in her head, a voice with no mouth to speak it. She opens her own mouth to scream, but it's useless to her. Nothing comes out, not even air. Maybe she can run, she has to run, has to get away. But she can't bring herself to turn even a sliver from the nightmare in front of her. A deep, primal fear convincing her that the second she can't see that thing is the second it will get her. 

Maybe she can run, still, with her eyes on it. But one of her feet finds the other in her panic, and she falls to the floor. She thinks she feels a pain in her wrist, but it's dull and far away. Hardly a blip on the radar of fear fear oh my god what is that thing-

It's coming for her, all bending joints like limbs of a puppet, pulled by invisible strings, limping, creaking in unnatural steps and lunges. Its eyes never once leave her, glued to her in hungry determination. The roar comes again, but it's twisted and warped like scrap metal and just as jagged around the edges.

And then it stops. Not more than ten feet from her. Frozen. She doesn't breathe, she doesn't think she could if she wanted to.

"That's enough."

It's a man's voice, from behind her. She doesn't have it in her to turn around, to look away. But it doesn't matter. Whoever it is god she hopes it's a who and not a what steps up next to her, in front of her. It might not be accurate to say he's shielding her, but he's between her and it, and she doesn't feel relief, but she feels. Safer, somehow.

She's never seen him before. His hair is long, streaked with grey, half tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He's wearing a long dark coat over long dark pants, tucked into black combat boots. And that's really all she can see from the floor.

As he steps forward, the creature seems to recoil. It hisses, maybe, and then another sound follows. A sad remixing of its own imitating screech from before, not quite a howl but more of a cry. It sounds pained, almost, creaking and desperate. Limbs rear up, but amount to nothing. It's an uncoordinated movement as it falls back on something like haunches.

"I'm watching you, now. There's nowhere you can hide from me."

The man's voice sounds strange to her. There's a cracking, almost static quality to it. She has no idea what the man could possibly be doing, but it looks like it's working.

Until it isn't.

The thing writhes and shrieks again, louder. She can feel it down into her bones, scraping at her marrow, god she wants to throw up. The man in front of her staggers slightly. He mutters something like a curse under his breath, brings a hand to his head. The thing is moving again, shambling towards them. It looks weaker, shakier than before but no less threatening. No less horrifying. Maybe even more so, with the look of a sick, maimed animal as it staggers down the street.

She thinks she might be about to pass out with the sudden chill that overtakes her. But the fading of her vision never comes, and is that. Her breath? She can see it in the air in front of her, condensing like it does on cold winter mornings. With a blink she realizes there's a fog as well, come seemingly from nothing. It's thick and low-hanging, coating the floor of the hall and swirling upwards. It chills her exposed skin, goosebumps racing up and down her arms.

She assumes the thing must be doing this, a defense mechanism or something, but it's slower than before. Subdued. It's still making its way toward them, but it looks lost, like a fawn trying to walk on new legs.

Until another man comes from an adjoining hallway, and bashes its head in with a baseball bat.

It's a solid hit, and the thing goes down almost immediately. The man, the new one, gives another swing, and another, and a few more, for good measure. His bat is slick with something dark and oily. And then the thing is still.

It's quiet for a second, two, then-

"Excellent timing as always, dear." The staticy click of the first man's voice is gone. He sounds out of breath, even though he hardly moved.

The second man laughs, and the cold and the fog seems to fade with it. He's bigger than the first man, taller. He's wearing a bomber jacket over a nondescript t-shirt, fingerless gloves and jeans frayed at the edges. Like he just walked out of an action movie. Or a horror movie. With the thing laying at his feet, the second might be more fitting.

"That was cutting it a little close, Jon. We knew it was with the Stranger, that it could fight you off-"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Martin. That's what the bat is for, after all. The Lonely was probably a bit overkill, though."

"It's not overkill if we don't get ourselves maimed, Jon-"

The first man - Jon, apparently - turns to her then. His face is scarred, and dark shadows hang under oddly bright green eyes. But his gaze isn't unkind as he looks down at her.

"Sorry, are you alright? I was hoping we could take care of this when everyone was gone, but-" He laughs darkly. "Well, I was in university once, I should have known at least one student would still be here in the middle of the night, even on the weekend."

The man going by Martin walks over, as Jon extends a hand to help her up. She's lost all hope of her brain trying to process what's happening but step one can at least be get off the floor. But she can't even do that properly. The hand she raises is the same one she fell on, and the twinge from her wrist shoots up her arm almost immediately in a shout for attention.

It must show on her face too, because Jon makes a sound and then Martin's asking her, "Oh, are you hurt?"

"Uh, n-no, I mean…'s just, uh, my wrist. Kinda, fell on it funny." Her voice isn't exactly steady, but it's a far cry from where she was expecting it to be. At least she's orbiting the realm of comprehensible.

Martin crouches next to her. Up close she can see his face in more detail - his eyes are a slate grey, like the fog from before. But they're kind, wrinkled at the edges when he smiles softly at her. "Mind if I take a look?"

She's not exactly in a position to say no, so she gingerly holds her arm out. His hands are rough, calloused, but surprisingly gentle as they probe her wrist. She can't stop the trembling, now, completely unrelated to the pain.

"It's a sprain." Jon says, laced with certainty somewhere above her.

Martin sighs, long-suffering. "Thank you, Jon, I was getting to that."

"Just trying to help." She can't see him, but she can practically hear the cheeky smile tacked to the end of that sentence.

"As much as I hate saying it, he's right." Martin eyes her with something close to humor, like they're in on a joke together. He shrugs a backpack off of his shoulders, rummages through it with one hand. "I think we have some elastic bandages left for something like this…"

"Front pocket." Jon says again. He's moved closer to the thing, the corpse, it must be, now. He's turned away from her, and she can't see his face.

"Thank you, love."

"Of course."

"Um-" She cuts in suddenly, her nerves and panic getting the best of her. Martin looks up from her hand, and Jon turns back to glance at her.

"Sorry, uh, I just- what the fuck was that?"

"I'd tell you not to worry yourself over it, but I don't think that's much of an answer." Jon says, coming back towards them. He crouches down before he continues. "Let's just say this is...our day job."

"It is three in the morning, though."

"That would be the, colloquial use of the term, Martin."

"Just saying." With Martin in front of her she can actually see the cheeky grin, this time.

He uses the bandage to wrap her wrist. It smarts a bit, but the pressure helps. He's clearly adept enough to do this and talk at the same time, because he cuts in next. "We're here to make sure things like that-" he gestures with a nod of his head. "-don't hurt anyone."

Her mouth is full of sawdust. "W- what, like, monsters and shit?" She always did swear a lot when she was stressed.

"More or less."

"If it's any consolation," Jon says. "These things aren't exactly...common. You have to have a special kind of luck to run into something like this."

Yeah, luck.

He sighs, then. He looks tired. "I'm so sorry. If it means anything. This isn't the kind of thing you'll be able to just forget, or-"

"That's why we're here." Martin cuts in. He's finished with her wrist, neatly wrapped and held in place with little wire clips. "To try to stop stuff like this from happening, before it happens. Sorry we were late."

It's not a stretch to imagine what would have happened if they hadn't shown up even later, or not at all. But it's something she will try very, very hard not to think about.

She swallows. "I guess...thank you, then."

"Of course."

The adrenaline and sudden lack thereof leaves her with a jittery exhaustion deep in her core. But she has so many questions, how could she not-

A chill, and a rush of wind and waves hit her before she can get another word out. It's gone as quickly as it had come, so much so she thinks she imagined it. But suddenly, she's alone.

The men going by Jon and Martin and the misshapen corpse of that thing are gone. The hall is just as it had been before, dim lights and freshly polished tile. No sign of anything, or anyone. Except for her.

She knows with crushing certainty that it wasn't a dream. Couldn't be a dream. But she knows that's what people will tell her. So she says nothing. She says nothing, and hopes nothing ever leads her to cross paths with those two ever again.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 5 (Kiro) Final Part [Broken Red Wire] & [The Curtain Rises] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For the previous translations of Chapter 5: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Enjoy~

[Broken Red Wire]

After Kiro and I climbed up, I sat on the ground in shock and realized that someone really did come help us.

This person had a strong complexion. He smiled cordially at me after he noticed my scrutinizing gaze.

He looked familiar like I had seen him somewhere before.

Kiro: You’re also very late.

??: Didn’t I arrive before the end of your countdown?

He scratched his head and walked over, extending his hand out to me.

??: I didn’t say hello to you last time. I’m Ah Liu, nice to meet you.

Ah Liu: As a way of greeting, next time I formally invite you to drink the special offer from my store.

I responded with hindsight, Kiro pulled my wrist like a bear nervously taking away the sweet honey jar.

After giving him a helpless look, Ah Liu retracted his smile.

Ah Liu: There are inexplicable signal and magnetic field barriers. It wasn’t easy using Evol.

Ah Liu: After you entered the game, there was a constant delay in the positioning of the post. We were worried that something had happened. We discussed it and decided that I would go into the game to confirm your accurate location.

“We”?

I stood behind Kiro in bewilderment. Is there someone else besides Ah Liu?

Ah Liu nodded in response to the earphones in his ears and motioned to Kiro.

Ah Liu: After I entered the game, the same situation occurred and other people are still examining what is going on.

Ah Liu: But the problem here is, we’re not sure what special equipment is being used or…

Ah Liu: What special ability.

Kiro nodded solemnly at him.

Kiro: The plan is proceeding as normal.

After Ah Liu gave an “OK” gesture, he temporarily disappeared into the forest.

At this moment, I finally realized that, without a doubt, Kiro arranged everything.

He noticed my gaze and winked at me playfully.

Kiro: You see, I said I will protect you, right?

At this time, there was a “ding” sound from his microcomputer. Kiro looked worried for a moment, but he immediately collected his emotions, sat on the ground, and started the computer.

The progress bar on the computer screen showed 100%.

MC: What is this?

Kiro: This is the data analysis of that metal collar.

MC: You found a way to remove the metal collar!

Kiro was not as proud as I thought he would be. He just raised the corners of his mouth leisurely.

Kiro: Miss Chips, before you said you would get angry if I secretly left….

MC: Yeah? What about it?

Kiro: What would you do if you were really angry?

He looked into my eyes and spoke softly, but I somehow felt that something was wrong.

MC: What are you trying to say? You’re not trying to play any tricks on me, are you?

Kiro: I’m just asking so I can set a reminder to myself.

MC: That is best….

MC: Let me think, I won’t talk to you for a year and confiscate all your snacks.

MC: No matter how much you beg or apologize. No matter the reason, I will never forgive you.

Kiro: You will.

MC: I certainly won’t…

His voice was soft and when I turned my head to look at Kiro, I found that his eyes had turned to pure gold during some point.

Bathed in the morning light, there is an indescribable tenderness.

Kiro: I command you…

He gave me an extremely bright and tender smile.

I suddenly raised my hand to block my eyes, but Kiro moved faster. He quickly held my wrist and my vision was filled with a clear golden glow.

Kiro: All within my range of control belong to me.

Kiro: Get a good night’s sleep now, and don’t mention this game to anyone when you wake up.

Kiro: Then….forgive me.

He stretched out his hand gently to me, and I realized that I had lost control of my body again and couldn’t say anything.

My consciousness was slowly slipping away, and my legs gradually lost their strength. Kiro caught me.

Kiro: It’s all right, MC.

Kiro: I said, I would let you leave here safely.

My brain gradually stopped working, but I pinched my palm so that my consciousness could stay awake at the end.

I looked at Kiro, and strenuously opened my mouth to say something to him.

But I know that my whole body is being drained of energy little by little.

I’m going to fall asleep soon.

During this time, Ah Liu came back. He seemed to have known this would happen, so he didn’t ask much, and neatly connected a data cable to the girl’s neck.

Kiro: Are you sure this is analytical data?

Ah Liu carefully checked the analysis results and shook his head.

Ah Liu: The design of this metal collar is a bit unique. The time is too short so these results can’t remove it perfectly.

Ah Liu: He has a special heat induction system installed, which is quite troublesome. I can give you about 1.5 seconds at most and it shouldn’t be detected.

Kiro: Enough.

Ah Liu: OK.

Ah Liu took out the equipment without hesitation, leaned on the girl’s side and carefully dismantled the metal collar.

Soon, he found a small button that was not easily noticeable and Ah Liu cautiously reconfirmed the other lines before lightly poking in with a metal wire.

With a sound, the metal collar instantly turned into two halves.

Within the next second, Kiro swiftly closed them around his neck, resolutely and firmly.

Ah Liu lifted the girl on his back and said nothing more.

“I will not let go of your hand.”

The girl’s voice seems to be ringing in his ears.

Kiro glanced down and watched his hand slowly close up.

Out of nowhere, the forest was engulfed by a raging fire, and the wind blew away the last remnants of gentleness.

The silver hair was clear and distinct in the flames, like a sharp knife shining with cold light.

Electronic voice: Congratulations to Hunter No. 29 for advancing.

Fiery sparks rose in the air, covering Helios’s fading back.

Half asleep and half awake, I feel as if someone is running with me on their back.

On the electronic screen of the contact lens, the cute pixel bear went away by itself in the opposite direction of the flower bear. The red line between them stretched straight.

The word “warning” kept flashing in front of my eyes.

Warning. About to exceed the connection range.

Wait a moment….I begged silently in my heart.

Warning. About to disconnect.

Suddenly the little bear stopped.

It seems to have seen the same warning. The red thread is tightly connected together, like a distant but silent entanglement.

It stayed in place as if reluctant to sever the red thread.

My consciousness finally dissipated in the vague darkness, and as the little flower bear continued to move forward, the red line quietly broke.

Warning.

Connection disrupted.

[The Curtain Rises]

At the edge of the forest, two figures suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Ah Liu: Feeling this Evol! Strangely, there is a problem with this forest.

The sound from the headset seemed to be coming from another guidance, and he cautiously looked at the sniper rifle hidden in the woods.

Ah Liu: In this way, even if a player had a chance to run to the edge and ask for help, they would be dealt with.

He pointed to the highway ten meters away.

Ah Liu: This distance should still be movable.

As soon as Ah Liu spoke, a silver-white arc was drawn in the air and a man’s figure appeared in front of them.

Behind him stood a teenager in his early teens. The mist made them unable to see the man’s face and his eyes were faintly glowing with dark gray light.

Ah Liu turned around without hesitation. The moment he disappeared with the girl on his back, the man stretched out his hand.

Teenage Boy: Are you sending Evol? It looks amazing!

The boy widened his eyes in surprise as e he looked at the silent forest, showing a cruel smile, then turned to the man.

Teenage Boy: Teleporting Evol should involve jumping between spaces, what if you find that you can’t use Evol while jumping?

Teenage Boy: Joker, where would they be teleported to?

The man named Joker smiled, his eyes full of playfulness, and he did not speak.

The silver-white arc once again struck the air and the dim underground passage behind the white light appeared in front of his eyes.

I woke up groggy, feeling a faint pain all over my body.

I looked around and found myself in a tunnel, like an abandoned underground railway.

I suddenly remembered everything that just happened. The hunter game and Kiro leaving.

MC: Open map.

The air was quiet. I lowered my head and found that the metal collar on my neck is gone.

MC: Kilo, display location!

On the cold mechanical screen, only a bear wearing a flower is shown.

MC: Kilo, display satellite signal, zoom in.

The screen appears to show that I’m still in the forest but underground.

I took a heavy breath, gritted my teeth and stood up.

In any case, I must leave here first.

-End of Chapter 5-

[silver-wield]

I’m sorry in advance. This is a long rant. I think the main reason I can't accept this "SOLDIER!Cloud loves A” thing is because I've always felt that the whole love triangle nonsense was introduced solely to make the players invested in A. Let's face it, the biggest reason people were devastated when she died is because they were invested in her potential romance with Cloud. It was the easiest and cheapest way to make sure the devs achieved their goal. (1/5)

But in their desperation to reach that goal at any cost, the devs ended up damaging other things along the way. Having Tifa in the background until A was out of the picture was such a dumb move. It’s obvious they didn’t want any other character to outshine her. Creating this illusion of Cloud loving A served no purpose in the story. And Aerith herself didn’t bond with anyone save for Cloud. These among many other things. To me, all that wavering thing was so unnecessary to the narrative. (2/5)

Things felt rushed, and A was put on a pedestal and shoved in the players’ faces along with the potential romance with her. It was clear to me that the devs just wanted people to like her so that they’d be devastated when she died. But I guess you can’t ask for too much of games/stories back in 1997. I’m sorry, but I just can’t accept people saying that SOLDIER!Cloud loved A. They hadn’t known each other that long, and 95% of the time, they had other things on their plate than romance. (3/5)

It’s not like they were dating or getting to know each other during the brief time they spent together. Also, I don’t mean to offend anyone, but saying the LTD is now ending because A is stepping out and pushing Cloud onto Tifa sounds so insulting. Like Tifa can’t win unless her competition steps out and hands her the man on a silver platter. This time around, I feel that the devs are trying to do things properly. A is finally taking the time to bond with other characters, especially Tifa. (4/5)

Her world doesn’t revolve around Cloud only anymore. Tifa is not in the background anymore, so now people can get to know her and get attached to her even early on. The romance with Tifa isn’t something that feels like it’s come out of the left field about 2/3 of the way in. There might’ve been hints but they were too subtle. Among many other improvements. Whatever the devs do, I just hope they give us the best version possible of the story this time around. Thanks for listening to my rant.(5/5)

Death to the LTD 1

Death to the LTD 2 (dialogue evolution)

Death to the LTD 3 (soldier Cloud’s acceptance)

Cloud’s hyper vigilance

That would be because the concept absolutely was introduced to make the players more invested in Aerith, so her death had a harder hit when it happened. It was a new thing back in 97 to have a love triangle and pretty much everybody was starting to do it. There’s tons of movies, tv series and books out during that time that showcase the trope.

And having 2 heroines, Aerith and Tifa, and having the hero waver between them, at the time that was something new. ~Kitase,  FFVII 10th Anniversary Ultimania pg. 11

I think everyone forgets the difference in technology between FF6 and FF7, not just graphically, but narratively, too. Back then, everything was new and everyone was still trying to find their feet and figure out evolving technology. I mean, it’s still evolving now, but those building blocks that form the base are still the same. Just because there’s now millions of polygons involved doesn’t take away the fact they’re still polygons. 

FF7 was Square’s first foray into using more sophisticated methods of game development and that impacted how the story came across. In previous games, the optional content or hidden story arcs that had to be found to be appreciated made the game more fun. The player had to wander around more and talk to everyone to get the full picture and since it worked before, they thought it’d work again. That people would replay and swap party members around to trigger the other scenes and gather the rest of the puzzle pieces for the fuller picture.

But, they forgot they were trying to make everyone love one specific character, which meant the best way to do that was to keep her in the party over everyone else. Which meant people cared less about the others until the point she leaves the party for good. And by that point, when these people replay they just want to spend even more time with her, so they still miss the other dialogues and scenes with other characters that build their storyline alongside this other character they’ve pressed everyone to care about.

And that’s how the LTD got started because they chose not to play the game fully and only focus on one character, they didn’t see the entire picture. And the guides out at the time didn’t help much on that side of things because they didn’t give narrative canon party suggestions so that players got the most out of the story in each location. 

Soldier Cloud loved Aerith?

Really? When they’ve been saying for years that soldier Cloud didn’t even exist or that we said he was really Zack and that’s why he’s into Aerith? It’s funny how the moment the devs confirm that real Cloud emerged to embrace Tifa they decided they could claim the dominant persona for their own, even though they also said that it was soldier Cloud who complimented Tifa, despite real Cloud not being the dominant persona. We even see visible evidence of the two aspects at war with each other in the honeybee inn scene before Cloud dances. That eye movement back and forth and expression of “fine, for Tifa” is an internal argument with the two aspects that soldier Cloud isn’t aware enough of to realise that’s what it is. If we take Soldier Cloud as the only personality then there’s no way he’d do that because it’s not cool, and soldier Cloud is always cool. He’s being made to dance because of real Cloud’s desire to rescue Tifa. 

Aerith steps out...

Yeah, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but the overall sentiment is that Aerith is refusing to do what happened in OG.

More importantly, though, and the thing I focused on in my death to the LTD, is Cloud’s behaviour and reaction and feelings. Because he’s soldier Cloud. Real Cloud isn’t part of the LTD because he already chose Tifa. Soldier Cloud is the focus of the LTD because he’s the one who misinterpreted real Cloud’s feelings and focused them on the wrong girl. This time, we see clear evidence throughout all of his interactions that he is also choosing Tifa.

In the train tunnel, while it’s real Cloud’s motivation to protect Tifa, Soldier Cloud is the one who carries out the roll. Then, it’s Soldier Cloud who kisses her cheek, the same as it’s Soldier Cloud who calls her beautiful. Because he’s the one flirting. Real Cloud’s desire is the motivator for him to do it, but it’s Soldier Cloud doing the thing.  Same with every single flirty interaction. Real Cloud’s emergence is only confirmed by the devs twice in the game and both times relate to Tifa. Real Cloud’s hand twitches with the urge to comfort her and then real Cloud hugs her. 

Everything else is only motivated by his love and desire for her, which means everything else is Soldier Cloud acting on those feelings.

The single moment of wavering from him is literally within the LTD nod scene in the train graveyard when Aerith grabs his arm. He doesn’t react when she does it, stays silent, leans away. He’s not showing her a preference. Then, he looks at and agrees with Tifa, which is showing a clear bias towards her. 

Then right before Tifa grabs Cloud’s arm, his eyes start to shift towards Aerith. This is the reference to OG Cloud wavering, but then before he can even look at Aerith, he spots Tifa’s hands in his peripheral vision, gasps, then looks at and smiles at her. 

That’s the result of Cloud’s wavering. He chose Tifa. After that, there’s zero LTD scenes and in fact, there’s a humorous shot of Tifa looking towards the camera after Cloud leaps on her to save her from the falling train carriage and Aerith thanks him for saving both of them. He didn’t save both of them. Didn’t even try. 

I don’t think there’s gonna be anything to worry about going forward because one thing Nojima learned from letting things be “open for interpretation” is that his work gets butchered. 

Since FF7, other FF titles he’s worked on -

FF8: Squall and Rinoa kiss.

FF10: Yuna and Tidus kiss.

FFCC: Aerith and Zack hug

FF13: Snow and Serah kiss and get engaged.

FF15 (when it was originally vs): Noctis and Luna kiss.

If anyone learned their lesson from this LTD mess, it’s Nojima, but he’s been restricted when it comes to 7 by the suits - which is one of the hidden graffiti meta messages in the train tunnel that refers to why Cloti was never made more explicit. 

“They tell you to go with the flow so they can keep the status quo.”

Since this is the last of the FF7 compilation the suits have relaxed the reins on the LTD, so that Nojima can write the story as he sees fit, which I would guess is down to the fact they did sales projections and figured out that FF7 would be massively successful and has in fact also boosted sales of PS4 consoles because people specifically bought the console to play FF7R. With the new mysteries and twists to keep fans talking about the game until the next installment is out, they don’t need to hold onto this outdated LTD concept that everyone hates and isn’t anything the company wants to associate with because of how toxic and nasty it is. They’re a Japanese company having to hear these so called fans talking about how Tifa is a “typical Asian girl” or whatever tf they call her. It’s disgusting. Square yeeted the guys behind Genesis because of the controversy around them, so to have fans like this associated with one of their most popular and iconic titles? Yeah, that ain’t happening. 

[narcoleptic-drag-queen]

I feel 58 in the Vampire Au for Branjie you did would work fine 💖💖

you ordered angsty vampire au branjie?? this is set before the other two installments, so we get a peek into human brooke/vampire vanjie!

58 - “I couldn’t leave you if I tried. And I’ve tried.”

N - Vampire AU

-

“You’re mad.”

Vanessa is standing in the doorway of Brooke’s apartment, her keys still in her hand but her shoes already kicked off. She wishes she hadn’t started to get comfortable - the look on Brooke’s face is enough to make her want to run for the hills. Brooke raises an eyebrow, her arms folded across her chest.

“Yeah,” she says, and her voice is scarily even. “Do you know why?”

Vanessa bites her lip, guilt already churning in her stomach. “Yeah. Last night.”

Last night, when she was crouched over some man’s body, blood down the front of her favorite dress and adrenaline still tunneling her vision by the time she came through. She doesn’t want to think about last night, but Brooke is giving off the impression that they won’t be discussing anything else any time soon.

“How could you?”

Vanessa’s heart twists, guilt rising up in her throat like vomit. “I’m sorry.”

She remembers how cold his skin had felt under her hands, how grotesquely full she’d felt when she stood up, teetering on her heels. How she barely remembered shadowing home, tears blurring her vision when she’d collapsed onto the couch. 

“Sorry? That’s all you have to say?”

Vanessa’s heart drops. “No!” she says, and she takes a hesitant step forward, her socks sliding a little on the hardwood. “I didn’t mean to, Brooke. Time just got away from me.”

“So you text me, Vanessa, you don’t just ghost me for twenty-four hours and then text me the next night like nothing happened!”

Vanessa grimaces. If she’s being honest, Brooke had been the last thing on her mind last night. The thought only makes her feel more guilty. “I’m sorry. It won’t - I won’t do it again, baby.”

“I made those reservations two weeks in advance,” Brooke says, and she finally lets her tone get a little heated. “God, V, I don’t - this is already so hard. With you working nights and me working days - we barely get to see each other already. Forgetting to show up to this is just--” she cuts herself off with a frustrated noise, but Vanessa can hear the hurt underneath it, too, and her stomach sinks. 

Brooke is getting tired of this - of Vanessa. Vanessa can’t blame her, but that doesn’t stop the sudden fear that Brooke is going to break this off from rising within her, and she takes another step forward, this one more urgent. She can’t lose this - fuck, she’s such an idiot!

She lost control last night, something she’s worked so hard to achieve. She’s already beating herself black and blue for it. She can’t afford to lose anything else.

“Don’t leave me,” she blurts, before she can think twice about it. She curls her fingers into fists, squeezing hard, anxiety and guilt and sadness creating a fucking hurricane within her, and she doesn’t hesitate to meet Brooke’s eyes with her own desperate gaze. “Please.”

Brooke looks taken aback, her expression softening quickly. “Vanessa,” she says softly, crinkling her brow. “I’m not going to leave you because you forgot one dinner date.”

Vanessa lets out a breath, only a little relieved. Anxiety is still coursing through her, and she moves towards the couch, her legs feeling a little like jelly. She sits, letting out a self-deprecating laugh as she puts her face in her hands. “Sounds like there are plenty of other reasons, though.” And even more than you think.

There’s a brief pause.

“No,” Brooke says, and this time, her voice is sharp. “Stop being stupid, V.”

“I’m not being stupid,” Vanessa says, and she looks up at Brooke as she sits down next to her. Their thighs graze against each other, and it takes all of Vanessa’s willpower to not lean into Brooke’s warmth and forget about everything. Not when Brooke thinks she just overslept last night, when she knows what she was actually doing is so much worse. “By all means, Brooke, people have stopped datin’ each other for smaller reasons! We’ve only been datin’ for four months, we ain’t married or nothin’. You didn’t commit to me and my stupid life. You can still escape, and I won’t blame you.”

Brooke laughs, and her arms suddenly wrap around Vanessa, pulling her close. Vanessa can’t help but relax into her, leaning her head on her shoulder and breathing in that perfume that Brooke loves so much. She’s so weak. She loves her so much. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried, Miss Mateo,” Brooke teases. “And I’ve tried. I think you’re stuck with me.”

Vanessa pulls away slightly to give Brooke a confused look, a little insulted despite the little speech she’d just given. “You have?”

Brooke laughs again. “About three dates in, I wanted to go to the zoo with you and then realized we couldn’t. And then I thought that you working nights wasn’t going to work for me, that I wanted someone I could spend more time with, but you kept texting. You kept being you, and being funny, and sweet, and sexy, and I was agreeing to a fourth date before I even knew what was happening. And then I fe-- and then I decided that maybe you were worth it.”

Vanessa stares at her nails, her heart practically a balloon in her chest and a smile creeping across her face, and she’s just about to look back at Brooke when she notices the dried blood still crusted in her nail beds. Guilt is quick to dampen her mood again, and when she looks at Brooke, she knows her smile is sad.

“Let’s hope I don’t do nothin’ to make it not,” she says, and Brooke shakes her head.

“You couldn’t do anything to make me leave you,” she says, and she presses a kiss on the side of Vanessa’s head. Vanessa doesn’t know what to do with the love welling up in her throat, or the guilt.

Just you wait, she thinks, as Brooke tells her to lay her head on her lap so she can play with her hair. Just you wait.

Vanessa’s always been bad at keeping secrets. It’s only a matter of time before this one comes out, and ruins everything.

All she can do is soak in this while she still can.

[rosewilliams1736]

This I Promise You

Supercorp Star Wars AU

CHAPTER 1

Kara groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. This was the third night in a row that she’d been kept awake by an incessant thrum in the back of her mind. It was annoying to say the least, and far more familiar than she cared to admit. She’d had the thrum off and on throughout her childhood and into her adult years, but it always passed eventually. There was something different this time though, it felt louder and more pressing than usual and it only seemed to get worse as time went on.

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed and into the closest pair of pants she could find before creeping out of her quarters and into the next room. There she clipped on her ammo belt and woke her droid. After a few rushed commands to make sure that they stayed quiet, she grabbed her shoes and moved outside. She didn’t see or hear anything right away, but that didn’t keep her from ducking behind a pile of rusted speeder parts and peeking out to survey the landscape in front of her anyway.

Aside from her family’s hut and the old trade federation landing ship they kept around for material runs, there wasn’t much to note in the sandy wasteland in front of her. It wasn’t that she expected much out after midnight, but she couldn’t be too careful. She’d never hear the end of it if she got caught.

After a final sweep of the area, she nodded to her droid and tiptoed toward the ship. She’d only made it a few feet before she heard the thump of something heavy hitting the sand behind her. She turned to find her cobbled together droid face down with their wheels spinning uselessly in the air above them. With a sigh, Kara backtracked and pulled the droid back to a standing position. She kneeled down and wiped some of the dust out of their sights.

“Come on Krypto, we’ve talked about this. We can’t have you falling all the time, especially on stealth missions.”

Her response came in the form of a variety of reserved and apologetic beeps.

“It’s alright buddy, we’ll work on balance a little more when we get home.”

Krypto flashed their blue and red lights and let out a significantly happier beep.

“That’s the spirit!” Kara stood up and gave Krypto a gentle push to help the droid get moving again.

Kara helped Krypto up the steep incline of the loading ramp before casting another quick glance over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Once she knew the coast was clear, she felt her heart rate spike as she slid into the cockpit and pulled the bulky helmet onto her head.

There was only so much to do to keep oneself occupied on Tatooine, and less that Kara herself was actually any good at. She couldn’t fix ships like Winn, or gamble nearly as well as her sister Alex, but she lived for the days when she was asked to make a supply run. Flying was the only thing that made her feel useful. It was her only real contribution to her small community and she took her role very seriously. She had found herself behind the controls for the first time when she was just ten years old, and even back then, flying came as naturally as breathing. Her sister joked that she had some secret superpower that gave her an edge over everyone else. Kara always brushed it off as just having good instincts, but deep down she knew that Alex was right.

Kara finished her pre-flight checks and looked down at her family’s hut with a half-formed apology on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed the words and adjusted her helmet. It wasn’t really an apology if she didn’t mean it and besides, she wasn’t planning on being gone all that  long anyway. It was just going to be a quick trip to an abandoned supply base nearby to try and find some equipment that she could sell for more food and fuel back home. Normally a trip like this would take place over several days and with a larger crew to help load the landing ship, but she’d been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from this particular base. She had to go alone or not at all, and staying home was not an option.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

“I’ve led dozens of supply runs, what makes this one any different?”

Eliza didn’t look up from the vegetables she was cutting. “We’re not having this discussion Kara. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve gone over the dangers of that place with you.”

"I’ve heard chatter that the base has been abandoned for months, no one will even know anything went missing, it’ll be easy.” Kara put her elbow on the counter in front of her and leaned forward toward Eliza.

“Nothing involving the Luthors is ever easy Kara, you know that. They are the most dangerous family in the galaxy and they would annihilate someone like you without batting an eye.”

“We’re running out of supplies and have nothing to sell to the trade ship next time it comes around. We need this.”

Eliza set down her knife and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. “I know how things look, but we’ve gotten through times like this before. I’m sure we can make some kind of deal with them.”

Kara stood up and began pacing back and forth in the narrow kitchen. “You’ve been saying that for weeks now. What are we supposed to do when we run out of food? How are we going to tell that to the families with little kids?”

“That’s enough Kara.” Eliza looked up for the first time since they had started talking and Kara could tell she was exhausted.

“But…”

“But nothing. Do I need to remind you that the last time you went out on a mission you came back with a hand that was broken so badly I couldn’t fix it and only half of your crew?”

Kara stopped dead in her tracks.

Eliza began massaging her forehead with one hand. “I’m sorry sweetie,” She said, her voice much softer this time. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, I just...”

Eliza looked over at Kara who was standing stock still a few feet away. “I don’t even want to think about you getting hurt like that again.”

Kara turned around and met Eliza’s gaze, slowly clenching and unclenching her mechanical left hand.

"Please let it go. We’ll find another way.” Eliza moved over to Kara and put a hand on her shoulder.

Kara nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into a motherly hug. She dropped the subject for the time being but couldn’t stop the miniscule thrum in the back of her head that told her she needed to get to that base.  

Soon after she’d had her talk with Eliza, they’d gotten word that their food supplies were starting to run dangerously low. Tensions were high among all of the townsfolk and she’d had to break up a handful of fights between people who were starting to grow hungry and frustrated. All the while the buzz in the back of her head slowly grew louder.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

“How are we looking Krypto?”

The droid flashed their green light and let out a few chirps.

“See? I told you this would be a short trip.” Kara said as she pulled back a lever and eased the ship out of hyperdrive. The streaks of light that had been shooting past the ship slowed and returned to normal looking stars. Not that there were too many stars to see from this vantage point. Kara’s field of vision was obscured by a massive rectangular supply station. It loomed over her comparably miniscule vessel and for the first time since she set out, Kara’s confidence wavered.

The thrum in the back of her head was telling her to stay, but every other part of her body was telling her to run. She brought her hand back to the hyperspace lever, but hesitated. Running would mean ignoring the instinct that had brought her here, and the only other time she’d done that, it had ended in the loss of a good friend and had nearly cost her her own life.

Her hesitation only lasted a second, but it was enough. As Kara grabbed the lever two bright beams of red light shot out from the station and stuck the side of her ship. The whole ship shook underneath her, red lights began to flash throughout the cabin and alarms blared.

“What’d they get buddy, can we make the jump to hyperdrive?” Kara asked as she unclipped her safety restraint and stood to survey a panel of colorful buttons on the wall behind her.

Krypto replied in a series of rapid and panicked beeps.

Kara flipped a few switches and ground her teeth. “I know, I know! We shouldn’t have come. You can be mad about it later, just help me get us…”

Kara’s sentence was cut off as the ship beneath her was wrenched sharply toward the towering station. The sudden forward motion sent her flying back into the wall of the cockpit. She crashed into the wall face first. Her helmet took the brunt of the impact, but all the air was forced from her lungs and her vision started to tunnel.

It took a few seconds for her brain to link back up the rest of her body. When it did, she pulled her helmet off and rolled onto her stomach as quickly as her still stunned form would allow. With clenched teeth, she hauled herself back up into a standing position. She quickly surveyed the cabin and was glad to see that the magnets she had installed under Krypto had kept the droid safely in place. Less exciting though was when she turned to see the station growing closer at a rapid pace.

Kara put a hand on the top of Krypto’s head and sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

In the grip of a tractor beam this strong with a ship with god knows how much damage, there was nothing she could do to try and escape. Kara stood and watched as two large bay doors slid open on the station in front of her and pulled her ship into a brightly lit loading dock. The walls of the loading dock were lined with piles of crates of all shapes and sizes that were labeled in more languages than Kara could count, and in the center of all of that was the landing area. This portion of the dock was surrounded by a dozen armed droids, all with blasters pointed in her direction.

This was the absolute worst-case scenario and Kara knew it, and though her mind was racing and her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest, she still managed to feel some semblance of calm. She was meant to be here. The thrum in the back of her mind told her so, and even though she still wasn’t sure why, she knew it to be true.

The ship came to a stop and Kara drew her blaster. “I’ll be right back buddy, see if you can’t get this old girl back up and running.” With a small nod to her companion, Kara took off toward the loading ramp.

She could hear muffled bits of droid banter through the metal walls as she approached. There was something about surrender and trespassing on Luthor property, but she couldn’t give a porg’s ass about any of that right now. She got into position and hit the button that released the ramp. The moment that it began its descent, Kara fought through the pain of her now throbbing head and climbed up to the top of the ramp. The moment that she was able to fit the muzzle of her blaster through the slowly growing gap, she began firing blindly. Her efforts were rewarded by several loud clangs that could just be heard over the now two-way blaster fire. It might not have been much, but Kara knew that she had earned herself slightly more favorable odds as her number of assailants began to dwindle.

Before the ramp could open too far, she rolled off it and grabbed onto the cargo net that lined the inside of the ship. With practiced ease, she climbed up the net and into what Winn liked to call “The Nest”, which was a small shelf that jutted out of the wall about twelve feet off the floor of the cargo hold. Most of the time Winn used it to take naps when he was supposed to be working on the ship, but right now it gave her a sniper’s vantage point as well as the high ground.

More and more bolts began to make it into the cabin as the ramp approached the ground. She managed to take out another handful of battle droids before they could climb onto the ship, but it didn’t take them long to figure out where her shots were coming from and soon all of their fire was directed up at her. The metal ledge beneath her began to heat up from the concentrated blaster fire and started to bend under her weight. Before Kara had the chance to stand, the ledge dipped sharply downward and she found herself flying quickly toward the ground. On instinct, she tucked herself into a ball and somersaulted out of the fall and onto her back. Kara’s eyes flickered around the cargo hold, trying to regain her bearings. Her lungs were burning from exertion and she could feel the sweat beginning to soak through the back of her shirt. She’d really stepped in it now, but she barely had time to acknowledge it before as she had to roll out of the way of a bolt that had been aimed directly at her head.

Kara fired off a few shots before climbing back to her feet and taking cover behind a nearby crate. The opposing shots kept coming, but she had to stop and collect herself before she could bring herself to retaliate. The thrum in the back of her mind was now bordering on unbearable. It had spread from its normal home at the base of her skull up into her temples. She needed to get off the ship, that much was clear even if the phantom buzz in her head wasn’t telling her to do so. After a deep breath and clearing her head as best she could Kara prepared herself for her next wave of attacks. From what she last saw, there were only three droids left but they were closing in quickly. It was now or never. She brought her blaster up to her chest and pressed her back to the crate.

1...2...3… She shifted to the left side of the crate and fired three quick shots before changing direction and running over to the right side and firing from there. One droid fell, and she landed several shots on the other two before they caught onto her change in position and turned on her. She tried to duck out of the way of the oncoming barrage but wasn’t quite fast enough. A bolt struck her solidly in the leg and she couldn’t help the shriek of pain that burst from her mouth.

Her head swam and her hands began to shake, but Kara lifted her blaster and kept firing. The second droid fell but the final one kept coming. The blaster grew heavier in Kara’s hands and her shots began to grow less accurate by the second. She spared a glance down to her leg and was surprised to see that there was blood seeping from what she had expected to be a burn wound.

Her attention was brought back to her current predicament when she heard the last droid impact the ground. She looked up to see Krypto standing next to the felled droid holding up one end of a rope, the other having been hooked to the wall on the other side of the room. The battle droid shifted but after a few quick shots from Kara, went still. Kara leaned heavily against the crate beside her and smiled weakly up at Krypto. “Thanks for the assist buddy.”

Krypto rolled over to her and began beeping frantically.

“I’ve had worse. Look, I even got to keep all four limbs this time.” Kara held up both hands, both real and mechanical before wiggling her left leg and flinching at the movement of her right one.

Krypto was unimpressed and didn’t hesitate in telling her so.

Kara chuckled and ripped a piece of fabric off of the bottom of her shirt before carefully wrapping it around her wound. It wasn’t quite a tourniquet, but it would slow the blood loss some.

“Now, how about we see what all of this fuss was about?”

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

Link to the fic on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783392/chapters/57132259

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of March 18th, 2020

Best of this Week: Outlawed #1 - Eve L. Ewing, Kim Jacinto, Espen Grundetjern and Clayton Cowles

It all starts with one incident.

The original Civil War kicked off when the New Warriors team, trying to get footage for their terrible reality TV show, started a battle with some supervillains in hiding, one of which was Nitro. Nitro self destructed and wound up killing over 750 people in Stamford, Connecticut. This resulted in heroes choosing sides in the debate of whether or not to register their identities and receive training under SHIELD, effectively being handed a leash, or choosing to fight against the tyranny of having their lives exposed and powers exploited.

It’s been a little over 13 years since that story and a new crop of heroes has emerged in its wake. Outlawed #1 takes the basic concept of Civil War and lowers sheer tragedy while maintaining the stakes of hero groups like The Champions who are caught in the immediate crossfire of its inciting incident, most specifically, their leader: Kamala Khan.

Eve L. Ewing starts the book in medias res with a Legislative hearing on a bill that would ban underage superheroism. Not only are the teens present, but we also get appearances from Avengers like Captain America, Captain Marvel and Vision, all of whom have big stakes in the fight. Captain America understands why they’re having the hearing, but counters that he was doing what the Champions were when he was their age, fighting for Freedom and he’s not wrong, but times have changed and there weren’t as many active superheroes as there are now.

Captain Marvel is a damning case as she’s managed to avoid any repercussions for her actions during Civil War II for the last few years, but one of the senators brings up the fact that two heroes under her charge became supervillains, those being Kamala’s former friends; Discord and Lockdown. She stammers as she can’t counter that and Vision is initially silent, indicating that something happened to Viv Vision in whatever incident occurred. 

When Spider-Man, Riri Williams, Nadia Pym and Sam Alexander (Nova) are questioned, they are treated as though they are kids who needed adult support and supervision, almost like fragile things and not like heroes who have helped save the universe. Kim Jacinto and Espen Grundetjern characterize each hero through facial expressions and backgrounds that color their moods. Miles looks furious under his mask with a red background, Riri is nonplussed as she always is under a cool purple glow and Nadia is forlorn with hazy pink color.

Sam then goes on a tirade about how these same people don’t care about the problems that the Champions were created to solve like poverty, drug abuse and hunger and only make a stand when the kids try to protect their own and he makes a good point. When they were founded, the adult heroes were just fighting one another again and again, month after month and not caring about the citizens… but his concerns are simply pushed to the side by a well dressed man with a Supercuts hairstyle and fake concern.

We then cut to the “Coles Academic High School” where Kamala, Miles and others are attending some sort of teen summit to watch over the plot device, Ailana Kabua, as she’s been receiving death threats for her speeches on environmentalism. She’s a very obvious nod to Malala Yousafzai, a young Pakistani advocate for female education, and Greta Thunberg, the young Swedish environmental activist that’s also begun to speak to the world. Both of these young women have courted controversy for speaking about what they believe in and have garnered undue hatred for it.  

The other Champions, consisting of Power Man (Victor Alvarez), Nadia Pym (The Wasp), Riri, Viv, Nova, Bombshell and Pinpoint, wait in the wings for anyone trying to assassinate or attack her. All things considered, this is a pretty stacked team. Ewing also does an amazing job of writing each character with their individual voices, much like she’s been able to make Riri Williams feel natural in her own solo series. They banter with each other like the teenagers/young adults that they are while Jacinto gives their stakeout a light hearted feel.

Things initially seem to be going well up until a DRAGON shows up out of nowhere to attack the summit. Jacinto, Grundetjern and Cowles give us an excellent splash page of the Dragon looking down at the Champions while breathing a small bit of fire. Jacinto frames the dragon as being far larger than the Champions, towering over the buildings around them with its wings taking up the sides of the page. Grundetjern colors the dragon with varying oranges, sometimes glowing and sometimes shadowed on its skin and Cowles accentuates it with a scratchy “GRAAAAAHHH” sound effect for its yell.

While some of them are dealing with that, Bombshell encounters the Roxxon Strike Team while Kamala and Ailana make their daring escape through the tunnels of the school. Jacinto and Grundetjern give us a double page spread of the absolute chaos with several Champions fighting off the dragon or the mercenaries. Admittedly, this scene is utterly chaotic but it does have something of a line to follow from the dragon flying through the air and its wing leading to Bombshell blasting a guy and Nadia with Power Man taking down another merc.

Grundetjern throws just about every color that they can in this scene, giving us vibrant greens for Pinpoint’s portals, nice and bright oranges for the dragon’s fire and Bombshell’s blasts as well as a more grayish black for Mile’s costume as he pretty much stomps a guy into mush.

As much as the Champions maintain a sense of cordiality with each other, they’re still teenagers that struggle with working together from time to time and Ewing stresses that when Power Man forms a plan to use one of Pinpoint’s portals to punch the dragon with all of his built up Chi. Riri then comes up with her own plan to fly Power Man up to the dragon and then release him. They ask Ms. Marvel which option is better, but as she’s maintaining her cover with Ailana, she tells them to make the call.

In the middle of this indecisiveness, Viv swoops in and decides to air her frustration at not being able to defeat the dragon and decides that she’s going to phase through it. Jacinto draws a look of palpable anger on Viv’s face as she rushes past Riri with Grundetjern’s bright wave of green energy trails behind her as well as Cowles “SWOOOOSH” sound effect to capture the velocity of her flight.At the same time, Power Man, unaware of Viv’s rush of anger, goes through with his plan and punches through a portal.

This is where it all goes wrong.

Jacinto, Grundetjern and Cowles give readers a perfect sequence of panels with Power Man punching, Viv “ZOOMing” up to the dragon as Riri tells her to hold on and then the moment before it all goes bad. Pinpoint’s portal opens just behind Viv and she is overcharged with Power Man’s Chi in a blast of orange, green and yellow as her face is stretched in agony and her limbs contort before she overwhelms the dragon in two separate splash pages.

Both of these pages are intense as the first one sees Viv yelling pain before “taking control” and engulfing the dragon with a “FWOOOOSSHH” mirroring its firebreath. This page is filled with what appears to be green flame and a silhouette of Viv in the middle of it. The next splash page shows Viv alone in the pyro, looking like a horrific combination of the Phoenix Force and Dormammu. She has lost all control of herself and this is where Ewing, Jacinto and Grundetjern raise the stakes of the battle.

Viv’s newfound power spirals out of control and begins to collapse the school and the surrounding buildings and we cut to Kamala doing everything she can to protect Ailana from the collapsing ceiling around them before going back to the Champions scrambling to stop Viv. Ewing continues to show how well she can write Riri as she cries while making a plan with Nadia that possibly kills Viv and stops the dragon altogether.

The city is in shambles and this is one of the Champions lowest moments ever.

Cutting back to the present day, we see that the “Superhuman Welfare Act” passes and a new governmental watchdog group called CRADLE is sent to round up all of the teen superheroes and metahumans around America. The bill also seems to garner support from former teen heroes and New Warriors members Justice and Speedball. Justice had joined the pro-registration side during Civil War because he blamed himself for not being a guiding hand for the New Warriors that died at Stamford and Speedball had already suffered the consequences of surviving that same incident.

However, the one who may suffer the most is the girl who the act is nicknamed after, Kamala Khan as we see her in a hospital bed suffering from injuries while trying to save Ailana.

This first issue was explosive and gripping throughout. Initially I was worried that it wouldn’t be able to live up to its concept or just be a less cool Civil War, but the one thing that this book maintained because of Ewing, Jacinto, Grundetjern and Cowles was heart.

The Champions are heroes, but they’re also all teenagers that don’t have the experience that the adult heroes do and in typical American fashion, no one learns from the mistakes of the past. Victor already butted heads with Riri for his recklessness in the past, but now he’s given consequences for his actions. America remembers Stamford, but doesn’t seem to remember how the Civil War nearly tore the country apart and installed a tyrant in a high government position in the aftermath.

If anything, the Champions aren’t going to leave this incident the same people that they were before.

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