#which get swallowed by the earth and the ocean

[sibillascribbles08]

Honestly the eclipse makes me think about the final shots from The Rite of Spring segment of Fantasia and how every time I watch it I just have to sit there and stare at a wall for a few minutes processing it all and I wonder if literally anyone else feels the way I do about that segment

[kingofbodyrolls]

Deep Dive (m) | knj

You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, soulmate!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, angst + a very small sprinkle of comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.8k → Warnings (general) + triggers: not much, honestly it’s all very very fluffy, lovey dovey and cute (you’ll probably get a cavity). There’s also a lot more lore and worldbuilding in this one compared to the others, as this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the seacity🧜It’s also rather existential and philosophical.  → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), oral (male and female), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, love making, kissing, breast play (licking, sucking, biting), handjob, fingering, clit play, hair pulling, creampie, very brief cockwarming. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note(1): I really don’t know what happened when writing this one; my fingers totally slipped and most of this is just world building 🫣 At least I had a shit ton of fun writing it! I tried to make the smut a bit different than I normally do, because I just feel like what I write is getting very repetitive… So I tried changing the pace of it a bit, but I don't know if it worked or not. Anyway, I really hope you like this one too, and I managed to finish it before Namjoon’s birthday, which means I’ll release it on that day 🥳 Please do let me know what, and if you liked it, and if you’re excited for the rest of the mermaid stories ✨

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The boat sways gently with the rhythm of the waves, each crest and trough sending a flutter through your stomach, a tantalizing whisper of the adventure awaiting below. The sea has always been your muse, its vast, enigmatic depths a sanctuary where you’ve carved out your own livelihood. As a freelance scuba diver, you descend into the ocean’s embrace, hunting for hidden treasures—crystals and gems, and occasionally, the rarest of finds. These treasures are not just artifacts; they are fragments of the earth’s ancient soul, preserved in the watery depths.

Hae, your best friend and partner in this aquatic quest, stands beside you, her hands steady as she helps you prepare for the dive. She runs a holistic and spiritual webshop called Soulful, a name that seems to capture the essence of her being—a blend of spirituality, sustainability, and an eye for the aesthetically divine. The gems and crystals you unearth find their way into her shop, where they are revered not just for their beauty, but for the energy they carry. The world has turned its gaze towards the mystical these days, and her shop has become a beacon for those seeking solace and healing in the arms of nature.

With your wetsuit snug against your skin, fins secured, and the weight of the oxygen tanks settling on your back, you feel the familiar thrill course through you. Hae hands you your goggles with a smile, and before placing the mouthpiece between your lips, you flash her a grin. “See you soon,” you say, voice laced with excitement. The small tool bag—your fanny pack of excavation tools—rests comfortably at your side, ready to assist in your quest for nature’s buried wonders.

You take a deep breath and plunge into the ocean, the water swallowing you with a resonant splash. As you breach the surface, your arms stretch forward, parting the water with a smooth, practiced motion. The ocean welcomes you, wrapping you in its cool, serene embrace. Here, beneath the waves, you are home, surrounded by the vibrant tapestry of sea life. Jellyfish drift by, their tendrils trailing like delicate threads of silk, while schools of tiny fish scatter at your approach, shimmering in the filtered sunlight that dances through the water. Deeper you dive, into the world where time slows, and the ocean whispers secrets long forgotten by the surface. The seafloor is a hidden gallery of nature’s artistry, where crystals and gems lie in wait, forged over eons by the earth’s elemental forces. Each one tells a story—of undersea volcanoes, tectonic pressures, and the alchemical dance of minerals. Hae often speaks of these gems as if they are living beings, infused with the spirit of the ocean itself, each one a relic of the deep’s quiet, patient creation.

You smile to yourself, recalling her poetic musings, almost as if you were reading straight from her website. But you know the truth behind the beauty—these crystals, formed through evaporation, precipitation, and the intricate dance of minerals, are more than just pretty stones. They are pieces of the earth’s heart, shaped by the hands of time and nature’s immense power. Sodium, magnesium, calcium, potassium—their chemical symphony plays out in each crystal, each gem a unique testament to the forces that birthed it.

To you, they are not just beautiful—they are a testament to the majesty of the natural world, a tangible link to the planet’s deep, unspoken history. Hae’s customers, too, are drawn to this connection, to the knowledge that each crystal was not mined en masse, but discovered and unearthed by your hands alone. This makes each piece not only ethically sourced but also one-of-a-kind, carrying with it a story that can never be replicated. And then, there’s the healing. The myriad of spiritual properties attributed to these gems opens another world entirely, one that you and Hae have only begun to explore. It’s a world where science and spirituality entwine, where the physical and the metaphysical dance in harmony. But for now, as you dive deeper into the ocean’s embrace, you’re content to simply marvel at nature’s handiwork, knowing that whatever treasures you find will carry a piece of this underwater realm back to the surface.

A glint catches your eye in the distance, a shimmer that pulls you deeper into the ocean’s embrace. You’ve lost track of how far you’ve dived—perhaps just a few meters, or maybe more. Time seems to stretch and compress down here, as fluid as the water around you. A quick glance at your watch reveals that only ten minutes have passed, but you know you must be mindful of the oxygen left in your tank. Still, the ocean’s siren call urges you onward, tempting you with secrets yet to be unveiled.

Something blue sparkles ahead, its brilliance cutting through the murky depths, and you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Your body moves with the fluidity of the water, each motion a dance of instinct and harmony. Down here, you’re not just an explorer—you’re a part of the ocean itself, swaying gently in time with the currents. The source of the light reveals itself as you approach a small rock formation, where gems of varying shades of blue glisten like forgotten stars scattered across the ocean floor. Aquamarine, calcite, and amazonite—Hae’s voice echoes in your mind, recalling the knowledge she’s shared with you. Aquamarine, the “Sea Water Stone,” born from the cooling magma of the earth’s depths, its color an echo of the ocean’s own hues. It’s a stone that calms the mind, eases stress, and sharpens communication, a talisman of courage and clarity. Blue calcite, a crystal forged from calcium, carbon, and oxygen, soothes like a lullaby, its gentle presence calming nerves and quieting anxieties. It also opens the mind’s eye, enhancing intuition and inner vision. And then there’s amazonite, a gem you’ve always favored. Its cool blue-green tones speak to your soul, a “Stone of Courage” that promotes truth, honor, and positive communication. It balances the masculine and feminine energies within, weaving harmony into the fabric of life. You reach out, your fingers brushing the rough texture of the rock, marveling at the beauty before you.

Carefully, you pull out your tools—a smooth flat file and a soft silicone hammer—and begin to work. The gems yield to your skillful hands, and soon, you’ve gathered a small collection of aquamarine, blue calcite, and amazonite, each piece a perfect reflection of the ocean’s quiet majesty. You tuck them safely into your bag, their weight a comforting presence at your side.

But the ocean isn’t done with you yet. You swim further, your eyes scanning the seabed where kelp and other sea plants sway like ethereal dancers. A small cave catches your attention, its entrance barely large enough to accommodate you, but you’re compelled to explore. You squeeze through the narrow opening, and the sight that greets you steals your breath away.

Before you lies a treasure trove of green crystals, their surfaces shimmering like serpent scales. Serpentine—Hae has spoken of this gem, formed deep within the Earth’s mantle by the transformation of silicate minerals through water. This is your first time finding it, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty, the green hues reminiscent of a forest hidden beneath the waves. You run your fingers over the rough surface, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within the stone. Carefully, you chip away a few pieces, their weight adding to the growing collection in your bag.

But the bag is heavy now, laden with the ocean’s gifts, and a glance at your watch tells you it’s time to return. With a reluctant sigh, you leave the cave behind, swimming back toward the surface, your heart still lingering in the depths. As you break through the water, the sunlight dazzles your eyes, and Hae is there, her hands reaching out to help you back onto the boat. The weight of your gear is a burden you’re glad to shed, and you push the bag toward her, eager to share your discoveries.

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she sifts through the gems. “You really found a lot—and serpentine? You’ve never found that before. My customers are going to be over the moon!”

Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but smile. “That makes it all worth it,” you say, pulling off your hydro fin shoes with a satisfied sigh. “But I’m keeping one piece of serpentine for myself—it’s too beautiful to part with.”

Hae nods, still mesmerized by the treasures you’ve brought to the surface. The joy in her eyes is a reflection of your own, and you feel a deep contentment settle over you. The ocean has shared its secrets with you once again, and as you breathe in the fresh air, you know that the bond you share with the sea is stronger than ever.

You sail home under the setting sun, the ocean’s breeze carrying with it the scent of salt and adventure. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the boat lulls you into a state of serene satisfaction. Back on land, you join Hae in her cozy apartment, where the warmth of the evening light filters through the windows. Her small photo studio, a creative sanctuary tucked into a corner, is ready for the treasures you’ve unearthed. Together, you arrange the crystals with care, each one glistening like a piece of the ocean’s soul captured in stone. The camera clicks, preserving the gems’ beauty for the world to see, as Hae’s artistic eye transforms them into visions of wonder. The process is swift but meaningful, a quiet ritual that binds your shared passions. Soon, the crystals will grace her webshop, ready to bring a touch of the sea’s magic to those who seek it.

“This collection is huge, Namjoon,” Hoseok remarks with a warm smile, his gaze sweeping over the shimmering array of gems that adorn the older merman’s room. “There’s so much history embedded in these walls,” he adds, pointing to the meticulously arranged stones, and Namjoon feels a flush of pride rise to his cheeks. He’s poured countless hours into curating this collection, each gem—some calcite, larimar, jasper, peridotite, amazonite, and serpentine—bearing the weight of time and the ocean’s secrets.

Yoongi casts a sidelong glance at Namjoon and his prized collection, murmuring with a wry grin, “It’s impressive... but also incredibly dorky.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter, his joy so radiant that for a moment, Namjoon thinks they don’t need the sun in their underwater world—Hoseok’s light is enough to illuminate the depths.

“I’m not a dork,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms over his bare torso in an attempt to feign indignation, but his stern expression does little to sway the younger mermen. Their laughter echoes through the water, a melody of friendship that only strengthens the bond between them.

“Nerd, then,” Hoseok offers through another burst of laughter, his voice rippling through the water like bubbles rising to the surface. Yoongi, ever the skeptic, merely rolls his eyes, already weary of the conversation. Namjoon can sense that Yoongi’s thoughts have drifted elsewhere—likely back to his bed, where he longs to sleep away the rest of the day. But Namjoon’s heart beats with a different rhythm, one that craves adventure. He usually embarks on treasure swims with his friend Soo-ah, but she’s preoccupied with her fiancé, Seokjin, as they prepare for their upcoming wedding.

Namjoon casts a glance at his friends, hoping they’ll soon take their leave so he can slip away into the inviting embrace of the sea. The room feels too small for his restless spirit, and the ocean beyond the walls calls to him like a siren’s song. He had initially invited them over for their monthly book club, but the gathering has devolved into something else entirely—Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing at the protagonist’s ridiculous misadventures, and Yoongi, true to form, had forgotten to read the book altogether. The story, plucked from the land above, strikes Hoseok as particularly odd and amusing, especially since he’s never set foot on land himself.

“Book club’s over, right?” Yoongi asks with a resigned sigh, his voice heavy with fatigue, as if the very mention of reading has drained him further.

“Yeah, but do try to read the next book for next month,” Namjoon chides gently, though he knows his words will likely fall on deaf ears. Yoongi merely shrugs, not even bothering to pick up the worn book as he drifts toward the door. Namjoon watches them go, rolling his eyes as Hoseok flashes him a soft smile and a thumbs-up before they swim off to their respective homes.

As their laughter fades into the distance, Namjoon finally feels the freedom to pursue the adventure that has been stirring within him all day. The sea awaits, vast and full of mysteries, and he is eager to explore its depths once more.

Namjoon exhales a deep sigh, the weight of his thoughts momentarily heavy, but he renews his energy by nibbling on some fresh kelp. The taste is crisp and briny, filling him with the vitality he needs for the journey ahead. With a determined glint in his eye, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and sets off on his adventure. The sea has always been his home, its vast expanse a comforting embrace. His parents, both scholars dedicated to preserving the rich history of their underwater city, have instilled in him a love for the past. But while they focus on teaching the young minds of the city, Namjoon’s heart has always been drawn to the secrets hidden within the earth—gems and stones that hold their own silent histories.

He propels himself forward, his baby blue tail cutting through the water with graceful precision. As he gathers speed, the fish scatter in a dazzling display, their scales catching the light as they dart away. The underwater world rushes past in a vibrant blur of color, until something shimmering in the distance catches his eye.

Ahead, perched on a rock formation, are gleaming clusters of calcite and aquamarine, their surfaces dancing with the light that filters through the water. The sun’s rays, fractured by the waves above, cast a spectrum of blues across the gems, making them shimmer like the sky at twilight. Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, as it always does when faced with such natural beauty. Each gem is a masterpiece of time and pressure, a testament to the earth’s patient artistry. He reaches out, reverently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within them.

He pulls out his tools, careful not to disturb the surrounding environment, and begins to collect a few of the precious stones. As he works, he remembers Soo-ah and selects a particularly radiant piece to bring back to her, a token of their shared love for the ocean’s treasures.

But his heart skips a beat when he notices something unsettling—many of the gems have already been harvested, leaving only a few scattered remnants behind. A frown creases his brow as he wonders who could have beaten him to this spot. None of his friends share his passion for collecting gems. Sure, Taehyung enjoys gathering trinkets and curiosities, but stones have never been his interest. The thought of another collector in these waters feels strangely alien, a mystery that tugs at the edges of his mind.

Who else, he wonders, could be drawn to these underwater treasures with the same fervor that drives him?

You find yourself submerged once more, the embrace of the ocean welcoming you into its depths as you embark on yet another treasure hunt, eager to unearth new crystals. Your path leads you back to the familiar cave where you previously discovered the serpentine and calcite, their beauty still vivid in your memory. Yet, something feels different this time—there are fewer crystals adorning the rock formation and scattered across the seabed. The ocean’s depths, a canvas for nature’s exquisite artistry, have always been a sanctuary for the many fascinating crystals that dwell there. But you’ve never encountered another diver who collects them as passionately as you do. The realization leaves you momentarily puzzled, until a flicker of purple catches your eye in the distance.

Intrigued, you glide through the water with graceful urgency, approaching the new discovery. As you draw closer, you recognize the delicate gray and rose-hued crystals as lepidolite, known for its ability to enhance astral travel and lucid dreaming. You’ve rarely come across these gems in your dives, and even now, only a few precious stones cling to the rock formation. Carefully, you retrieve your tools and begin to collect the lepidolite, tucking each piece into your bag with a sense of reverence.

Continuing along the seabed, you pass by schools of vibrant fish, their colors a blur of life around you, until something extraordinary catches your attention—massive aquamarine crystals, far larger than any you’ve ever seen before. They seem to pulse with a quiet energy, drawing you in with their mesmerizing blue hue. As you approach with a gentle hand, you feel an inexplicable connection to the gems, as if they are whispering tales of the ocean’s mysteries and the magnificence of the world beneath the waves.

Gingerly, you touch the aquamarines, and a surge of calm washes over you, a tranquility deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced. The sensation is strange, yet profoundly soothing, as if the ocean itself is sharing its serenity with you. 

Taking your time, you inspect the crystals, standing tall on a rocky pedestal surrounded by pink sea bushes and kelp that sways in the water’s current. A few curious fish glide by as you carefully chip away at the base of the crystal, hoping to extract a substantial piece. When you finally succeed, you notice something peculiar—the crystal’s twin, the piece that once stood beside it, is missing. The jagged edge where it was removed is unmistakable. The question lingers in your mind, unsettling and persistent: Who has taken the other piece?

As you wonder who else might be drawn to the allure of these hidden gems, your hands continue their careful work, collecting a few more of the larger pieces, along with several smaller ones. You know that the smaller stones, though modest in size, still carry the same potent energy as their grander counterparts, and some people cherish them all the more for their delicate beauty. Each crystal, whether large or small, holds within it the ocean’s quiet wisdom, waiting to be shared.

Gently, you tuck the treasures into your bag, the weight of them a comforting reminder of the sea’s generosity. With a final, lingering glance at the shimmering aquamarines, you propel yourself upward, your body moving effortlessly through the water’s embrace. As you break through the surface, the world above greets you with a rush of air and sunlight. Hae is there, her arms open wide, her smile as warm as the sun. She helps you back into the boat, her touch gentle and reassuring, as if she understands the wonders you’ve just encountered below.

Once you’re back in the boat, the weight of your gear feels heavier than ever as you remove it, but your heart is light with the excitement of your discoveries. You eagerly reveal your treasures to Hae, each crystal glinting in the sunlight as you lay them before her. With a grin, you hold up the largest aquamarine, its cool blue depths mirroring the ocean below. “This one’s mine,” you declare, the gem feeling like a piece of the sea itself in your hand. But then your tone grows more serious as you add, “I think there’s another diver out there collecting gems. So many were missing from the formation.”

Hae’s eyes widen, her smile fading into a look of concern. You can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, already strategizing, perhaps even considering whether it’s time to move to a new, more secluded spot. The thought of competition makes her uneasy, her gaze drifting over the precious stones as if they might vanish any moment.

Sensing her anxiety, you place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say with quiet confidence. “I’ll dig around, find out who it is. We’ve come too far to let this unsettle us.” Your words are meant to calm her, to remind her that together, you’ve weathered challenges before. After all, her webshop, with its unique blend of spirituality and sustainability, has always stood out in a sea of imitators.

Hae exhales softly, her tension easing as she meets your gaze. “Okay, thank you,” she murmurs, her hands gently gathering the remaining crystals, leaving you with your cherished aquamarine. The stone gleams in your palm, a symbol of the bond between you and the sea, and now, a silent vow to protect what you’ve both worked so hard to build.

The pull of the ocean is undeniable, a quiet voice in the depths of your soul that beckons you toward the gem, as if it carries the very essence of the sea within its crystalline heart. You know instantly that this piece belongs by your side, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and your bond with its vast, hidden world. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water as you sail back to shore, the quiet lapping of waves a soothing lullaby.

Returning to your apartment, you flick on the light, the familiar space bathed in a soft glow as you carefully place your ocean gift on the nightstand beside your bed. The gem catches the light, its surface shimmering like the sea at dawn. With a contented sigh, you brush your teeth, the routine grounding you after the day’s adventure. But as you lay in bed, your mind drifts back to the ocean, and sleep comes quickly, filled with dreams of underwater realms and the treasures that lie beneath.

Yet, even in sleep, a question nags at you. For days, the mystery has lingered in your thoughts—who could be venturing into the depths to collect gems alongside you? Your research has led you nowhere, each inquiry a dead end. No diver you know is as daring, or perhaps as mad, as you, willing to plunge into the ocean’s deepest reaches. The puzzle gnaws at you, an itch you can’t quite scratch, and the frustration builds like a storm on the horizon. It feels as if the answer is just out of reach, hidden beneath the waves, and the more you dwell on it, the more it drives you to the edge of your patience, a riddle you are desperate to unravel.

Driven by a spark of determination, you’ve hatched a bold plan—to dive back into the depths and catch the mysterious intruder who’s been claiming your precious gems. Hae thinks it’s a dumb idea, but she indulges you, knowing your spirit is as restless as the ocean itself. And so, once again, you find yourself out on the boat, with Hae in the vast expanse of the ocean under the midday sun. The boat sways gently, a rhythmic dance on the water’s surface as you methodically pull on your gear—your oxygen tanks, goggles, and hydro fins. The final touch is your backpack, securely fastened to the tank, ready to hold whatever treasures you might uncover.

With purpose in your heart and a steely resolve, you press your arms together and plunge into the ocean’s embrace. The world above fades away as you descend into the deep, your body slicing through the water with graceful determination. Thoughts of the smaller boats you saw earlier linger in your mind, fueling your hope that this dive will lead you to your elusive rival.

As you dive deeper, the current cradles you, guiding your body as you sway with the ocean’s rhythm, until you reach the seabed. The familiar terrain unfolds before you, a place you’ve visited many times, yet now it feels different, touched by the presence of another. Only a few small gems remain, their glint a reminder of what’s been taken. You scan your surroundings—kelp sways like dancers in the current, fish dart about in a symphony of colors—but no sign of competition yet.

Undeterred, you press on, swimming further along the seabed, following the contours of rocky formations. Your heart quickens as you reach a familiar spot, the place where you once unearthed a magnificent aquamarine. But as you approach, your breath catches—the rock’s surface is nearly barren, the aquamarine all but vanished, save for a few remaining shards that catch the light. Your fingers hover over the stone, tracing the empty space where the gems once gleamed, now a haunting reminder of what’s been lost to unseen hands.

A sudden jolt, like a spark of electricity, tingles through your fingertips, and before you can react, a blur of blue fills your vision, distorting the world around you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but it remains—an ethereal presence in the water. Then, you feel a light, almost playful poke against your cheek, and a startled scream escapes into your mouthpiece, sending a cascade of bubbles spiraling upwards.

Instinctively, you jerk backward, heart pounding, as you struggle to comprehend what’s before you. No—this can’t be real. It’s not another diver. It’s not even human.

In front of you, suspended in the water like a living dream, is a merman. His face, heart-shaped and adorned with eyes like dragon-like darkened amber, is framed by short, blue hair that floats gently around his soft cheeks, jawline and pointed chin. Thin soft eyebrows arch over those wide, curious eyes—eyes that seem to hold all the wonder of the deep. His lips, thick and juicy are slightly parted in a soft ‘o,’ convey a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your gaze travels over his tall frame down to his bare chest, lean and strong, and then to the tail—an iridescent baby blue, shimmering with every subtle movement, a perfect extension of the ocean’s beauty. 

A wiggling tail instead of legs.

You blink again, desperate to make sense of the vision before you. A merman… It has to be.

He drifts closer, his tail flicking gracefully as he reaches out to poke your chin once more, his voice resonating through the water with an almost melodic quality. “Are you human?” he asks, his tone gentle yet filled with the wonder of a child discovering something new.

Your mind races, and you nod frantically, unable to speak with the mouthpiece still in your mouth, your feet paddling in the water as you fight to steady yourself. The reality of the moment crashes over you like a wave—this is no fantasy. A merman is right in front of you.

As your gaze falls on the backpack strapped to his shoulders, you notice a subtle shimmer, a gleam of something precious. In that instant, the pieces fall into place—he’s the one. He’s the mysterious collector, your unexpected rival in this underwater hunt for gems.

“I’ve seen humans before,” he continues, his voice carrying an almost casual tone as he swims around you, studying you like a creature from another world, “but I’ve never seen one dressed like you.”

Your heart aches to respond, to ask a million questions, but with the mouthpiece in place, all you can do is let him circle you, his eyes filled with an innocent fascination. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, each glance exchanged like a whispered secret between the ocean and the sun.

As you take in the sight before you, your eyes are drawn to a necklace resting against his chest, the small piece of aquamarine nestled between the firm contours of his titties—chest, you mean chest! The gem, cradled in the hollow where his muscles meet, glimmers softly, almost as if it’s alive with the very essence of the sea. You can’t help but stare in awe, the allure of it tugging at something deep within you. Thank heavens for your goggles, masking the blush that would otherwise give away your wandering thoughts.

“You look funny,” he remarks, his voice laced with innocent curiosity as he reaches out to grab one of your hydro fin shoes. The unexpected touch throws you off balance, and for a moment, you find yourself flipping weightlessly in the water, your body twisting like a leaf caught in a gentle current.

“Is this supposed to be like a mermaid’s tail?” he asks, holding your foot aloft as though it were some ancient relic to be deciphered. His brow furrows in concentration, and you can’t help but feel a mix of amusement and bewilderment at the sight.

Instinctively, you jerk your foot back, breaking free from his grasp, and you push against the water with frantic kicks, a glance at your watch reminding you that time is running out. As much as you wish to linger here, captivated by the merman’s presence, the pressing need to return to the surface propels you upward.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” he calls after you, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, but you’re already too focused on reaching the surface to notice the distress in his expression. The thought of what could happen if you don’t make it in time isn’t one you’re willing to entertain.

Breaking through the water’s surface, you take off the mouthpiece and  gulp in fresh air, scanning the horizon until you spot your boat, a distant speck where Hae waits, the other vessels having long since disappeared. It seems manageable, this swim back to the boat, as long as you stay above water—your oxygen tank now empty, its weight a reminder of how close you cut it.

But before you can begin the swim, something solid collides with you, stopping you in your tracks. “Ow,” you exclaim, startled as you float backward, only to find yourself face to face with a familiar figure, his blue hair dripping wet above the waves.

“Hi,” the merman says with a smile, his dimples appearing like little pools of light in the sun. The simple word carries a warmth that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re lost in the easy charm of his grin, the ocean around you feeling suddenly smaller, as if it were just the two of you in this vast, endless world.

“Hi,” you greet him with a soft smile, still astonished that he followed you to the surface at all. A swirl of unspoken questions rises in your chest, but they tangle in your throat, leaving you staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The world seems to blur, save for the merman before you, his wet blue hair plastered against his forehead, his dragon-like eyes sweeping over you with a curious intensity, as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“What’s all that stuff you’ve got on?” he asks, pointing a slender finger at your goggles and then at the oxygen tanks strapped securely to your back.

“These?” you say, finding your voice as you point to your goggles. “They help me see underwater,” you pause, feeling the weight of the tanks pulling at your shoulders, “And these let me breathe while I dive—they hold the oxygen I need when I’m down there.” You gesture to the tanks behind you, your explanation feeling small in the face of his wide, unblinking curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding as if piecing together a puzzle. “Makes sense,” he says at last, though his gaze strays past you, catching sight of Hae waving from the boat that rocks gently on the surface, her silhouette framed by the scorching sun.

“I... I have to get back,” you mumble, pointing toward your friend, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. You try to steady your thoughts, but they swirl like the currents beneath the sea, a thousand questions dancing just beneath the surface, questions you don’t quite dare to voice.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps. “But before you go…” His voice halts your movements, drawing you back to him like the pull of the tide. You turn toward him again, heart fluttering in the quiet space between you, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“What’s your name?” His voice is soft, carrying a gentleness that ripples through the water.

“It’s ___,” you reply, offering him a smile that’s both shy and warm.

“That’s pretty,” he says, and when his lips part into a smile, his dimples carve deep into his cheeks, making him almost impossibly cute, but dangerously so. 

“I’m Namjoon.” 

His name lingers between you like a secret, sweet and mysterious. “Will I see you again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow raised in curious hope.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, the warmth filling your chest. There’s something about him—this enchanting creature of the deep—that makes you feel drawn in, like the tide itself is pulling you closer. You nod, the joy bubbling up inside you as you answer, “See you later, Namjoon.” There’s more than one reason you want to see him again. The unspoken questions whirl in your mind, but there’s also the thrill—because maybe, just maybe, you want to get your hands on the best crystals before he does.

As you turn and swim back toward Hae, your thoughts a mess of wonder and disbelief, a blush warms your cheeks. Did you just make a date with a merman? The thought sends a tingle of excitement through you. But when you glance back to where he was, Namjoon is already gone, having disappeared beneath the shimmering surface, like a dream fading with the dawn.

You finally make it to the boat, the sun still hanging high, bathing everything in golden light. As Hae helps you out of the water and hands you a towel, her eyes are wide with confusion. “Who was that? And how did he just vanish into the water like that, without any diving gear?”

“A merman,” you pant, peeling off your oxygen tanks and goggles. The words slip out of your mouth so naturally, like it’s something you’d say every day. Not the revelation of a magical creature, but a simple truth.

Hae stares at you, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A merman,” you repeat, more firmly this time.

“A merman?” she echoes, her voice faint and incredulous, as if the very idea is too fantastical to grasp.

“Yes. A goddamn merman,” you say, grinning wide as you meet her disbelieving gaze. “Scaly tail and all.” And then the absurdity of it all hits you, and before you know it, you’re laughing—a bright, bubbling sound that lifts the tension from your chest.

Hae blinks, her mind racing to catch up with the truth you’ve laid before her. When she finally does, her gaze shifts to the shimmering crystals you’ve collected, and without another word, she turns the boat towards home, lost in thought as the ocean waves lap against the sides. And all you can do is sit there, the excitement of your encounter buzzing through your veins, as you wonder about the next time you’ll meet Namjoon beneath the waves.

The next time you set sail, the open sea stretching endlessly before you, a current of giddy anticipation courses through your veins. Thoughts of the blue-haired merman, Namjoon, fill your mind, sparking excitement deep within your chest. Will he be there today, waiting beneath the waves? You wish you could speak with him underwater, to ask him the thousand questions swirling in your heart, but the surface would have to do for now. You can’t help but smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Hae steers the boat through the shimmering water, the horizon vast and infinite. As you slip on your gear and dive beneath the surface, the ocean’s cool embrace pulls you into its depths. You swim purposefully, eyes scanning the underwater world, searching for both gems and a glimpse of Namjoon. 

Suddenly, something blue catches your eye, sparkling in the distance. Your pulse quickens as you think, just for a moment, that it might be him. But as you swim closer, your heart sinks—it’s only a cluster of aquamarine, glittering like pieces of fallen sky. You feel a bit foolish, letting your hopes get the better of you. Shaking off the disappointment, you turn your attention to the task at hand, collecting the gems with careful precision, though your thoughts continue to drift back to the mysterious merman.

You move to a new spot, finding a hidden cave adorned with larimar crystals. The stones are breathtaking—swirls of blue, white, and gray blending like waves crashing upon a shore, smooth and radiant. The sight brings a smile to your face, the beauty of the moment settling into your heart. You gently gather some of the crystals, placing them in your bag with reverence, as if each one carries a secret.

Just as you’re about to leave the cave, a shadow falls across the entrance. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden presence. But then, the familiar voice reaches your ears, warm and apologetic, and you see him—Namjoon, his figure filling the space, his smile soft and full of quiet charm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head, his eyes filled with a gentle sincerity.

Relief washes over you, and with a playful wave of your hands, you signal that it’s okay—that he needn’t worry. How you wish you could speak to him down here, let your words float freely in the water like the bubbles escaping from your gear. But for now, your gestures will have to suffice. Your smile says the rest—you’re just glad to see him again.

“You’re collecting crystals, right?” Namjoon asks, his voice cutting through the liquid silence as he gestures toward your already bulging bag. You nod in response, still catching your breath from the weight of the gems you’ve gathered.

“Do you want me to show you a cave with lepidolite?” he mumbles, his tone casual but a bit uncertain. “They’re pretty rare, but I know of a cave that’s full of them.” For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is the ocean’s version of Netflix and chill, the awkwardness of the offer landing with the charm of a bad pickup line. You can’t help but smile at the thought. 

Still, you nod, knowing that Hae would be thrilled to get her hands on more lepidolite, and besides, you’re curious. You figure underwater Netflix and chill is a bit different from what you’re used to anyway.

Namjoon leads the way, his brilliant blue tail weaving effortlessly through the water, shimmering like sunlight caught in a sapphire. You trail behind him, captivated by the rhythmic sway of his form, the way his muscles ripple across his broad back like waves sculpted by some divine hand. You can’t help but wonder—do they even have gyms down here? The sight of him, so fluid and powerful, is mesmerizing, and before you know it, time seems to slip away, your focus narrowing to the subtle dance of his movements.

“This is the cave,” he suddenly announces, pulling you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realized just how long you’d been swimming, utterly absorbed by the quiet beauty of the journey and him.

You follow him inside, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away—deep violet lepidolite, sparkling in the dim light like stars scattered across a twilight sky. You’re awestruck by the sheer abundance, the rare gems nestled into the cave walls as if nature had painted this secret world just for you.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon giggles softly, his voice echoing gently through the cavern as you nod, too taken by the sight to speak. You pull out your tools, carefully beginning to gather the precious stones, all while feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering on you. His silent watchfulness stirs a strange flustered feeling inside, like he’s studying you with the same intensity you’ve used to admire him.

Once your bag is heavy with lepidolite, Namjoon takes you on a quiet tour of other hidden gem spots. Each place he shows you feels like a secret whispered by the ocean itself, and soon your collection grows so large that the weight of it tugs at you, as if the sea itself is trying to pull you back down. When Namjoon offers to carry your bag, you try to refuse at first, clinging to your independence. But as your arms grow heavy, you relent, watching in awe as he effortlessly takes your overloaded bag, slinging it across his broad frame with ease. He carries it as though the weight is nothing, his strength as graceful as the tides themselves.

With a raised arm, you gesture that it’s time to surface—your oxygen running low, the familiar ache of needing air settling into your chest. He seems to understand immediately, and together you ascend, the world around you turning brighter as you rise toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, you gasp in the fresh air, peeling off your goggles and mouthpiece, eager to speak to him in the open air. Namjoon surfaces beside you, droplets clinging to his skin as the sun catches the water in his hair, casting a shimmering halo around his smiling face.

“We should do this again,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“It really was,” you reply with a smile, your heart still buzzing from the underwater adventure. “Thank you for showing me all those caves. My friend, Hae, is going to be over the moon,” you say, casting a glance toward the boat swaying gently in the distance.

“That’s great to hear,” Namjoon replies, his voice as smooth as the rippling waves.

A flicker of frustration tugs at your chest, and you bite your lip. “I just wish I could talk to you down there,” you admit, your words heavy with a longing that feels both simple and profound.

“It would be nice, yeah,” he muses, his soft smile brightened by the sunlight. “But I don’t mind coming up here to talk. I like the air up here too,” he adds with a gentle chuckle, his gaze warm and steady.

“I have so many questions,” you blurt out, the words escaping you before you can hold them back. There’s too much wonder bottled up inside you, too much curiosity, and it needs to spill over.

Namjoon laughs, a sound so genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Shoot,” he says, his dimples deepening like two small whirlpools at the corners of his mouth.

You pause, your mind swimming with possibilities, before settling on the most obvious. “Are you the only merman, or… are there more of you?” you ask, your voice tinged with awe.

“There are more,” he says with pride, his chest lifting slightly. “There’s a whole city beneath the sea—Naraeum, where we live.” His eyes gleam with the pride of someone who belongs to something ancient and wondrous.

A thrill runs through you at the revelation. An entire city of merfolk hidden beneath the waves. The thought makes your pulse quicken, the realization that you’ve stumbled upon something so extraordinary, so secret, that few on the surface could even imagine it. You feel as if you’ve been let in on the universe’s greatest mystery, and it fills you with a giddy excitement that hums like electricity in your veins. 

“Are there cities or kingdoms beneath the waves? What are they like?” you ask, your voice soft with curiosity, eager to glimpse the world he calls home.

Namjoon’s eyes light up with a quiet pride. “Naraeum is a vast kingdom,” he begins, his words gentle yet full of wonder. “There’s pink coral stretching as far as the eye can see, ancient golden buildings weathered by time, and bright green kelp that sways like dancers in the currents. Dark caves hide beneath the surface, teeming with life—fish, crabs, creatures of every kind. And at night, everything glows with bioluminescent light, turning the ocean into a dreamscape.” A faint blush rises on his cheeks as he adds, “Maybe I can show you one day.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought of seeing an underwater kingdom beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. “That sounds unbelievable. I’d love to see Naraeum,” you say, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of diving so deep, into a world untouched by human hands, feels too surreal to grasp.

“There are other cities too,” Namjoon continues, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some are smaller, some are larger, but Naraeum is like the heart of our region, the capital of sorts,” he adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Your mind whirls with possibilities, questions tumbling out before you can stop them. “Do you have art? Music? Stories? How do you create them underwater?”

Namjoon laughs, a full-bodied sound that echoes across the waves. “We do,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes. “Human books, for one—we’ve learned to preserve them so they don’t dissolve. Otherwise, we etch our stories on stone, carving our history into the bones of the sea. For music, we use instruments that echo your drums, flutes, and strings, but they’re crafted from merfolk hair, delicate yet strong.”

He pauses, a wistful look crossing his face. “Naraeum is ancient, filled with art and stories older than any of us. But,” he adds, adjusting the heavy bag on his back, “I fear I don’t have enough time to share them all right now. This bag,” he says with a light grin, “is starting to weigh me down.”

“Oh right, the bag!” you exclaim, snapping back to reality as a wave of panic ripples through you. You mentally scold yourself for letting the moment sweep you away, your feet kicking gently against the water as you make your way toward the boat. Namjoon swims by your side, effortlessly graceful, his shimmering tail flickering beneath the surface. 

Hae is there, waiting with a patient smile, and as she pulls you aboard, you reach out to take the heavy bag from Namjoon’s hands. “Thank you so much,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face despite the unspoken whirlpool of questions still swirling in your mind. You wish you could ask him everything, but those wonders will have to wait.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Namjoon replies, his voice soft like the lull of the ocean. His own smile is tender, a quiet acknowledgment that leaves you feeling light despite the weight of the bag. 

Hae chimes in with a grin, “So, you’re the famous merman,” she teases, still a little wide-eyed as Namjoon flashes his bright blue tail above the surface, the sight leaving her speechless. The tail vanishes just as quickly, a flicker of the magic below.

“I’ll have to go now,” Namjoon says, his voice carrying a gentle farewell as he begins to swim backward, his gaze lingering on yours. “But I’ll see you again soon, ___.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and despite yourself, you smile and wave, heart fluttering in a way that’s both exhilarating and unsettling. You watch him dip beneath the waves, his form disappearing into the deep blue, leaving the water still and the air quiet.

Hae turns to you with a knowing look. “You’ve got a crush on the merman, don’t you?”

You can’t deny the warmth spreading through you, but you push the thought aside, the reality of it sinking in. He’s a merman. You’re human. It feels impossible, like something from a dream. But maybe—just maybe—being friends isn’t out of reach. Friends, you think, as if convincing yourself. That can’t hurt... right?

In the following weeks, you find yourself swept into a world beyond imagination—each adventure with Namjoon feels like diving into a storybook of magic and wonder. He takes you to hidden underwater realms where gems glimmer like stars, and schools of fish, dolphins, and whales glide by as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as though the ocean has opened up just for you, revealing its secrets with every dive. The more time you spend with him, the stronger your heart tugs, pulling you deeper into your feelings. You try, futilely, to convince yourself you’re just friends, but every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, makes that harder to believe. 

Namjoon is an incredible friend, one who listens to your ramblings with genuine interest. His conversation is as vast and deep as the ocean itself, leading you into existential tangents that leave you pondering life and its mysteries long after the talks are over. You wish for more—there’s an ache that grows inside you—but how could that even be possible? He’s a merman, you’re human. It feels like some impossible fairy tale. Yet, you’ve caught him stealing glances, his cheeks tinged with blush, and sometimes he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter in ways you can’t ignore. But does that mean anything? How do merfolk even love? You wonder if their hearts beat the same as yours.

One quiet afternoon, as you sit with the sun lazily dipping below the horizon on the boat, you find yourself asking the question that’s been gnawing at your mind. “Are there any consequences if a merman falls in love with a human?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. 

Namjoon, floating beside the boat, nearly chokes on the beer you brought him, his laughter turning into a cough as he searches for air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “There aren’t really... any consequences,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning pink. His eyes flicker nervously to your lips, then meet your eyes again, a quiet vulnerability swimming in their depths.

Good to know, you think, your heart skipping a beat. But before the blush overtakes you, you scramble to change the subject, your curiosity pulling you in another direction. “Is there magic in the ocean, like the old legends say? Can you control it?”

He laughs softly, the sound like the ebb and flow of waves. “There is magic, but no, I can’t control it. None of us can. There’s a Sea Witch, though—she’s the only one with that kind of power, as far as I know.” His words are laced with mystery, and your mind spins with possibilities.

“Can merfolk live forever?” you ask, half-dreaming of a life that stretches beyond the boundaries of time.

“Yes and no,” he replies, his voice thoughtful. “We can live for so long it feels like forever, but we’re not truly immortal.” His gaze drifts across the water, as if pondering the weight of time itself. 

“Interesting,” you murmur, your thoughts swirling. “What happens when a merperson dies, then? Is there an afterlife?”

Namjoon’s smile is wistful as he explains, “When a merperson dies, we hold a celebration—a spiritual send-off, really. There’s singing, dancing, it’s more of a party than a funeral. We celebrate their journey into the afterlife.” You must look puzzled because he quickly adds, “In the afterlife, we become ghosts. But if friends and family don’t send you off properly, there’s a chance the spirit might come back to haunt them.” He chuckles lightly, and you gasp, wide-eyed at the thought.

A cool breeze dances over the water, and for a moment, the world feels suspended between reality and the dreamlike expanse of the sea. You sit there, awed by the depth of his world, your heart both heavy with questions and light with wonder. And in that moment, despite the impossible distance between your two worlds, something seems to shift—something delicate and unspoken. You don’t know what the future holds, but maybe, just maybe, there’s magic enough to bridge the divide.

He passes the beer back to you, and you take a gentle sip, letting the taste linger without wanting the haze of drunkenness to settle in. Out here, in the middle of the endless ocean, everything feels both vast and intimate. A small taste is enough.

“Do you ever feel lonely in the vastness of the sea?” you ask, a quiet melancholy softening your voice as you gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon. The sea is breathtaking, yes, but the weight of its endlessness stirs something in you—a humbling reminder of how small one can feel in such a world.

“Sometimes,” Namjoon admits, his head dipping as his gaze finds the water. “There are moments when the ocean feels too big, too quiet.” His voice is soft, vulnerable. “But I have good friends,” he continues with a faint smile, “and I have my books when the solitude feels too heavy.” He looks at you with eyes warm and reassuring, as if to say that the sea might be vast, but he’s found beauty in its stillness.

“Oh, what books do you like?” you chuckle lightly, trying to brighten the mood, though his quiet sincerity tugs at your heart.

“Human books,” he replies with a gentle grin. “I love historical tales, but fiction is my favorite—stories that let me dream of other worlds.”

You smile, curiosity dancing on your lips. “What kind of fiction? Should I bring you some next time?” The words tumble out before you can catch them, your eagerness spilling over into the space between you.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, so deep it even colors the tips of his ears. In a shy, almost bashful voice, he says, “I... I like romance.” His admission is soft, as if he’s unsure of how it will land.

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with affection. There’s no shame in it, not to you—if anything, it’s endearing. “I have some romance books I can bring next time, if you’d like,” you offer, your voice gentle, feeling the warmth of your words fill the space between you.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle, a soft wonder lighting them up as his blush deepens. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his voice as tender as the evening breeze.

The sun has begun to sink lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Namjoon glances at the sky, then back at you with a smile that feels like the closing of a chapter. “It’s getting late. I was thinking... next time, I could show you Naraeum.” His voice is proud, almost glowing with the thought. “If we go at night, the whole kingdom shines,” he adds, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he recalls the bioluminescent beauty he once described to you.

Your heart leaps at the thought. “I’d love that,” you say, feeling the pull of the ocean’s magic once more. “I’ll ask Hae to man the boat, so I’m not alone when it’s time to head back.”

Namjoon nods, his smile softening as the sun dips lower, its light casting golden hues over both the water and his blue hair. “See you soon,” he says, waving as he begins to slip beneath the surface.

You wave back, feeling the warmth of his presence linger, even as you sail toward the shore, the fading sunlight a reminder that the ocean holds many mysteries yet to be uncovered. And with each adventure, your connection to him deepens, like a current pulling you both to something inevitable.

"I’m telling you, you’re totally whipped, man," Yoongi says with a playful eye roll, his voice teasing but laced with truth.

“I’m not,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms defensively, but deep down, he knows resistance is futile. His friends have been relentless, teasing him ever since you entered his life—how his smile stretches wider, brighter, after spending time with you, how your name slips into conversations that have nothing to do with the human world. It’s like you’ve seeped into his very soul. He knows he’s fallen, and fallen hard, but the weight of his feelings confuses him. He has no idea how to navigate them, unsure of your heart, or if you could even feel the same pull toward him. And how could it ever work between you two? The thought of venturing onto land to be with you dances through his mind like a fragile dream, but there’s a storm of questions swirling beneath the surface—questions he’s too afraid to ask, too scared to drown in all the unknowns.

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” Yoongi mutters, his voice softer now, tinged with caution. Namjoon nods, the words settling heavily in his chest like stones sinking to the ocean floor.

“Hey man, don’t throw your past experiences at Joonie like that!” Jimin chimes in, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder, a little too forcefully judging by Yoongi’s wince. “If he’s in love, he should go for it. Take the dive, see where the current leads him,” the blonde merman insists, eyes sparkling with mischief and optimism, trying to fill Namjoon’s heart with hope, pushing away the shadows Yoongi’s cynicism casts.

Namjoon, though, can only sigh. “I just don’t know…,” he mumbles, fingers trailing along the spines of his beloved books, rearranging them in some futile attempt to quiet the storm inside him. Anything to busy himself, anything to keep thoughts of you from consuming him. But it’s hopeless—why does his mind keep drifting back to you, like the tide, relentless and unyielding?

“It will never work,” Yoongi shrugs with a quiet scoff, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen too many relationships slip away. His words linger in the air, heavy like the deep sea.

Jimin, unphased, shoots him a scolding glare. “You never know that,” he says firmly. “Just because your love life’s been a shipwreck doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, a flicker of irritation.

“And look at Seokjin and Soo-ah!” Jimin adds, his voice lifting again, the gleam of an idea flickering in his eyes. “Soo-ah was human once too, remember? She turned mermaid for love. Maybe ___ would want to become a mermaid as well? Who knows what fate has in store,” he grins, ever the romantic, eager to plant seeds of possibility in Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon’s heart stirs at the thought, but even the idea feels like a dream too distant, too fragile to reach. Could you really be part of his world? Could love, like the sea, find a way to bridge the impossible distance between you?

“I would never put that on her. She has a life—one she’s likely content with on land. I couldn’t ask her to leave it behind,” Namjoon says, his voice laced with breathless resignation, as though the weight of his own feelings has left him deflated, crushed beneath the impossibility of it all. 

“She’s a good friend. I’ll just... enjoy what we have for now,” he adds softly, placing the book you’d given him gently on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover. He already treasures it, not for the words it contains, but because it came from you. Though he hasn’t yet reached the end, he finds himself lost in the pages, immersed in the tale of a woman struggling with feelings for her best friend—torn between preserving their friendship or risking everything for love. If Namjoon sees a reflection of his own heart in those pages, he’ll never admit it, not even to himself.

“Love sucks anyway,” Yoongi mutters, his voice sharp and bitter, like a wound still raw and bleeding.

“You’re killing the vibe, Yoon,” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he swims closer to Namjoon, his energy warm and comforting. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin adds, draping an arm around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, trying to lift the weight that presses down on his friend. “He’s the last person you want advice from when it comes to love. He’s forgotten what it means to believe in it.” Jimin shoots another glare at Yoongi, who merely shrugs, unmoved.

Namjoon lets out a weary sigh. He likes you—no, more than likes you. Perhaps he’s even in love, but he’s still learning to come to terms with that revelation. What if telling you his feelings drives you away? What if, in confessing his heart, he loses the precious friendship you’ve built together? You, who’ve brought laughter and life into his days. He’s never been close to a human before, not like this, and the thought of losing you weighs heavier than the ocean above him. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ventured to land before, tasted fleeting moments with humans—flings that flickered out as quickly as they began. But this, you, feel different. And he’s in deep water now, uncertain of the way forward. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re human. If you were a mermaid, he doubts it would make things easier. What draws him to you isn’t your species, it’s your soul. 

It’s the way your hair dances in the wind, or how it clings to your skin when it’s soaked from the sea. The way your cheeks flush red, that soft blush that dusts even the bridge of your nose. The way bubbles rise and swirl around you when you dive beneath the waves, how your lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The way your presence calms the storm inside him, as though you carry the quiet strength of the sea itself.

Yes, Namjoon thinks, his heart heavy with the undeniable truth. He’s got it bad.

“Hae, I don’t know what to do,” you sigh, the weight of indecision pressing down on you as you sit at the coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from your untouched cup. You feel like you could pull your hair out, frustration boiling inside as you wait for the coffee to cool, though it’s really your emotions that need calming.

The midday sunlight filters through the window, casting soft golden light over your table, but you can’t appreciate the warmth. Your mind is too restless. What are you supposed to do with these feelings?

“It’s actually quite simple,” Hae says, her tone far too casual for the magnitude of what you’re feeling. She takes a sip of her coffee—how does she drink it so scalding hot?—and you scoff softly, half out of envy, half in disbelief at how calm she seems. “You just have to talk to him.”

You groan, the sound louder than you intended, pulling curious glances from the tables around you. Embarrassed, you lower your voice, but the frustration lingers, tugging at your insides like a tangled knot. 

“It’s not that easy,” you say, pushing your coffee aside. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I ruin everything between us?” Your voice drops to a whisper as your hands fall to your lap, palms sweaty and clammy. “How would it even work? He’s a merman, Hae. I... I’m just me.”

Hae raises an eyebrow, amused. “Girl—have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you?”

You blink. “What do you mean? He looks at me... normal.”

She gives you a look that suggests you might be the most oblivious person on the planet. “Nah. He looks at you like he’s ready to drown in your eyes—like you’re his whole world.”

Her words hit you like a sudden wave, stealing your breath for a moment. Could she be right? You’ve never seen Namjoon look at you like that, at least not in a way you could recognize. 

“Really?” you whisper, unsure, heart fluttering with both hope and fear.

“Yes,” she emphasizes, laughing a little as she sets her cup down. “You’re kinda stupid for not noticing.”

You finally take a tentative sip of your now-warm coffee, trying to hide the way her words unravel you. As the warmth settles in your chest, your mind starts racing, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Namjoon, all the times he’s looked at you, spoken to you with that gentle smile. Had there been something more in those glances? Had you been too blind to see it?

“You should confess your feelings,” Hae says, matter-of-fact, sipping her coffee like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’s not that simple, not for you. The thought of baring your heart feels like standing at the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing if there’s solid ground beneath you—or a fall. What if she’s wrong? What if you’re wrong? 

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know if I can. What if I ruin our friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Hae gives you a knowing look, but you’re already spiraling, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe... maybe you could watch him a little longer, try to see what she’s seeing, catch more evidence that there’s something there, something more. 

Because the risk of losing him over your feelings—that terrifies you more than anything.

It’s a few nights later, and the sea is a blanket of darkness as you and Hae venture out into its endless expanse. The sky above is nearly pitch black, save for the delicate shimmer of stars scattered like diamonds, casting faint light upon the inky water. The moon hangs low, its pale glow mirrored perfectly on the surface, creating a fragile bridge between the heavens and the sea. You pull Hae into a hug, murmuring your gratitude for her being here, for her unwavering companionship on this strange, otherworldly journey. She laughs softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night, and tells you she wouldn’t let you drown—not when she’s here to keep you safe. Her words bring a smile to your face, easing the quiet tension in your chest as you pull on your gear in the dark.

You slip into the water, the sea swallowing you whole. Beneath the surface, it’s as black as ink, the deep blue fading into a near-impenetrable navy that borders on oblivion. But there is no fear, only the pull of the unknown as you dive deeper, surrendering to the quiet pull of the ocean. Your breath is steady, your heartbeat louder in your ears than the sound of the waves above.

And then, there he is—Namjoon, his gentle smile waiting for you like a beacon in the depths, dimples carving softness into the darkness. His presence is steady, grounding, and for a moment, you forget you can’t speak, forgetting that the words you wish to say—I’m glad I’m here, thank you for this—are trapped behind the mask of your breathing gear.

Suddenly, his hand reaches for yours. The touch surprises you at first, a flicker of warmth against the cold of the sea, sending a soft spark up your arm, a silent current that makes your heart stutter. But then you relax into it, realizing how right it feels��his hand in yours, the silent understanding between you. It’s just a hand, you remind yourself, but even the smallest gesture carries weight in the depths of the sea.

“It’s dark,” he gestures to your joined hands, his voice a whisper through the water. “I’ll guide you.” You notice, even in the dim light, how his eyes shift nervously, and if the ocean weren’t so dark, you’d swear there was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Together, you swim deeper, your hand still clasped in his as the world around you begins to change. In the distance, something gleams—a glint of gold, faint but unmistakable. As you draw closer, it becomes more defined, taking shape as towering structures rise from the seafloor like monuments from another world. Tall, ancient buildings glitter beneath the water, their surfaces gleaming with gold, adorned in intricate lettering and symbols you can’t begin to decipher. The curves and arches remind you of something familiar, some echo of human architecture, though far grander and more ancient than anything you’ve ever seen. These aren’t just buildings—they’re castles, palaces from a forgotten fairy tale. Everything is bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent light, soft blues and yellows emanating from plants that pulse like stars, making the entire city shimmer as if alive with magic. It’s breathtaking—otherworldly in its beauty—and you feel your breath catch in your throat, mesmerized by the impossible splendor before you. 

How many wonders exist beneath the surface, hidden from the world above? you think, the weight of it all is almost too much to grasp. That such a place could exist, a vast city of gold and light, thriving in the deep—how could you have never known?

“Welcome to Naraeum,” Namjoon says, his voice soft, gesturing toward the city center that teems with life. Merpeople of all shapes, colors, and ages drift through the streets, some lost in their own rhythms, others laughing and chatting, and children darting through the water in playful games. The whole scene is alive, vibrant, and full of warmth, and the sight of it fills you with something indescribable—joy, wonder, perhaps even belonging.

A smile spreads across your face, unbidden, as the reality of this magical place settles over you. For the first time, you feel like you’ve truly discovered something beyond the world you’ve known, something boundless and beautiful. And with Namjoon beside you, it feels like you’ve only just begun to understand its depths.

“This is the city hall,” Namjoon gestures toward the tallest of the castles, its golden spires reaching upward like fingers trying to touch the ocean’s surface. “The royal family lives there too.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to his words, something ancient and significant about the building that looms over the city like a silent guardian.

You glance at him, blinking, wishing you could ask more, the curiosity burning inside you. If only you could speak, but the water and the mouthpiece keep your questions trapped behind your lips. The tug of his hand interrupts your thoughts, and once again you’re being gently pulled deeper into the heart of Naraeum, where the city unfolds like a dream in slow motion.

The water sways with life—delicate kale and other greens move in rhythm with the gentle currents, shells glint beneath the sandy floor, and tiny crabs scuttle between the rocks, oblivious to your presence. Shoals of fish—bright yellow, orange, and black—dart past, their quicksilver bodies flashing through the twilight water. And now, the eyes of the merpeople are on you. Their gazes, curious and shimmering, follow you as you move through their world, and for the first time, you feel like a true visitor in a land not your own.

Three merpeople approach, their figures graceful and effortless in the water. One, a striking merman with a pink tail that shimmers like rose quartz in the dim light, looks you over with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way both comforting and unfamiliar. You notice his hand intertwined with a mermaid beside him, her tail a stunning shade of purple that gleams like amethyst. Together, they are radiant, like a pair of jewels. They look perfect together, you think, a bit in awe of how seamlessly they belong to this world.

“This is ___?” the pink-tailed merman asks, his voice smooth, his eyes darting to Namjoon for confirmation.

Namjoon nods, and the mermaid smiles, her face brightening with warmth. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, her voice light like a melody. “I’m Soo-ah, and this is my fiancé, Seokjin.” You nod in response, acknowledging them with a smile behind your mouthpiece, feeling a sense of camaraderie in their presence.

But before you can speak—or even think of what to say—your eyes catch on the third figure. A dark-haired merman with a tail the color of midnight, streaked with gold that glimmers like starlight. His aura is different—colder, detached. His black eyes flicker over you briefly, then, with a dismissive scoff, he turns away, arms crossed over his chest as if to close himself off from the world. 

Namjoon sighs, his voice edged with irritation, “That’s Yoongi.” The name comes out rough, almost an apology. “He forgot to take the stick out of his ass today.”

You can’t help but chuckle, bubbles escaping from your mouthpiece, rising toward the surface like tiny pieces of joy. Even in this underwater kingdom, humor survives, softening the tension. But Yoongi, unmoved, swims off into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

“Don’t mind him,” Namjoon mutters, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Soo-ah and Seokjin swim alongside you as Namjoon leads you through the winding streets of the marketplace, stalls lined up like sentinels, though empty now in the quiet of night. The architecture is both foreign and familiar, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. Everything feels untouched by time, and yet alive with history. You pass the grand library next, its shelves filled with tomes both ancient and new, merfolk stories and human books resting side by side. You can almost feel the weight of untold stories and hidden lore that fills the space, waiting to be discovered.

Namjoon’s excitement builds as he takes you to a fitness center unlike anything you’ve ever seen—massive bars with stones at either end, weights crafted from various-sized rocks, and machines clearly designed for strength and agility in the water. It’s a glimpse into the life of these beings, how they build themselves in this weightless world.

After a while, Soo-ah and Seokjin bid you farewell, their presence a quiet comfort as they swim off together, leaving you alone with Namjoon. Your pulse quickens. His hand, still clasped in yours, feels warm even in the cold depths of the sea. The way he glances at you—those fleeting, secretive looks that you’ve caught out of the corner of your eye—makes your heart race even more. Hae’s words echo in your mind, whispering truths you’re not sure you’re ready to admit. 

Could it be? you wonder, as the two of you drift toward his home.

“This is my place,” he says softly, his voice reverberating through the water as he turns on the light—an iridescent seashell hanging from the ceiling that casts a gentle, pearlescent glow throughout the space. His home is carved into the heart of a cave, the walls smooth and cool to the touch, like the sea itself has shaped them over countless years. Your eyes fall on his bed, draped in what looks like a soft, inviting duvet, but as you get closer, you realize it’s woven from delicate strands of kelp, swaying ever so slightly in the currents. It’s an unexpected beauty, intricate and organic, like everything in this underwater world.

The longest wall is dominated by a towering bookshelf, its shelves lined with books, arranged meticulously by color and size. It’s mesmerizing, this ocean of stories he’s collected, and you can’t help but wonder what worlds and lives he’s explored within these pages. You want to tell him, to say how beautiful it all is—his home, his soul, him. But your words are trapped beneath the weight of the sea, tangled with the breathlessness of being in his presence. 

Your fingertips brush the spines of the books, imagining all the narratives they contain, each one another layer of who Namjoon is. You glance down at your joined hands—his fingers laced with yours, and in that quiet moment, you swear you can feel something electric passing between you. A pulse of warmth, a silent exchange of emotions you can’t speak. You want to kiss him, more than anything. The way he’s gazing at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, the gentle curve of his lips hiding a blush you wish you could see more clearly.

But here, in this quiet cavern beneath the sea, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t ask him what you’re dying to know, can’t lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against yours, can’t tell him that you’re falling, deeply, helplessly. All you can do is float here, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. 

He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then closes again. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, lingering in the air between you. He tries again, and this time his voice, soft and hesitant, finally breaks the silence. 

“Thank you for letting me show you my world.”

You squeeze his hand gently, pouring all the gratitude and affection you can’t voice into that single touch. You hope he feels it—the appreciation, the awe, the quiet longing you carry for him. And in that touch, you wish you could invite him into your world, share everything that you are with him, even though he’s been on land before. But you don’t know if he’d want that. You’ve never asked, never dared to imagine what it might be like to share your lives across these two worlds. You’re afraid to impose, afraid to hope too much.

The moment hangs fragile between you, but like all perfect moments, it begins to fade as reality presses in. You feel the pull of time, the reminder that you need to return to the surface. Namjoon feels it too. His eyes flicker with understanding as he leads you back out into the city, guiding you through the soft glow of bioluminescent lights, past the merpeople still moving gracefully through their midnight routines. 

The silence between you stretches as you swim toward the boat where Hae waits, but it’s not the kind of silence that weighs heavy. It’s filled with possibility, thick with everything you haven’t said. Your heart beats faster as you realize that, once you’re back above the water, you’ll have the chance to speak. To ask. The thought of it sends your pulse racing, a swirl of excitement and terror mixing in your chest. 

What if he doesn’t feel the same? The question spins through your mind, gnawing at the edges of your courage. But the way he looked at you, the way his hand feels in yours, gives you hope. And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.

As you break the surface of the water, you push your goggles up to rest like a headband, feeling the cool night air kiss your damp skin. It’s crisp, almost electric, filling your lungs with a freshness that makes the world above feel more alive than ever. Namjoon surfaces beside you, offering you a soft smile, but your attention is caught by the subtle blush dusting his cheeks, a faint rose bloom in the moonlight. He seems hesitant, his uncertainty mirroring your own, as if you’re both standing on the edge of something vast and uncharted, too afraid to take that first leap.

For a heartbeat, he swims closer, his presence looming gently in your space. You hold your breath, your pulse quickening with the thought that he might—maybe—kiss you. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to surrender to that moment, but instead, his fingers brush your cheek, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it sends a wave of warmth through your body. His touch lingers, delicate and deliberate, and though it wasn’t the kiss you imagined, it makes you blush all the same. The heat rises to your cheeks, flooding you with a mixture of longing and disappointment.

But then something stirs within you—some reckless courage sparked by his closeness—and before you can think it through, you lean in. Your lips find his, a soft, quick kiss, almost like a whisper. It’s gentle, just a peck, but his lips are warm, softer than you ever imagined, like the sea breeze caressing your skin on a summer evening. 

When you pull away, you see the surprise flicker in his eyes for just a moment before his features soften into something tender and full of quiet affection. His ears burn red in the moonlight, and his dimples deepen as he gazes at you with a look that leaves you breathless. His brown eyes—dark and shimmering, like polished amber—glow with something more, something deeper. You think, just for a second, it’s desire, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the soft lapping of the waves. You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of him, and smile. “It was so beautiful.”

Namjoon doesn’t speak; he simply looks at you, his dragon-like eyes full of quiet intensity, his dimples softening the tension in the air. It’s a look that makes your heart skip, that holds a thousand unsaid words between you. And as you reluctantly pull away, swimming toward the boat, your mind is still spinning from the kiss, from the closeness, from everything left unspoken.

Hae pulls you up into the boat, and as you sit, catching your breath, you catch her sly grin. You know she saw everything—the kiss, the blush, the way Namjoon looked at you—but for now, she stays silent, letting the moment hang in the air. You wave to Namjoon, watching as he offers one last gentle smile before disappearing back into the deep, dark waters, the night swallowing him whole.

And even as the waves settle, your heart still swells, full of the hope and mystery that the night—and Namjoon—left behind.

The days pass in a blur of anxious thoughts, your heart heavy with doubt. Every dive into the ocean feels colder without a trace of Namjoon, and the silence is deafening. Each time you resurface alone, your mind spirals further into uncertainty. Did you overstep? The kiss lingers on your lips, but now you wonder if it was a mistake. It feels as if he’s vanished into the depths, leaving you adrift. Is he avoiding me? The question gnaws at you, twisting your insides. Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t feel the same, that he wants nothing more to do with you.

Hae, ever the caring friend, drags you to a fancy restaurant in an attempt to soothe your restless mind, insisting that you’re worrying yourself to death. You look like a dog that’s been kicked, she had said with a shake of her head, trying to make you laugh. But now, as you sit across from her, poking at the salad you barely have the appetite to eat, the weight of your uncertainty presses down even harder. Your stomach twists with every bite, the anxiety clinging to you like a shadow.

“Maybe he’s just busy, or caught up in merfolk stuff?" Hae suggests, her voice light, trying to pry you from the dark corners of your thoughts. But your mind won’t let you escape. Busy? No, your treacherous thoughts whisper, he’s avoiding you—he’s forgotten you, and the kiss meant nothing.

You say nothing, only stabbing your fork into the salad with a kind of quiet fury, each jab into the leaves an outlet for the storm brewing inside you.

“Uh, ___?” Hae’s voice breaks the tension, but you barely lift your head. She stumbles over her words, clearly uneasy, her tone cautious as she leans in closer. “There’s a man—blue hair—he’s looking at us.”

At her words, something stirs in you, curiosity overriding the anger for just a moment. Blue hair? Your heart skips a beat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn around, almost instinctively, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Your gaze collides with a pair of deep, brown eyes that hold all the mystery of the ocean. Namjoon.

His eyes glisten like the sea at dawn, reflecting both depth and tenderness, swirling with something unspoken—regret, maybe even desire. You swallow hard, feeling the magnetic pull that has always existed between you, but this time, it’s stronger. The air around you thickens as he walks toward the table, his presence unmistakable, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft, laced with an apology that doesn’t need to be spoken yet. The smile he offers is gentle, almost shy, and you can see the guilt in the way his eyes search yours. He knows. He knows he shouldn’t have disappeared without a word.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you manage to reply, the sound of his name on your lips stirring something deep inside you—something that’s a mixture of relief and frustration. You’re a little mad, of course you are. But as your heart races, you know you can’t stay angry with him, not when he’s standing there with that look in his eyes. He’s here now. And that’s enough for your heart to forgive him.

Your eyes travel down to his legs—strong, toned, perfectly human. He’s traded the water for the land, just for you, standing there in beige shorts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And yet, your mind spins with the impossibility of it all, as if he’s a dream made flesh, and part of you still can’t believe he’s really here.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that seems to ripple like the sea itself. Namjoon scratches the back of his head, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he begins, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that, but something happened in Naraeum—”

Before he can finish, the weight of your own anxiety breaks through, forcing the words from your chest. “I thought you didn’t like me, or just forgot about me.” The admission tumbles out, raw and trembling, the very fear that has haunted you for days finally taking shape between you. As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel exposed, vulnerable. You brace yourself for his response.

For a moment, he just stares, his expression frozen in disbelief, like your words have knocked the wind out of him. Then, his face softens, eyes wide with something close to shock. “Baby, no,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the nickname slipping from his lips so naturally that it sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. He steps closer, worry etched in every line of his face as his gaze falls on you, sitting there with your heart in your throat.

Baby?

“I’d never forget about you,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly as he bites his lower lip, as if trying to hold something back. The intimacy of that small gesture makes your breath catch.

Hae clears her throat opposite you, breaking the charged moment. She rises from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing both your gazes toward her flushed face. “Namjoon, please, take my seat and talk. I’ll go home and shower this tension off,” she says, her tone teasing but kind.

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing she’s right. The tension is palpable, thick as the ocean depths, and part of you is grateful for the space she’s offering. Even though nerves twist inside you like a storm, you know this is a conversation you need to have.

As Hae leaves, Namjoon sits down across from you, his eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry I worried you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. His hands rest on the table, inching closer to yours, like he’s afraid to cross that final distance too soon.

There’s that word again—baby—and it stirs something deep inside you, butterflies rising in your chest, fluttering wildly, desperate to escape. It’s more than just a nickname; it’s a promise, a reassurance that melts the cold fear that has been gnawing at you for days.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice softer now, the storm inside you beginning to calm. “My mind just... got the better of me.” Your gaze flickers to where his fingers hover near yours, and your heart beats wildly at the nearness of him.

Namjoon is here, in front of you, and you realize with a quiet, overwhelming relief—he’s never really been gone.

“I could never not like you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the truth is too delicate to be spoken aloud. “I think I... love you,” he finishes, the last words barely audible, yet they linger in the air between you like a fragile secret.

Did he just say love? Your heart stumbles, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “You do?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief, your pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. Could it be real? Could he feel the same way?

A flicker of uncertainty dances across your mind, and you can’t help but press further, needing clarity. “Wait—do you think, or do you know?” Your question is gentle, but it carries the weight of hope, a hope that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Namjoon smiles at himself, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. I know I love you.”

Time seems to slow, the world slipping into a dreamlike state where everything feels soft, suspended, as if wrapped in the warm glow of your shared confession. The air between you feels charged, but also tender, like the fragile moment before the first petal falls. You can feel it now—he’s there with you, and this love, this real thing, is finally mutual.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours, and lean in closer. “I love you too, Namjoon,” you whisper, the words feeling both daring and true.

For a moment, silence settles between you, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of what’s just been said. His hazel eyes, flecked with warmth and softness, hold yours, and you swear you could drown in them. Drown and never wish to come up for air.

The pull between you is magnetic, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, unfiltered and bold. “Do you... want to come see my place?” The second the words leave your mouth, heat rushes to your cheeks. The invitation is brazen, filled with unspoken implications, but you know it’s what you want—all of him, not just this moment, but something more, something deeper.

Namjoon’s breath catches, and he stands, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes, baby,” he replies in a voice that is almost a whisper, but carries the weight of everything he feels. That one word—baby—sends shivers spiraling down your spine, and you bite your lip, holding back a smile.

Hand in hand, you walk together through the quiet night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. You don’t need words now; the simple contact of his hand in yours is enough, grounding you as you lean into his strong frame. It feels so natural, as if you’ve always been walking beside him, as if this was always meant to happen.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door with a nervous flutter in your chest. As the door swings open, you flick on the light, and for a moment, you glance around, hoping he won’t find your space too cluttered or small. You’d cleaned just the day before, but still, anxiety lingers.

Namjoon steps inside, his eyes roaming the space, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks at you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken, something that makes your heart race. His hand tightens around yours, and you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit, like gravity drawing you closer.

You look up at him, studying the moles that dot his skin, noticing the way his features are softened by the low light. He’s so close, and in this moment, with his warm eyes on yours and his hand gently holding yours, you think—this is what it means to truly be seen, to truly be wanted. And God, does he look so handsome.

Then, without hesitation, he dives in, his lips crashing into yours with a desperate, urgent need. The moment you let out a soft moan against his mouth, he releases your hand, now free to explore you. Both of his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, yet with a fierceness that pulls you deeper into him. The kiss consumes you, leaving you feeling like water melting in his palms—soft, fluid, and utterly surrendered. His lips tease yours, grazing them in a way that demands more, and when he seeks entrance, you grant it willingly. Your tongues meet in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, moving like waves crashing together under a moonlit sea.

Another moan escapes you, and you feel heat pooling deep inside, a yearning that’s overwhelming. And it’s only a kiss—yet it has you unraveling like a ribbon coming loose.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks onto yours, desire simmering in the air between you, thick and electric. “Baby, I want you so bad,” he breathes, his lips curling into a soft pout that makes your heart melt. How does he look both fierce and endearing at once?

You can’t help but smile, your own need burning just as fiercely. “Me too... Please call me ‘baby’ more,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes as you cling to the warmth in his eyes. “I love it.”

He chuckles, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he says, amused. “Every time I call you ‘baby,’ your eyes dilate.”

You didn’t know that, but you feel the truth of it—the way that simple word makes your heart race, how it draws you even closer to him, making you crave more.

“I want you...” You pause, feeling the boldness rise within you, “I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is breathless, your gaze holding his with an unspoken plea.

Namjoon grins, a softness creeping into his eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m going to make love to you,” he whispers, and the words are like honey dripping slow and thick. “Don’t you worry,” he adds, his lips capturing yours again with a hunger that makes your head spin.

Each kiss sends you spiraling further into him, your sanity slipping, but God, you love every second of it. It strikes you then how much of a romantic he is, how the passion in his touch mirrors the stories he loves in his books.

He pulls back, his breath hot against your lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks with a playful chuckle.

You point, and before you can say another word, his strong hands find your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him, straddling his hips as he carries you across the room. He opens the bedroom door with a sweep of his foot, not bothering with the light, and gently lowers you onto the bed. Laughter bubbles between you, soft and sweet, as his lips claim yours again in a kiss that is both feverish and tender.

Your fingers tangle in his blue hair, tugging at the strands, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. He grinds against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core, and you feel yourself unraveling again, melting beneath him. God, he feels big, you think, your body aching to know him, to feel him completely.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tug the fabric upward, longing to see his bare chest again. You know what lies beneath—his broad, muscular frame, every inch of him beautifully sculpted, chest rising and falling with each breath. And you need to touch him, to feel his strength beneath your hands.

In this moment, nothing else matters—just him, you, and the gravity of everything that has led you here.

He pulls away, sensing exactly what you want, and in one fluid motion, grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it off in a way that feels almost sinful. The sight of him should be illegal—holy hell, the way his muscles flex as he undresses is enough to take your breath away.

Your hands move instinctively, drawn to the expanse of his chest, a perfect blend of softness and strength. The skin beneath your fingers is warm, and the way he feels—solid, yet yielding—is intoxicating.

“Like what you see?” he teases, his voice low and full of that gentle confidence, and you can only gape at him, feeling the warmth of your admiration blossom into something deeper.

“God, Namjoon, you’ve always been beautiful... inside and out,” you murmur, your voice filled with reverence, because while his looks are striking, it’s his soul that captivates you.

His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze tender as he leans down, brushing light kisses along the curve of your neck. The sensation sends waves of laughter bubbling out of you, light and breathless, as the tickle of his lips spreads joy and heat all at once. He keeps moving lower, trailing kisses down your body like a map only he knows how to navigate.

When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” he asks, his voice both eager and gentle.

“Yes,” you whisper, and as he unbuttons your pants, you arch your back to help him slide them off, heart racing. He pauses again, staring for a moment, captivated by the sight of you, the evidence of your desire already showing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, his voice hushed and full of wonder. “All for me?”

You nod, breath hitching, your body already trembling with need. “Yes, Joon. You make me so damn wet,” you pant, writhing beneath him, desperate for more. “Please, just touch me.”

His gaze darkens with lust as he licks his lips, then dips his head lower, trailing kisses across your stomach, inching closer to where you need him most. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you giggle softly, unable to contain the lightness you feel even as desire coils tighter within you. His lips press against the hem of your lace panties, nothing extravagant, yet he looks at you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down with deliberate care. The cool air of your apartment contrasts sharply with the warmth between your thighs, and you gasp, aching for him. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the most delicious way—his gaze heavy with desire as he takes you in.

“Joonie…” you moan softly, voice trembling, as his eyes linger on your glistening pussy, admiring you. You wonder if he finds you beautiful like this, spread bare before him, and his awestruck expression tells you everything.

“Damn,” he whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “You’re so pretty… already dripping with need.”

Your breath catches as his words wash over you, and when he asks, “Can I taste you? Can I touch you?” you can barely manage a nod as you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you beg, feeling delirious with want, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His touch is featherlight at first, a single finger brushing over your swollen clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You flinch, already overly sensitive, a gasp falling from your lips as your body responds immediately.

“More,” you plead, rolling your hips into his hand, urging him to press harder, to give you what you crave.

His fingers glide over you, warm and sure, stroking your slick skin with precision. Every movement sets off another spark, and a moan escapes you—high-pitched, breathy, and filled with need. His touch is both tender and demanding, and with every stroke, you feel yourself unraveling, caught in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers continue their rhythm, rolling over your sensitive clit with perfect precision, each movement making it throb with want. Your body reacts instinctively, hips rising to meet his touch, chasing more—chasing everything. You need all of him, and the craving is almost unbearable.

Namjoon watches you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his eyes filled with both desire and wonder as he works you with his fingers, and then, slowly, his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh. His kisses are featherlight, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake, and you tremble under his touch. With each kiss, he moves closer, until finally, his mouth finds your pussy, his warm tongue lapping at your slick folds, tasting you with reverence.

He groans, the sound vibrating against your core, and your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you want him to drown in your pleasure. His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub, teasing, tasting, and the sensation makes your whole body tense in anticipation. His fingers slide to your entrance, probing gently before slipping inside, one at a time. The stretch feels divine, his fingers curling to reach deeper, and soon two, then three fill you, stretching you in the most perfect, delicious way.

Your toes curl, your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the wave of your climax building, rising with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. “Joon,” you gasp, a warning, but he only sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem as his fingers thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you that sends you spiraling.

The world tilts, and your back arches as the orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and electric. You thrash beneath him, pulling at his hair as pleasure floods your body, and all you can do is moan his name in a broken, breathless whisper. Even as your body shudders, he doesn’t stop, his mouth still on your clit, drawing out every last wave until you’re trembling with overstimulation. You tap his shoulder weakly, and finally, he pulls back, his face glistening with your slick, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly over your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch is light, reverent, and though you’re still floating in the bliss of your release, you feel the need to return the favor rise within you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, your voice thick with desire as you shift, pushing him down beside you. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words are swallowed by a low groan as you straddle his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock press against your wet core. You grind down on him, teasing him with the friction, and he lets out a ragged moan that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. “I don’t know how mermen make love, but as humans—I want you to feel good too.”

He chuckles softly, his hands resting on your hips, eyes dark with hunger. “It’s definitely not the same,” he admits, voice low and breathless, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You slide down his lap to the floor, your eyes locked on his, your intentions clear.

Your fingers find the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you pull them down, revealing his muscular thighs. When you see the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers, your mouth waters, anticipation making your pulse quicken. Tugging down the last barrier, you free him, and his cock springs forward, thick and long, the head flushed red with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your breath hitches at the sight of him, hunger twisting deep inside you.

You lick your lips, your hands moving with purpose—one resting on his thigh, the other wrapping around the thick base of his shaft, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Slowly, you begin to pump, your fingers sliding over the velvety skin as you build a steady rhythm.

Namjoon groans, the sound so deep it reverberates through your core, and you can feel him tense beneath your touch, his body reacting to every stroke. His groans are like music, deep and sinful, and they make you want to push him further, to hear more of those primal, desperate sounds spill from his lips.

Damn, you need more of him.

You glance up at him, mischief in your eyes as you give a playful wink before taking him into your mouth. The taste is salty, a mix of his precum and something else, something almost elemental, as if the sea still clings to him. It sends a shiver down your spine, urging you to lose yourself in the act. You move with intent, your lips and tongue working in unison, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him deeper, each stroke making his body tremble beneath you.

He gasps your name, his voice barely a whisper, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment. His hands find their way to your hair, gentle, not controlling—just resting there as if he’s entranced by the sight of you. He glances down, watching the way your mouth moves over him, and his breath quickens, as if the very air has become too thin.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, “you’re so damn good at this.”

You smirk inwardly, already knowing, but the praise sends a thrill through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he fills your mouth, the way you feel him pulse against your tongue. It makes you wonder how your pussy will take him, how it’ll feel when he’s buried deep inside you, stretching you wide.

You’re making a mess of him—your saliva slicks his length, dripping down onto the sheets—but you don’t care. Not when he’s like this, writhing beneath you, his muscles taut with need. Your hand moves lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm, and you feel them tighten as he draws closer to the edge.

“Damn,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, “you look and feel so fucking amazing.”

The sound of his praise sends another wave of heat rushing through you, making you wetter, a needy ache building low in your belly. You take him deeper, determined, your throat tightening as you try to swallow him down. But your gag reflex protests, and you pull back slightly, not wanting to push too far. Instead, you focus on teasing the head, your tongue circling slowly before flicking across his sensitive frenulum. He groans sharply, his hips jerking, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

He’s unraveling, his control slipping, and you love it—love the power you hold over him in this moment, love seeing him lost in you.

Suddenly, his hands come to your cheeks, stilling your movements as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with both lust and affection, “you’re dangerous with that mouth. If you keep going, I’m going to come right down your throat… and I want to make love and come inside you.”

You release him with a soft pop, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you lick them slowly, savoring the taste of him. “You can always come down my throat later,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. Rising to your feet, you peel off your shirt, followed by the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts spill free, and the heat in Namjoon’s gaze intensifies as his hands instinctively find your hips, his grip firm yet tender.

“Is every inch of you just perfect?” he breathes, awe in his voice. The compliment sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you chuckle softly, not answering because his words feel rhetorical, like they’re part of the worship that’s building between you.

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, pouring every bit of your desire into it. His cock twitches beneath you, hard and throbbing against your thighs, but you take your time, savoring the kiss—long, slow, and tender. You straddle him, hovering just above his cock, your body aching to sink down, to feel him inside you. But instead, you pause, letting yourself get lost in the depth of his gaze, his eyes like molten gold, swirling with emotion.

He kisses you again, his lips soft but insistent, and in that moment, you feel weightless. Like you’re floating, caught in a current, drifting between pleasure and affection. You feel cherished, like a treasure he’s unearthed from the depths of the ocean—glimmering, precious, and adored like the gems you’ve been collecting.

He groans, a deep, feral sound vibrating from his chest, and his hands tighten around your hips, the pressure promising bruises that’ll bloom as tender reminders of this moment. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,” he pants, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face. His lips search for yours, hungry, desperate to close the space between you again.

“Likewise,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, your pulse racing. One of your hands trails down his body, fingers grazing his taut abdomen before wrapping around the thick length of him. You lift yourself slightly, feeling the heat of him against you. Just as you’re about to guide him inside, his deep voice cuts through the haze of desire.

“Should we use a condom?” he asks, his words momentarily shattering the tension, leaving the air thick but still.

You blink, slightly caught off guard, but quickly recover. “We don’t have to,” you murmur, sensing his hesitation. His brow furrows, so you add, “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. It’s… it’s been a long time for me.” Your words taper off, embarrassment creeping into your cheeks, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his gaze.

He studies you for a second, his expression softening before that same, dark hunger returns. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he rumbles, his voice like molten velvet, sending shivers racing down your spine. The sound of him, the depth of his tone, makes your body respond instinctively—your pussy clenches with anticipation, aching for him to fill the emptiness inside you. “It’s been a long time for me, too. So, I’m sorry if I don’t last long…”

You shake your head, silencing his concern with a gaze that speaks louder than words. You need him, now. The heat between you both is unbearable, every second a sweet kind of torture. You guide the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself by gliding him along your folds, feeling his hardness slick against your wetness, sending delicious tremors through your body.

Slowly, you position him at your opening and sink down.

The stretch is exquisite—a burn that ignites every nerve as he fills you inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, and the sensation of him sliding deeper feels like nothing you’ve ever known. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swear you hear him curse under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he savors the feel of your walls closing around him.

“Fuck…,” he groans, his voice wrecked, vibrating through you like a shockwave. “So damn tight.”

“Yeah…” you pant, your head spinning, your body adjusting to his size. Inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he’s fully seated inside you. You pause, trembling, your insides fluttering as he twitches deep within. You let out a soft moan, your lips searching for his in a fevered kiss, one that feels more like a collision than anything tender.

When you pull away, your gaze locks with his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so fucking good… like you’ve always belonged there.”

He hums in response, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he traces your body with his hands, unable to take in enough of you. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, the words low and reverent.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you lift yourself slowly, your body trembling with anticipation. Then, with a burst of need, you slam down, impaling yourself on his cock, a scream of pleasure ripping from your throat. Namjoon moans, the sound guttural and raw, as you ride him with renewed vigor, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, catching his attention, and without hesitation, his hands move to cup them. His lips trail down to one nipple, his mouth warm and eager as he takes it between his lips. You gasp at the sensation, a surge of heat flooding your core, and you feel a gush of wetness coat him as your body responds to his touch. You didn’t realize you’d come until the tremors hit, your pussy clenching tightly around him, your body quivering in waves of pleasure.

His tongue circles your nipple, flicking it gently before his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends you spiraling. Your breath stutters as he switches to your other breast, his hands roaming, kneading your skin, every touch heightening the electricity between you. Just as his mouth closes around your other nipple, his teeth accidentally bite down harder than intended, and a sharp cry escapes your lips—his name, ripped from your throat like a plea and a curse all at once.

He freezes, eyes wide, concern flashing across his face. But the look you give him—wild, consumed with lust—tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m so fucking sorry—,” he gasps, but his words barely register through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. Your gaze softens, your eyes half-lidded with desire, a gentle delirium swirling in their depths.

“No, no, it was good, Joonie,” you whisper, your voice a breathy melody. Your hand drifts to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, tugging lightly. “I loved it.”

He pauses, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest, and you feel the twitch of his cock still buried inside you, a silent promise of more. His lips descend to your chest again, worshipping your skin with slow, languid kisses. His tongue finds your nipple, teasing it with a delicate flick before sucking, nipping just enough to make you moan his name, the sound a song on your lips.

Your body trembles, another orgasm crashing over you like a summer storm, your walls tightening around him in waves of bliss. He groans, a low, primal sound vibrating through your entire being. “Fuck, you—” His voice breaks with need as he rises from the bed, lifting you effortlessly, his body still entwined with yours. In one swift motion, he turns and lays you back down, pressing you into the sheets, his hips surging forward with raw intensity.

“This fucking pussy,” he growls, the words so feral, so laced with hunger that it sends a jolt of heat through you, your toes curling as your body responds to the deep, relentless thrusts. You moan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being pushed up the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets in desperation. Could you come again? Already, your body is teetering on the edge, caught in the rhythm of his passion.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, each word dripping with lust as his hips drive into you again, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as though all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Are you gonna come again?” he asks, his voice rough with need. You bite your lip, uncertain if you can, but the fire in your core tells you otherwise. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit. Everything is so slick, so impossibly wet, but you manage to find that perfect rhythm, circling the sensitive nub as your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s like the tide pulling you under—a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you with blinding force. Your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking beneath him as you cry out his name, each syllable a desperate plea, a prayer to the god of ecstasy. You thrash beneath him, lost in the throes of release, and still, he keeps thrusting, deep and deliberate, as your body flutters around him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as his cock twitches inside you, on the edge of release. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his warm seed filling you as his orgasm hits him hard, his body trembling with the force of it. His face—god, it’s beautiful in this moment—the way his lips part, how his brow furrows in pleasure, how he keeps moving, riding out the last waves of his climax until he begins to soften inside you.

Both of you are left panting, gasping for air like you’ve surfaced from the depths of the sea. He collapses beside you, pulling you close, your bodies still warm, still trembling. Your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you heavy with shared satisfaction.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp against your ear.

You chuckle, cheeks flushed and glowing. “Yes… we should definitely do that again.”

He turns on his side, his fingers brushing your arm tenderly as he gazes at you, eyes filled with warmth. “We really should.”

But then, out of nowhere, a ripple of anxiety courses through you, tightening your chest. You turn to him, your heart suddenly heavy. “Can we really make this work?” you ask, your voice small, vulnerable. “You, being a merman… and me, human?”

Namjoon’s expression softens, his gaze tender as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trace soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the moment. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

In his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, the world feels possible again.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): Only four mermaid stories left now! 🥳I hope you’ll like the other ones as well, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜

[milotraflgkl]

Kissing Practice

SANJI X FEM!READER

note: THIS IS A REUPLOAD!!! content: mild angst, jealousy, thought to be one-sided feelings, insecure reader-ish, kissing/making out, suggestive kissing, sanji being a flirt. WC: 1886

You and Sanji were always flirting, it was obvious the attraction you had for the man and it was obvious that his interest in you was more than most other women. But that didn’t mean his endless flirting with other women came to a halt just because of you, at first it didn’t bother you all that much. It was harmless flirting and banter, but when he started to show more interest your hopes were lifted that he might’ve been interested in you. Maybe it was how long you two were stuck on the ship, you were the only person who ever gladly took Sanji's flirts and gave them back.

But it was your first time as a crew back on land, deciding to spread your legs you all went to the local bar to share some drinks and have social interaction with people other than the ones you were stuck with on the ship. You sat at the bar drinking a beer and making small talk with Usopp, who had already quite a few beers. He was babbling on about something that you couldn’t quite pay attention to because your eyes were stuck on something else, Usopp took a moment and another sip of his beer before he noticed you weren’t paying him any mind and he followed your eyesight. Sanji sat at the other side of the bar with some random woman all over him, moving her hands across his arms and laughing at whatever on earth he was telling her. He was looking at her the same way he had been looking at you those flirtatious moments on the ship and with that, it all hit you in one foul swing. He didn’t like you, you were just to keep him entertained. You swallowed heavily before quickly grabbing another beer and chugging it, then asking the bartender for another.

Usopp turned to look at you immediately, his facial expression became one of a worried one. He watched as you opened the next beer and began to chug it, “Hey- Hey!” He says carefully pushing the drink away from your lips, “Chill out..” He mumbled, you looked at him for a moment and stared. You turned to look at Sanji in the girl hitting it off so well, it made you scoff at yourself for being so dumb and gullible. You squeezed your eyes shut before you placed the beer down on the counter and sighed, “Sorry…” You respond to Usopp taking a deep breath, you weren’t drunk only on your third drink. Just a bit tipsy but another drink might get you there, you didn’t want to be drunk and emotional so you told yourself you’d finish this drink and then get water. You sniffled for a moment as you stared at your beer, flinching suddenly feeling hands against your back. You turn to look at Usopp who was attempting to comfort you and rub your back gently, “He’s gonna keep doing that, maybe you should too? Yknow… If he can flirt so can you.”

You stared at Usopp for a moment, processing what he was saying to you before it fully clicked a little switch in your brain. If he can flirt with others, so can you. You told yourself a small smile coming to your lips, “You know what, you’re right.” You say, pushing yourself by the hands away from the bar. “I did see a handsome fellow earlier~” You hum, twisting your body and beginning to walk off to find the stranger that would be here to simply have some fun for the night. Your eyes scanned around the room before they finally fell upon him, he was sitting alone at a table which is perfect timing. You walked over and sat across from him, beginning to make small talk with him and attempting to flirt with him.

What you weren’t aware of was how there was a pair of ocean blue eyes staring into the back of your head, having forgotten about the woman who sat next to him.

You were hitting it off with this stranger, your elbow perched up on the table and your chin being held up by your hand. The guy began to get a little more comfortable, one of his hands reaching over and touching yours then his leg feeling up your calf. You felt yourself beginning to sweat nervously, why were you so nervous!? You were just harmlessly flirting, a little fun for the night. Then one thought flew into your mind, You’ve never even kissed someone, let alone go past that. You grew nervous that you were leading this man on that he would get you in bed, you had to think of a way to get out of this situation and fast. You listened as this stranger told stories in a way to impress you before you finally came up with an idea, You gagged and covered your mouth acting shocked in so did the man. “S’cuse me..” You mumbled from behind your hands and quickly rushed off to the bathroom.

You finally found the bathroom after struggling in a crowd and quickly locked yourself in, hoping that he hadn’t followed and you could just sit in here for maybe an hour or so then make a sneaky exit. You sighed in relief as a few minutes had passed and no knock from the sound came from the other sound, you looked at yourself in the mirror and immediately your mind began to race. Picking yourself apart from the girl that Sanji had gotten all close and personal with, why weren’t you his type? How could you be his type… You let out a shaky sigh and inhale trying to stop yourself from crying. Knock, Knock. You flinched at the sound of the door and stared in confusion, “[Name?]” A voice called from the other side and you knew who it was immediately.

Sanji.

You stared at the door in shock, why was he here? Had he seen you fake being sick? You didn’t want to see his face right now, you were kind of hoping you could’ve snuck out without any of the crew knowing and going to the ship to give into sleep earlier. You inhaled shakily and squeezed the counter gently before you found the courage to speak, “Yeah..?” You asked out, you heard him attempt the door handle. “You alright? I saw you looked like you were going to be sick.” He asked you, and you almost scoffed at the words. You let go of the counter and made your way to the door, opening the door slowly and looking at him. “Yeah… Just had a few too many drinks and guess the food didn’t settle well with it.” You lied and met eyes with Sanji, God his eyes were beautiful you could stare into them for hours.

You realized you had been staring and blinked, “I’m… I’m good now though.” You respond with a soft, nod attempting to slide your way past him before you feel Sanji’s hand on your waist and push you back into the backroom shutting the door behind him. You heard the sound of the lock clicking panic bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you looked at Sanji, you inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at him. “Sanji.. are you drunk?” You whispered out, And he shook his head in response. “Only had one drink.” He whispered back, his eyes slowly traced over your face until his eyes stopped and stared at your lips.

Carefully Sanji led you to press your back against the cold counter, your hands immediately grabbing hold to support yourself as you stared at him in shock. “[Name]…” He whispered out his face so close to yours it made your skin burn and butterflies in your stomach erupt, “Can I please kiss you..?” He asked in a whispered tone as his nose gently brushed against yours, You shivered at the feeling of him so close to you. You were malfunctioning at the question and took a moment to process what he had just asked of you, you turned your head quickly which caused Sanji to let out a small gasp of disappointment.

“I’ve… never actually kissed anyone before.” You muttered out in embarrassment, your eyes glanced towards Sanji as he stared at you in shock for a moment. “You’ve.. never kissed anyone before?” He repeated your own words but as a question, his voice full of pure disbelief. You swallowed and nodded your eyes turning to look away from him again, instead suddenly finding more interest in the countertop beside you. “[Name]…” He whispered, his hand gently touching your jaw and guiding your face back to look at him. You looked at him nervously scared of what he would have to say, he chuckled at how scared you looked. “How about… I give you some private lessons?” He whispered as if the two of you weren’t locked in a bathroom alone, your breath hitched as he offered and stared at him in shock your face becoming extremely warm and you knew he noticed with the grin he had on his lips. “Oh… Okay.” You responded in a breathy tone as soon as you gave Sanji the green light his lips were attached to yours, his hand on your waist pulling you closer and his other found its way to hold the side of your neck.

His lips were oh so soft, the taste of cigarettes still lingered on his lips and you felt like you were dreaming but how gently he was kissing you. You didn’t want this moment to ever end, how his thumb moved gently against your neck and he held you so close. Your mind began to race to wonder how many other women he has kissed this softly then remembering that moments before he had been flirting with another woman, you quickly pulled away which caused him to stare at you in shock. “What… what about the lady you were with?” You asked out trying to catch your breath and watched as his eyebrows furrowed, “What about her?” He asked you. “You just… left her.” You glanced at the door before his hand redirected your face again. “Yeah, I did, for you.” He says, staring at you with a serious yet soft expression.

“Cause I like you [Name].” He whispered and those words sent shivers down your spine, your mind running on auto as you attach your lips back to his and kiss him. He carefully moved away, “Gentle.” He says you nodded as he told you before kissing him more gently which he responds with a pleased hum.

You two would stay in the bathroom sharing simple kisses for a few minutes for the sound of a knock interrupted, the two of you turning into a blushing mess and quickly making your way out of the bathroom and back into the club. Make your way back to sit with the crew and share soft glances before everyone finally decides to leave, but you’ll be needing more of those ‘private lessons’ sometime soon.

[holdmytesseract]

Hunter & Prey

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N

Summary: On a charity event, you and Loki play a dangerous game of seduction. Who is going to cave first?

Warnings: pining? flirting? sexual tension, very suggestive smut/mild smut, dom!Loki? basically very sexy stuff

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: Prepare some water, guys. It's going to get hot in here... 👀

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

The whole evening had been nothing more than a game for you and Loki - and the only question was who'd cave first.

Small, secret touches when hopefully no paparazzi was looking your way. Your hand brushing his hand. A finger playing with the black buttons of his black shirt. Or a short tug on his black leather belt to pull him closer - which the god of Mischief only commented with a low chuckle, or an revengeful touch of his own... Fingertips brushing the dip of your lower back or the curve of your hips in a seemingly innocent gesture.

But it wasn't just the touching... The looks you threw each other from across the red carpet, the places you were seated at or the dance floor were borderline G-rated. You could tell that Loki was practically undressing you with his eyes. His gaze lingered on your curves, which got highlighted by the dress you wore perfectly. His piercing blue eyes telling you that he'd drag you away to a hidden corner and have his way with you - if he could. Loki was a master in hiding his thoughts in front everybody else. His desiring looks were meant for you and you only; not once failing to make your knees weak.

The problem was that you weren’t even close at hiding your lustful gazes quite as good as Loki did and therefore it didn't go unnoticed... At least by your best friend...

"Oh for God's sake, babes..." Nat's voice suddenly caused the bubble of fantasies you just swam in to burst. You blinked; head turning to face the Widow. "S-Sorry, what did you just say?" Natasha giggled. "See, that's exactly what I mean." "What?" "Oh no, babes, don't you dare to shit me and play innocent now. I know exactly what's going on in that pretty head of yours." You giggled; "And what would that be, huh?" voice dripping with fake innocence. "Taking a ride on the handsome god over there," she said blatantly; nodding at Loki. "That 'handsome god over there' is my boyfriend, so I have every right to, don't I?"

Your best friend crossed her arms over her chest. "I never said something else, but we're at a charity event, babes. If Tony, Steve - or hence even Fury gets a whiff of this, you two are fucked. Don't forget that sexy Mischief is still 'on probation'. 'Misbehaving' on a important charity event probably isn't playing into his hands. I'm just saying." Her words brought you down to earth a bit. You swallowed, "You're probably right, yeah..." and averted your eyes from Loki's - much to the god's dismay.

You tried very hard to not let your sexual attraction towards Loki get the better of you, but that was everything but easy. Especially not when it was time for him - and Thor to step on the small stage. He moved elegantly - like the prince and god he was. You didn't even have be close to him, exchange fleeting gazes or small touches... The mere look of him was enough to drive you insane this evening.

He was dressed all black for this event. Black, shiny dress shoes. Black suit trousers, which were so well tailored that they left little to imagine; held around his hips by a black leather belt. A tight, perfectly fitting black shirt was neatly tucked inside his trousers; sleeves rolled up.

His hair was tied up into a loose man bun. This hairstyle combined with the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks and the outfit he wore was a dangerous combination. Deathly.

You swallowed hard; feeling your eyes glued onto him; heart beating fast against your chest. You crossed and uncrossed your legs; trying to somehow just cope with the situation you were in.

Turned out, you couldn't.

Unbeknownst to you, oceanic blue eyes were following you...

Biting your lip and wincing at the sound of his deep velvet voice sounding through the speakers, you felt like fainting. You had to get out of here.

"Nat?" You gently elbowed your best friend, who was seated beside you. "Yes?" "I-I, uh, I'll be back in a sec." You stood up; witnessing Nat throwing you a questioning glare. "Restroom," you mouthed, before you piled out of the big ball room and stormed off to the ladies bathroom.

You took a deep breath as you stood hunched over one of the sinks; staring into the mirror in front of you. What did you get yourself into? You asked yourself. Sure, you wanted to play that game - but both, you and Loki forgot the rules.

"Fuck..."

Loki.

Sneaking off with him wasn't an option, but the evening was still young. The event just started. Meaning, you had to put yourself through this for another few hours. There was no other option. No other way out of this...

Your thundering thought got interrupted by the restroom door opening and closing. The clicking of shoes could be heard. No high heels, though. You knew how high heels sounded like... Only dress shoes clicked like that on marble floor. You looked up, head snapping down the rather large room. Toilet stalls were lining the left side, sinks the right - and in the middle... Your eyes widened.

He had a wolfish smile on his lips; nearing you like a predator its prey. "Don't tell me you've been fleeing, my love... Can't you take this little game of us any longer, hm?" Loki took another carefully calculated step towards you.

You winced; wanted nothing more than to let yourself fall into his awaiting arms. You shook your head; trying to keep it cool. "Loki, what... What are you doing here? This is... This is the ladies room! W-What if someone is coming inside?!"

The god only smirked, then casually snapped his fingers; causing the lock on the door to turn. You swallowed.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He stepped even closer; causing you to step back. He was going to trap you. Between him and the wall.

You were fucked.

"U-Uhm, I-I-" You stammered; unable to form words - already.

Loki chuckled deeply and ran a hand over his tied up hair, before it went to his chest. You watched with horror how long fingers worked to undo the first four buttons, which resulted in you getting a delicious sneak peek of his pecs and chest hair.

"Did my presence made you speechless, darling?"

All you were able to do was staring and trying not to drool - or faint.

The closer he got, the more dangerous this situation got for you. You tried to hold on and get a grip, but when his scent wafted over to you and invaded your nostrils, you were done.

Another chuckle rumbled through the god's chest. He was enjoying this.

"I really did render you speechless."

Charred wood, musk, a hit of leather and blood oranges. Gods... You wanted to drown in his scent. In him.

You felt how your legs buckled; knees giving in underneath you.

You gasped; hadn't seen that coming. You should have.

You were already prepared to hit the harsh ground, when you felt suddenly two strong hands on your hips; keeping you from falling and pinning you against the white wall. You gasped at his touch; only noticed now how close Loki really was.

"I got you, love." He breathed into your ear and helping you to stand properly again. Once the god made sure that both your feet were touching the ground, one of his hand engulfed both your hands. You met his eyes - and for one tiny, foolish moment, you thought that he'd finally show mercy on you, but then he roughly pinned your hands against the wall above your head with his forearm, giving him the chance to lean in even closer.

"L-Loki-" "Shhh," he hushed you; lips ghosting over your neck. "Don't speak, my love... Just feel..." He started to pepper your skin with kisses. Gently, at first, before they became more demanding. More passionate. Loki nipped and even bit the sensitive area, only to sooth it with his hot tongue a second later. You whimpered; had turned putty in the god's hands already ages ago.

You were lost. Lost in his touch. Lost in his kiss. Lost in him.

When Loki was satisfied with bruising your neck, he moved to kiss your lips. "Mhhh," he moaned. "You taste delicious." You could say the same for him.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth; gently biting. Loki growled and tightened the hold he had around your hip, before diving into another kiss.

So lost, that you didn't notice at first, how Loki moved and took a step closer - until you felt his thick thigh brushing the insides of your legs - and not just his thigh... A moan threatened to fall from your lips as you felt him; legs instinctively clenching around his thigh. The only thing which prevented the skin on skin contact, were a few layers of fabric. Your flowy evening dress and his suit trousers.

Fuck...

When the hand which was still curled around your hip began to wander until it cupped your ass and pushed you further onto his thigh, reality suddenly caught up to you.

"L-Loki..." You wiggled your hands and arms; trying to get free of his grasp. "L-Loki, stop," you panted - and he immediately let go of your hands; cupping your waist instead. "W-We can't, babe." The god immediately started to pout. "Why not? I've been trying to hold myself back already the whole evening. I can't do this much longer. You're driving me insane, darling." He dipped his head to lick along the shell of your ear and bucking his hips once more, in order to prove his words.

"F-Fuck, Lokes... You're making things not exactly easier..." You couldn't help but slip your hand behind his body to give his ass a squeeze. Loki jolted; hips bucking again. "I'm making things not easier?" He quipped in a rather high pitched voice. "Darling, if you keep that up, I'm going to ruin those expensive trousers."

You moaned; unable to control it.

"You are still on probation. If Tony, Steve or Fury gets a whiff of what we're about to do, you'll be in serious trouble - and I don't want that." Honest concern was swinging within your voice. Loki sighed and reluctantly slipped his thigh from between your legs and even took a step back, but kept his hands firmly on your waist. "You... You are right. I don't want to risk this. Not now that I finally wooed the woman of my dreams."

"Okay, okay, let's say we're making it both not easier for the other." Your boyfriend smirked; hand playing with the hem of your dress. "Then why don't we just give into it, hm?" You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; trying to keep a cool head - again.

"Babe, we can't fuck in the restroom of a fancy theatre in the middle of New York on a charity event!" Another pout. "Why not? The door is locked. Nobody can-" "Loki..." You said firmly; signalling him that this was serious.

Charmer.

You giggled; blushing. "Let's go back to the others." He nodded. "I really hope this event is over soon... Will be very hard to control myself around you." You pressed a soft kiss on his scruffy cheek; the stinging, tickling sensation stirred again something deep within you. Just image how it would feel between your le-

Goddammit control yourself, Y/N!

"Alright, let's go." He walked over to you. You stared at him; jaw clenched. "Babe... Please... Please never- I repeat, never do that in front of me again or I might reconsider my life choices and jump you right here and now. Are we clear?"

"I-I hope so, too." You adjusted your dress and hair a bit and wiping Loki's lips, in order to get rid of your lipstick, before you went to the door. "Are you coming, babe?" The god nodded absent-mindedly; his gaze directed downwards. "Yes, darling, just give me a moment. I have to..." His large hands tugged and pushed the black fabric; legs bending. "... adjust the package. Unless, people will know or might even get suspicious. We can't have that, right?" Your eyes dropped; following his hands. You just couldn't help it.

Damnit.

Another wolfish grin formed on the god's face. "Yes, ma'am." "Good."

A snap of his fingers unlocked the door again. You opened it; carefully peeking around to see if the coast was clear. It luckily was. So, you stepped out, Loki following you close behind in quiet.

Shortly before you reached the main hall again; you felt Loki's breath tickling the skin of your neck, whispering into your: "Just for your information, darling... I hope you know that you won't leave my bed for the rest of the night as soon as this is over."

A shiver rand down your spine. You smirked. "Sounds promising."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @km-ffluv @simping-for-marvel @princess-ofthe-pages @huntedmusicgardenn @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiforever @loz-3 @eleniblue @icytrickster17 @jaguarthecat @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @kimanne723 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @smolvenger @lou12346789 @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @ainsley30 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980

[from-the-clouds]

moonlight on the river - joel miller x reader

masterlist | song inspo

summary: Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter.  Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true. Takes place during episode one of the TV series. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2.4k warnings: angst, fluff, good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort. depressive thoughts, reader sort of has a death wish, references to alcohol/drug abuse, death, loss of family members & loved ones. implied age gap, references to casual sex, heavy petting (no smut). a/n: it's been months since i posted a fic on here! some of my best work comes when it’s 2am, i’m emo and touch-deprived and i have an 8am appointment so i stay up until 5am to write. this was actually supposed to be fully a fluff piece but the angst queen had to strike.

You wish you could drown in the pile of blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in. Wish the couch would swallow you whole, like a whale, then drag you down to the deepest depths of the ocean and leave you there until you can’t hold your breath any longer, until the cold pricks the tips of your fingers and toes, until you succumb completely. 

But in some ways, you’re already existing like that, in the sea-level equivalent of the Marianas Trench. One of those sea creatures that look not of this Earth, features warped – adapting, evolving, surviving, despite your environment’s best efforts to eradicate. Your mother had once shown them to you in her old textbooks and shown you the photos of anglerfish, frilled sharks, phantom jellyfish. The memory of your mother makes you wince, and you try to think of something else.

How anyone else around you managed to put on a brave face and make their way through each day was beyond your comprehension, even though you do it, too. They probably all feel the same way about it as you do, but no one talks about the collective trauma you’re all slogging through. No one has anything new to add, and it’s foolish to believe that anyone’s insight could somehow take the pain away. Even if you have a chance to tell your story, there is always someone who has it worse. 

Get in line. 

Exhausted as you are, you don’t sleep much. Most of your nights are spent at the precipice of unconsciousness, and you can never quite make it over the edge, the helicopters, radios, sporadic gunfire always manages to rouse you first. When you do manage to sleep, you’re plagued with nightmares. You prefer perpetual fatigue. 

A knock at your door comes suddenly, and you start, sitting up quickly – but quietly – to not alert the unexpected guest that someone might be in the tiny studio you call home. It’s well after dark, which makes you doubt that whoever, or whatever is at the door, isn’t there for a friendly drop-in or a cup of tea, not that friendly drop-ins or cups of tea ever happened. 

But before you grow too panicked, your name is muttered, accompanied by another impatient rap of knuckles against the hollow wood. It’s a familiar rasp, even-toned and calm, and your shoulders sag in relief before you abandon your post on the couch. 

“Joel?” you ask softly, squinting in the dim light of the hallway through the crack in the door. He doesn’t look any different, though it’s been about a month since you’d last seen him. You’re not sure what to expect, but he’s the same as always, wearing a worn, tight denim shirt and fraying jeans. He looks tired, but you can’t recall a time when he doesn’t. Everyone looks tired all the time, it just only concerns you because it’s him. 

Not waiting for an invite, he steps through the small opening you allot for him and into your place, wordlessly.

“What the fuck, Joel, it’s past curfew are you trying to get yourself killed?” 

“I’ve done worse,” he says, dismissively, and yanks the door from your hand to close and lock it behind him. 

You don’t argue with him. You rarely do – which you think is partly why he likes you – but especially now, you don’t have the energy. And when you do, he’s too stubborn to listen. 

Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter.  Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true.

So when he steps forward, crowding you backwards until your rear hits your kitchen countertop and you have nowhere to go, you don’t ask questions. 

His hand cradles your chin, tilting it back to look into his sad eyes, and he kisses you. For a split second, it’s chaste, and you’re almost confused, until it’s suddenly not, and his grip on your jaw tightens, his lips parting. Joel stakes his claim, his free hand winding into your hair and pulling. You sigh, closing your eyes. 

He moves both his hands to cup your ass through the flimsy athletic shorts you’re wearing, lifting your hips up and against him, making to carry you to the bed, or maybe even take you on the countertop – it could be one of those days. Everything he’s doing would normally light you on fire, and there’s a primal instinct that’s telling you you like it, but for some reason, you hesitate.

Joel senses it right away. You’re not sure how. And you don’t want him to. You’re prepared to submit, even though you feel numb everywhere, because you hope for the chance to feel something, anything other than what you’ve felt the last few days. He pauses, too, pulls back. 

You expect to meet his eyes when you look up at him, but they are fixed on something else. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, you try to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, until you follow his eyes. An empty bottle of liquor sits on the bar behind you. Fuck.

“You’re drinking again.” It’s not a question.

“That was actually from yesterday,” you say, like it would make any difference. The remnants of a hangover have been tweaking your temples all day, biting the back of your eyes. It was half empty when I got it. It was just one night. I can have a couple drinks without getting out of control. Your brain cycles through several more excuses before you decide not to waste your breath. 

“What did I tell you about this?” He reached behind you and lifted the bottle, holding it in front of your face like you hadn’t been able to see it clearly enough before. 

“You should talk,” you don’t like being cruel, but you’re already desperate to end the discussion. He’s probably drunk or high right now, but it’s none of your business, and you’d given up trying to save him a long time ago. 

You shift your weight to lower yourself off the counter and move away from him and the once-inviting warmth of his embrace. Joel doesn’t let you make it far, reaching out to grip your upper arm and tugging you back to face him with little-to-no effort on his part. His strength always startled you, even though it shouldn’t, considering his size. It also should’ve scared you, but the manhandling mostly just turned you on. Not enough that you were going to keep letting him lecture you.

“It’s different. You’re still so young.”

“What does that matter?”

He doesn’t have an answer. 

You lift your chin, squaring up to him. “That’s what I thought.”

He puts his hand on hip and studies you carefully. Despite your attitude, you’ve never liked disappointing him. He’s the closest thing you have to a father, which you can recognize is an awfully fucked up way to feel about someone you regularly have sex with, but you lived in an awfully fucked up world.

There’s a wistfulness to Joel’s expression you’ve never seen before. He chooses to change the subject, and you’re thankful until what he says registers. 

“I’m leaving town tomorrow night. You might not see me again.”

It takes a moment to process, but it hits you like a blow to the gut. So hard, you’re surprised you don’t stagger backwards with the force of it. Even when it settles, you know it hasn’t even sunk in all the way.

“Well…” you take a long, thoughtful pause, and offer the only thing that your brain can come up with, “....stay safe out there, then.”

“Yeah,” he runs his tongue over his teeth and squints at you. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” 

Snorting, you know it’s important to remain as blase as possible so you don’t cry. Although, you don’t really cry anymore. Even when you want to, the tears never come. At some point, after watching every person you’ve ever cared for die in uniquely devastating ways, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit. 

“I know you. Something’s up.”

No, you don’t! You want to scream, but that would be a lie. It’s been three years since you met, maybe one since your….arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, had begun. 

How the two of you had become so close was a mystery even to you. It’s not like you were charming or charismatic, or willing to put up the innocent act. You didn’t try to inflate his ego, which most men loved. At first, you didn’t even really like him at all. That changed with time. Somewhere along the way, things just clicked.

“It’s nothing that no one has ever felt before,” you shrug. Joel has his fair….or rather unfair share of demons, and is the last person you want to complain to. Most of the time, he’s unflinchingly guarded, but he’s shared enough – secrets whispered in your ear while tangled in damp sheets, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart – to make you wonder if you have it so bad. Focusing on a fixed point, a crack in the tiled floor, you avoid his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice pulls you back. “Don’t do that.” 

“I’ll be okay,” you say. “I’m just having a d-a week.” A month, a year, a life. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze.

His face softens, his hand reaching to clasp with your own, thumb grazing across your palm. “Come here,” he murmurs. He pulls you against him tightly, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers weaving into your hair. 

“You’re going to be alright. You’re a strong girl.” He’s too smart to believe that, you think. But it doesn’t stop you from pressing your lips against his sternum. His broad chest is sturdy, firm, and you close down your eyes. 

Neither of you speak, and one of his hands begins to stroke your back in soothing circles. You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had. Just one last time. 

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

There’s no reason to protest, he’s right, so you let him lead you to the bed. You’re already in your pajamas, and he draws back the covers and tucks you underneath them carefully. 

“You’re staying,” you say. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out like command, and although you can’t stand the idea of pleading for it, would if you had to. You’re that desperate. 

You hear the clunk of his boots landing on the floor, feel the dip of his weight on the opposite side of the bed. 

“Of course,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper as he slides underneath the covers. 

Joel’s arm snakes around your waist, and you’re being pulled back against his chest. You wriggle to be closer, even though it’s not possible, his nose resting on the crown of your head, stroking your hair softly. He’s being so tender, so sweet, it makes you feel sick.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” you turn your head slightly, so you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You want to be able to remember his face, in case you never see him again. He was handsome, you’d always thought that, even despite the years between you. 

“It’s my brother. I don’t have much of a choice, baby.”

Joel had told you all about Tommy. You wished you could be resentful at his leaving to find his brother, but you knew you’d risk pretty much anything for the chance to see anyone in your family again. 

You shake your head. “This…sucks.” 

He offers a rare chuckle, one that vibrates through his chest and straight to the ache in your stomach that started when he told you he’d be leaving. “It does. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighs, his breath on the nape of your neck, and you shiver. “I’ll miss you.” It’s a simple truth you can hear in his voice without even needing to look in his eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” You reach for his hand. 

You roll over to face him, his head propped on his opposite hand, looking down at you. 

“You remember everything I taught you?” he asks. “Be smart, keep yourself safe.”

Joel had proven to be a pretty valuable resource when it came to survival skills. He’d taught you how to shoot a gun, to load and reload it, how to take it apart, clean it, and put it back together. You recalled the feeling of him leaning over your shoulder, adjusting your grip to shoot at a target. And even if most of his lessons in hand-to-hand combat resulted in him having his way with you on the kitchen floor – you didn’t mind it at all – you knew enough to defend yourself. 

“I do,” you answer. “And I will.”

You think of all the time you’ve spent with him the past few years. How it has made things bearable. It’s likely the last time you’ll ever see him, and you know what you’re supposed to say. But for the life of you, you just can’t say it.

Instead, you lean in to kiss him, lazy and lingering, both your hands on the side of his face, palms pressed against the scruff of his beard. You pull away after awhile.

“Tell me about what it was like. Before all this.” When the outbreak began, you were just a child. It felt like a dream, your memory so fuzzy it was hard to recall anything except the worst parts.

Joel does, and you listen, captivated, though it’s not the first time you’ve heard it. For such a gruff man, he paints a pretty picture.

It’s easy to imagine what your life might be like if none of this had ever happened. It would have been better, infinitely better, for yourself, for Joel, for everyone. It would be better, but if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have met him. For some reason, something about that doesn’t feel right.

[natalievoncatte]

“Your son just kicked me, Miss Luthor-Danvers.”

Kara looked over to the couch, where Lena bad stopped reading her book, which now lay propped on the dome of her stomach. She looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, marring paler than usual skin.

The pregnancy was taking its toll on Lena, but just as difficult for Lena was the order to remain on pelvic rest, as were the Herculean caloric requirements of gestating a Kryptonian child on Earth. Lena Luthor was the type of woman who grew more fatigued from orders to lay up in bed, and Kara had to practically bat her phone out of her hand to stop her from answering emails at all hours of the night.

Kara swung out from behind the kitchen island, carrying another smoothie with a carefully selected mix of fruits, vegetables, and protein powder.

“Blegh,” Lena said, as she choked down a gulp of the stuff. Does it have to be so sweet?”

Kara didn’t answer. Lena looked haggard by her own usual standards, but to Kara, she was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Yes, she was pale, but there as a rosy glow in her cheeks and though she sighed and complained and groused, rarely had there been such joy in her eyes. One of Kara’s new favorite things was catching Lena unawares, finding her smiling at nothing and cradling protective arms around the new life coming to being within her.

After she gulped down the last of the thick, gloppy shake -which Lena had given the appetizing name of ‘nutrient slurry mark one’, she turned halfway on the couch.

“There he goes again,” said Lena, sighing.

Kara reached out with a trembling hand, resting it gently on the warm curve of Lena’s skin. She went quiet for a moment, forcing back the tears. Thinking about this overwhelmed her. She’d never dreamed she’d really have this, much less with the most beautiful and kind woman she’d ever known. A soft twitch against her palm made her grin from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I’d like to get some sleep.”

Kara chewed at her lip for a moment.

“What if I try singing to him?”

Lena raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Alex gave me an article that says that babies can hear us while they’re in the womb.”

Lena’s head fell back against the cushions.

“Do you know any lullabies?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as Kara worked herself up, pulling the words from the lost days of her youth, across an ocean of stars beneath a far distant sun.

She more spoke than sang at first, until her voice grew into something soft and light, like a rare flower opening its petals to greet the sun. By the time she really began to sing, Lena was smiling, listening intently.

Kara dug deep in her memory for the words to the traditional Kryptonian lullaby, a promise from a young mother to her child lost in the wilderness, an invocation to come home safe to loving arms before the reunited in the final verses.

When Kara finished she looked up and saw that Lena was fast asleep, her hand now resting atop Kara’s as it rested on Lena’s belly. Tenderly, Kara drew her hand back and, with practiced ease, raised Lena in her arms and carried her back to the bedroom, another Kryptonian verse flowing softly from old memories, and the eventually they slept, until sunrise.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. cw: food mentions and suggestive theming. he refers to reader as sunshine.

this is a bit of a love language exploration. reader’s giving love language is acts of service (😔 never beating those allegations) and gojo’s is giving physical touch with a dose of words of affirmation. wc 1.3k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune

There are times when the simple daily acts of taking care of Satoru feel like the sole thing you were put on earth to do.

Not in the fashion of the maids he was raised by, tutting over his wrinkled yukatas and forcing him to eat the slimy natto he’d swallow through a pout with eyes as watery as the oceans that color them, but as if you’re the well from which his energy springs. He wouldn’t think about little things like slowing down to eat, rest, drink, and enjoy without someone there to remind him to do it. The curse and blessing of being as close to otherworldly as one can be without entering the uncanny valley.

This realization came to you long before you admitted to anyone that you were enamored with him. Back when you were a pair of bratty teenagers and you’d only ever seen him munch on konpeito with a hand wrapped around a bottle of melon soda to wash the scratchy sugar crystals down. You were appalled at how little he cared about himself (you didn’t take excellent care of yourself either in those days, judgmental one…) but you took it upon yourself to start taking better care of yourself and him by proxy in the process. A small act of compassion for a friend would never hurt, you reasoned easily at 17.

At that point, your role was merely sharing bentos or onigiri you made for yourself with him, trading a bite of your tuna filled rice for a sip of his soda - the indirect kiss aspect of this ritual made him giddy for more years than he’d like to admit aloud - or some of the star shaped sugar crystals in his palm that he’d toss between your lips and teeth when you’d open your mouth wide enough to catch them.

(You’d stick your tongue out far enough to allow him to watch the sugar melt away and turn into a colorful splotch. His big eyes, animated as ever, widened further with each bright green and orange spot that appeared and washed away in a flash. This little ritual is also how both of you learned to French kiss but that’s a memory to reminisce upon another morning.)

The two of you experienced some terrible things your first year and his second year of high school. A certain part of you felt bad for how unapproachable and closed off he seemed after Suguru’s departure and you know now that the acts of kindness had a larger impact than intended. A stray cat that gets fed always returns, after all.

He keeps returning. You thank the stars above morning, noon, and night.

Now, caring for him is as steady and effortless as the click, click, click of the knob thay controls the flow of gas on your stove as a flame ignites beneath your rectangle shaped tamagoyaki pan. Oil sizzles and the sound of it mingles with the shower running across the apartment and Gojo’s singing that is somehow louder than both of these happenings.

No wonder the neighbors hate you.

Whatever off key song he has come up with at least makes you giggle while pouring enough egg into the pan to start the process of making breakfast. Some days you are both too busy to sit down and share these moments but you still make sure he eats, a bento always tucked into his bag that matches the one in yours. Thankfully you are both off today so you get to enjoy the process rather than rush through it.

“It smells amazing.”

You didn’t hear him shut off the shower, too busy pouring and positioning egg to notice wet footsteps across the floor and heading directly toward you. A towel is slung carelessly over his hips and you giggle when he drapes himself over your shoulder, his hands dangling down the front of you. Shifting your face, you meet his with a smile and pretend to frown when water droplets fall out of his hair and onto your shirt.

“Whatever happened to good morning?”

He looks up at you from the corner of his eye and then feigns a bright idea coming into his head, shaking it and making more droplets fall on you at the same time. Giggling, you try to simultaneously monitor your eggs and him at the same time.

“You’re so right, how could I forget!” He clears his throat dramatically and stands up, hands wrapping around your waist. He bends to whisper in your ear. “Good morning, sunshine.”

You glance up at him with a too fond smile. When did you become so soft? You’re no better than the sugar that used to melt on your tongue, more than charmed by his sweet words and tender touches. It may be written all over your face but you do your best to hide it, raising your brows and sighing dramatically.

“That’s better.”

Clicking off the heat and shooing him as much as you possibly can, you pull the hot pan off of the stove and deposit your eggs onto a cutting board. Even a few seconds of time apart makes Satoru antsy so he’s by your side long before you can miss him, an arm draped around your shoulder and a hand on his hip.

“Thank you for doing this. I know the sun makes you hiss before 10 so it means a lot.”

Rolling your eyes, you slice the tamagoyaki and he hums his approval immediately. Steam wafts through the air and you have to admit that it’s making your mouth water, too.

“You’re the only person I’d do it for,” you mutter under your breath and he laughs, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You’re a liar. You’d do this for anyone who needed it.”

You continue slicing and he removes his hand from his hip, reaching to grab one of the already cooling slices off of the cutting board and stuffing it into his mouth. It’s still too hot and whatever he was going to say next is lost completely when he burns his tongue. He breathes through his mouth for a second to cool the eggs down the rest of the way and you groan.

“Mouth closed. You’re an adult, I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

Now that it has been sufficiently cooled down, he chews the mouthful and swallows. He knows you’re joking so there’s no hurt feelings, just a cheeky grin and a dramatic eye roll.

“I was going to say, before your breakfast tried to murder me, that I’m grateful you do it for me and not just because we live together.”

The way he beams down at you is all the thanks you need, his smile as big as he is, but the words make you squirm. You’ve never been good at accepting praise or compliments no matter the amount of them you’ve been given.

“Yeah, yeah. I did it willingly when I was just your late night call too, I know.” He scoffs and shakes his head, reaching for another piece of egg. You slap his hand away playfully. “You’ve never been just a late night call to me, you know that.”

This is true and you lean into his side, aware again that he’s naked except for that damn towel. Wrapping your arm around his waist, you tickle his side and he whines.

“Go get dressed. I’m feeding you natto this morning.”

Satoru Gojo, alleged grown man, whines again. Loudly, childishly, pathetically. You giggle at his dramatics and slump when he puts most of his weight on your shoulder, drooping.

“Really?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, we’re having salmon. Go get dressed.”

He shakes his hips and the towel wrapped around them threatens to fall right in the kitchen and you tap his side with a coy smile.

“Goooooo,” you urge. “The sooner you do the sooner we can eat and then our day can really begin.”

Raising your eyebrows suggestively, he picks up on your meaning immediately and holds the knot of the towel against him while he hurries to your room to pull on some sweatpants. They’re his favorite for easy access and he’s more than prepared to give you his thanks in the form of as many orgasms as you want as soon as you’ve both fueled up.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello lovelies! Do you have any fics in which Aziraphale just breaks or snaps and Crowley is there to help deal with the fallout?

Also, thank you for all the work you do for the fandom, I love coming on here every couple days and finding a new fic.

Hi! You can check our #aziraphale's trauma, #protective crowley, #mental health, #emotional hurt/comfort, and #bamf aziraphale for fics to enjoy. Now, breaks and snaps have different connotations, I feel. So here are a couple where Aziraphale breaks down and struggles, and a couple where he snaps and gets angry. Mind the tags on some of these!...

The consequences of averting the apocalypse by Whovian_holmes (G)

Aziraphale hasn't been feeling himself since the whole business with Armageddon, and he can't hold it back any longer.

Flaming Like Anything by Sunglasses_In_The_Bentley (NR)

Aziraphale misses Crowley terribly. Heaven is a miserable place to be and all this talk about the Second Coming is making Aziraphale nervous. Can he stand the pressure? And what will happen when he snaps?

Fear Not by EdosianOrchids901 (E)

When Aziraphale is attacked by a group of humans, he struggles against his desire to harm them. Finally, he snaps and unleashes righteous fury. Can Crowley help him find his way back?

The Angels Don't Fly Down Here, Prove Yourself and RISE by VariantLoki (M)

A rush of all different emotions flooded into Aziraphale’s head, swirling together violently like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean. He sank to the floor, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists together so much that his nails were digging into his palms. His body started to shake, and he could feel the tears beginning to form. He sat there like that for who knows how long, trembling in what he could only assume was a panic attack. Emotions continued to clash within him. Fear, Despair, Guilt, Pain, and countless other extremes all fought inside his mind until one came out victorious in their war and took over. Rage.

Appendange by midnightdragons (T)

“It is unangelic to act the way humans do, Aziraphale. Did the Lord not craft you to be an angel?" When coming back from a meeting in Hell, Crowley runs into Aziraphale, who is returning from a respective meeting with Heaven. However, the demon soon realizes that something is very, very wrong, as Aziraphale is acting less like an ethereal being, and more like an innocent child whose parent had screamed in their face for no reason at all.

a moment's silence by viperinz (T)

Crowley rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Then you know that you shouldn’t have done that.” “It was the only choice I had. If you got smitten—” Aziraphale swallows, feeling his back throb in pain. “You would have died right where you stood. I could not allow that.” Crowley’s mouth turns into a thin line, his fury radiating through the room. “So, what? It was better if it was you rather than me that took the hit?” “Yes!” Aziraphale exclaims, sitting up in bed. He winces as his back protests the movement, but he needs Crowley to understand. “You deserve better than what I was able to ever give you, and you need to help Muriel and the Messiah. If I ceased to exist, nothing would change the outcome of stopping all of this.” “No, you don’t get to say that.” Crowley walks up to the bed. “If you think I’ll ever stand to lose you again, then you’re bloody wrong. The outcome would be different because I wouldn’t have you, you daft thing.”

After everything is said and done, Aziraphale has to learn to adjust to life on Earth after seven years of being in Heaven. Luckily, Crowley is there to help him heal, and to give him the love that he feels he's lost.

- Mod D

[brekk3red]

Not sure if this fandom still exists, but I found an old notebook from grade 5 that has the translations for these symbols in Artemis Fowl books. I originally thought they were for decorative purposes but it turned out that they weren't, so younger me had a ball decoding these.

For those interested, here are all the ones I've done:

Artemis Fowl and the Arctic Incident

One of the strangest creatures on the Earth, or more accurately below it, is the common stinkworm. Stinkworms can only survive below the Earth's crust and so have never been seen by humans. The stinkworm can grow to a length of fifteen centimetres and a diameter of up to eight centimetres. The bigger a stinkworm is, the more meat there is in its soft boned skeleton and the more valuable it is to a merchant. Stinkworms are big business in the fairy world and have been for thousands of years. They are very versatile creatures and can be boiled, fried, baked, or even eaten raw though this sushi approach can be difficult to swallow as the stink associated with the worms does not disappear until they are cooked. The current favourite way to eat the stinkworm is in a dish similar to bolognese substituting stinkworms spaghetti. Deep fried on a skewer is popular among the younger generation. What makes the stinkworm so delicious is its juices. When the worm is heated in a pan or oven it bastes itself in a delicious spicy juice which even the best chefs have failed to reproduce. This juice is in fact earwax from the hundreds of ears that cover each worm's body. Some more sensitive fairies cannot forget that they are eating earwax and do not enjoy eating stinkworms, but most are entranced by the flavour that they are quite prepared to ignore where it comes from. Goblins in particular love stink worms and are constantly inventing new ways to consume them. The rarest and most prized stinkworm dish is a stir-fried bowl of stinkworm ears. The ears are shaved from the worm's body, rolled in flour and then lightly fried. This dish takes hours to prepare and costs a fortune. Goblins believe that if you eat a bowl of worm ears then you absorb the worm's memories of the places they have visited. This is not an appealing thought when you consider that a stinkworm's favourite environment is fresh troll dung.

---

Artemis Fowl and the Eternity Code

One of the fairy people's most popular pastimes is a card game called Bottoms Up. This game is almost the direct opposite of the human card game Poker. In Bottoms Up, the objective is to end up with the least valuable hand possible. There are four suits: Acorns, Toads, a weird shape known as Splats which is thought to be based on the shape of a stinkworm would make if it were stepped on by a troll, and of course, Bottoms, which gives the game its name. Historians tell us that the curved 'w' shapes which represent Bottoms are actually supposed to represent ocean waves but gamblers prefer to call them Bottoms and now the name has stuck. If a player realises that he is in danger of assembling a good hand, which is bad, he must trick his opponent into taking his valuable cards. The most valuable cards are a golden Acorn, a king Toad, an eight-pointed Splat, and a mega Bottom. There is also a hologrammed wild card which can be anything the holding player wishes it to be. If you are tricked into taking a wild card then you must get rid of it in the next two rounds or it freezes at its current value. When playing Bottoms Up, it is very important to hide any behaviour which might betray nervousness or glee. These behaviours are called 'tells'. An elf's 'tell' is to toy with his pointy ears, sprits sometimes flap their wings causing a downdraught which is never a good idea in a card game, gnomes eat anything they can reach including insects and pieces of furniture, and dwarves lose control of their internal gases. Once these gases build up past a certain point, it becomes almost impossible to hold them up. So if you see a dwarf with a red face, it is a good bet that he has a very bad card, which is good.

---

Artemis Fowl and the Opal Deception

There has never been a regulated scientific study of a dwarf's special abilities; what we know about them is based on folklore and hearsay. The most famous of these abilities is the dwarf tunnelling method by which they eat dirt and air before expelling them out the other end. Though the actual force of this expulsive have never been measured, several witnesses have reported windows breaking more than twenty metres away. It is said that a master recycler than finetune his gas emissions so that instead of a widespread blast of flatulence, he shoots out a concentrated column of wind. Legend has it that one such master recycler, a certain Blurt Diggums, was so accurate with these columns that he could turn on a light switch from the other side of the room. Dwarfs themselves use casual terms to refer to strength of their gas emissions. A shirt-flapper is a gentle emission that would barely inflate a child's balloon, a pants-ripper is a sturdier blast and would certainly blow a hole in even the sturdiest material, a nought-to-sixty is a sight whopper and could accelerate whoever dropped it to dangerous speeds, a strap-yourself-down is about as strong as it gets and could help a dwarf achieve flight, and finally, the legendary dark-side. If released in a mountaintop it could put a dwarf into orbit. there is no evidence that a dark-side is anything more than a myth. All the same if you see a dwarf on a mountain with a red face, take cover. You can't be too careful around dwarf wind.

---

Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony

The demon scrolls tell of a warlock that will come to save our people but I couldn't rely too much on the scrolls. They also say that rabbits are supreme beings and that the best cure for a sore throat is a poultice of dung and old socks. Hence trust the scrolls at your peril. There are however a few basic tips for survival in a demon tribe that might be helpful if you were a human and had never actually met a demon before, which is unlikely to say the least. If you were a human, you wouldn't be able to read this in the first place. So, demon survival tips. First, never stab a demon with his own sword. This is the ultimate insult and will result in a vendetta that could go on for generations. It is fine to stab a demon with your sword, he will congratulate you for managing that but only poor warlocks lose their swords and then get stabbed with them. If the opportunity arises, give it a miss. Demons have a pretty comprehensive system of sign language ... (I couldn't find the rest unfortunately)

---

Artemis Fowl and the Time Paradox

From the collective correspondence of Opal Koboi, a series of letter between Koboi inmate number [cannot be identified], Atlantis maximum penitentiary, and Wing Commander, Vinyaya, Haven Council.

Koboi: "My dear Wing Commander, while I realise that my first probation hearing is not due for four hundred years, I feel that it would be in the people's best interests to release me before then. After all, the humans are becoming more sophisticated daily and a genius such as myself will be needed to ensure that fairy technology remains superior to human technology."

Vinyaya: "Dream on, Koboi."

Koboi: "I am sensing negative vibrations from you, Wing Commander. Do not be so quick to judge, people can change, surely you can accept that. I admit that once, I found the idea of being the planet's supreme power an attractive one, but who hasn't secretly nurtured the dream of wiping out humanity and utterly dominating one's own peers? I see now that this dream might be unacceptable to some narrow-minded fairies and I am prepared to swear on my pixie honour that should I be released I would not attempt to take over the world again."

Vinyaya: "On your pixie honour. Wow, I'll send the transfer shuttle right over."

Koboi: "I see now, Wing Commander, that you never had any intention of sending the transfer shuttle right over. In fact, you were being sarcastic. Mocking me from the safety of police plaza before i realised that the shuttle was not coming for me. I packed by belongings so that I could be ready, including my collection of model seahorses which I fashioned form chewed cardboard. My favourite seahorses, Twinky and Goodboy, were broken in the process. Twinky cries every night over her severed tail and Goodboy does not look so dashing without his head. Your callousness leaves me no alternative but to place you in my revenge list. When I am finally free of this horrible place and elevated to my rightful position as Queen of the world, you will take my place in this cell and I will send you troll minions to issue daily beatings with batons fashioned from seahorse tails. A fitting punishment, I am sure you agree."

Vinyaya: "See you in four hundred years."

[lily-alphonse]

Please hear me out Sebastian x Elliott.

I cannot overstate how I absolutely lost my mind receiving this ask because TELL ME WHY IVE NEVER CONSIDERED THIS I literally love these men. They are my husbands. I know I marry Sebastian every time but if he wasn't an option I would marry Elliott in a heartbeat I am so down bad for him. (Have yall seen how much poetry I've written for him like come on). So this was mind-bending, earth-shattering, all of the above.

I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE THIS WORK THO FUCK lmao rein it in Lily you got this

Lets build the gothic romance of our dreams all in this the year of 2024.

Elliott likes to do something some people might find odd. Which is part of the reason he keeps it to himself. But he’s always found the idea of messages in a bottle charming. What if there was such a thing as fate? Would it not bring his love letter to his soulmate? He lives on the beach now; he has the perfect opportunity.

So he bottles his love and sets it free on the ocean, just every few months when he’s feeling whimsical. Sometimes it washes right back up in the next few days, and he takes it as a gift from himself, or the universe. Something like that. Either way it makes him smile, and he recollects the bottle and sticks the scrap of love letter in one of his books at random.

One rainy day, Sebastian stumbles on a bottle. It looks like it has something inside so he takes it home. Part of him thinks he’s being silly. The other part of him is giddy. A quest! A mystery! His geeky ass is all over this.

He takes it home and carefully removes the paper inside. It doesn’t look old, just regular notebook scrap.

Perhaps Im only built to seek you And never really see Fumbling, reaching, I feel the truth But what if my eyes laid upon thee I fear no feeling could compare Instead I close my eyes and imagine you and me

The writer signed it “a dreamer.” Sebastian isn’t sure how to feel about it. It’s intriguing, still. He already suspects Elliott right away, though it is entirely possible the bottle washed up from elsewhere. He rolls the bottle in his hands and considers the man. He imagines him writing these words and for some reason his heart clenches. He feels flushed suddenly.

It feels like an invasion of privacy, almost, to read something so heartfelt.

Maybe that’s why he writes him back. Some kind of guilt, a feeling like he has to bare his soul in the same way.

The words of the letter tumble in his mind, only getting sharper with time. It feels like nothing he could come up with would ever be enough.

He watches Elliott at the saloon. How his hands grip his beer. How his eyes close when he laughs.

Open your eyes

The words come to him suddenly and he jots them in his phone. When he gets home from the saloon he finally writes his letter back.

In reality Id like to have a few letters back and forth before Elliott discovers its Sebastian, but for the sake of this lets say he signs his letter with his actual name.

Open your eyes Touch me I am as real as you imagine Are you? -Sebastian

He takes a chance. If fate worked once, maybe it would again. Because what if it wasn’t Elliott? Maybe the bottle would be carried back on the waves where it needed to be.

Of course it finds its way back. Elliott smiles and picks it up, fully expecting his own words inside. His heart races when he sees that isn't the case.

It is an agonizing few days before Sebastian comes back to the ocean in the haze of a drizzle. Elliott finds him in the rain but he doesn’t have the words to address him.

Sebastian smiles at him. “Are you my dreamer?”

“I— yes,” he laughs breathlessly, slowly getting soaked from the rain. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And what do you make of my proposal?” he asks, stepping closer so Elliott has to look down at him.

Elliott swallows. He decides to take a chance and continue this poetry between them. “I fear if I touch you, nothing will ever feel the same again.”

Sebastian takes a moment to consider, inspecting his face and the grey horizon beyond. Finally he responds, part poem, part just himself because he’s never been much of a poet.

He smiles at him. “I don't know about you, but I'd be happy with that."

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@totallyhumanexe

[luchicm04]

Sinking in the Metkayina - chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary: That night, (Y/n) couldn’t sleep, so she tossed and turned in bed and finally came out onto the deck. The night sea of Pandora seen from the ship was as beautiful as always. It was a world worth protecting. The woman leaned against the railing, recalling that terrible and scary battlefield... and just then, a wave rocked and swayed the boat all of a sudden and she... fell into the sea.

Pairing: Tonowari/Omatikaya!Fem Reader

Tag: #sinking in the metkayina fic

posted on ao3

Word count: +8k

All characters belong to Avatar, and all rights are reserved to the original work whose author allowed me to translate it. I took some (a lot) of creative liberties while writing, adding a few things and changing some. This is the first time I translate a Korean fic, so I hope I did it properly😅

The premise of this story is that humans have a respiratory system adapted to Pandora’s air. It’d be so annoying and interfering otherwise, and it wouldn’t allow for deep kissing and the endless things you can do with your mouth.

Overall warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, edging, eventual smut⚠️

(Y/n) was a marine biology researcher. She used to do various studies on Na’vis and periodically go out to the ocean with her colleagues to collect samples. However, when many scientists who sided with the RDA were kicked out and sent back to Earth... she was left alone as an oceanographer, with no one to accompany her to the open seas anymore. 

It would have been nice if Jake had more allies who sympathized with him, but (Y/n) swallowed her tears. Fortunately, there were still a few people who knew how to sail a ship, so she left Hell’s Gate and headed out to sea for her investigation after a lot of deliberation. 

She was just staring at the water in the vastness of the ocean... and suddenly, she was struck with dizziness, wondering ‘What am I doing here?’ 

That night, (Y/n) couldn’t sleep, so she tossed and turned in bed and finally came out onto the deck. The night sea of Pandora seen from the ship was as beautiful as always. It was a world worth protecting. The woman leaned against the railing, recalling that terrible and scary battlefield... and just then, a wave rocked and swayed the boat all of a sudden and she... fell into the sea. 

(Y/n), who had fallen into the water without any equipment, screamed while struggling. “Is there anyone here? Hello?!! Please, I need help!!”  

She tried to swim closer to the boat but was pushed further away by the waves. 

Even after the ship had completely disappeared from sight, (Y/n) continued to swim, but her hope was fading away. Time continued to pass, and she had no energy left because she had struggled so hard. Her lips were trembling from hypothermia, and only despair rose up in her. 

‘Am I going to die here? Not on Earth, but on a distant star a few light years away?’  

The strength slowly drained from her limbs and (Y/n) lost consciousness after hearing something that sounded like a whale’s cry. 

──

When she opened her eyes... she screamed at the sight of Na’vis looking down at her with faces full of curiosity and wariness. The Na’vi, who were startled by (Y/n)’s yell, shouted along with her, making her scratch the back of her head in embarrassment after calming down. The surroundings had started to get noisy after she had woken up. 

‘Vrrtep? ...They must be talking about me, right? This sucks... Well, at least I’m alive, which is a good thing... but it feels that I’m going to die anytime soon...’  

Na’vis began to gather, and (Y/n) flinched in fear at their piercing gazes. They looked different from those of the Omatikaya; their skin color was lighter, their arms were thicker... oh, look those muscles... wait, what was she thinking? Did she want to die by a harpoon? She was silently praying, if it came to be, for them to kill her painlessly with one blow when two Na’vis appeared through the crowd. 

Judging by the fancy and colorful ornaments, the girl was 100% sure they must be the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk. She had to show them she had nothing but good intentions! 

(Y/n) immediately jumped up and cast the ‘I see you’ while speaking in the native language, in which she was haltingly fluent. “I have no intention of causing harm. I am a tìftiatu.” 

The Tsahìk looked up at the Olo’eyktan and they stayed silent. 

‘Good thing I learnt that word from a baby forest Na’vi... Why aren’t they saying anything? Please, let me live to see another day.’  

“Do you know why you are here?” the chief asked. 

“When I opened my eyes, I was already here.” 

“A tulkun saved you and brought you the shore.” 

“Tool... kun? Wait, a tulkun?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my god!!”  

‘I had the chance to see a tulkun with my own two eyes?! I didn’t even get to see a single tail fin!! I should’ve woken up, and instead I missed it! Aaaah!!!’  

(Y/n), who was mentally punishing herself while outwardly doing a one-woman show, barely came to her senses under the strange look of the Olo’eyktan, and desperately tried to appeal to herself that she was harmless by raising her frail arms and clearing her throat to speak. 

“I am not a warrior; I mean no harm. I just want to know about life in this place and the meaning of Eywa.” 

“...Why? You are one of the demons.” 

“Because not all demons want destruction.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

‘Thanks for the lessons, forest kid.’  

The male leader spoke to the woman with a softened expression. 

“She doesn’t look dangerous.” 

“What if it is only a mere appearance?” 

“She does not possess any of the Sky People tools. Without those ‘machines’, they are no different from newborn babies.” 

Was she being compared to a baby right now? ...Well, they weren’t wrong. (Y/n) listened to their conversation feeling nervous. 

“...You are allowed to stay here.” 

‘Yes!! However, asking for them to take me all the way back to the Omatikaya... I guess that’s too much, right? I don’t think they’ll listen... I’ll just have to survive in a place with no machines or anything technological. Luckily, I know about some creatures that humans can consume.’  

“Then... where should I stay?” 

The man replied calmly. “I’ll take care of that.” 

“Tonowari!” the Tsahìk exclaimed. 

‘So, his name is Tonowari? Huh, weird...’  

“No matter how weak she is, we will have to wait and see if she is completely harmless. As Olo’eyktan, it is my responsibility to care and watch over her.” 

“...Even though you might regret it?” 

“That too is my lot to bear.” 

Ah, great... is the leader of the tribe fighting with his wife already because of her mere existence on that island? She hopes she’s not ruining their relationship. 

“O-oh, it’s okay... you don’t have to help me, I can manage by myself. Plus, couples shouldn’t fight... Ahaha...” (Y/n) said nervously. 

Both Na’vi looked at her strangely. “We are not a couple.” 

“R-really?” 

“I suppose you didn’t know that Tsahìks and Olo’eyktans are not always paired up,” the woman stated drily. 

The human was sweating profusely. “...I didn’t know...” 

‘Oh, no... Did I just insult both them and their culture at the same time?’  

“Anyway, you are my responsibility from now on. Follow me, I will show where you can stay.” 

“Y-yes, yes... thank you...” 

Leaving behind the Tsahìk, who was still looking at her as if she were an unworthy insect, (Y/n) bowed and followed after Tonowari. 

After a short walk, they arrived at the area where the maruis rested above the water. Not long after that, the man stopped in front of the one she supposed would be assigned to her. She obviously expected it to be empty, but it was spacious and had traces of daily use. What? 

No matter how you look at it, someone was already living there. When (Y/n) looked at him with a question mark on her face, Tonowari spoke as if nothing had happened. “I said you were under my responsibility. You shall be living with me for a while.” 

“...I’m a girl, though?” 

“You are a woman of the Sky People. Don’t worry, nothing unpleasant will happen to you.” 

‘Well... of course, we are from different species... but something inside me... something similar to dignity is dying!! I want to tell him that, but I can't say anything because just receiving this invitation is a huge exception and privilege...’  

(Y/n) walked to a corner and crouched down. 

“Don’t be so nervous; you can relax, I won’t do anything to you.” 

“Y-yeah, uh-huh...” 

“Please, use the space a little more widely. There is no reason for you to feel uncomfortable.” 

“T-thank you...” 

Tonowari sighed as he looked down at (Y/n), who was sitting awkwardly and not knowing what to do. 

It seemed like there was quite a long way to go. 

──

The next day  

“Is there anything you can do?” 

“Uh... fish. I know them well. Sea... algae? Seaweed? I know seaweed well too.” 

Tonowari looked down at her, curious that a Sky Person would be so interested in the sea life-forms. 

(Y/n) shrugged. “It was my job to study them. I have lots of knowledge about them.” 

“Hmm... I guess that is not necessary right now. What about hunting?” 

“Nope, nothing.” 

“I will show you how to weave a net. Follow my lead,” he said as he grabbed a few materials so he could show her the basics. “Even if it’s temporary, as long as you stay here, you have to do your share.” 

“Yes, I know.” 

“This way, the basic knot is complete. Now, you try.” 

After a few attempts and feeling she was just making a fool of herself, (Y/n) questioned the process she was taking. “...Am I doing it right?” 

“Put your right hand under the knot and pull it out to the left.” 

“Like this?” she asked after somehow managing to tangle the material even more, but not in the specified form. 

“...” 

“...Like this?” 

“...Let’s just try something else.” 

“Hey! Don’t give up on me so easily!” 

After wrestling with the cord for about two hours, (Y/n) unilaterally admitted defeat... 

“Well then, tell me how to make fabrics at least.” 

“If you can’t even weave a net, how will you be able to weave cloths?” he said pointedly. “I believe it’s best for you to follow me around for a while; look around and find something you can learn to do.” 

“...You don’t have to be so straightforward about it.” She saw how he was carefully gazing at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

‘If we were friends, I would have thrown some joke like: “What’s the matter, hon? Am I that cute?” However, being in front of a 292cm (9’7”) giant Na’vi, I get so scared that I can only... squeak... Even though I’m tall for a human, I’d be like a little kid compared to Tonowari.’  

Still, seeing this, (Y/n) sighed and wondered if Tonowari would be able to teach the customs of the Na’vi... to a human. 

──

From that day on, (Y/n) followed Tonowari around and was shown all sorts of skills: how to cast and pull nets, how to manage a clam farm, how to sharpen and make spears, how to create accessories that are strong and durable even in seawater, etc. Surprisingly (or not), not a single one of them suited her. 

(Y/n)’s self-esteem, once a highly educated person, began to plummet.��

‘But I... I was a scholar capable enough to be dispatched to Pandora, so how can I be so useless? My knowledge has already been passed down through generations of Na’vis, and I have no talent for working with my hands... If I keep up like this, what are they going to do with me? What if I’m kicked out?’  

The night was getting deeper; the sound of the ocean could be heard, and (Y/n) was anxious... She crouched down and tried to come up with something. Nevertheless, no matter how much she thought about it, there was no answer. She had to prove her worth, but she couldn’t do anything... (Y/n), who had always been ahead of the curve, felt like she was nosediving with no way up. The only thing she felt she was good at the moment was sniffling. Which she started to do, little by little. 

And those sounds... Tonowari, who slept in the same room could, of course, hear them. Looking at (Y/n), who was lying down with her back turned and trying to quiet down her sniffs, he let out a small sigh and got up. 

“You can’t sleep?” 

“Y-yes... ugh... sniff...” 

“It’s been an hour.” 

“...Lie back down, I’m fine...” 

As the remains of his sleep disappeared, the Olo’eyktan awoke completely from his drowsy state. Tonowari spoke with a soothing tone as he looked at the state (Y/n) was in. 

“Every life has its own use and purpose in Eywa’s path. You, too, have your own purpose. Do not worry too much.” 

“...Do you really think so?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

Only then did (Y/n) loosen her distraught expression and turn around. Her eyes were wet from sobbing, but now she was smiling slightly. 

“You are very kind, sir.” 

“Ahem... I am responsible for you. It is only natural.” 

“But I’m a foreigner, so it must be burdensome for you, sir. Still, thank you.” 

“...Tonowari is also fine.” 

“Huh?” 

“What I mean is, you don’t have to call me sir every time. Many people call me by my name.” 

(Y/n) blinked briefly and burst into a small laugh. “You’re very kind, Tonowari.” 

“...It is late; go to bed and rest. You have many places to go to tomorrow.” 

Tonowari’s ears perked up a little as he spoke, so she found herself in a happy mood for the first time in a while. He looked very strict and serious, but he secretly had a kind side to him. He might even seem a little... cute? 

As she laid facing the ceiling, the sound of the waves, which was unusually loud, acted as a lullaby... (Y/n) fell asleep after a few minutes. 

──

(Y/n) and Tonowari searched the entire village for something to do... Clamming (too hard for a human), picking seaweed (can’t hold her breath for long, so ruled out), standing guard at the village border (barely getting by)... and finally! Finally, they found something she could do. 

Teaching children. 

(Y/n) was definitely into Pandora’s oceans, and her vocabulary was similar to the kids’ (lol) so it would be easy to teach them. 

‘I was hoping I would end up doing something with my dexterity... haha... I was a bit disappointed, but still! I was happy to be useful, and I felt flattered in front of Tonowari. He also congratulated me with a smile.’  

Of course, there was some opposition to the idea of the demon teaching their children, but after proving her knowledge was clearly useful, they decided to test it and see how it goes before making a formal decision. In order to do that, a Na’vi would be needed to watch and help out. 

And on the first day of teaching the younglings... (Y/n) was wondering who would come while Tonowari walked from afar. 

She stared confused as he approached her but was quick to greet him with the respect he deserved. “I see you, Tonowari. What brings you here...?” 

“I heard you need someone to help you.” 

“That’s true, but...” 

“You are under my responsibility, so it is right for me to take charge of that task as well.” 

“...Oh, aren’t you busy...?” 

“I have some free time to spare at the moment. Don’t worry.” 

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh- I thought we were going to do something like the neighborhood alphabet classroom, but now I have to do an observation class in front of the Olo’eyktan. Damn it!! And I’m just a researcher, not someone trained as an educator.’  

While sweating profusely, (Y/n) kept repeating to herself like a parrot that the chieftain must be busy, so... why was he here? 

The man was stubborn, so she gave up on that. The girl entered the space set up for what they would need and... there were more kids than she thought? (Y/n) raised a question mark. Could you blame her? Who could have thought so many would come knowing that they would be taught by a demon? 

The kids confidently said they had come without their parents’ knowing. The curiosity of pre-teens in their prime couldn’t be defeated, funnily enough. 

So, that was how (Y/n) started the first lesson. First, she listed the easy-to-find clams. 

“Okay, guys! Do you know what this is?” 

“Who doesn’t know that? It’s just a common clam.” 

“Right, but did you know that this clam has 300 eyes?” 

“Really????????” 

“Curious, isn’t it? Should I crack open it and check?” 

(Y/n) was trying her best to win them over... 

No matter what she did, it wouldn’t work. Pandora’s creatures were so huge... It wasn’t easy, and a female human’s energy couldn’t even come close to that of a Na’vi. 

Ah, she’d finally gotten their interest; she couldn’t just leave it like that. The woman trembled and used all her strength, but the clam was tightly shut. (Y/n)’s face was gradually turning sad until a large hand appeared from the side. 

It was Tonowari. He took the clam from her hands, which hadn’t even moved regardless of how hard she tried, and easily opened it... In 0.5 seconds... 

“Here you go.” 

“O-oh, uh... thanks.” 

“Wow~ Olo’eyktan is so cool!” 

“Thank you everyone. Now, keep focused on what (Y/n) will teach you.” 

“Okay~” 

After that thankful action, Tonowari nodded to her with a smile as if telling her to go ahead with the lesson. 

“Alright... Now that the Olo’eyktan has opened it, why don’t we take a look? Here, did you know everything in this side consists of the organs?” 

“Eww~ it’s so gross!” 

“It is, but thanks to that they know when predators ... no, tarioa- tairo-... I mean, when bad animals are coming, and they close their shells to protect themselves." 

“But why stay there instead of running away?” 

“...Well...” 

(Y/n) got caught in the moment, but Tonowari intervened from the side. 

“That is because the strong warriors of the Metkayina catch them. Nothing can escape our hands.” 

“Uh... That’s right! Warriors of the Metkayina! You too will achieve that position when you grow up. By the way, aren’t you curious about how clams eat?” 

‘Phew! Almost blew it back there.’  

A few hours later, (Y/n)’s first class ended with unexpected success. And... it seems she got herself an assistant? 

Tonowari woke her from her daydream, which was causing her soul to leak from her mouth, by tapping her. “That was impressive. There were some things I didn’t know. Did you discover them?” 

“Well... not necessarily me... but my colleagues and I made a collaboration ... how do you say this in Na’vi?” 

“Does this mean that this is the fruit of your efforts combined?” 

“Fruit? Fruition... Yes, that’s right!” 

“It seems like you’re doing well on your own. You are intelligent and talented.” 

'...The first compliment I heard since I got here!’  

(Y/n) was a little embarrassed, but she didn’t show it and replied “That’s just how I am” and shamefully left. Tonowari laughed a little at her cockiness. 

On the way to the marui, the sky and sea were covered in the sunset. The two walked slowly along the sandy beach and looked at the landscape. 

“It’s beautiful...” 

“The bottom of the sea is even more beautiful. Have you ever seen it?” 

“I’ve been there a few times. It was an unforgettable experience... Now that I think about it, I have never seen it here.” 

“The coral reefs of the Metkayina are especially famous for their beauty. Someday, I will show you how to ride an Ilu and show them to you.” 

“Really?!” 

“It would be absurd to be staying with the reef people and not seeing the reefs.” 

“Thank you, thank you! I will never forget this for as long as I live!” 

“...Because you seem to love the ocean too.” 

There was a moment of silence between them. 

“How could you not fall in love with this place?” 

“Didn’t you say that there is an ocean where you came from?” 

“Coral reefs are losing their color, animals are disappearing, and the water is tainted with dangerous substances. It can no longer be called an ocean.” 

“...That is regretful.” 

“That’s probably why I fell in love with this place so much. Living in this lively place feels like a dream.” 

He didn’t speak any more. They kept walking Tonowari, who didn’t say anything until they reached their destination, spoke quietly. 

“If there’s anything you would like to see, just tell me. I’ll help you as much as I can.” 

The image of Tonowari speaking like that remained in her mind for no reason and continued to linger in her mind until she closed her eyes and went to sleep. (Y/n) must have fallen asleep because when she woke up the soft sound of the waves, like white noise, and the voice of Tonowari in her head were mixed together and she couldn’t tell which was which. 

──

(Y/n)’s class was surprisingly booming as time went by. 

The kids who came after taking a class said it was so much fun, so those who called her ‘demon’ at first started coming one by one out of curiosity, and her crowd eventually grew... The youngsters did many things there besides learning like playing with friends and, honestly, parents were happy they didn’t have to watch over them all day (her school had become in some sort of childcare). 

It was also quite amusing to see the Olo’eyktan sitting solemnly on the sidelines and listening, then chiming in a word or two. And when (Y/n) muttered to herself something like “Oh, I don’t have this... I wish I did...”, Tonowari would quickly get up and disappear somewhere, then come back with it. 

“Where did you find this?! Tonowari, you’re the best!” 

“...You’re welcome.” 

She would spend all day teaching the kids (actually playing with them) and then in the evening, when they dispersed, she would walk along the sandy beach with Tonowari and chat. 

'At first, it was hard to talk to him because he scared me, but know that I know how considerate he is, haha, I feel I can speak with him more comfortably.’  

“The conch shell that I showed you earlier, isn’t it pretty? Should I make some jewelry with it?” 

“...Are you serious?” 

“No, even if my dexterity was ruined, it wouldn’t be to that extent...” 

“Well, I’ll make one for you instead.” 

“Wow, really? Yay !!” 

“ Yay ... Can I ask what that means?” 

“Well, it’s a great word to use when something is really good and exciting.” 

“...The Sky People’s language is really diverse.” 

“Anyway, you promised to make me one of those ornaments. I like necklaces!” 

“I see. I shall keep that in mind,” he said smiling down at her. 

And... time passed, and the day finally came when Tonowari decided to give (Y/n) a ride on an Ilu. 

Before, there had been a backlash that was summarized with: “We can’t trust the demon.” Now, through teaching, she had become close with the kids and established her own position, so things were better. 

“(Y/n)! I heard you were going to ride an Ilu today!” 

“Awesome! I’m so jealous!” 

“I’m learning to ride one too.” 

“I heard Tonowari himself would teach her.” 

“Lucky... Come back without any injuries!” 

“Do you think I will learn to ride soon too?” 

‘I always do this kind of back and forth with my students. I can’t do Tsaheylu, but the mere idea of being the first human to ever ride an Ilu makes me feel like I’m floating! I don’t think any human on Earth has ever ridden one. Especially with an Olo’eyktan teaching me directly!’  

Tonowari was barely able to calm (Y/n) down, who was almost jumping up and down with excitement, went out to the sea and called for an ilu. 

“Everybody makes that sound, but how do you do it?” 

“Like this.” He made some sounds from the back of his throat using his tongue. 

She tried to copy him to the best of her ability. “Am I doing it?” 

“...” 

That was all for the lesson on calling the Ilu. Tonowari lifted (Y/n) and placed her on one who had come near. 

“Whoa!!!!” 

“Um, let go of my hair...” 

“Sorry, sorry, you just surprised me all of a sudden...” 

(Y/n)... was quite tall for a human, and no one had ever lifted her like that since childhood. So, out of fright, she had ended up grabbing onto the hair of the Olo’eyktan for support. She let go, feeling embarrassed, and Tonowari grabbed her hand and told her how to hold it on the saddle. His larger hand, that covered (Y/n)’s whole and still had a lot of space left, folded each finger accordingly. 

She suddenly felt strange at the feeling of his hand... She thought it was because she was excited and let it go. 

“How long can you last underwater?” 

“I’ve had some training before, but... like 3 minutes?” 

“That is ridiculously weak...” 

“That... that is long?!” she affirmed offended. 

“I guess we’ll have to do a lot of practice. Anyway, hold your breath, we are going into the water now.” 

“Really? Now? Wait a minute, whoa-” 

As soon as the Ilu dived, Tonowari grabbed its queue and dived with it. 

(Y/n) barely managed to catch her breath at the timing, and as she closed her eyes tightly in a state of exclamation, she was dragged by the Ilu as it swam aimlessly. After a few seconds, she felt someone tapping her from the side, so she cautiously opened her eyes and almost opened her mouth as well to say: “Wow”. 

The scenery before her eyes was truly fantastic. Colorful aquatic creatures swimming in the clear waters and colorful coral reefs... Shoals of small fish passed by (Y/n) and Tonowari, and the Ilu played in circles among the giant seaweed. 

‘This sight will forever live in my memory,’ she thought to herself. 

Tonowari, who was caressing the Ilu, smiled slightly as he looked at her as she was absentmindedly watching everything. Seeing that she liked it so much, he thought that he should have brought her out there earlier... (Y/n), who seemed to sense his gaze, looked back and waved her hand with a bright smile. 

At that moment, Tonowari felt his heartbeat suddenly stop for a second. 

Why? Had he stayed in the water for too long? No, it wasn’t that... The man put his hand on his chest and questioned this strange throbbing sensation. 

Right then, he saw (Y/n) gesturing upwards as if she were out of breath and apologetically sent the Ilu up to the surface. 

“Phew! That was really, really fantastic! Thank you, Tonowari!” 

“...It was nothing.” 

“It was not nothing. If it weren’t for you, I would still be feared as a demon and wouldn’t have had even come close to touching one of his fins.” 

(Y/n) had been able to establish herself in the village thanks to Tonowari, so she smiled happily as she expressed her gratitude for that again. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her... 

“Today I just looked around, but next time I’ll be looking for samples for research. Will you be coming with me?” 

To this bold and valiant woman who fearlessly asked the Olo’eyktan to accompany, Tonowari could only nod... without even knowing why. 

“I don’t know what samples are, but... if you want to.” 

“Oh my? What if something weird happens?” 

“I know you wouldn’t do anything to purposely harm us.” 

“Wow... that’s touching. Why are you so kind to me?” 

“...It’s no big deal.” 

Tonowari always said that when he was embarrassed. But never the actual thing. 

──

From that day onwards, (Y/n) went out to collect samples carrying the small bag that Tonowari had made for her. The man was always by her side and would even hold things for her if they were too heavy. 

What’s more, he taught her breathing techniques so she could hold longer underwater... and the two naturally became closer. 

“I’d like to go out for a bit. Is that okay?” 

“It’s dangerous. I wouldn’t recomment it.” 

“Um... Just for a bit? There’s something at the bottom I really want to look into...” 

“I said it was dangerous.” 

“Why can’t I? I’ll just dig that up and come right back!” 

“...” 

Strangely, it became difficult for Tonowari to say no to (Y/n)’s words. 

She had become quite capable at holding her breath through continuous training (nothing compared to a Na’vi, of course) and was confident that she would be fine in deeper waters. 

The day they decided to go far away, Tonowari came with a fierce-looking spear; (Y/n) wondered if it was necessary, but she thought that he would know better. The two of them went beyond the coral reef on Ilu... but the chief was so big that it was more like holding onto its queue with her on board rather than riding it. 

Anyway, the two went down to the deep water and luckily, they quickly found what (Y/n) was looking for. The girl was carefully putting it in her bag with an excited face, when a huge shadow fell over her. 

It was a Pxazang. 

Before she could scream, Tonowari pierced his spear straight into the beast’s stomach and it shook violently, bleeding in pain. Right after, he narrowly escaped from having his arm bit off while holding onto the Ilu and (Y/n). Both continued to head down and down among the tall seaweed and coral. The predator chased after them, chewing and breaking through stone pillars like a madman despite having been stabbed. 

Tonowari gritted his teeth and held (Y/n)’s arms tightly so as not to lose her and continued to descend... And the two, barely able to hide in a place where its teeth could not reach, held their breaths and tried to calm their pounding hearts. 

Nevertheless, there was a problem... Not matter how much (Y/n) trained, she wasn’t a Na’vi and soon started to suffocate. She tried her best to hold it in, but when a gulping sound was heard, the man looked down at her... and realized the situation. Without even thinking, Tonowari lowered his head and kissed her. 

The moment (Y/n)’s eyes opened wide, he breathed life into her... while she was hardly hanging on and clinging to his body. 

How many times did she inhale and exhale like that? Finally, the human’s stomach settled down; Tonowari made a gesture, grabbed the handles of the Ilu and headed towards the surface. 

“Gasp...! Cough, cough... Ugh...”  

(Y/n), who had been holding to Tonowari’s arms, gasped and finally filled her lungs. Even though he had trouble breathing after sharing air with her, the Na’vi held her cheeks to check if she was hurt anywhere. The two looked at each other for a long time, catching their breath. 

Tonowari’s heartbeat was so loud that it could be felt in his arms... The face that habitually looked down was full of relief at barely surviving, and subsided fear at knowing she had made it... The man met (Y/n)’s eyes, which were filled with a mixture of emotions, and impulsively kissed her.  

Their pulse was thumping on their touching chests, the body head felt faint on their wet and cold skin... and yet, the tongue that was parting her lips and entering her mouth was so hot that she thought it would burn her... The chief pulled (Y/n) into his embrace and turned his head to kiss her more deeply, and this continued until the girl was out of breath and rubbing his shoulder. 

──

Four days since the incident  

Tonowari didn’t say a word about it and just treated (Y/n) as usual. Instead, they stopped going to the beach where they used to go for walks, and at night, he left the marui and went to sleep somewhere else. 

In other words, he didn’t sleep in the same place as her. 

Likewise, (Y/n) didn’t say anything about the matter, but she would sometimes look at his face as if asking for an explanation. When that happened, he would first look away and then leave the place. 

The strange atmosphere was evident even to the Na’vis in the village, and the number of children asking what had happened to the Olo’eyktan increased. 

Since they both declared it was nothing, though... what could a third party say? They just worried a little among themselves and let it go. Regardless of whatever happened between their leader and the demon, time passed, and it was time for the Tulkun to return. The Tsuraks, Ilus, Na’vis and Tulkuns all gathered together was truly a spectacular sight. 

It was so frustrating and regrettable that she didn’t have a camera on her... (Y/n) went into the water to capture it all with both her eyes. And she also witnessed Tonowari going over to his spirit brother. The man kept moving his hands in front of the Tulkun, as if he had much to say. Meanwhile, (Y/n) stood alone observing everything. 

That night, the village held a small festival. 

It was a celebration due to the return of their spirit brothers and sisters and, naturally, a table of alcohol was prepared. She was sitting there, asking about the ingredients and thinking, “I can take this.” The Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk were at the top, and after a few words from Tonowari, everyone joined in and drank. 

(Y/n), who had completely melted into the village teacher, had a few drinks and her face turned gradually red and started hiccuping while the other Na’vi teased her. As Tonowari saw her living effortlessly in the village without him, his feelings became complicated. It wasn’t something that should have become complicated; it was a good thing, but he couldn’t understand why his heart was like that. 

Because of his compromised mind, the man kept drinking and got so drunk that anyone would worry of they saw him. Eventually, Tonowari nodded at the advice that it would be better to stop drinking and go inside to rest, and staggered slightly as he headed towards his marui. He would have normally gone somewhere else, but he was too drunk to consider that. 

Leaving behind all that noise, he entered and laid down in his usual space... He closed his eyes dizzily, but then he heard footsteps, so he looked up and when he blinked... he saw (Y/n)’s face, red from drunkenness. 

“Tonowari! I f- hic! finally see your face...” 

“...If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll leave.” 

“Who says I’m uncomfortable?” 

And then, she sat down in front of him! 

Actually, he realized, she had even brought a bottle of alcohol with her; she finally started gulping it down. He thought he should stop her, so he tried to get up. 

“Why did you kiss me back then?” 

He stayed silent for a moment. “...I don’t know what you’re talking about. You seem very drunk, so I think it’s best if you go lie down now...” 

“Why did you kiss me?” 

“It’s late. You should-” 

“What, do you think I’m stupid? I laugh all the time, so it’s easy, right?” 

“...You have never been easy.” 

“I’m not easy, so you’ll just pretend like nothing happened? Is that what you do?” 

“...I’m sorry. I apologize. Because of my lack of virtue, I forced myself to do something that you didn’t want...” 

“When did I ever say I didn’t want it?” 

“...?” 

“Why do you think and decide on your own without even listening to me?” 

Tonowari felt as if his lips were drying up... He moistened them and bit them carefully. 

“...Then, what decision would you like to make?” 

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, then walked closer and wrapped her arms around his neck as she dat on the floor. 

“Kiss me. Give it a try first and then decide.” 

[[[The following content will be updated separately as an explicit post]]]  

The next day, she woke to the sound of the morning waves as usual, suffering from a horrendous hangover. The girl tried getting up, but she felt like she had been hit to a breaking point and something was holding her tightly, so she couldn’t move. What was that? She opened her eyes and there were a pair of arms in front of her. 

Tonowari was hugging (Y/n) in her torn clothes. 

‘You’re crazy, (Y/n)! Crazy!! Because you had no one to sleep with, you laid with the Olo’eyktan...?!!! He’s not even a person. What should I do? Ah, I feel like I’m gonna die...'  

Memories of last night flashed before her eyes like a panorama... She barely managed to swallow her screams. 

‘But... strangely, I don’t regret it... It was a really odd sensation. It felt like the knot that needed to be tied was finally put together.’  

On the other hand... there was no door there, which meant the place gave up any kind of privacy; anyone could have seen them, so she groaned and tried to get out, but... her arms were too heavy, and she couldn’t move. (Y/n) struggled for a while but gave up after exhausting all her strength. Moreover, her whole body hurt like she’d been beaten, especially her lower half. If it had been that bad in one night... She would’ve died if they had been at it for longer. 

“...Excuse me? Tonowari? Hey...” The girl timidly patted Tonowari’s broad chest. A couple of times. Then several. She wondered how many times she ended up doing that. Her arms were starting to hurt, and at that moment, the man stirred. 

And his open eyes were met with (Y/n)’s on his arms. 

1... 2... 3... 

“...!!! I’m so sorry!!! I will be punished for my sins...!!!” 

“Shh! Shush...! The other Na’vis will hear us...!” 

“Uh, I apologize...” 

“Well... First if all, do you have anything to cover my body with? My clothes are all torn...” 

“...I apologize for that as well...” 

The woman placed the fabric that Tonowari gave her around her body like a wrap dress. And then the two were forced to face reality. 

The bite marks and handprints left all over her body... he wanted to die. 

Tonowari had never felt so small in his entire life. He had spent the night with a drunk and it didn’t even seem like he had been gentle. He managed to open his mouth with the determination he had left, unsure on what to say next. 

“No, I mean... I did it because I like you... but...” 

He raised his head. “Did you say, you did it because you like me?” 

“If I didn’t like you, I would have said no, wouldn’t I?” 

The Na’vi was just staring blankly at (Y/n), opening and closing his mouth several times. 

“Um... I guess... that makes us... lovers? Something like that?” 

As soon as she said those words, she felt Tonowari hugging her right away. 

“...Are you sure you want me?” 

“I don’t think that’s something you say when we’re hugging each other practically naked and have already had intercourse... I meant it.” 

“I shall be a good mate for you. Definitely...” 

“Okay, wait a minute, I can’t breathe...! I need air...!” 

After holding her tightly for a long time, (Y/n) was finally released. She was still held in his arms, although lighter this time. It seems the one who self-appointed as her new mate had no intention of letting go anytime soon. 

That was how Tonowari and her started dating... Of course, it was a secret relationship; (Y/n) had preferred it like that, because she didn’t know how the Na’vis of the village would react. 

“Hmm, hey... Tonowari?” 

“Yes, I’m listening.” 

“Other than my face... could you please look at this fish?” 

“If you want me to.” 

The children gasped and looked back and forth between the two. Was he planning on hiding this from the people or not? He was driving her crazy... One could imagine the answer knowing that instead of that fish’s gills, he was gazing at her honey-dripping eyes. 

“(Y/n)... with the Olo’eyktan... by any chance...” 

“Huh?! No, I’m not!” 

“I think you’re right...” 

“They’re so affectionate with each other, aren’t they? Hahaha...” 

“It’s not like that...” 

“Right, right...” 

Well, she let it slide for now. The kids left with such faces... She rubbed her throbbing forehead, but Tonowari came up to her and grabbed her hand, saying there were no children around anymore. 

‘Now he wants to hold hands?! I actually want to, but whenever I see him smiling and saying that it’s okay, I feel weak again... Then again, what do the kids know? Ha... it’s alright I guess.’  

──

The next day  

A certain Na’vi called out to (Y/n), saying she had something to tell her, so she followed after the sea woman. Did they know each other? No matter how much she looked into it, she was a villager that had never spoken to her before... and right now, she just stared at (Y/n) without saying anything, with red eyes. 

“What did you want to say to me?” 

“...The Olo’eyktan! What’s so good about a demon like you?!” 

Huh...? She looked up and tears were falling like raindrops from the woman’s eyes. The human girl felt flustered and tried to calm her down. “Oh, no, don’t cry...” 

“Just like you! You can’t hunt! You can’t even weave a net! What’s the point of being twice as tall as you are?” 

“No... please, stop crying.” 

While rummaging through her inventory, (Y/n) held out a piece of cloth she had knitted for practice and told her to wipe her tears. The nameless Na’vi that was crying continuously stared at her and then caught her hand with her own. 

“Make Tonowari happy! Otherwise, I won’t forgive you!” 

“That’s not... I...” 

“I will remember that!” 

“No...” 

And she disappeared, shedding tears... Leaving her behind with her mind echoing ‘When did it start to be rumored that we were dating?!’ 

But (Y/n)... She wouldn’t give up on their love affair. 

When there were just the two of them, Tonowari immediately picked her up, pressed their foreheads together, kissed her and whispered words of affection. However, he tried hard to remain cold from the outside, no matter how in love his eyes looked. 

As time progressed, he continued to stand close to her with his huge size, like a bear that got wet under the rain, unintentionally making it hard for them to pretend nothing was going on. 

“(Y/n)...” 

“Eh?” 

“Olo’eyktan, you should at least try to pretend...” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t assist you. I’m in a very important duty.” 

“You’re just standing there...” 

“It is called surveillance.” 

Tonowari looked at the children who were doing their best in their lessons while keeping blank faces. 

“(Y/n), I...” 

“I’m in class.” 

“Just a little bit...” 

“I told you, I’m in class.” 

Now, (Y/n) seemed to have forgotten that the other person was the Olo’eyktan. Tonowari raised his figurative eyebrow amusedly, but he stood there until the end of class. As soon as the kids started to leave, he quietly came and grabbed her hand. 

“No, they’re still outside.” 

“...Can’t I kiss you just once?” 

“I’ll kiss you when we get to the marui.” 

“Is it not possible right now?” 

She glared at him, feeling like she’d lost again, and stood on her tiptoes. “...Just one.” 

Tonowari bowed his head as if he’d been waiting for that moment and kissed her deeply. It was supposed to be a small one, but he intertwined their tongues, and before she knew it, she was receiving a sticky and lewd kiss from the hungry man. 

After it ended and they broke apart, (Y/n) wiped her mouth and said, “Don’t do this when we’re outside...”, but found a Na’vi with their mouth open behind Tonowari. 'Uh-oh.'

“...!!!! Oh no, it’s not what you think...!” 

“Mom! Moooom!!!” 

“No!!!!!!!” 

In the end, they abandoned their secret relationship that day. 

──

She was forced to give up on Tonowari by issuing a ‘restraining order’ against him. 

Even if it had to be revealed, she wanted to do it properly and by herself, but they had been caught kissing in an open space, so she was left in shame. (Y/n) felt like a dog, being told to stay at least ten steps away... Instead, it was Tonowari who chased after her like a fanboy. 

He followed her around so pitifully... No wonder the Na’vis of the village had found out about it. (They all knew from before; they just chose to ignore it.) 

“No! It’s different when you get caught at a crucial moment and get exposed!” 

“Well... we already knew...” 

“You could have at least pretended!” 

“It was too obvious...” 

Even after finishing her work for the day and going into the marui, (Y/n) sat away since the order had not been lifted. Tonowari’s ears drooped and he watched her closely... He couldn’t bring himself to get close, so he looked at her with a pouty expression, but she tried to ignore him. 

“(Y/n)...” 

“Are you going to ask me to hug you again? You know we can’t.” She tried to avoid his prying eyes. 

“It has already been three days...” 

“Can’t you even hold back for three days?” 

“Can you?” 

“...” 

“If I cannot control myself... can you?” 

“Not being able to control ourselves is the reason we ended up like this!” 

He did not give up. “Do you not... hate that it has come to this?” 

“...No, that’s not it...” 

“We confirmed out feelings for each other, so I can’t understand why we must stay apart...” 

The girl bit her lip, willing her spirit not to yield. 

“(Y/n), I...” 

“ Okay, to hell with it. Get over here.” 

“...!!!!” 

And Tonowari ran towards her like a puppy with its tail on fire and sat down right next to her. 

After leaning slightly on her small body and smiling happily, (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile as well. And fit into those big arms and be hugged. The man enjoyed her body temperature and smell for a long time, rubbing his face against it. They kept whispering to each other until the sunset spread into the night. 

From then on, Tonowari, who had been gifted with a big body, would not think twice before carrying the girl in his arms and walk around all day. He would take strolls around the village like that and would hide his face in embarrassment, thinking that other Na’vis might see them, but if there was no one around, he would sneak a kiss on (Y/n)’s temple. 

At such happy times, a happy smile could be seen on the man’s face. 

Even the shy (Y/n) would have no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and lean on him with a tingling in her heart. If she did it correctly, she’d feel the strong arms and familiar shoulders, and the heartbeat on his chest. Even though they had been together for quite some time, she found it cute that his heart would still beat fast and loud. 

Every day, the couple walked along the beach holding hands or spent time with the young Na’vis, who were just starting to learn how to weave nets. When dusk approached, the girl ran to Tonowari, who would come to pick her up and hug her. She also ended up meeting his spirit brother. 

“The day the Tulkuns came back... what did you talk about?” 

“Perhaps I have found someone who I can love.” 

──

One day, as the two of them grew more in love day by day, Tonowari went out hunting with the village warriors, and (Y/n) was walking alone through the marui bridges. 

However, something wasn’t right... it wasn’t usually that noisy, so she looked around and went to the shore, where something familiar caught her eye. 

It was an Ikran. 

Normal – Na'vi Italics – English

Vocabulary list: vrrtep (demon), olo’eyktan (clan leader), tsahìk (head shaman, high priest, interpreter), tìftiatu (researcher), marui (pods built in the giant mangrove-like trees alongside the shores and are protected from crashing waves by giant reef barriers), tarnioang (predator), tsaheylu (bond, neural connection), pxazang (akula), tsurak (skimwing), ikran (mountain banshee)

[antimonyandthyme]

oscar/mark, a/b/o dynamics

“You’re not being rational about this,” Oscar says, and he sounds surprised, as if he had fully expected Mark to roll over and acquiesce.

In all the time Mark has known Oscar, he can count on one hand the instances in which they’ve butt heads. Most often they rub up against each other with mild annoyances, Hey, answer your phone quicker, this was important, easily solvable things. But this galls.

It isn’t about the offer. Not even that it’d cross every professional boundary in existence, and then throw the whole rulebook into the ocean too. But that Oscar thinks it’s the rational thing to do. Cut and dry, as cold and as clinical as you like.

Oscar’s looking at Mark as if he were a puzzle he can’t figure out. Mark swallows down the fully formed retort on his tongue, Hey, buddy, I don’t know if you’ve noticed in your twenty-something or so years living on earth, but heats aren’t exactly rational—

But that’d just sound petty. And Oscar would just blink at him in that way of his anyway, that way that meant, Why are you so upset?

Mark isn’t in the mood to explain. Definitely not in the mood to explain to someone more than half his age why he doesn’t think it would be a good idea to spend his impending heat together.

“No thank you, Oscar,” he says again.

“But.” Oscar frowns. “I’m right here.”

He isn’t posturing, that much Mark knows, as sure as he is that Oscar would rather roll his eyes than click an extra button to complain on the radio. There are no hidden layers when Oscar speaks, Mark likes that about him. And it isn’t arrogance either. He’s just being frustratingly, infuriatingly, irritatingly, rational.

So Mark has no reason being angry.

“All the same,” he says, as neutrally as he can manage, “I’d rather spend it alone.”

There’s a small, selfish lick of satisfaction at the whipcrack ripple of emotion it causes in Oscar’s expression, which then makes him feel like a giant asshole. But whatever.

Heats. Rational. Sure.

--

When did we get so old, huh, he said the last time Seb visited, and they had ended up mostly napping like two lazy cats in the sun. On a regular schedule the suppressants work fine, throw in jet-lag into the mix and they see fit to wreak havoc on his body. Migraines and loss of appetite, and the doctor had advised to just lay off during the race calendar.

Which, alright, can be done, except there’re three out of four of the yearly heats that would possibly land on a race weekend.

He detests arranging for services during a race, and spending heats alone is no longer the end of the world it once was. Uncomfortable, certainly, but much less now than when he was younger. The good thing about growing old is that you learn some tricks. You listen to your body and its needs, except when it’s fucking whinging for an alpha who’s absolutely out-of-bounds.

Saturday morning has his temperature surging, and he knows making Qualifying is out of the question. He texts Oscar a perfunctory, Good luck, make us proud, and goes to hunker down in the hotel room.

He’s prepared. The mini-fridge’s stocked, and he’s brought an assortment of toys to deal with the gnawing emptiness. It’s routine at this point. Moan and snarl and curse his existence, grow lucid enough to switch the telly on while stroking his cock and fucking himself with a toy, then back to curling into the tiniest, tightest ball in a mass of blankets, all the while sweating and blurting out half his body weight in fluids. Heave himself up to eat a sandwich. Check on Oscar’s times. Dry-heave a little while texting him congratulations. Go back to bed. Rinse, repeat.

The one bone, the one benefit of having regular heats, is that they don’t last long. By evening, Mark’s body has settled into some not-yet-post-heat-but-getting-there state. His dick is still hard, but at least he doesn’t feel the need to give himself rug-burn by tugging at it every five minutes.

Convenient, because the door-bell rings.

“Fucking hell,” Mark says, unimpressed. “What are you doing here?”

He thought he’d made himself exceptionally clear. But Oscar’s here, looking about as far from usual Oscar as Mark’s possibly seen him. Anxious, disheveled, toe-tapping nervous nonsense. Eyes-shifty, red-cheeked. Impossibly endearing.

“I have had a lot of time to think about this,” Oscar says, which in Oscar-speech means he stared into the abyss for a couple of hours thinking about nothing else. “It occurs to me that I’ve been horribly remiss.”

“You talk like an old man,” Mark says.

“I’m trying to apologize,” Oscar says, agitated. “I didn’t mean to. Offer so flippantly. As if your heat has no significance.”

There is no significance, is Mark’s knee-jerk response, but even he can see it for the lie it is.

“I… was hurtful without meaning to be. I’m sorry, Mark.”

Mark nods stiffly. He might be out of deep waters, but the ache of loneliness takes some time to dispel. Best to close the door in Oscar’s face soon before his body gets any stupid ideas. “Apology accepted,” he says.

Oscar opens his mouth. “That’s not all.”

Of course it isn’t. Oscar smells like pine and those godawful expensive vanilla candles and this is just not a very good time. “Go on,” Mark says, through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t being truthful earlier.”

Mark blinks. “About?”

“Rationality,” Oscar says, and suddenly it’s as if he hates the word. “That was never why I offered. I thought. I thought it’d be the only reason you’d accept. If I could make you see it as something easy. You’re here, I’m here, you know? Might as well.”

“Oscar,” Mark says faintly.

“Mark,” Oscar retorts. “You get what I’m saying, right? I offered because I want to. You know. Be the alpha in your heat. Christ. Is that how people go about saying it? I don’t fucking know, mate. I just want to help you, like you’ve helped me.”

Oscar sounds as if he’s practiced this in front of the mirror. Practiced it and then gone and fucked it all up anyway, because his ears are bright red and he’s looking as if he wants the tiled hotel floor to swallow him up. He’s staring at the ground, or, quite possibly, at the line of Mark’s erection through his sweatpants.

“Mark. Could you say something please?”

“I don’t think—”

“That it’s a good idea, yeah, I got that earlier. Could I hear something honest, please?”

Oscar’s never once asked Mark for anything. Sure, manager duties aside, Mark busting an arm and a leg to pave the way for a certain career aside, Oscar’s never once asked Mark for more. And now he’s asking, heart on his sleeve, and Mark’s too worn down to say anything but—

“It’d be nice.”

Oscar whips his head up. All hopeful, like a pup promised a treat. “I—what—really?”

“Nice, and completely irresponsible of me.”

“Okay,” Oscar’s saying, and already he’s leaning in toward Mark, shuffling eagerly forward such that he’s breached the doorway. “Okay, but. It’d still be nice, right?”

"Yeah," Mark sighs. “Yes.”

Oscar takes one more step forward. Something clicks in the right direction when he places one hand on Mark’s jaw, and the other on his hip. A lock being turned in place, a scale being tipped. Something like that.

Quick on the uptake, never slow to see his moment of win, greedy, hungry, opportunistic. All traits of a good Formula 1 driver. That’s his boy.

Mark closes his eyes. Regret can come tomorrow, after the race. He pulls the door shut behind them.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 8

Masterpost

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We're going to the moon!

Definitions since NASA loves acronyms

---

A house looks big until you climb a tree. The first time your little human limbs carry you up that rough wooden bark, so you can perch high on a branch with the breeze hitting your face just so, you feel like you’re on top of the world. An adventurer, off to discover and conquer new lands. All you need is a telescope and you’ll be a modern day Shackleton. A kid can dream this way. Can see a whole heroic future laid out before them, with the world at their disposal and the wind in their hair.

A town looks big until you get in a plane for the first time. Little buildings, little cars, little people shrinking to tiny specks, like ants roaming back and forth across a brick patio. The first time you get into a plane, you feel like you’re on top of the world. The first time you fly one, nothing will ever be the same. A young pilot can dream this way. Can look back and see the little kid they were, swinging on a tree branch, and say look where we are now. Can look forward and feel invincible.

A planet looks big until you look down on it from a space station, orbiting the world 16 times in a single Earth day. People, houses, towns are invisible, insignificant, but they’re all there, in one perfect picture through a space station window. The continents stretch across the globe between vast expanses of ocean that feel endless from the ground but look so inconsequential from the heavens above. The first time you go to space, you don’t really feel on top of the world anymore, because the world, suddenly, doesn’t feel so grand. And yet it’s beautiful, breathtaking, perfect all the same. An astronaut can dream this way. Can look backwards and forwards and think, nothing has ever been, or ever will be, better than this. 

Until they go further, faster, in search of something new, somewhere that no one else has ever been. Twelve people have stepped foot on the lunar surface. Only twelve. Not a single one since 1972. And never at the lunar South Pole. In just a matter of days, all of that will change. 

–

November 6

Cape Canaveral, FL

The Space Launch System, 322 feet tall with millions of pounds of thrust capability, looms over Florida’s space coast in the sunrise, an all-powerful presence that will hold the fates of four men in her hands. The rocket stands quietly on launch pad 39B, her main engines and solid rocket boosters just waiting to be brought to life. It’s been under development for many years at NASA, designed with the explicit purpose of getting humans and their cargo to places they’ve never gone before. That starts with returning to the moon. This time, the missions are longer and more complex. They’re meant to test the limits of human survival and create a sustained human presence beyond low earth orbit. Artemis 2 already successfully orbited the moon. Now if Artemis 3 can get the job done, it may open up a new chapter for the human species. 

The esteemed mission commander meant to accomplish this feat is currently dressed in an Artemis crew polo-shirt but still has bed-hair, which he’d hopelessly tried to tame for the photos NASA wanted of the four crew members this morning. He’s also trying not to burst out laughing at the sight of scrambled eggs stuck to Curt’s nose. Eggs that Bucky, said commander, had just flung at him off of his fork.

“Oh, real classy,” Curt says, wiping the eggs off his face. He pops a piece into his mouth and swallows before sticking out his tongue.

“You takin’ my sloppy seconds, Curt?” Bucky asks.

Curt raises an eyebrow and points his fork at the commander. “Don’t talk about your husband that way.”

Bucky scowls. “Fuck off about my husband.”

Curt gathers some of his own eggs onto his fork and takes aim. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut in resigned anticipation, but Rosie shoves Curt’s hand down before he can fire. “No fair,” Curt whines. “He hit me.”

Rosie levels a hard look at him, and Curt angrily shoves the eggs into his own mouth. They both glance over, though, when they hear a gasp followed by a barking laugh. Alex, at the other end of the table, has one hand clapped over his mouth, the other holding his fork in the air, as he stares at Bucky, who is glaring right back at him, egg stuck in his messy hair. There’s a tense, slow-motion moment of the four men staring each other down, like they’re in a western face-off instead of NASA quarantine. Just as they’re scrambling for a weapon in this food fight, a bellowing voice shouts “NO!”

They all freeze and look at the doorway to the kitchen, like four children caught doing something naughty. One of the poor chefs who had prepared this meal had come in to see if there was anything else they may need, and the look of horror on her face is enough to make the astronauts slowly lower their utensils and apologize. “Sorry, ma’am,” Rosie says sheepishly, even though he hasn’t even done anything.

The chef sighs, crossing her arms. “Is it that bad?” she asks, knowing full well the food is the furthest thing from bad. “Nothing better to do with it than throw it at each other?”

Alex shakes his head and pointedly takes a bite. “No, ma’am.”

“It’s perfect,” Bucky says sincerely. “Couldn’t ask for a better pre-launch meal.” 

Despite being given their choice of what to eat for breakfast this morning, the crew had decided to keep with an old NASA tradition that had started with Alan Shepard, the first American man in space. Before his inaugural flight, he’d been served steak and eggs, something filling and rich in protein. And so they’re eating steak and eggs, washed down with some orange juice at Curt’s request.

“Delightful,” Curt echoes. He nods his head enthusiastically as he takes a massive bite of perfectly seasoned steak.

The chef rolls her eyes and waves her hand at them dismissively. “Eat up, boys.” It’ll be several hours until they’re able to eat anything else.

–

Houston, TX

There’s a quiet sort of clamor around Mission Control, papers rustling and coffee makers gurgling and men and women hustling about as flight controllers prepare themselves for every possible outcome of today. As the last dregs of hurricane season refuse to slip silently away, the NASA meteorologists have been diligently keeping an eye on the stormy weather threatening to hit the Florida coast. As of early this morning, they were still go, but mission control continues to wait with baited breath for a call that could put a pin in the entire day.

For now, business as usual.

Gale runs a hand through his hair as he walks to his console. He takes a sip of his coffee, which is fresh from the coffee maker in the back of the room, and it just about scalds the taste buds right off his tongue. With a grimace, he sets the ridiculously hot cup on his desk, and that’s when he notices the plain white box sitting on his chair. Skeptically, he reaches down and removes the lid, revealing a neatly folded, navy blue Yankees sweatshirt, the lettering worn but the fabric as soft as ever. A note sits on top: “Happy Launch Day.” He’d recognize Bucky’s messy scrawl anywhere. 

Looking around at the other flight controllers, Gale’s eyes land on Dr. Huston, who arrived back in Houston from quarantine last night. They make eye contact, and Dr. Huston nods to him. Bucky, evidently, had requested that the flight surgeon personally ensure Gale get this today. 

He sets the box at his feet and sits down in his chair, the sweatshirt gripped tightly in his hand. With another glance around the room to make sure no one is watching him too closely, he presses the fabric to his nose. It no longer smells like him. Instead, it’s all Bucky. Smokey and sweet. Bucky couldn’t take the sweatshirt with him, so instead he did for Gale what Gale did for him two weeks ago: gave him something to bring him peace. Gale’s mouth can’t decide if it should smile or frown, so instead he just stares at the piece of clothing laying limply in his lap with a weird, thoughtful sort of twisted expression that totally won’t make the other flight controllers look at him suspiciously at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, he clocks someone sitting down at the console next to him, and it’s not who is supposed to be there. Marge slides into Croz’s seat and leans way too far into Gale’s personal space.

“Can I help you?” Gale drawls skeptically.

Marge hums, pursing her lips and tilting her head innocently. Gale glares at her, not liking the concerned look in her eyes. She glances at the sweatshirt gripped in his hands, then back at him. “You doing okay?”

Gale is tired of that question. Or at least, he’s tired of the general implication that he may not be okay. The rocket hasn’t even left the ground. John is not even in low earth orbit, much less on his way to the moon. He doesn’t know if he’s sick of the notion that he can’t handle his job, or if he’s sick of being reminded of the fact that he may eventually have reason to not be fine. “Yes,” he says curtly. “I’m good.”

She fixes him with that same look she’s been giving him for days, the one that says she doesn’t quite believe him and she knows he doesn’t know if he believes himself. But he is a professional. He is good at his job. And that isn’t going to change now. He levels her with a look nearly as intense and pointed as her own. “We’re not gonna talk about it. We’re all just gonna do our jobs. I told them I can handle it and I can.”

Marge leans back and crosses her arms, but she nods at him. Croz appears behind her, his own cup of coffee in hand, and leans against the back of the chair. He ducks his head low conspiratorially. “Is there a reason you’re having a secret meeting at my desk?”

“Well, that would be a secret now, wouldn’t it?” Marge smirks at him, and he chuckles, motioning for her to get out of his seat. 

She gets to her feet and smooths her skirt. “Best of luck Major Cleven.” Stepping closer to Gale, she gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek and squeezes his arm. “Give Major Egan my regards.” When she turns around, she gives Croz a quick hug before returning to her own desk, where she will spend the day translating mission control speak for the public.

Harry Crosby, the Flight Dynamics Officer, or FIDO, takes his seat beside Gale. “How’s it going, Buck?”

Gale narrows his eyes at his computer screen, trying to analyze Croz’s tone to determine if that was a legitimate question or another ‘how are you feeling now that your husband is about to go to the moon and the odds of him returning are not as high as you’d like?’ Knowing Croz, he could mean it either way. 50/50. 

So Gale just nods. “Good, Croz. How are you?”

“Yeah, yeah good,” Croz replies. He’s the best flight dynamics officer NASA has. He’s been a flight controller on countless missions. He was FIDO for Artemis 2, even. This is standard… except it’s not. The stakes just keep getting higher and everybody knows it. It’s just that no one will say it out loud unless they have to. “I’m good,” Croz repeats. He raises his cup of coffee to his mouth.

“I wouldn’t,” Gale warns him. When Croz looks at him funny, he explains, “hot as hell.” Croz nods gratefully and gently blows on the coffee instead.

–

Bucky, Curt, Rosie, and Alex keep exchanging meaningful glances with one another across the suit-up room. Each of their suit techs is running them through a series of checks as they put on every single piece of their OCS suits. They had these suits custom-fitted months ago, but sitting in the chairs in the suit-up room at Kennedy Space Center, everything is feeling more and more real by the second. They’re doing this. It isn’t any sort of dress rehearsal, or a fitting, or an extremely detailed dream. It’s real. 

“Looking hot, Egan,” Curt calls out from his chair.

“Not as hot as you, babe,” Bucky says back as his tech helps him get the bright orange and blue outer pressure garment on over top of his liquid cooling garment, which is essentially glorified long underwear with cooling capabilities.

Suiting up is not a short process, and it’s highly detailed and redundant. These are the suits that will be worn inside Orion, including during critical mission phases like launch and reentry. It’s the suit that’s meant to keep them alive in case of a catastrophe in the spacecraft. NASA is taking no chances that one of them could fail. The techs tell them to sit, stand, clench their fists, crouch, bend, twist, and just about any other movement that could be inhibited by the suit or that could damage the suit if incorrectly worn. They do up buttons and zippers one by one, demonstrating after every single one that it’s secure.

Before putting his left glove on, Bucky rubs his thumb over his ring finger – already a habit after only a month of being married – only to remember that the ring isn’t there. No jewelry can be worn while in the space suit. There’s a brief pang in his chest, but he knows the ring is safe in his Personal Preference Kit, which he’ll take with him on board Orion. His suit tech raises an eyebrow at him and asks if he’s alright.

“Yeah, all good.” He nods at the tech, who helps him slip the glove over his hand and secure the pressure seal. 

–

Gale checks the time. L-2 hours and 30 minutes. He knows that right now, the crew is disembarking from the holding room, suited up and ready to go. They’re being met with flashing cameras, the world’s first launch-day look at the first men to step foot on the moon in this century. They’re saying goodbye to their families – from a distance, to avoid any potential contamination. Saying goodbye to parents and siblings. No spouses this time, though. 

Gale is the only spouse of an Artemis 3 astronaut.

A small part of him longs desperately to be there on Cape Canaveral, the SLS watching over them in the distance, the silver transport van waiting to take the crew to the launch pad. Bucky in front of him, so close he could almost touch him but just a hand’s breadth out of his reach. He wants to see those beautiful blue eyes staring into his own, that messy brown hair blowing haphazardly in the rising wind. He wants that last look.

He wants to watch the rocket climbing into the cloudy afternoon sky, watch as it carries a part of his heart away to the stars. 

He’ll be with John almost every step of the way, the angel on his shoulder and the voice, quite literally, in his ear. He has nothing to complain about, really. His job is here. His job is to keep his husband safe. He’ll hear his voice again soon enough, and he’ll settle for the mere vision of John’s wild grin as he looks to the heavens, the phantom feeling of fingers brushing over his own. 

Gale takes a breath and reins his thoughts in. He flicks the mental switch that pushes him into work mode, his focus nowhere but on the mission.

At KSC, Bucky doesn’t have any family to say goodbye to. He stands by as the others speak with their parents or siblings, says a few words to them himself. He takes a breath, tries not to dwell too much on the pressing need to see Gale’s face just one more time. One more time before he climbs into that spacecraft. 

It won’t be long until he hears the comforting sound of his voice. Gale will be with him through the whole mission, at least when he’s on shift. He’s lucky, that way. Few other astronauts have the luxury of that closeness to a loved one. So this has to be okay.

With one final wave, the crew climbs into the astrovan, and they set off towards launch pad 39B.

–

As the crew finishes suiting up, mission control starts buzzing, flight controllers chatting, checking the telemetry data coming in from the SLS and Orion, and ensuring they can properly communicate with the spacecraft. 

“Weather is holding, Flight,” a voice comes in from KSC. There’s a brewing storm off the Atlantic coast, but it doesn’t look like it will hit until well after launch. The wind isn’t against them yet. Visibility is good. Flight director Albert Clark hopes this stroke of luck will bode well for the mission.

Gale thinks about Bucky, ranting to him the other night about how this better not play out like last time. When he went to the station, the launch had to be scrubbed three times due to bad weather before they finally got off the ground. And every scrub occurred after the astronauts had already boarded the spacecraft. “Three times, Gale!”

A lot of launches get scrubbed; that’s just how things are. Whether its inclement weather or a technical concern with the spacecraft or the rocket or the ground systems. Any abnormality, and the rocket might not leave the pad. The crew has to come back down, a process in itself, then suit up and do it all again another day. In the end, everyone would rather that than a launch gone awry.

“Would you rather not go?” Gale had asked.

“You know the answer to that,” Bucky had replied, rolling his eyes. He’d give an arm and a leg to go to the moon. He’d just prefer if he didn’t have to go through the entire hours-long process of launch prep several times over like some weird version of Groundhog Day.

Gale would prefer that, too. A scrub or two could mean up to two more weeks in quarantine for the crew. Two extra weeks of Gale’s house being too empty. Two extra weeks of being on the defensive, thinking about every single thing that might go wrong and how they’ll work through it.

But the weather is holding. Now it’s up to, well, everything else.

–

Four astronauts, clad in OCS suits, rise slowly above the cape in the launch tower elevator. Destination: the Orion crew capsule, stacked at the top of the SLS. They could see for miles, if they cared to look, but their thoughts are on nothing but the rocket they’re about to board. It’s alive now, fueled and ready to go in its launch configuration. It creaks and hums in front of them, daring them to climb on.

Alex chuckles as they walk across the access arm at the top of the launch tower, 300 feet in the air. “Are we crazy?” The others can’t blame him for putting into words what they’re all thinking. They’ve all thought it before, too, the last time they each voluntarily strapped themselves onto a gigantic rocket literally meant to eject them from the planet.

“100%,” Rosie assures him.

At the end of the access arm, a few members of the closeout crew, dressed in white NASA flight suits, greet them as they enter the White Room.

“Ready to fly, boys?”

One of the closeout team members approaches and claps Bucky on the shoulder. Bucky looks at him before breaking into a grin. “Kenny, what are you doing up here?”

Ken Lemmons is one of the lead engineers for the Orion capsule and a good friend of the crew members. Bucky has known him for years, since junior year of college when Kenny transferred to the aerospace engineering program at the same university that he and Gale attended.

Kenny grins. “Wanted to personally see you off. And make sure you don’t fuck up my spacecraft.”

“Our spacecraft, now,” Curt says cheekily, even as Kenny pulls him into a one-armed hug.

“She gonna take care of us?” Bucky asks, motioning to the open hatch of Orion.

Kenny gives the same half-hug to Alex and Rosie before stepping back. “Oh yeah,” he promises. “Smooth ride, guaranteed.” 

There’s an energy in the White Room, this camaraderie between the astronauts just itching to get this mission going and the closeout team whose job it is to see them off safely. This is the last human contact that the crew will have, other than with each other, for a month.

The team members do another set of checks on the OCS suits, and they help the four astronauts get their com caps situated on their heads before conducting a com check.

Bucky, as commander, is the first to climb into the spacecraft, and a support person helps him get into his seat and check that his communications gear is still properly configured. Then the bulky space helmet is sliding down over his head and the support person makes sure it’s properly sealed. She makes sure he’s strapped in, coolant hooked up and oxygen flowing, and then squeezes his shoulder and looks him in the eye. He smiles and gives her a thumbs up before shaking her hand.

Next is Curt, sliding into the seat beside Bucky before going through the same process. Then Rosie, and lastly Alex. With all four astronauts strapped into the capsule, Kenny pokes his head in through the hatch, grinning with the same excitement and anticipation that is palpable in the atmosphere around them. He takes a deep breath, taking in the sight of his friends, these four brave American men, off to make history in the spacecraft he helped design. “Godspeed, boys. Have a safe flight.”

Then the hatch closes the four of them inside.

Curt reaches over and taps Bucky on the arm, pulling Bucky’s focus away from the console in front of his face. They grin at each other and Curt lifts his fist for Bucky to fist bump. They’re really doing this.

“Whaddya say, Curt?”

Curt turns his head to face forward again. “Gonna fly like an angel,” he says. “Not die like one.”

–

Inside the launch control center at Kennedy, the test director gives the final briefing. The weather is holding. The vehicle is in good condition, telemetry is good. They relay to Houston that all systems are nominal. Houston relays the same message back.

“How we lookin’?” Bucky asks Gale over coms.

“So far so good down here,” Gale tells him, relieved to hear his voice.

“How’s that damn weather?”

Gale leans back in his chair and watches the room around him, the flight controllers running through last minute checks and monitoring every single system. “Sounds like it’s going to cooperate for once.”

On Orion, Bucky is already thinking about how his legs are going to go all numb from sitting in the same position in this seat for hours. But he tries to look out the window. All he can really see is gray-blue sky, clouds for the most part leaving Cape Canaveral in shadow. “I sure hope you’re right.”

“Launch control says the storm is still far off the coast,” Gale assures him. “And wind speeds aren’t high enough to mess with you yet.”

“Then it looks like we’re doing this, huh?”

Gale nods, even though Bucky can’t see him. “We’re doing this.”

–

L-15 minutes. 

Albert Clark, standing at his console in the middle of the room, takes a good look around mission control. “Alright flight controllers, give me a go/no-go for Artemis 3 launch. Booster?”

“Go.”

“Control.” “Go.”

“GNC.” “Go, Flight.”

“Prop.” “We’re go.”

“CDH.” “Go.”

“FIDO.” “We’re go, Flight.”

“FAO.” “Go, Flight.”

“MPO.” “Go.”

“EECOM.” “Go.”

“INCO.” “We’re go.”

“CAPCOM?”

Gale, leaning on his desk with his chin resting on a fist as he follows the go/no-go, smirks to himself and nods. “We are go, Flight.”

“Launch control this is Houston,” Clark says. “We are go for launch.”

“Copy Houston.”

Gale listens in anticipation to the callouts from Launch Control. T-10 minutes. The automated Ground Launch Sequencer has taken over the official launch countdown. 

T-6 minutes. “GLS go for core stage tank pressurization.”

“Orion ascent pyros armed.”

“Copy, pyros.”

“Orion set to internal power.”

“Copy, Orion internal.”

T-4 minutes. “GLS is go for core stage APU.”

“Core stage APU start.”

T-1 minute. Gale is drumming his fingers on his thigh as the chatter in Mission Control wells up to a crescendo and then dies down. They’re ready. Launch control confirms, “we are go for launch.”

Outside, at viewing areas far from the launch pad and all up and down the Space Coast, excitement bubbles as the loudspeakers echo the countdown. Thousands of spectators join in. “15, 14, 13, 12…”

Inside mission control and launch control, the launch director’s voice counts over coms “10, 9, 8, 7, 6. Main engines start.”

The rocket on the pad explodes to life, the main engines spitting gas and flames into the chamber below. 

“Holy shit,” Alex mutters. The entire stack is shaking, jostling the crew inside Orion. This is by far the most powerful rocket any of them have ever been on and they can feel it. Bucky is grinning like a maniac as he flexes his fingers in and out, in and out in anticipation.

“3, 2, 1. We have liftoff.”

There is no doubt of the exact moment that the rocket is released from the pad, charging into the air. The crew feels themselves pressed back into their seats with incredible force as they accelerate upward, clearing the launch tower in a matter of seconds. 

“Here we go, boys, the clock is running,” Bucky says to his crew, and Curt whoops loudly as they pick up speed and the rocket begins to reorient. Over coms to Houston, Bucky informs them, “Gale, we’re into roll.”

As CAPCOM, Gale acts as the go-between for the crew and mission control. As mission commander, Bucky is the primary contact on the other end. “Okay, John. Thrust good on all four engines. SRBs good.”

Bucky: “Looking good here… roll complete. Pitching now.” 

The rocket adjusts its angle, setting it on a trajectory to reach orbit. The crew can now just barely see the world disappearing below them. 

Curt: “Fuuucckkk”

Gale: “Good, boys?”

Bucky: “Good here. Curt’s just having a moment.”

Gale: “Artemis 3, Houston wants to remind you that everything you say will be transcribed and available to the public.”

Bucky: “Curt, Gale wants you to stop saying fuck.”

Curt: “Fuck Gale.”

Gale: “Thanks.”

Rosie: “Jesus, look at that.” They can see the horizon, a rainbow stretching over the ocean as the incoming rain slowly approaches the coast.

Gale has to remind himself to keep breathing as he watches the live video feed on the big screen at the front of mission control. Perfect, he thinks, willing it to stay that way. He tunes in to Croz’s calm voice. “Trajectory is nominal. Straight down the middle, Flight.”

Clark nods. “Copy FIDO.”

Gale: “You’re looking great, John, right down the line.”

Bucky: “Roger, all good from here… Hey Gale, you’re looking great, too.”

There are collective groans in the background, both from Orion and mission control. Gale can’t be bothered, at this point. Bucky grins at his console.

“Approaching max q,” Croz states, about a minute into the flight.

Gale: “1 minute 15 seconds. Coming up on max q.”

Bucky: “Copy. Come on baby, get us through.” This is, presumably, said to the rocket. Not Gale.

The entire room seems to hold its breath as the dynamic pressure on the rocket reaches its maximum, shoving its way through the atmosphere at high speed. Nothing happens. The rocket keeps climbing, and everyone can exhale. It’s not common that a rocket actually fails at max q; it’s a major design constraint that every single part and system is engineered around, created specifically to survive launch conditions. But there is undeniably a reason why it’s a major design constraint. If the slightest thing is off, everything can fall apart in the blink of an eye.

Curt: “Two and a half G’s. Trajectory good.”

Gale: “You’re through max q. All systems nominal.”

Bucky: “Engines good. We’re goin’ boys!”

Gale breathes a little easier with every second that passes, even though he knows this mission is just getting started. His eyes track the trajectory on the big screen as the rocket flies over the coastline.

Gale:  “Artemis 3, you are feet wet.”

Bucky: “Roger. Feet wet.”

Gale: “2 minutes. Artemis 3, confirm SRB separation.” The two solid rocket boosters jettison from the core stage, their job done, and they plummet into the ocean below.

Bucky: “Can confirm SRB separation. Still going nicely.”

Gale: “Engines look good.”

Next the service module fairing and launch abort system are both jettisoned.

Bucky: “4 minutes and we are still go up here, Buck.”

Gale: “Roger, we’re checking systems here.”

Clark runs through the go/no-go again.

Gale: “We’re go here. Looking good, boys. Right where you need to be.”

Bucky: “Thanks babe.”

Alex: “Oh man, Buck. You really gotta feel what this baby is capable of.”

Gale: “I plan to. Glad it’s a smooth ride. You boys are doing great.”

Around 8 minutes in, the booster and control officers give Gale the thumbs up.

Gale: “Go for core stage MECO.”

Bucky: “Roger. MECO… Core separation confirmed.”

The core stage, which includes the main engines, cuts off right on time and disengages from the spacecraft, falling back through the atmosphere. 

Bucky: “Entering LEO… and we can feel it up here.”

After main engine cut off, as the spacecraft enters low Earth orbit, the crew finally feels weightless. Rosie laughs as he grabs their zero-g indicator, a small stuffed bear with a NASA shirt, as it floats up and around the capsule, letting them know with zero doubt that they are, in fact, in zero gravity. He tosses it gently towards Alex, watching it float effortlessly in a perfect, straight-line trajectory, no forces to inhibit its motion. 

“Bucky, check this out,” Alex says, leaning over to pass the bear to his commander.

Bucky grabs the toy and stares down at it for a moment before he scoffs. “Where did this come from?” The bear has a tiny name tag sewn onto his shirt that says ‘Beary Egan.’ Except last he knew, their zero-g indicator was a little Earth plushie. 

“Happy launch day,” Gale’s voice chimes in over coms, making Bucky laugh.

“Buck,” Rosie says. “I want you to know that Bucky is currently hugging the zero-g indicator with an undue amount of force.”

“Excuse you,” Curt says dramatically. “The zero-g indicator has a name.”

Rosie nods in understanding. “Sorry. Buck, I want you to know that Bucky is currently squeezing the life out of Beary Egan.”

“I believe that’s Commander Beary Egan,” Alex corrects.

Gale chuckles, knowing that this exchange will appear in the official mission transcript. “John, please let zero-g indicator Commander Beary Egan do his job and indicate the zero-g.”

“The zero-g has already been indicated,” Bucky retaliates. But he lets go of the bear and tosses it to Curt, who bumps it around in the air, back and forth and back and forth like a tennis ball.

“Never fuckin’ gets old,” he muses. 

Now that they’re in low Earth orbit, the interim cryogenic propulsion stage undergoes a burn that raises the spacecraft’s altitude, preventing it from re-entering the atmosphere so they can later perform a trans-lunar injection burn. With this maneuver complete, the crew spends the next hour or so performing systems checks and deploying and adjusting solar panels, preparing for the journey to the moon as they orbit the planet.

Bucky looks out the capsule window, where he can see the curvature of the Earth, the blues and greens and browns that make up the planet they call home, the wispy white clouds in the atmosphere that’s now below them. He’s seen this view before, from the space station, but it’s just as breathtaking the second time around.

Gale: “Okay 3, we’re coming up on TLI.”

Curt: “Copy. Go for TLI.” The ICPS fires to perform the trans-lunar injection burn, which takes several minutes, kicking Orion out of low Earth orbit and onto a path to the moon. 

Gale: “Looks fine… yep we have you on target. Burn looking good.”

Curt: “Burn baby burn.”

Rosie: “Can’t believe I’m stuck in a tin can with you for a month.”

Curt: “Likewise.”

Gale: “Go for staging.”

Bucky: “Yep. We have ICPS separation.” He glances over at Curt as the ICPS kicks off as well. “We’re committed now.” 

They are officially en route. 

Curt reaches over and claps Bucky on the shoulder, jostling him enthusiastically. “We’re going to the fuckin’ moon!” Rosie and Alex high five through their bulky OCS gloves. On Earth, mission control is exchanging similar congratulations. Croz reaches across his desk to shake hands with Gale, and they’re both grinning from the overwhelming excitement and relief of a successful launch and TLI burn. The excitement of achieving a trajectory that’s going to put humanity back on the lunar surface.

–

That night, Gale steps out of JSC’s building 30, which houses mission control, and into a world where his husband is no longer on this planet. While he’s not inside mission control, he has no way to contact him. In this day and age, that feels like such an unthinkable thing. No texting, or calling, or emailing. Or anything. Except for the occasional video call, the only way to hear John’s voice is when he’s on shift as CAPCOM, and that’s how things are going to be for the next month.

Gale will spend an 8 hour shift on coms with Artemis 3, and then he will go home to Pepper. He will eat alone, go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. He will worry about his husband walking on an extraterrestrial body, alone. 

Gale sighs and takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and lets the sticky Gulf Coast air fill his lungs. He opens his eyes when he hears footsteps beside him, and he doesn’t have to look over to know that it’s Marge. She takes his hand in his, and they just stand there. You’re not alone, the touch says, and Gale squeezes her fingers. Thank you. They stare up at the night sky together, at the stars pockmarking the blackness like little beacons in the night, at the moon that his husband is heading towards at this very moment.

Gale inhales again, bites his lip, lets himself smile the littlest bit. “It was a beautiful launch.”

And it was. If only that could guarantee a beautiful mission.

…

…

Part 9

[thefrogman]

On fucking up...

The house has been incredibly quiet since my dad passed. And that quiet turns into loneliness quite often for me. So last night I decided to use every spoon I had to go to the movies. I swallowed my social anxiety and went out into the world.

The theater had these recliners that sit on a raised step. But when you are actually sitting in the seat you can't see that step. Once the movie was over I forgot about the step. I got up to leave and my ankle caught it on the way down. I flew forward and crashed into the back of a row of seats.

A middle aged gentlemen saw this and said, "Gee buddy, this your first day walking?"

And the other 8 people in the theater gave a boisterous laugh.

I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

Making a mistake feels bad.

Making a mistake in public is an embarrassing lesson in humility.

And making a mistake witnessed by 15,000 people is terrifying.

When you get something wrong and people call you out, your first instinct is to dig in. Everyone wants to dig in. Which is usually the worst possible reaction. You want to defend yourself. You don't want to believe you were wrong. And you start spewing out reasons why you can't be wrong. I think the current vernacular calls this "tweeting through it."

Over the years I have tried very hard to fight that instinct to dig in. To consider what people have said and recheck my facts to see if my original information could be inaccurate. And sometimes you find out you were right and strengthen your point of view.

But when you find out you were duped or misunderstood the information, there is nothing quite like that sinking feeling.

And when you are wrong in front of 15,000 people... that sinking feeling goes to the center of the earth.

You get sucked into a thought spiral...

"How do I fix this? Do I send a message to all 15,000 people? Do I just post a video of me repeatedly punching myself in the face? Do I delete the post? No, can't delete the post, people will think you are trying to hide your mistake. Plus all those reblogs."

You have to accept the fact that even if you publicly admit you were wrong, a lot of those people are never going to see it. They are going to believe the thing and possibly spread it to others.

You've created a runaway freight train and you just have to watch it crash into stuff.

The sad thing is I have learned this lesson a few times in my 10+ years of being a minor public figure. It has caused me to be so paranoid about passing along bad information that I will fact check things to death. Sometimes 5 or 6 sources. I'll look at reputable sources and disreputable sources. And I'll try to corroborate those disreputable sources just as an exercise to give me confidence I have the best information at that time.

But the other night I finished watching John Wick 4 and was high on action juice. I started watching every John Wick video on YouTube. My history shows about 40 videos. And at 2 or 3am I heard the director being hyperbolic in a podcast clip and thought a fun fact was too great not to share.

I thought, "I'm not telling people to eat horse paste for COVID. I'm not pretending I'm a submarine expert who knows exactly how to save people at the bottom of the ocean. It's just a flippy gun maneuver. I'm sure Chad knows what he is talking about."

So I posted the thing on my personal blog with sleep in my eyes and figured it was fine. And after 500 notes no one had really said anything, so I thought it was okay to share on my main blog.

And that was my biggest mistake. I deemed the subject matter to be trivial so I lowered my standards.

I forgot that damn step was there and flew into the seats.

There are dishonest people on the internet. Tons of them. People who will post dangerous misinformation without a care. People who have a pattern of lying. Grifters who thrive on baiting people for clicks. And I think it has caused us to react to bad information with hostility by default. People forget that there are still honest people who just make a mistake or get duped. Yet they can still feel the need to make people feel stupid for believing something that seems so obvious to them.

I have been guilty of this myself. I have called people out forgetting they are a human being behind that social media avatar.

The first person to call me out just said, "This is not true, LMFAO."

That's not helpful.

People made me feel like I was a liar. And I am very sensitive to that. For years doctors, family, and friends were skeptical of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. And when someone accuses me of being dishonest, I get very anxious and see red.

But I tried very hard not to dig in. I asked for more information--for evidence. Just point me in a direction so I can figure out what's true. But I got angry when all they said was that I was wrong without elaboration. Which is another form of digging in.

I guess I'm asking people to start with compassion before hostility. Maybe if we don't know the person or they have been a mostly reliable source, we can give people a chance. If the person has a history of deception, that's a different story. Bad faith is usually pretty easy to spot.

I remember for a long time I used to love telling people their blood was blue until it was exposed to oxygen. It was just the funnest fun fact I had ever heard and I *needed* others to know the thing I knew. Giving people knowledge can be intoxicating. But then I told my good friend who just became a medical resident and he was like, "I don't remember that in medical school. I think that might be an urban legend."

I still got that sinking feeling and I still had flashbacks to every person I told... but I was grateful he was so kind when he corrected me.

You can correct someone with kindness.

I'd ask that you imagine yourself in their shoes. Think about how embarrassing it is when you get something wrong. And just be like, "Hey, I think you got some bad information. Here's why."

When someone faceplants into a row of seats, metaphorically or otherwise, maybe ask if they are okay before laughing at them.

[blueathens]

Once Upon A Time - Chapter One

Summary: Charles was never allowed to leave the castle, until one day he, and his best friend Pierre, decided to break the rule and leave the castle walls, only to bump into the well-known criminal, Robin Hood, who doesn’t see them in the same golden light that they were raised within. But Charles decides to ignore her hatred and becomes the bane of her existence.

Song: Whistle Shop by Roger Miller Quote: ‘You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.’ Word Count: 9819

TW: A direct narrator (only at times, then switches to third person - give the feel of a book being read to you like someone usual did for us when we were children), mention of death, mention of murder, 

A/N: Not proof-read or edited. A/N 2: Taglist and detailed references found in reblog!

Masterlist//Main Masterlist

          ACT ONE, CHAPTER ONE

(Ah, where to begin? How about once upon a time…

…How many times have you heard that to begin a story? Let’s do something else.

In a far-off land, where – what? That’s been done too? In fairy tales? Ha, no, this story is far from a fairy tale, in fact it isn’t even one. Nor is it a legend or a myth, or even a bedtime story that you were grown and raised on as a child, this isn’t a story that you’ll know line by line, and this is not something that will be turned into a film or tv show.

No.

This is simply life.

With our Planet Earth that holds vast oceans, forests, and lands such as England, Greece, Monaco, Zosnurg and – you’re kidding…you don’t have a country called Zosnurg on your version of Earth?

What about pirates? Mermaids? Sirens? Dragons? Fairies? Krakens? Vampire Mermaids? Chimeras?

…None?

So, this would be like one of your stupid fantasy books then? Okay…well, let’s just get some things straight then before we start this boo – these lives that I’ll be talking about.

(Which I suppose in some way is a story if I’m talking abo– I, as a narrator, will stop talking now…)

(I do apologise)

Rule One.

This is not a fairy tale.

Yes, we have witches and princes’, and balls, and enchanted forests, and adult-eating witches, and even the children-eating witches too, mermaids of all forms, dragons, chimeras, and even werewolves and lycans, pukwudgie, and dryads.

And yes there is a yucky love story.

And yes there are sword fights, and war, and love and hatred, and death and –

Alright, I know this may sound like a ‘fairy-tale’ but isn’t everything a fairy tale? You have two love interests who have to go through a lot to be together? Sounds kind of like one to me…Only difference is that we don’t need to battle a dragon, well talking to my mother sometimes feels like I’m battling a–

Anyways, life is a fairy tale, a rubbish one, but a fairy tale, nevertheless.

But this isn’t the typical annoying fairy tale where the knight in shining armour goes and rescues the princess from her tower and shares a true loves kiss once the dragon is slayed.

No, that’s just fucking lame.

Instead the prince befriends a dragon, and he doesn’t save a princess, there are no princesses, well there are, but they aren’t important, this isn’t about them.

This is about the prince and the criminal and – what on earth are you talking about? You’ve seen fairy tales like this before? Get lost.

I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, this isn’t a fairy tale – this is real, not make belief, but real.

This isn’t so called Aladdin or Rapunzel – I mean Tangled – this is real life.

This isn’t a fairy tale.

In fairy tales life is presented as blissful and magical and makes you want to gouge your eyes out because you know you can never live a life where birds will get you ready for the day. Whilst in other fairy tales you feel like you are on the spinning teacups, and nausea creeps up on you from what you’re experiencing.

(Cause I’ll come clean now, I’ve never had any of my grandmothers be swallowed up by a wolf or ever seen a man become blinded by brambles).

No, these lives I’ll be telling you about will either leave you crying or smiling or perhaps even laughing – but most likely you’ll be crying, cursing my name for ever telling you about these people.

I am not sorry.

But just a pre warning – this is not a fairy tale.

Rule Two.

Don’t worry, you won’t have to hear my lovely narration voice all the time, I chose not to.

(I don’t get paid enough for that).

But when I do decide to talk with you I will do so in italics and in brackets (as so illustrated) – I have a few notes about these people for example how bloody stupid our main female character is and –

Rule Three.

We do not, and I mean, do not break out into a musical number, we don’t do that here. Absolutely not. And no singing birds are going to help get anyone dressed either or clean their house – they aren’t lazy – life doesn’t allow anyone to be this lazy.

There are no such things as true loves kiss – a little kiss is not bringing anyone to life – unless magic is involved of course, but that’s an entirely different story.

There is no happy endings too, that doesn’t exist, never has, never will, people will die, we will cry, but then we’ll move on and carry them with us.

Even she will di–

Rule Four.

No spoilers.

(Now, that’s all the rules I can read in my messy handwriting across this coffee-stained napkin that obviously didn’t contain the pretty barista’s number.

…

There was no pretty barista

It was just Sue, the sixty-old woman who knows my order off by heart, but claims to dislike me – however, she did smile at me earlier after I spilt coffee all over myself, so guess she doesn’t hate me…)

Oh and –

Rule Five.

This is not a fairy tale.)

                                             ❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

This is the story about a girl named Y/n and it starts with the sun.

Most are unaware how the once worshipped as a god by various of religions and cults ever came around, and just like the star that’ll burn the believers who venture too close, no one could remember how their King became King and when the Queen fell pregnant three times, gifting their world with three beautiful boys.

The first passed the crown down, the third shall remain a prince, and the second is deemed to be king one day.

To the world, this families beginnings felt like a fever dream – a gorgeous one though, and most carried such a strong love for them, but not all, some carried a strong hatred for them and had been wanting a revolution for ages.

A passerby once told his children, after a trip to Eynsworth one spring, that he never had much thought of their sun being a star, he knew it was, but he never felt like it was. Not until he, after meeting the royal family, had the pleasure in holding their second born, a few months after his birth, and my, the passerby never felt so close to the sun, nor did he fear being burnt. In his hands he was holding something golden; something godly. Just like the sun. But it wasn’t the sun, no, it was a gift from the golden beams above them, he was a star. He was their new star, their sun.

On the 16th of October a son was born. A prince. And he was given the name Charles.  

Their future king.

Our star, our sun.

It was hard not to love the prince who found himself trapped within castle walls, barely venturing out into the world, but when he does he’s constantly close to his father as they enter new lands (for him at least) where all hand his gifts to his knights – his protectors – with flowers and gifts. Only soft smiles were what he was allowed to retrieve, no other gifts of any sorts should be handed to him directly.

(There were many soft smiles which later turns into flirty looks from those his age as he grew up).

Along with growing older, where falling in love was more on someone’s mind, Charles never become blind in seeing how his best friend and his first knight-in-training, Pierre Gasly, wasn’t shy of the extra attention that was given when Charles was allowed to see the world outside the castle walls. Little winks thrown around and bright smiles whilst the prince watched in disgust before taking a strong interest in the world around him, watching how the clouds glided through the sky, forming different works of arts for all to enjoy, and how the branches of the trees waved them off for their travels, knowing the next time they are seen a new image will be formed, quite possibly a picture of what they saw on their travels.

(All in all, one person stayed on his mind, the one he meets growing up, the other main character of our stor–of these lives).

Once, at the age of seven, he saw the sea for the first time, and he wondered what it would be like to feel the salty air tickling his skin, embracing him in a warm hug where his cologne is replaced with the smell of the sea. He even wondered what life as a fish would be like, swimming endlessly through the waves as it dodged every obstacle in their way. He wondered if they felt lonely down there just as he does within the palace walls, hoping for a struck of bravery to hit him to just leave and see the world for a moment, even just for a second, just to go on an adventure without anything bothering him.

He wondered if the sea felt grateful to be holding such beauty in their arms, cradling it, kissing it, and bringing it deeper into their warmth, with some even grazing the sandy fingers of Poseidon. He imagines that the graze occasionally turns into a handshake, welcoming those to a new view, begging them to lie down in the pit of darkness to try and spot a single beam of light – they never do, they’re in too deep.

Charles questioned his breathing ability, the young boy would hold competitions in the pool at home where he timed himself on how long he could hold his breathe as he sits on the bottom, he thinks maybe one day he could be like those aquatic animals that reach the bottom to shake Poseidon’s fingers. Poseidon’s ‘spot the sun’ game would eventually become to easy then, as the sun would be in his grasp, smiling brightly at him as he whispers, “I did it.” And all Poseidon would do is nod as he looks at the boy’s eyes that (of right now) resembles the colour of the sea on postcards that grandparents send to their grandchildren.

The sun child even wondered if the sun felt any different if he was elsewhere, maybe it feels warmer if he was in a place he loves instead in one of the many gardens of his castle or the small amount of times he’s with his father in a different country doing something of work – which his father calls father and son bonding.

Maybe his skin becomes painted in various shades of gold, letting him stand with a cheery smile whilst looking like a lost jewel in a faraway land. Where he watches the clouds shift and change like a person’s mood and observes the sky’s colour platter shattering from the phenomenon of the sun setting.

The Prince of England, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of many of the Grandale Islands (a group of various places, islands, and countries that the family have ownership over. One of the most recent ones that the Leclerc’s took ownership of was when Charles was just five years old, after a neighbouring (and independent) country (Zosnurg) became littered with destruction, gore, and weapons as England battled them for land. (Charles’ second home country, despite being born in Monaco, his father decided to move the family to England after the birth of his last son) The air of Zosnurg was filled with numerous of smokes that contributed to the deaths of many on the battlefields. An army of rebels and an army of warriors would once constantly fight each other to the death for the land that both kings desired. It was unclear of what side would win; it formed a tiresome fear for those nearby as they dreaded to think of the war becoming never-ending. The fighters were grimed with pain, exhaustion, and their spirits were broken. The war was soon ended by King Raphaël (the father of the Leclerc’s) killing the King of Zosnurg with his sword.)

Charles recalls growing up with some of the kind souls around the castle, watching with a frown as the lower statuses had to clean the mess up, rebuild the economy that was destroyed by the war with the rich bossing them around. He remembers watching them nearly everyday from his bedroom window, or from the carriage as they rode through the towns like Aramore (a poor town that was mainly affected by the war as it was often targeted with bombs for a few months). Most of England was left undamaged though, only a small percentage of the country was damaged, it was Zosnurg that carried most of the destruction and those of Zosnurg had to rebuild their country like the first citizens of their country once did.

It was the Leclerc’s property now.

He wasn’t allowed to do anything about the mess, nor ask to help, or even ask his family about it. All he got told was it was not his business yet and that he was far too young to worry about such a thing.

So, growing up, trapped in the castle, and venturing out as little as possible, he watched as far as he could see get rebuilt, and become better than it once was. Soon, he was allowed out, it was about a year later, his godfather – his older brother’s best friend – Eric Russo– was given the permission to take him out karting in their city, Eynsworth. He grew to love the sport, later watching Eric, from the TV, travel the world to race.

Along with karting, the prince took up other activities to keep him occupied within the castle walls, even going as far as painting, but was quick to discover that was not his forte.

Charles was ten years old though when he first heard of a person who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. And it was a month after the discovery that he learnt how much his father hated this mysterious figure who’s blacked out silhouette littered the tea-stained wanted posters that was flown to country-to-country, hanging round in various places.

Wanted for £3000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood

That was the name the whispers would call them after the fourth robbery. It was a cool spring evening, and the robbery affected a close family friend, Mr Clive. They took anything that was valuable, and when discovered that there was a robbery, the bells of the townhall began to ring, people of Eynsworth then began to venture out and onto the streets in the early morning, sleeping dust prickling their eyes as they stood in the breeze. They were all dressed in their pyjamas as they watched Mr Clive – the man who was robbed – walk around in nothing but boxers as he stormed right towards the castle with his very young-looking wife begging him to do this at a better time.

No, the only good time was of right now. He demanded for the thief to be found, and the King agreed as he stares at the barely dressed man in the front gardens of his home from Arthur’s (his youngest son) bedroom window.

The following week new wanted posters were being sent out.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

The days after Mr Clive’s robbery, many more got robbed, some even finding arrows outside their houses or even watched how the thief dodged the thrown slippers, wooden spoons, chairs and even vases sent their way.

Many questioned on the presumed age of this criminal, but they never thought on the matter long as they presumed that due to everything happening so quickly they couldn’t quite judge on how old this criminal may be.

However, at first thought they believed the criminal was too small to be of around presumed age, but as mentioned before, they never allow themselves to dwell on the matter long enough.

The week after new wanted posters were sent out along with a new wanted poster for Robin Hood’s partner.

Wanted for £30,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

Wanted for £5,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief and partner of the notorious Robin Hood.

It was discovered that the archer was partnered with someone after Mr Clive got robbed once more. After falling down his stairs, hurrying down to capture the intruders with a broken torch in his hand, he watched the moment he swung his front door open with a throbbing head, as the pair, already at such a great distance, carried sacks of money over their shoulders, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pushed the other around.

On his 13th birthday, the discovery of Robin Hood and Little John being children were uncovered. No one was quite sure who leaked this piece of information, some say that someone accidently let it slip, some even mentioned that perhaps the duo robbed them and then they caught sight of how young they looked, some even suggested that maybe the duo wronged the anonymous person and they wanted to get their revenge.

Charles believes none of the suggestion were the correct reasons.

Robin was 12, nearly 13, (an age that was incredibly shocking and was being slowly processed by the world) and Little John was just 15.

And once again, prices were raised.

“Your dad should hire them to be one of his knights,” Pierre suggested one night in Charles racing themed bedroom, all of his brothers, Pierre and Eric being locked in there whilst a meeting was being held right outside about Robin Hood and Little John after they easily battled and escaped the King’s best men – no injuries were occurred, nothing but bruised egos and dignities.

Lorenzo, Charles’ older brother, scoffs whilst Eric shook his head in disagreement. “Why would someone who sounds like they hate the rich, join them?”

“People change,” the young French boy tries to argue. “Right amount of money and he could be running to Raphaël’s side.”

“The price over their head is a lot already. I don’t think they–”

“He?” Charles arched a brow as he looked over at Pierre, who sat on his bed whilst Charles sat on the windowsill to watch the chaos below him. “What do you mean he? I don’t think it’s a he by how people talk of their movements.”

“It’s a kid our age, Charles, they’ve been doing this for years, they aren’t going to be noisy.”

“Still don’t think it’s a he though. Doesn’t make sense – maybe Little John is, but Robin Hood can’t be.”

“What are you–”

“I think Charles is right…” Arthur looked up from the game device he was playing on, handed by Lorenzo to keep the 11-year-old entertained. “I heard whispers that it is a she.”

“You went out?” Lorenzo’s firm voice came, laced with concern. “You’re not supposed to–”

“No way,” whistled Pierre. “Impossible.”

“Cool.” Charles nodded. “Maybe she can give you all a tip or two on how to fight, shoot an arrow and not be as noisy as a Heffalump.” He teased as he looked at Eric, Lorenzo, and Pierre as he mentioned the skills they’ve been lacking most in.

“Mate do not relate me to those things in the forest,” Pierre groaned. “They’re not cool.”

“How are purple elephants not cool?” Arthur piped in, furrowed brows as he stared down the older boy.

“Are you trying to say you are cool?” Eric smirked as he folded his arms.

Heffalumps are said to be dangerous creatures, but Lorenzo had told Charles about the whispers among the caring citizens (the poor who lived in their lack of riches town; Aramore) that those hunter’s stories are all false, that these creatures were actually rather friendly, and they are cruel to the hunters as they are the ones trying to kill them.

He even told Charles the story of how he even was lucky enough to meet and touch a Heffalump with these three children of Aramore that was around Charles’ age. It was a few years ago, but it was a memory Lorenzo would carry forever as for once he wasn’t treated as a prince, or a knight in training, he was just treated as himself, as Lorenzo.

He felt free.

Charles and Arthur envied him for it, envied how he was allowed to go out and do what he wishes whilst they befriended the paintings on the walls.

Charles looked away from the group and turned to look back out the window only to find a butterfly pressed against his window, his vibrant coloured wings not at show, and Charles begin to hate the insect he was staring at.

Hated how it was allowed to sore the grey skies, hated how it was allowed to taste the sweet nectar of the plants around and he wondered if he would ever be deemed lucky enough to taste something as lovely as that. He wondered if he was beautiful like a butterfly, if someone looked at him like Aphrodite herself, and be able to memorise every part of him with their eyes closed.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be that lucky, so he left himself wondering if a butterfly knew everything about flowers, wondered if they knew which one had the sweetest nectar, and which ones to stay away from, he wondered if they ever felt safe in those cocoons they break out of after the transmission from a caterpillar to a butterfly was complete – he wondered if they felt that change, if they realised they were now a beautiful and elegant insect that everyone admired from afar but were too scared that a simple touch would shatter them.

It was a month after his birthday that two faces were placed onto the wanted posters after they attempt to rob from Eynsworth Castle. Failing to do so due to the amount of protection these places were gaining over the years, his home being the most. A knight caught them, and after a difficult battle that ended with an arrow in the Knight’s thigh, he was able to give the King and Queen a detailed description on their Robin Hood and Little John.

No name was given, and no name was being found out any time soon. But his parents and those of riches were ecstatic with this newfound information.

Wanted for £50,000. Dead or Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Age: 12 approx. Gender: Female

Above the silhouette changed to a drawn picture of the girl and the presumed personal description was ripped out and in came her age and gender. And after the attempted Eynsworth Castle robbery, King Raphaël and Queen Anna agreed that they didn’t not care how this archer was handed in.

Death may even be better as there was no way she would be able to escape.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Age: 15 approx. Gender: Male

And just like Hood’s, his silhouette was changed to a drawn image of him.

Everyone was still in shock about the age, but now their shock grew at the thought that it was a female who was causing them so many problems for so many years. Charles and Arthur were the only ones who weren’t shocked as they collected their packets of chocolate buttons from those around the castle who all disagreed with the idea of Robin Hood being a female.

“It’s not really criminal though, is it?” Pierre asked as he, Eric, Lorenzo, Arthur, and Charles laid on the grass in one of the many gardens of the castle. “It’s more deviant, no?”

“I wouldn’t say it such a bad thing,” Lorenzo muttered, arms under his head as his eyes stayed on the stars above them.

“How bad is it out there? For the poor?” Charles asked curiously, never truly knowing how bad it was for them, only seeing small sights of it when he did go near those areas.

“They have it bad,” Arthur muttered, eyes closed as he too rested his folded arms behind his head. He could feel Lorenzo’s eyes burning into the side of his head at the mention of his little trips outside the castle walls without anyone. “It’s like dad forgets they exist and just shoves them to the side.” He shifts to French casually as his mind thought on the way they live.

“Oh,” he nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes counted the stars.

He loves the stars, truly does, he wishes he could join them for a moment and just sparkle and dance up there as they guide people home, forming little imagery onto the sky too. He wouldn’t want to stay forever, would find it too boring, but he’ll like to know what being a star was like.

He even wanted to know how to find these constellations, he reads books and searches the web for tips on how to spot them, but still, as night passes he still finds himself struggling to even find the beginning of one.

“When I’m King I wouldn’t push them to the side…we’ll be equals.”

“Cute vision,” Eric utters in French. “But that isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

The boys laid in silence as they watched different things. Like for Arthur he was seeing those weird dots you see when your eyes are shut. For Lorenzo, he was still admiring the stars along with Charles. For Eric, he was watching the trees wave in the gentle breeze. And Pierre was sat up, knees brought to his chest as he pulled out strands of grass and twisted them around his fingers to act as a ring.

“She’s quite pretty, no?” Pierre whispered in French, loud enough for them to hear, but they knew the question was more aimed towards his best friend than any of the others.

“Who?” Charles asks, responding back in the same language, oblivious to what Pierre was getting at as he connected the dots his own way to form a future for himself.  

“This ‘Robin Hood’ girl.”

“Does it matter?” Pierre sighed as he looked up from the strand of grass, only to stare at his friend’s side profile as he babbled on in French and avoided a simple question. “I’d prefer if she’s a good person than if she looks nice.”

“But she’s pretty, no?” Pierre arches a brow, corner of his lip pointing up into a smirk as he hears his friend sigh and close his eyes.

“Oui.”

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                             Present Day – February.

 Leather boots walked among the cobblestones, dressed in a cream shirt, dark trousers, and a navy hooded jacket, with the hood over their heads, the two now fourteen-year-olds moved beneath the ever-blue sky with lacy, white-edged clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the blue, as if they were boats safely moored in a celestial harbour, with the singing birds soaring above as they acted as the fishes of the skies.

Across the cobbled streets, critters ran across, dodging the horses trotting down, nodding their heads side-to-side. One of the fourteen-year-olds had to resist the urge to stroke the horses’ head, as they didn’t know what would happen if they were caught outside the castle.

The two made their way towards a concluded alleyway and as they grew closer to the towering brick wall at the end, they decided they would climb over it once they reached that issue. The taller one of the pair, kneeled down first, linking his hands together as it hovered over his propped up knee, the other placed their foot on the other hands, feeling them boost them up for them to be able to grab ahold of the top edge of the wall, their hand brushed against a tea-stained paper hanging on the wall, but before it could move up any further, an arrow whistled past them, skidding the side of the shorter one’s fingers as it hit and wobbled in the poster beside him.

The action made the pair pause, the kneeled down one looked up whilst the other looked over his shoulder to try and find the one who shot the arrow. The taller one let the shorter one down before he takes a watchful step in front of him as they watched the alleyway’s self-crafted shadows in front of them carefully.

Approaching out the shadows was a slightly shorter, and hooded figure, the bow in their hand was still raised whilst the other was over their shoulders, plucking out another arrow from their brown quiver. They stepped into the light more as they nocked their arrow, drawing the string back as they made the pair their target. The archer was dressed in a dark forest green cape with black cargo trousers and ruined boots. Their clothes were already covered in mud, and they watched as the figure instructed with their head for the two to lower their hoods and raise their arms.

“Money, now.” The hooded figure demanded.

“You can shove that arrow right up where–”

“That’s not very princey of you,” they smirk under their hood. “Did the King never tell you how dangerous it was out here?”

“Princey isn’t even a word,” the tallest of the pair folded their arms, muttering.

“Money, now.” They released the arrow; it skimmed past and shot threw the first arrow they released.

One of the two threw a small satchel of coins and the hooded figure just sighed as they placed their bow over their head, nestling it at a safe angle across her back.

“You’re Robin Hood.” The Prince breathlessly says as he watches her pick up the small satchel of coins.

She hums, bowing down dramatically as she grins up at the pair. “It is I,” she then raises from her bowing position and places a hand on her chest as she takes a step closer to the two. “And you two are Prince Charles Leclerc and his…Pierre Gasly?” The figure now stands a few feet away from them now, pushing down her hood for the pair of them to look at her. “Shouldn’t you two be…I don’t know…anywhere but here?”

Pierre mouth fell agape at the sight of her.

“You must know,” she continues, “we don’t like your type very much?”

“And what is our type?” Charles arches a brow, arms mimicking his best friends as he folds them across his chest.

“Rich pricks,” she offers them a fake smile, as she rounds them, ripping the poster off from her arrows as she inspects it, the two boys didn’t dare to make a run for it. They knew the stories already, even if they ran she would still catch up with them.

Her brows raise. “Still just £50,000? Is that all I’m worth to you guys,” the corner of her lips quirk up. “Suppose I should do something soon to make that go higher, ay?” The pair stayed silent as she span on her heel and moved closer to the wall to take down the other poster from the wall.

Their eyes were on her back as she looks down at both posters, they hear an airy laugh leave her lips.

She now turns back to face the two as she presented the two posters to them, as if it was the first time they ever saw them. “At least they can get my nose right,” she comments as she peers over at the other wanted poster. “Unlike Danny’s.”

“You just–”

“Told you Little John’s name?” She looks up, a smirk still playing at her lips. “Thought our little rat told the royals that already?” They shook their heads as she hummed in surprise. “Well, it be rude to not introduce ourselves, no? Considering we’ll be the ones who will take down your type of people.” She scrunches the posters up in her hands before stuffing it into her trousers pocket, she then holds out her hands for the pair to shake. “I’m Y/n – Y/n L/n, and my mate is Daniel Ricciardo.” She awaits for them to shake her hand, but their pair just stays staring at. “Suppose you don’t shake a peasant hand,” she puts her hand down, “proves to show why we don’t respect you.” She spat out before shrugging her shoulders as she too mimicked the way their arms were crossed against their chest. “Do what you wish with our names, no doubt that little mole be telling that King sooner or later.”

“You’ve got quite the reputation.” Pierre couldn’t help but say.

“Reputation?” She tilts her head, smirk still playing at her lips, they thought it was painted on as not once have they ever seen it fall, except the small falter of it when neither of them shook her hand. “I have a reputation?”

“Yeah, the steal from the rich and give to the poor reputation.”

She lets out another airy laugh.

“I’m just doing what the King can’t do.” Y/n half-shrugs as she pulls her hood back on. “We aren’t lucky like you, Princey.” Her eyes shifts to just focus on Charles.

“It’s still not a word,” Pierre comments next to Charles.

“Still don’t care,” she rubbed her dirty hand down her face. “We don’t have people running us a bath and we don’t have someone baking my bread, but at least I know that I earned that bread; and my god do I deserve it.”

“They say you’re a common theft.”

“Can’t be common with that price over my head.” She teased, sniffling her nose slightly as she looked around before looking at Charles again, the one who was mainly speaking to her now.

She noticed how clean the pair looked and how well put together they were. They didn’t look as slim as she did as they were able to get the food they needed. Their hairs were slightly longer than she expected it to truly be, she thought their highly paid hairdressers would be there giving them a nicer cut, but instead they looked like two teens who were just experiencing different styles for their hair.

The thirteen-year-old girl looked at the two fourteen-year-olds curiously, examining every difference they had over her. They held themselves tall, but their eyes held a sense of disorientation in them, it was like they were a lost puppy, not knowing what to do or where to go.

“Do you think I’m a criminal?” She questioned. “It wouldn’t matter if you do. We’re not going be friends,” she rambles. “Just curious to know how you see u–”

“No.” Charles answered over her short rambling, and she stopped and looked over at them. “I don’t think you’re a criminal for trying to keep everyone alive.”

Y/n titled her head to the side.

“You don’t know what it’s like do you?” She asked quietly, and for once in their meeting she wasn’t carrying that smirk. “You really don’t know how bad it is, do you?”

They just shook their heads.

“It’s best you don’t,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t need to save anymore of you guys.”

Pierre raises a brow. “Who have you saved?”

“Eric and Lorenzo,” she purses her lips, “more times than I can count on one hand.”

“My younger brother, Arthur,” Charles begins, “he hasn’t been around here, has he?”

“Why? Scared we’ll do something?” She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seen him, but I hear he’s with Wyatt and Lando a lot.”

“Who are they exactly?”

“Good kids that you won’t ever go near,” she narrows her eyes at them. “In fact, it be best if the pair of you leave Aramore and don’t come back. Tell those three that too. Stick to your little rich friends and the things you know, alright? And I’ll go home and tell my folks that I hit the jackpot, that I robbed the Prince and his knight in training.” She takes one more step closer to them. “If this was a story, I’ll die in the end. You know, with being wanted and all. They know enough and I’m surprised they haven’t caught me at least once yet.” Y/n shook her head as she walks past the pair. “Go back to your little castle.”

“Huh,” Pierre unfolds his arms. “She really don’t like us.”

Charles shakes his head, “but perhaps we can change her mind.” He states as he too puts his hood back on, Pierre copying before they walk out of the alleyway. Despite her leaving mere seconds before them, she was nowhere in sight when they exited the one-way alleyway.

“Get your Daily News right here!” A voice yelled as he held a stack of newspapers whilst the boy next to him waved one in the air, holding his cap out for change to fall into. “Get your Daily–”

Charles hits Pierre in the arm, nodding his head towards the two, what he presumes, are twelve-year-olds. They swiftly make their way towards them, standing in front of them as Charles places two coins into their cap.

“Bonjour,” Pierre greets with a smile as he takes down his hood, watching as the boys faces drop at the sight of his hood falling, their eyes then switch to Charles, who also pushed down his hood. “We’ll like a paper, s’il te plait.”

The boys looked between one another in confusion before they handed the dark-haired boy a paper.

“Not to be rude but what you doing here?” One of the British boys asked as the other elbowed his side.

“Lando!” He whispered loudly.

“Wyatt – they shouldn’t be here. What if Y/n and Daniel–”

Pierre and Charles looks at one another at the mention of the boys names. These must be the ones that Arthur sneaks out to hang out with.

“Oh,” Pierre smiles, “we’ve met that Robin Hood friend of yours. Robbed us and everything.”

Wyatt looks into his hat with a frown, “clearly not well enough.”

Charles tucks the paper under his left arm.

Lando carefully looks around to see if anyone else has noticed the Prince and his Knight in training with them, he then leans forwards slightly to speak with them quietly. “Aramore doesn’t like your family very much, your highness,” Lando quips.

“But our Robin Hood and Little John have always held the highest of hatred for those in Eynsworth and spits at the names of the Leclerc’s who has wrong us all,” Wyatt continued off from Lando.

“My father is a good man,” Charles tries to convince the boy, perhaps even try and convince himself, but the two Aramore boys just shakes their heads with laughter.

“Suppose she is right after all. All you rich folks are as stupid as it comes.” Charles and Pierre share a look.

“But you met her?” Lando speaks up again. “Like you actually met her?”

They both nod.

“And she didn’t knock either of you out?” He watched the pair freeze. “Oh,” Lando pauses, “I only asked because of how much she hates your – your type. But Y/n isn’t a bad person. Sure, she’s made mistakes – but she’s a good person.”

“Thought you be more careful with sharing other’s names like that.”

Wyatt shrugs at Charles’ pointed look. “Don’t need to when the whole city now knows it,” he nods his head to the newspaper under Charles’ arms. “It’s the headline today – Y/n L/n and Daniel Riccardo are the Robin Hood and Little John. The King doesn’t want this shared with the whole world yet though, perhaps that’s the smartest thing he’s ever asked.”

“So the mole has already told my father?”

Wyatt only shrugs.

“You two should really leave though,” Lando stutters out slightly. “Aramore won’t be safe for either of you and when night comes it will only become even more dangerous.”

“It is a full moon,” Wyatt smiles and now Lando elbows his side.

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“You saying that werewolves be out tonight?” Pierre laughs slightly. “Ah, werewolves don’t exist.”

Lando and Wyatt share a look.

“Just,” Lando starts again, “just return to your castle, your highnesses’.”

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(As long as anyone could remember, it has always been the Leclerc’s throning their land, but it is to be known that they aren’t all as bad as Raphaël and Anna, in fact, they are the only two that anyone could remember being so terrible. His father was a good man – a good King who died far too soon, and then there was Raphaël’s older brother, but no one can remember what happened to him, one moment he was there preparing to be King himself, and the next thing they heard was that he left and wouldn’t be returning and that Raphaël shall be King instead.

Many things crumbled when Raphaël become King, our Robin Hood was about two years old when life become worst, never seeing what life was like before, only knew them from the stories others would tell her, and those stories sketched the idea of revolution into her brain, one could argue that it’s always been in her blood and all she needed was a single lit match to guide her to see it.

So, for as long as she could remember, she always had a desire for revolution, to overthrow Raphaël Leclerc in any way possible and bring back the life that only her ears were ever blessed with hearing. Bring back the world where one shouldn’t be afraid that in a matter of a second they could be stabbed, or questioning if that snap of a twig was a person following them instead of an innocent deer, and even bring back the world where everyone isn’t just waiting for another war too happen.

She wants to bring back the world where others were seen more as equals, the world where the poor was being helped and weren’t clinging onto their last seconds of life, and the world where the rich weren’t so greedy and treacherous and kissed the ground for a man who usurped the crown.

Robin Hood was the people’s only hope. She robbed from the rich to feed the poor. She was beloved by all people from England, and by the age of twelve, she was known and loved in other countries. Robin and her best mate Little John – also known as Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo – are found hidden in Aramore, one of England’s poorest town’s.

King Raphaël has heard rumours on this information, but it is yet to be confirmed to the rich if it she truly awaits in Aramore.

You know, there’s been a heap of legends and tall tales about our Robin Hood. All different too. Well, fellow readers, here is the true version).

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“This is the story of how I died.”                                                                                                  

“Y/n!” Daniel shoved the younger girl’s shoulder who was left chuckling at the frozen states of youngster’s with their mouths wide open.

“How can you be dead?” One questioned, tilting their head. “You look alive.”

“Because she is.” Daniel gave a short glare to his best friend before turning his head to beam at the kids. “She just messing with you,” he elbows her side. “Jokester this one.” The children looked between the two. “Now, Y/n, tell the real story.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “this one is more boring though – Once Upon A Time…”

(Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo weren’t originally from Eynsworth, instead they were from a town called Neverland – which was a small island in the region of the Harsano Islands. They were both raised in an orphanage that was ran by some very cruel people. They all evacuated though when their country got overtaken by Raphaël.

They all escaped to England; Y/n was just nine).

The Orphanage – The Lost Boys – were a worldly known orphanage that many thought to be a good, well-run place, instead, for the children that lived there, it was like a game of survival. Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo were always trouble, even back then, both being secretly taught how to survive by a woman who was only meant to teach them English, but instead she was their mentor for fighting, how to use a bow and arrow, and basic survival skills.

It happened away from eyes that would hurt them terribly if they ever discovered the truth, whether that was children that will tell on them or if it was Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil themselves catching sight of this little self-made club.

Growing up, they were taught on how to be everything wrong – in the eyes of the owners it was everything right – with being raised with the wrong thoughts of the poor and how they should be mistreated, that creatures out there should be killed, and even the fact that if one isn’t hurt then they will never learn.

Children shouldn’t have parents, and they shouldn’t grow up either.

They shouldn’t know how to survive in the real world, and they shouldn’t be able to protect themselves.

Y/n was told she was wrong in the way she thought, that children have a mind of their own, and that they will all grow up and leave Pan and Cruella here in this huge building alone – Pan didn’t like what the six-year-old was telling him, not one bit, so in front of everyone’s eyes, he bashed a rock into the side of her head until she fell unconscious, only waking up at the feeling of a cold flannel being pressed against her head by Daniel and their mentor – Tania – checking her over.

She still carries that scar on the top of her head.

She was six years old when Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil saw her as their main target to hurt, Y/n didn’t mind though, as long as the other children were left unharmed, then she’ll carry as many scars that will tell her tale.

“My mother wasn’t a good person,” Y/n mentioned one day in her training, when she was just seven years old, Tania raised her brows in surprise that Y/n knew this, she wasn’t meant to know but here she was talking about it, “She – it was mentioned in my file.”

“You read your file?”

She nods. “I just wanted to know more about…I just wanted to find out–”

“No,” Tania shook her head. “You shouldn’t have looked at that.”

“I didn’t think it be bad,” Y/n frowned, looking down at her feet as she kicked a piece of gravel from the ground away. “Why did you agree to do this after what my – what she did? I could be the same, you know.”

“You aren’t,” Tania was quick to mention. “You aren’t the same and you never will be. Your mother was a bad person, I know this to be true. I know this as she was the one who slit my daughter���s throat. But if I’d seen even an ember of that cruelty in you I never would’ve agreed to mentor you,” Tania took a step forwards, rubbing a gentle thumb across Y/n’s cheek before holding her hands in a motherly hold. “She may have given birth to you, but she doesn’t get to decide who you become – you do that.”

“Was my father a better person at least.”

“He was one of the greatest men I have ever met, he just, he fell for the wrong person and death caught up with him sooner than we would have liked.” Tania squeezes the youngster’s hand. “He would have loved you and would been so proud of you.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n shrugs, “maybe not because if he was still alive then I wouldn’t be here, I would be living with him and I would be a different person.”

Y/n was still seven years old when there was news that Cruella’s new fur-coat belonged to the creature that she yells to all on how she believes they’re all bad, and all should be skinned alive, she never was quiet on her hatred for werewolves. It was still the same day when a friend of hers questioned her opinion on werewolves – Wyatt Poitier.

“Are they bad?” The girl shoots them a confused look. “Werewolves? Are they bad? Cruella says they are – says they deserve nothing but painful death. She always said that when she finds one, she will kill it, and wear it as a fur coat.”

Y/n doesn’t think they are. Not all at least. She knows a few, all nice and all just scared humans who have extreme attributes that the average human do not carry, and perhaps their even more terrified of themselves than others are of them, because each time the moon is full they must go through the painful transition that causes others to call them a monster.

However, she was never clueless on the horrifying one that lived over in England.

Her werewolves’ friends never asked to be who they are though, they never asked to be something people find only in their nightmares. Where once someone discovers that secret, most will treat them differently, will want their death to full upon them, and some will begin to silently judge them before a simple hello is ever spilled again.  

“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t think they are. They’re just people who also happen to be wolves. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like people.”

“Pan agrees with Cruella.”

“Well,” Y/n sits up, and leans her back against her headboard of her bed. “They would say that when they’re just the same as the bad wolves.”

The two days before they evacuated to England, Y/n and Daniel’s mentor was found dead, the news the next day insisted she died from the fire of the orphanage burning from the children – but Y/n knew it couldn’t be right as she knew no one was left in the building when she lit the match to start the amber glow.

Y/n carried the belief that it was Pan, Cruella, and the King – who was seen in Neverland earlier that week.

Y/n was just nine when she escaped to England, and she was still only nine when she become the Robin Hood who had revolution fogging up her brain.

 “And just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad, round eyes, and pleaded, ‘oh, please dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell.’” Y/n spoke to the kids as she told them a story she had memorised in her brain due to the amount of times the children of the orphanage read it to one another. “And–”

There was a sharp three knocks that echoed throughout the small, stoned room, all the kids that sat cross-legged on the ground whipped their heads round to look at the door, whilst only Daniel and Y/n had to lift their heads up a little. They all await for the handle of the door to be pulled down, but yet, it never does, not until Daniel calls out a “come in,” did the handle move and the door was pushed open ever so slightly, enough for young Wyatt to nervously poke his head in as he looked at the duo.

“Er,” he looked over his shoulder at something, “you two won’t like this but,” he looks at them again, “there’s a visitor for you,” he mutters before moving away and slamming the door shut.

The pair moved away from the self-crafted beanbags as they moved towards the door, ignoring the pleads from the children as they asked them to come back and finish the story. Daniel was quick to reassure them that they be back after they see who was outside. Slowly, the children moved from the floor and went off to play with some of the toys in the room.

The two slowly moved out of the door, but a hand was quick to land on Daniel’s chest as they tried to push him back into the room before he could even close the door behind him.

“Wyatt what are you-”

“Change of plans, they only want to see Y/n right now.” Wyatt whispers as he pushes Daniel back into the room whilst Wyatt followed closely behind, closing the door as he goes, leaving Y/n outside, hands on her hips as she squinted to try and find this visitor.

“This is ridiculous where is,” her eyes fall on a slightly taller figure standing in front of her, her face scrunches up in disgust. “What are you doing back here?”

The figure removes his hood.

“I’ll keep my hood up if I were you, don’t want anyone to pass by and see who you are.” She utters as she takes a look around to see if anyone was close by whilst he pulls his hood back over his head. “I thought I told you earlier that you should return back to your castle. And where’s that friend of yours? Not out here is he? Better not be causing any trou– ”

Charles rolls his eyes. “He’s with the horses.” His fingers nervously reach to the side of his cloak, running up and down the steam of it as he looked at the girl in front. “I wanted to come back and apologise.” Y/n raised a brow. “Look, I just think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Well, I think we did too.”

“Okay–”

“But I appreciate your apology.”

“Apology?” Charles breathlessly laughs before scrunching his face up. “Who said anything about an apology? I was just saying–”

“Please don’t talk anymore, okay?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to look away from him. “It’s only going to upset me.”

“Well you have already me upset so–”

“Is this about robbing you?” She turns to look at him, hands dropping to her side before raising her right hand to gesture towards him. “Come on, like that’s going to hurt your bank account.”

Charles chose to ignore this as he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, he held it out for Y/n to take.

“So you wouldn’t shake my hand, but you’ll happily hand me things?”

“Your really annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

She pinches the other side of the envelope, leaving it to dangle down as she held it from a corner. “What is this?”

“Real mature–”

“Hey if you didn’t want to shake my hand, then I don’t even want to touch you.” She eyes the golden colour of it, it almost matching her reward posters. There was no cursive writing addressing to who it was for, but it did have the blue royal stamp sealing it shut. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at it, but she should have guessed it was an envelope from the Leclerc’s due to it being handed to her by one.  

As she ignores the colour of the envelope, she notices, without much surprise, that it was made of high-quality paper with a slightly rough feel to it – it wasn’t like the recycled stuff with bits in it like the people of Aramore use. It was just thick and heavy like letters from hundred of years ago.

Well, it be no shock if they were still using material for letters that they once did many times ago, the rich liked the traditional, they weren’t ones for big changes, so it should come to no shock that their paper felt like a rich metal, or that they weren’t even with the times and recycling their paper.

“I wanted to give you one,” Charles shrugs. “I thought it be a nice thing to do and–”

“This isn’t going to be the leading cause to my death is it?”

His eyes widen, “I hope not.” He responds in French, watching as Y/n’s face scrunches up from not understanding a word he just said. “Oh,” he frowns slightly, “I said I hope not.”

She clicks her tongue at the root of her mouth as she continues to eye the envelope and the boy in front. “Can you go now?” She questions, and before she could even watch if he does leave this time or not, she was already heading back inside to the small room she once was in, coming face-to-face with an annoyed Daniel and a Wyatt wouldn’t stop shifting on his feet.

“What’s that?” Daniel points to the thing that was still pinched in between Y/n’s thumb and forefinger.

“Poison,” she mutters, still eyeing it up in disgust.

“O-Oh, Y/n,” Wyatt stutters, “You must go,” The duo’s brows knitted together at Wyatt’s wording as they watched his eyes lit up at the sighting of what she was pinching. “You must! It be an amazing opportunity for you and, oh, Y/n, you can’t run forever; he’ll find you one day,” Wyatt warned. “Just go and have some fun and do what you do best; steal.”

“Who says I’m running?” Y/n lets out a scoff, which was slightly merged into an airy laugh too, “I’ve been here for the last five years, and if he ever gets the courage to come for me, I’ll still be right here.”

She understood that Wyatt must have figured out that this was from the royals, and by he, he must mean the King, and perhaps Wyatt thought this was a letter personally from the King, and maybe he believed this letter was going to mend everything.

But it wasn’t – that only happens in fairytales.

“But Y/n–”

Her finger slides underneath the lip of the envelope, tearing it open. She watches how the royal blue stamp that had a golden rose engraved onto it and is then surrounded with an aureate circular frame, splits into a near perfect half.

She tugs the folded black card out; she then holds it in one hand whilst the other crushes the envelope into a ball.

With her other hand, her thumb slips up from the bottom of the card, pressing down on the lined spine to open it up. Swiftly falling down like snow on a winter’s morning came two glistening silver and black tickets. The silver glitter littered across it shimmered like those elegant mirror balls found hanging from those darkened ceilings, producing thousands of different circular lights around the room.

She ignores them, but Daniel doesn’t as he bends down to collect them, eyes widening just like his friend’s as they read the same word, however one read it from the tickets, and the other read from the letter itself.

 You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.

References (in order of appearances): reference to chicken little || reference to tangled || reference to swan princess || reference to robin hood || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to 101 dalmatians || reference to the princess and the frog || reference to anastasia ||

Detailed References and Taglist found in reblog Likes/Reblogs/Comments always appreciated along with any ideas one may have as this very long series proceed. 

Act One Masterlist//Character Profiles//Playlist

[seraphimcollections]

gentle giant | Konig x medic!reader |

chapter 6

warning: dark themes, blood, torture, electrocution, use of firearms, mentions of death and mutilation. Angst but eventual fluff (it’s going to be okay!)

summary: there’s no waiting for when the reaper calls, and Konig’s come to collect.

w/c: 4.2

The whirring of the helicopters would have deafened König if he hadn’t been deep within his thoughts. He sat hunched over on the bench, his elbows and knees connected and fingers laced together. His dark eyes remained on the grated floor, never moving. The others knew to give the Austrian his space, letting him sink further and further into his worries. He couldn’t get the image of your smiling face out his mind, your witty remarks. The warmth of your hands, how soft they were. Everything about you was a blessing but also a curse as his anxiety clawed into his gut, refusing to release him. Glimpses of you injured or worse, it made him nauseous.

König didn’t snap out of his thoughts until he felt the chopper shake before stabilizing, telling him they had landed. Almost immediately he was on his feet, ignoring the concerned glances from Soap. He stalked to the bay door, holding on to a support rope overhead as the hot sun crept in as the door lowered. The blades of the helicopter were coming to a slow halt as his hard gaze landed on two men waiting for them on the tarmac. Konig was about to make his way down when Price clapped a hand on his shoulder, gaining the Austrian's attention.

“I’ll handle the introductions, mate,” Price said, his voice stern but his gaze gentle.

Koning remained silent as he let Price take the lead down to the men, the rest of the task force following close behind. Almost immediately Konig could feel the two strangers’ curious gazes on him, but he couldn’t find the effort to care. He was on edge and not in the mood to waste time.

“Nice to see you again, Captain!” The man with dark slicked back hair grinned. “And I see you’ve added onto your entourage.”

“Los europeos y sus máscaras,” the other man, warily eyeing Konig.

“This is our colleague from KorTac, Cl. Konig,” Price said, “Konig, this is Cl. Alejandro Vargas and Sgt. Rodolfo Parra. They were a great help for us with the whole Hassan business.”

“Likewise, Captain,” Alejandro smirked.

“Pleasure,” Konig muttered.

Alejandro’s expression became serious, “Come, let’s get you settled.Your message worries me, Captain. Shepherd really took one of your own?”

Price nodded solemnly as he and the others followed, “yes, broke into our base and abducted her.”

“And you think she’s here?” Rudy said skeptically.

“It’s our only bet,” Ghost said. “And we can’t waste anymore time.”

“Do we have a lead?” Konig said, his exhaustion peeking through his gravelly tone.

Alejandro nodded, “we noticed some suspicious activity at an old mine two clicks from Las Almas. We first thought it was something to do with Valeria, possibly a new stronghold, but when we took a closer look, the men definitely weren’t from the cartel.”

“Then there is no need to settle, we leave now,” Konig said.

“Hold up, mate, we need a plan. We can’t just barge in there, they’ll just kill her,” Gaz said with a frown.

“What aren’t you understanding? Every minute we waste here the closer we are…that she is-”

“We know you’re worried mate,” Soap said, his ocean eyes washed in empathy, “but we have to do this right way if we even stand a chance of saving her.”

Konig let out a breath, knowing the lieutenant was right, whether he liked it or not.

“Fine,” Konig frowned, “what’s your plan?”

The sound of slapping flesh with flesh followed by groans stemming from you. Your body lurched back as the imposter hit once again, the number you’d lost count of long ago. You could barely remember when you’d arrived at this abandoned mine which was slowly being reclaimed by the earth, threatening to swallow it whole, with you inside. The rickety supports seemed to be giving way with random leaks of spring water making the cave he’d held you up in unbearably humid. The room was blurry, like a smeared red oil painting, but you could see that you were in an opening in the cave. You were tied to a chair, arms tied behind your back with zip ties cutting off the circulation to your wrists, the same with ankles.

You coughed, saliva mixed with your blood dripped from behind your busted lips. Blood spilled from your head due to Richards slamming your head into the ground repeatedly before strapping you to the chair where he continued to beat you in and out of consciousness. You were barely hanging on, your eyes dazed and head bobbing limply, before Richards began to speak.

“You really are a tough cookie to crack, aren’t ya?” Richards chuckled.

You glared up to the man, remaining silent. Richards let out a dramatic sigh as he rounded you like a vulture, walking behind you. You grunted as he yanked a fist full of your hair, forcing your head back.

“You’re making this so difficult for no reason, little bird!” Richards sneered.

You didn’t hesitate to spit in the disgusting man’s face, your saliva mixed with you blood.

“Bite me.”

You half expected for the man to blow up and beat you until you couldn’t see straight, but Richard’s expression became steely, almost emotionless as he stood straight, wiping the spit from his cheek.

“Guess that’s just how it’s going to be then,” he mused, turning back to his table of torture toys.

He ran his leather glove over the cool metals, “you know, Shepherd said he wanted you alive. Although, he didn’t I couldn’t have a little fun with you first.” Your eyes widened in terror as Richard’s hand finally settled on a simple knapsack bag. You knew this tactic, your eyes immediately falling to the buckets of water lined neatly in a row. You thrashed against your constraints as Richards approached you.

“However, I can’t be held liable if you stop breathing along the way, huh birdy?” A sadistic smirk stretched across the man’s face.

At that moment, you prayed. Before this, you never wasted your time but in this instance, you prayed for the one thing that had made you feel safe for so long.

Konig, please hurry.

It had felt like an eternity, but finally the patchwork task force was ready to move. They had planned everything to the ‘T’. Pinpointing the exact cave that Rudy had picked up escalated activity over the last few days, noting how hardly anyone left the mouth of the cave. Noting how they were heavily armed. All of this was semantics for Konig. He didn’t care what was in the way, the point being they were in his way to you. And they would pay dearly for it but none more than this supposed ‘Richards’.

Konig kept his eyes nailed to the other side of the concealed vehicle as they traveled the bumpy dirt roads further into Las Alma’s wilderness in pitch dark of night. His hands mindlessly checked on his weapon, not even sparing a look as he went. His skin was practically humming, he hadn’t felt like this his first deployment. It was a mix of nerves and unspeakable rage that was spilling from between the seams. Finally the van lurched to a stop and Konig didn’t waste a moment slamming the doors open and jumping down into the dirt. He cocked his gun as the rest of the men climbed out of the vans, John clapping a hand on the behemoth’s shoulder.

“Remember the plan-“

“Wipe these sorry abschaum off the face of the earth,” Soap chimed in.

“And recover Shephard’s whereabouts in the process,” Ghost seconded.

“Leave the rat to me, Captain,” Konig said, not as a suggestion, but as an order.

All John could do was nod, “Ale and Rudy, cover us!”

“On it,” Alejandro smirked before nodding and taking off with Rudy to the high hills overlooking the mouth of the cave.

“Move in men,” John ordered.

Konig led the pack, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He kept his rifle ready and aimed as they advanced, staying low. Finally, they made it to the level of the cave entrance, finding two cartel jeeps and some of the hired men standing guard, rifles strapped to their chests. Konig came to halt, his predatory gaze not wavering. Ghost gently pushed the button to his radio, whispering gently.

“Light ‘em up.”

Two shots of sniper fire erupted through the forest trees, some jumpy birds taking into flight from the sudden noise. Konig’s eyes didn’t tear away as two of the five men’s faces exploded into blood and flesh before collapsing lifelessly into the dirt. The three other men were immediately alerted, but they weren’t blessed with enough time to figure out what was quickly becoming their doom before they were gunned down by Gaz and Soap. Konig rose from the bush, making a rush for the cave as more goons began to spill from it. The Austrian hardly blinked as he gunned them down one by one, his breath calm and controlled. It was almost as if routine, and partly it was. Shoot one here, stomp in one head there. It came so easy, like breathing. Perhaps at one time this would have bothered Konig, but he almost felt numb.

He only stepped out of this trance when a gunshot rang out directly in his left ear, leaving it ringing. He blinked, looking to see Ghost standing directly in front of him. Konig didn’t feel anything and definitely not a gun wound. He looked over his shoulder to find one of the men sliding down the wall, a blood trail staining the wall as he fell. Konig looked down at the pathetic man that somehow managed to find his blindspot, and would have used it accordingly if Ghost hadn’t stepped in.

“Get your head out of your arse!” Ghost shouted. “What good are you if you’re dead.”

Konig frowned but nodded, following the lieutenant down the winding cave system. The cave must of been used for drug smuggling in the past, evident by the main made paths and electric lighting hanging limply from the stone ceiling. Konig looked past Ghost and back out the cave, hearing more gunfire.

“The others-“

“They’ll be fine, we have to find Wren,” Ghost said. “Let’s move.”

Konig didn’t argue as he followed the Brit further into the cave. Surprisingly, there weren't many more cartels, not nearly enough to put up a fight. The two winded down the tunnel with lights haphazardly swinging above them, clearing out any ops who stood in their way. Soon, they reached a opening in the mouth of the cave that forked into two.

“Scheiße,” Konig growled, looking between the two paths.

“There’s no time to take both, I’ll take the right and you take the left,” Ghost ordered.

Konig didn’t like this, but he nodded nonetheless. Keeping his rifle aimed as he began his descent through the tunnel. He listened to Ghost’s heavy footsteps echo until he couldn’t hear them any longer. All he could hear was his slow breath as he moved deeper and deeper into the cave. The lights were fewer and fewer but Konig wouldn’t give his eyes time to adjust. He had to keep moving. He had to find you, no matter the cost. Keeping his ears alert, he couldn’t hear anyone shuffling in the dark with him.

Konig’s eyes squinted at a dim light at the end of the tunnel, coming from around a corner. He did his best to make his heavy steps lighter as he slowed his pace, coming closer to the bend. He pressed himself against the cold stone of the cave, listening. For a moment there was nothing, only silence. Konig prepared to take another step when he heard it. The sound of breathing. Faint, gargled, breathing. It was enough for the adrenaline to shoot through his veins like lightning as he rounded the corner, rifle aimed.

The heat underneath Konig’s skin cooled to ice from the vision in front of him. It was a room of sorts, mined and carved from the mountain’s belly and lined with flickering lights. In the center of the room was a small frame, quivering like a leaf. Female, evident on the lack of shirt, leaving her in only brassiere and torn cargos. Stained a gruesome crimson. Her face obscured, a knapsack pulled over her face. But there was no denying it, he found you.

”Maus!” Konig shouted in a panic, letting his rifle fall to his hip as he rushed to you. His boots splashed in the mud surrounding you, his hands grabbing your frail wrists tied to the steel chair. Konig ripped off the bag over your head — noting how soaked it was in your blood and water—, revealing your swollen and bruised face still crusted in blood.

“Jesus- Wren, Wren, come back to me,” Konig gingerly slapped your cheeks.

Your eyes rolled back from behind your eyelids, still clearly seeing. You could feel someone’s hands on your face. It burned so much, you felt like your throat was on fire but your body was on ice. You hacked, your entire body convulsing as your vision finally blurred into one. You looked into eyes you thought you’d never see again.

“It can’t…Konig-“

“Shh, shh, schatz, save your strength,” Konig said, relief beginning to well in chest.

You were alive, admittedly in bad shape, but still breathing.

“I have to tell the others-“

“You can’t- you can’t be here,” you groaned, head hanging weakly.

“It’s going to be okay,” Konig assured.

You wanted to believe him, truly, but that sickening feeling wouldn’t leave you. You watched as he pulled his radio out, speaking something into it but you couldn’t hear him. Not when your eyes found Richards’ stepping out from the shadows of the cave. Holding a live wire. Your eyes shot wide, throat going dry.

“Konig-!”

But it was too late, Richards threw the live wire connected to a small generator into the puddle beneath Konig and you. The electric current immediately surged through you both. Your body went tense, your back arching as your teeth gritted together painfully. Konig let out a painful grunt, hunching over at the sudden assault. You let out a wail, spamming against your restraints. You could feel yourself losing consciousness, it felt like an eternity before the current eventually stopped. Konig collapsed into the dirt face down with a groan. You could hear his heavy breaths, easing your anxiety slightly. He was still alive, for now. You could feel the hot blood drain from your nostrils, whimpering.

“You couldn’t just stay away could you,” Richards tutted, “had to make a mess of things.”

You called to the colonel weakly, voice quieter than a mouse, as he struggled to lift himself up onto his knees. You could see his eyes from his mask, burning with rage. Terrifying. Richards came around to you, wrapping his fingers in your matted hair and yanking up, pulling a cry from you.

“All this bloodshed, for a medic? How foolish,” Richards rolled his eyes. “Is it even worth it?”

“Shut up,” Konig said through his teeth.

Richards laughed, letting your head fall, “I can’t help but feel a little moved. The infamous Task Force 141, the bloodhounds of the finest military men, come together for a little treasonous coward? Could be a movie.”

“The only treasonous coward I see is you,” Konig growled, glaring up at the man as he assessed how much time it would take for him to rip Richards limb from limb.

“See, that’s where your wrong my friend,” Richards frowned, swinging his steel-toe boot right into Konig’s gut.

Konig gasped, rolling on to his side, holding his torso but Richards’ wouldn’t relent. He stomped on Konig repeatedly, over and over and over. You thrashed in the chair, screaming for the bastard to stop.

”You see, because of that stupid bitch over there, I had to come out of my early retirement and clean up her mess!” Richards shouted, eyes wild as he continued his assault on Konig. “She became a threat to the US the minute she saw that fucking file, and it’s been my fucking job to eliminate that threat. Until then, I intend on finishing the fucking job — but I sincerely hope you don’t take it personal. It’s just business!”

You didn’t know when you cracked the knuckles in your hand to slip your hand through the zip tie, but you quickly on feet. You swung the metal chair at Richards head, throwing him off of Konig. He stumbled a bit but you wouldn’t allow him to gain stability on his feet again. You grunted as you kicked his knee back into a position it shouldn’t have been before suckerpunching him right in the jaw. The pathetic man toppled back into the mud with a shout, grasping at his wounded knee. You stomped on his knee making him scream like the worm he was.

You saw red as you lifted the chair above head before shoving the back of the chair directly on Richards’ neck. He hacked and gasped for air, squirming like a dying fish on shore. You applied your entire weight on the chair, squeezing all the air from the man’s lungs.

“Rot in hell, bastard,” you growled, as Richards’ pleaded pathetically for his life.

You jumped on the chair, hearing a blood-curdling pop underneath the metal. Richards’ heads stopped struggling, falling slowly to his sides, eyes rolling to the back of his head. All was silent. You stood over his body for a moment, listening to Konig struggle to lift himself to see what you’ve done. You slipped your other hand from the zip tie, throwing the chair somewhere in the room. Your eyes never left Richards, watching carefully for any sign of life. He laid still. But that wouldn’t be enough.

Rage poisoned your blood as your eyes immediately fell to the pistol still strapped to the deadman’s leg and without a second thought you yanked it away from him. Like clockwork, that’s all it was, you unlocked the safety and shot the man right between the eyes. The gunshot rang in your ears and echoed through the cave system. Followed by another. And another. And another.

You screamed with fury, loaded more and more bullets into the man’s skull. Konig moved quick to wrap his arms around, his hands taking over yours.

“Stop, stop!” Konig pleaded, aiming the gun up to the ceiling.

You let out a strangled scream as you fell onto your knees, emotions hitting you like a freight train. Sobs racked through your body, unable to hold them back. Konig watched in heartbreak as you finally allowed yourself to fall apart. He looked upon Richards, but not for long. There was nothing left of him. Konig chucked the pistol somewhere in the cave limping over to you before kneeling.

“Mein Maus, you’re okay now, you’re safe,” Konig whispered, his large hands carefully holding your arms.

He hated how you flinched, signaling for him to back off. His stomach lurched as he watched you sob, body shaking uncontrollably. Konig’s ears twitched at the sound of footsteps rushing around the corner. He scrambled for his rifle, not wasting a second to aim it at the intruders.

“Hold your fire!” A booming Manchester voice snapped him out of it.

Konig’s shoulders slouched seeing Ghost and Soap appear from the shadow of the cave.

“Steaming Jesus,” Soap said, immediately rushing to you. “Lass, lovie look at me, look at me.”

You were spent, barely able to keep your head up as Soap tried his best to look for signs of concussion in your eyes. Ghost looked over to Richards’ corpse, clicking his tongue.

“You didn’t have to send him out like that,” Ghost frowned beneath his mask, obviously talking to Konig.

Konig shook his head, his eyes never leaving you, “it wasn’t me.”

Ghost eyes widened in unexpected shock before turning to you, covered in a mix of Richards’ and your own blood.

“Fuck.”

“We gotta get ‘er movin, LT, she won’t last much longer,” Soap chimed in, his voice serious for a change.

This statement alarmed Konig as he felt his blood pressure raise impossibly higher.

“We have to-“ Konig grunted as he limped on his bad leg.

“Easy,” Ghost said, lifting Konig’s arm around his shoulder, “you won’t be much help to her if you end up dead yourself, remember?”

Konig grunted but nodded nonetheless. He could only watch as Soap carried you bundled in his arms, nodding to Ghost that he was ready to move. You looked and felt so tired, so drained. You felt as if you were moving through jello, threatening to hold you there forever.

“Try to stay awake for me, lass,” Soap said gently.

“This is Bravo 0-7, we’ve got ‘er, get med on standby!” Ghost shouted into his radio.

You felt like the weight of the world was on your chest as you heaved in shallowed breaths. Your head rolled weakly to see Konig and Ghost leading the way. It wasn’t a dream, they were here. They came for you. You let out a small, painful chuckle, breath fading from you.

“Wren, keep those eyes open for me.”

“Wren, ya hear me lass? Wren? WREN!”

The sound of a heart monitor never came unfamiliar to you. You were used to the smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. It came with the territory, and it strangely made you feel at home. You only wished your body didn’t feel like it was on fire. A groan wrestled out of your dry throat and chapped lips as your eyes squeezed tighter. You were so thirsty. Finally cracking your eyes open, you were grateful to find yourself in a dimly lit room with the bed light only slightly illuminating the room. You blinked blearily, desperately trying to clear your vision. You were definitely in a hospital bed, clear by the stiff linen and the itchy hospital gown. You looked down to your arms wrapped in gauze bandages, reminding you of just how you got here. Of that puddle of crimson flesh and blood. Chills rain down your spine as the memories come flooding back.

You went to slowly lift your hand, only to find it weighed down by something. Only when you blinked again did you notice the massive frame lying hunched over on the bed. His arms laid over your legs, almost holding them. His mask partially lifted from moving his head as he dreamt, revealing the growing stubble on his chin. You slowly reached for him, wincing at the pain tingling your nerves. As your bruised fingertips brushed against his skin, his eyes snapped open, narrowing in on your right away. Konig’s gaze softened seeing your watery eyes on him.

“Maus…you’ve finally come back to me,” Konig whispered gently.

He sounded exhausted. Your eyes studied him, finding a splint on his leg.

“You’re hurt,” you croaked.

Konig shook his head, “a bit, but you shouldn’t worry-“

“How could I not worry?” You said, voice quivering.

Konig watched with mild surprise as the tear began to fall uncontrollable, rolling down your chin. You tried and failed to hide your face from him by throwing your arm over your eyes. Ever the awkward military man, Konig never really knew how to react around tears. But for you, it all came so easily. His warm hand found yours, holding it carefully like a fragile bird. Lifted it, bringing it under his mask and to his lips. He gently pressed his lips to the back of your cold hand.

“Mein schatz, please don’t cry,” Konig whispered.

“How- you, you could’ve- I could’ve lost you,” you whimpered like a kicked puppy.

Konig felt his heart break, “as long as you are safe, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Don’t,” you said, voice unwavering, “Konig, I swear to god, if you ever put yourself in harm's way for me, I will never forgive you or myself.”

Konig couldn’t tear his eyes away from you who finally looked at him.

“Why not?” Konig asked innocently.

You were stunned into silence. You found the answer alluded you, or at least weighed too heavily for you to speak it now. But the blush on your cheeks was indication enough.

“Because…you just can’t, alright? As long as you are with me, then you can’t, ever,” you said.

The words sounded childish coming from you — for God’s sake you had a medical degree! But they were perfect to Konig. The man couldn’t help but chuckle, rumbling deep in his chest.

“I will try my best to remain by your side, liebling,” he smiled, kissing your knuckles.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You wanted to shove them down in the name of professionalism, but you knew you were past that now. The two of you were indebted to each other, intertwined. And it felt so right. Konig stood over you, placing a lingering kiss on your forehead through the mask.

“Would you like me to call the nurse?” Konig said after finally pulling away. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, your eyes never straying from his, “no, can we…can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

Konig smiled, indicated by how his eyes crinkled, “of course, maus, whatever you wish.”

Konig sat back into his chair, his hand never leaving yours. You sighed as you both relaxed into the silence, finally safe in his presence. Finally home.

a/n: I am so, so, so, so sorry this took so long. As soon as my semester ended, I got right back to writing this. Thank you for being patient with me! Thank you for reading!

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