#for those who need a translation: he basically hes saying that he warned a crew member not to rebel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

The Crow’s Nest

The Crows x reader

words: 12.1k

warnings: underage drinking, fire, character death, guns

A/N: am I slowly indoctrinating you with my pirate obsession? perhaps... ;) this is based on a dream I had while reading the first book and it wouldn’t leave me until I had written it. Let me know what you think of it! <3

translations (part real languages, part fictional):

Teufel -- devil

Fortell meg -- tell me

Jer elsker pe -- I love you

Faen -- fuck, damn

Goede morgen -- good morning

The grey waves hit against the hull of The Teufel, rocking the ship back and forth in the restless water. The howling wind creeped around every corner, finding even the warmest spots to cool the air and sparing no one from its breeze. The old sails fluttered in the force of the wind and loud slaps could be heard whenever the canvas hit against the mast. Little raindrops were falling from the sky, creating a layer of damp on everything in the open.

Thunder sounded far away in the sky, back in the open sea, but The Teufel was going the other way. Kerch was approaching steadily and if the winds didn’t turn suddenly, the ship would reach land before the sun had fully set.

The coastline of Ketterdam, the city The Teufel would arrive at, was peculiar with its high buildings and built-up streets. The lights of the city lit up the sky like an orange halo in the darkening heavens.

You leaned with two arms on the railing of the ship, watching the city approach over the water. Behind you the strongest members of the crew were working on the sails, steering the schooner into the right direction. You listened to the shouts and orders with half an ear, imagining what the city of Ketterdam would be like and where you would go after the ship had moored. Unlike many of the older ones in the crew you had never been to Kerch before. In the last two years The Teufel hadn’t gotten close to the island, finding enough profit near the coasts of Novyi Zem. Three weeks ago, however, the captain had ordered to turn the sails and head South, much to your delight.

Your entire life you had heard stories about Kerch. When you were very little, you had asked your grandmother over and over again to tell you about her trips to Ketterdam. Though you had been too young to understand most of what her stories meant, you had adored how your grandma was able to take you to a different world with her words only. It was a gift that you most admired and one that she had passed on to you.

Your parents passed away in a futile attempt to protect the town against the brutality of the land’s council. You had been just seven years old and the surviving neighbours hadn’t known what to do with you, so you had been sent to a boarding school in the countryside. Far away from the danger of the city they’d said, but you had known it was just to get rid of you. You had grown up in a strict environment, in a house full of stern teachers and meek children. But even there you hadn’t forgotten about your grandmother’s stories. Although the students thought you were odd, they would all gather around you in the sleeping hall after midnight when the teachers were to bed and you would tell them a story the same way your grandma had told them to you.

The older you had gotten the more trouble you’d seemed to cause. Obeying the rules had soon proven not to be something for you, at least not when you thought the rules were useless. With every year you’d grown older, you had found more ways to plant mischief. The punishments had gotten harder every time but you had refused to bend to their rules. Eventually they had been the one to give up and they had kicked you out of the school. At the age of fourteen you had been a homeless orphan only good for trouble.

For weeks you had travelled on your own and you had ended up at the harbour, where you had stumbled upon The Teufel. At first the captain had refused to take you on; he had no use for a child. It had been your talent to speak Kerch, Ravkan and a little bit of Fjerdan that had gotten you on board the ship that would become your new home.

For the past two years you had travelled along with the crew, learning to live on the ocean. Not a moment you had regretted your decision. The crew had accepted you as part of their family. The captain, Nerseh, had taken you on as his own daughter, learning you the tricks of maintaining a crew. Mayranoush, the quartermaster, was a strict woman who had at first scared you because she had seemed to be so much like your teachers at the boarding school. After a while you had gotten used to her, however, and it was from her that you had learnt how to shoot and how to read people’s faces like an open book. From the sailing master you learned how to read maps and the gunners had tried to teach you how to aim, but you had never mastered that skill. Stefan had taught you how to fight with a sword, Marina taught you the ropes and Hai learned you basic first aid and other cures that were necessary in combat.

In two years you had learned enough to make yourself useful on the ship and you had grown from just their translator to a valuable member of the crew. The Teufel was your home and you could not think of a better place for you.

“Are you excited?” Stefan stood next to you and followed your gaze to the skyline of Ketterdam.

You tore your eyes from the city and looked at the big blond man with his bright blue eyes. When you first stepped on the ship he was the first one of the crew to approach you and you had been surprised by the Fjerdan’s conviviality. Your teachers had always taught you that the people from Fjerda were cold and distant. But ten minutes spent in Stefan’s company proved all of that wrong. He had guided you in your first weeks and now he was your best friend, and your first friend.

“I am,” you nodded. “I’ve been dreaming about this place since I was a toddler. I can’t wait to see what it's like.”

Stefan smiled at you and leaned down on the railing next to you, his arm against yours. A warm feeling washed over you and sparkles shot through your upper body. The wind had died down to a light breeze and your hair wavered behind your neck as the wind blew directly into your face. A scent of smoke, burned sugar and oil filled your nose and you closed your eyes, taking in the smell and registering the different scents. This was the essence that your grandmother had talked about and now you were experiencing it yourself.

When you opened your eyes you noticed that Stefan was watching you intently. You smiled and raised one arm from the railing so you could turn to him. He wanted to say something to you, you could see it in his face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he stammered, his pale cheeks blossoming red immediately.

“Fortell meg, Fjerdan,” you ordered Stefan to tell you and, though you didn’t think it was possible, his cheeks got even redder.

The big, blushing man looked away from you and cleared his throat. His gaze was pointed at his feet and then he turned it to the horizon. The wind was playing with the blond curls of his hair, that looked golden in the light of the setting sun. He cleared his throat again and then he mumbled something.

“I can’t hear you, doofus,” you laughed and nudged your shoulder against Stefan’s arm. “A little louder, please.”

Stefan sighed and turned his head to look at you. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on your upper arm. The feeling of his warm hand on your bare arm made your heart flutter. Your lips parted and you sucked in a little breath.

“Jer elsker pe,” Stefan whispered. I love you.

Your heart stopped. The pulse in your chest disappeared for a moment and when your heart beat again, it did twice as hard. Stefan was no Heartrender but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat too.

“Stefan, I—” you started, taking Stefan’s other hand in yours.

However before you could go on, Captain Nerseh appeared from his hut and started shouting over the main deck. “Stefan! I need you up front!” Nerseh said and he walked to the forecastle deck, ordering the rest of the crew on his way. Stefan was still standing in front of you, your hands holding his but his face turned to the captain. This one turned around. “Now, please!”

The Fjerdan let go of you and hurried away, leaving you on your own. You held onto the railing for support as you felt your weight shift to your legs. All the excitement you had felt just mere minutes ago had now completely vanished and you looked around panicky. Not even a lifetime on sea could have prepared you for that.

-=-=-

The Jolly Roger was changed for a neutral flag with the colours of Novyi Zem and The Teufel navigated into the Fifth Harbour of Ketterdam. Once the anchor had been lowered and the ship lay still, a small party was sent out to get stock while the others were free to go wherever they wanted.

Stefan was sent with the quartermaster, Mayranoush, and Hai for food and ammunition and he was off the schooner before you could follow him. You watched him leave the Harbour, standing on the main deck. His blonde hair shone in the last rays of sunshine and he was visible for a long time, until his figure disappeared in the bigger crowd. Gone before you could talk to him.

“I want y'all back at twelve bells,” Captain Nerseh said and he waved the rest of the crew off.

Hesitantly you walked off The Teufel onto the docks. The first few steps were wobbly and uneven, as it had been a few weeks since you had last walked on land, but after shaking your feet and legs, you got used to walking again. Those familiar tingles, that you always got when walking on shore after so long on sea, shot through your legs and you were filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Here on land the scent was even stronger, luring you into the streets. You glanced back at The Teufel over your shoulder and shrugged off the uneasy feeling you got at the thought of leaving your home behind in the harbour. Pulling up your boots a little, you turned away and stepped into the city, finally experiencing what you had dreamed of for so long.

The streets of Ketterdam were unlike any other place you had ever been. Big crowds of tourists and inhabitants were moving as one through the small streets of the Lid. Men, women and children all walked through each other, barely taking notice of the persons passing them. The lights coming through the shop windows casted yellow and white shapes on the cobblestoned ground, with which the shadows of the people danced.

You followed the crowd into the buzzing parts of town, falling in step with the other tourists. Many years ago your grandmother had told you that the Lid was filled with gambling houses and it was the place where the most tourists stuck around. And indeed, as you walked on the crowd gradually got thinner with people leaving right and left to fall into the temptation of the colourful buildings decorated with bright lights. Faint music combined with the loud chatter of people in all languages hung in the salty air, like a blanket that was thrown over this part of the city.

However, all that you could think of was Stefan’s face and his words. Jer elsker pe. In a haze you walked through the busy streets, hearing Stefan’s voice over and over in your head. His touch was imprinted on your skin, the place where his hand had been was burning hot on your arm.

You had known, that was the worst part. For a few weeks you had known. You had sensed it whenever he was looking at you or when he was touching you. The look on his face was different from before. There had been a softness on the Fjerdan’s face that hadn’t been there before. A weakness. It was an undeliberate thought, but it made its way in your mind anyway. If the past ten years of your life had taught you one thing it was that you had to hide your weaknesses. From enemies and friends.

It had been a particular hot night at the boarding school and you hadn’t been able to sleep. That day a new girl had arrived at the school and she’d sat down next to you at breakfast. Many of the others had scowled at her but she had ignored them and instead introduced herself as Lotty. It was the first time that someone had voluntarily come to you and the rest of the day you had spent getting Lotty familiar with the school and its surroundings.

You’d heard the girl stirring next to you and padded over to her. Upon seeing your face, a smile had spread on Lotty’s face and you had whispered: “Want to get out of here?”

Very cautiously you and Lotty had left the sleeping hall and on your toes you had run through the empty corridors of the school building. All the teachers had been asleep already and the big clock in the hall had showed that it was two hours after midnight.

The front door had opened with a small squeak and the dark night air had welcomed you and Lotty outside. The gardens of the boarding school surrounded the entire building with grass, flowers and low bushes. A sweet, humid scent had hung in the air, the result of the sun that had shone on the flowers all day.

You and Lotty had sat down in the middle of a flower bed and you had told her about everything. For the first time in your life you’d felt like you had a friend and you had trusted her with some of the secrets you knew about the school’s building. For hours you two had sat outside, until the sun had started to rise and the petals of the flowers had started to collect the morning humidity. As you had gotten up, you’d put your hand on the ground to push yourself up and you felt something crawl under your palm. You had squealed and stumbled back quickly, staring in disgust at the place where you had put your hand. There on the ground a thick spider had quickly crawled away under the flowers.

Lotty’d started to laugh and you had scolded her. Spiders had always scared you and no matter how much you’d tried to get over it, whenever you saw one you couldn’t help but shudder.

Back at the sleeping hall you had fallen into a restless sleep for the last few hours, dreaming of a thousand legs and jaws. When you’d woken up, Lotty hadn’t been there and at breakfast she had sat with the other children, not with you.

The next morning you had woken up with something crawling up your arm and the sound of laughter.

And now Stefan had shown you his weakness. Though you would never use it against him like Lotty had done to you, there was something that bothered you now you knew his weakness. What if unintentionally you would cause him trouble or danger?

“Watch where you’re going!” a man sneered and he roughly pushed past you.

You shook your head out of your thoughts and looked around. The bright gambling dens had been replaced by small, tall and crooked houses made by all different sorts of bricks and wooden beams for support. The streets were still busy but this was a different crowd. People with comical masks and cloaks moved in little groups, quickly and rushed, as if they were afraid someone would stop them. A few people wore gaudy suits and moved proudly over the streets, their hands in their pockets. The others wore more ragged clothes in dark colours and they walked with their heads down to the ground.

You were in the Barrel, undoubtedly. The gambling houses were still there, but more scattered. Still they weren’t much different from the ones on the Lid; a lot of dramatic lightning and flashing colours, all so that the most people would come in.

The East Stave was on your left. You had refused ever to step foot near the brothels on the West Stave. The horrid stories that your grandmother had told you had already been enough to keep you away and the rumours you had heard from the crew on The Teufel had only added to that.

Your legs were getting tired from walking so much and the unnerving thoughts were still whirling through your head. On The Teufel you would have searched for Stefan and gotten drunk with him hidden somewhere on the deck, but Stefan wasn’t here and The Teufel was far back in the harbour. So instead you searched for the least ostentatious building and eventually settled on a gambling club called the Crow Club.

A silver crow hung over the entrance of the club and you looked up to it as you walked under it, entering the building. You stepped into a big hall that was parted in two by a lowered floor in the back. The black lacquered walls had no windows and all sense of night and day was lost as soon as you stepped inside. The little clock around your neck told you it was little after ten bells. That meant that you had one hour and a half before you had to go back.

You sat on one of the crimson stools at the bar and ordered a drink from the man behind it. He eyed you for a moment and you noticed he was contemplating whether to give someone your age a drink, but he seemed to decide that profit is profit and poured you a drink. You watched him while he worked for a moment. He was not as old as you had thought him to be. The only wrinkles in his face were near the corners of his mouth and the cracks next to his eyes. His skin was dark bronze and his hair pitch black, almost like the walls around him. And what he lacked in height he seemed to be making up in strength, as his arms were muscular and he looked strong enough to throw a man twice his size out of the place.

The drink burned in your throat, but you threw it all in anyway. For a moment your gullet was on fire and the next moment it was gone. The years among a group of adult pirates had learned you how to take your drinks.

You asked the bartender for another and you didn’t miss the surprise on his face, but turned the other way, looking at the parlor around you. Most of the tables in the lower part of the room were occupied by a variety of people. In the left corner of the room sat a couple, their feet entangled under the table, but their eyes fanatically looking at the other.

At a table closer to you sat a woman in a bright red dress with feathers in her hair. From your place you could see the cards in her hand and if you stretched your neck a little you could also see the cards of her neighbour. The table was playing Ridderspel, a simple card game played with the lower numbers of the cards. It was a game to make little money quickly and one of the most played card games in gambling houses everywhere.

The woman had two sevens, an eight and a four of the crow-marked cards in her hand and she pushed forward four little red chips when the dealer asked to place the bets. Her neighbour pushed forward two grey chips and the man opposite of her one grey and one red one. The dealer collected the chips and stacked them in the middle of the table.

On The Teufel you had played many games of Ridderspel with the crew. However, after a while they had banned you from playing games for money. It hadn’t taken long for you to see connections between the faces of people and their cards. You could see a pattern in the order they played their cards and knew after showing the first card of the game who would win.

It had started with Ridderspel. One dark night under the light of a lantern you had been playing the game with Stefan and two others of the crew, Vinay and Cilka, when you had noticed that whenever Cilka got her cards the lightest frown would form on her face if she didn’t get good cards. It was invisible to anyone else, but you saw how her eyebrows would twitch shortly. You knew that everyone had their tells, some more obvious than others, but after that night you had searched the others’ signs. Vinay’s shoulders would slump a little if he had bad cards and Stefan’s eyes would flicker shortly over the table if his cards were good.

After you had learned their signs, you’d noticed that there was a pattern in the way they played their cards. If they had bad cards, they played the highest first, hoping to at least get a little out of the game. If they had good cards, they would hold their highest cards for the end, but they wouldn’t play their lowest card first either. It was a complicated strategy, a difficult trick on your mind, but after months of examining the game, both playing and from afar, you found the pattern. From there on it wasn’t difficult to find the patterns in other games and soon you were banned from playing games on the entire ship.

However, whenever you were on land and there was a gambling house in the city, the crew would often ask you if you could just play some games so they could get some money. You knew that with you playing at the table the game wasn’t fair anymore, but you would do it night after night if that meant you could do something for your crew.

Now, you knew that the woman in red had a good chance of winning the game. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and kept staring at her cards. So much for a bluffing face. The dealer asked to play the first card and the woman threw one of her sevens on the table. Not the highest and not the lowest. Her neighbours answered by throwing an eight and a five.

The next round was played and now the woman played her four, receiving another eight and a seven. She is playing out her opponents. If they wanted to win, they would have to change the course, but you feared it was already too late for them. The woman threw her eight on the table and the others a seven and a five. The last card was played and at her seven, the woman got a six and a four.

As the dealer started to count the points you turned away; you didn’t need to count the points to know that the woman in the red dress had won the game.

“Another one, please,” you said to the barman in Kerch and he nodded at you. Curiosity could be read off his face even by those who didn’t have your talent of understanding facial expressions.

When he gave you your glass his eyes lingered on your clothes and you realised how idiotic you must look in this environment. Though the people in the hall weren’t all wearing evening dresses or three-piece suits, you knew that someone in a black jacket and leather boots to their knees would stand out. Consciously you stroke a hand over the braids in your hair and looked at the bartender.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he noticed your looks. “Many tourists come dressed up.”

You tilted your head to the side and hesitated telling him the truth. Figuring there wouldn’t come much trouble from doing so, you sat up and shook your head. “These are my normal clothes.”

The barkeeper cocked an eyebrow and then went on with cleaning the glasses. You stared at the brown liquid in your glass before you knocked it back and softly placed your glass back on the bar. The movement caught the attention of the man behind the bar and he lifted the bottle, silently asking if you wanted another one.

“Sure,” you answered and pushed your glass forward.

The way the man filled the glass reminded you of how Stefan used to fill your glass. While you preferred to drink straight from the bottle, he would always insist on taking glasses from the galley.

“We can at least pretend we’re fancy,” he’d say, as you were hidden in the shadows of the back of the ship.

A faint smile played on your lips as you thought back of Stefan, but your inside burned as you heard his last words back in your head. Jer elsker pe. The truth was that you weren’t quite sure if you loved Stefan back. He had always been close to you and you appreciated him being such a good friend to you, but you didn’t love him the way he loved you. At least, that’s what you thought. You had never really experienced love before, so how could you know what it felt like?

“Maybe you should slow on those,” the bartender said as you placed yet another empty glass on the bar.

“No,” you rasped, fighting the burn in your throat. “I’ve had worse.”

“I can stop giving you, y’know?” the man said as you lifted your glass again for another.

“And not get paid? You wouldn’t.”

The barkeeper laughed and poured you another glass. This time you didn’t immediately drink it all, but you turned around on your stool and looked at the biggest table on the floor. It was an oval-shaped table, lined with the same crimson of the seat you were sitting on, and around it sat seven people. Dice lay in the middle of the table, surrounded by grey, black and red chips and a stack of cards.

Even in the noise of the other tables and people walking between them, the conversations at the big table were clear.

“You’re bluffing!” the man on the right shouted. He was big in all aspects someone could be big. The hems of his trousers were too high up his legs and the sleeves of his jacket were too short. The golden buttons of his blouse were about to burst and his hat kept sliding off his head because it didn’t fit well. His appearance was only mimicked more by his dark red cheeks and the little drops of sweat that were rolling down his face.

“Am not,” the lanky, dark brown man on the other side of the table said. He had a wicked grin on his handsome face and seemed to be in his element. His feet were lying on the edge of the table and he held his cards loosely in his hand, like they were to fall any moment.

“How could you—? You don’t— No one—” the big man started and the colour drained from his face. You had missed what the beginning of the conversation was, but surely it was not something the big man wanted to come out.

“Maybe you should try to keep such information to yourself,” the tall guy said. “Now, are you in or out?”

The surrounding men at the table nervously shifted in their seats as they looked at the big man. He patted his head with a silk handkerchief and stared at his cards for a moment. A new set of sweat seemed to pour over his forehead and eventually he threw his cards open on the table. ‘I’m out.’

The man got up from the table and he hurried away, followed by the other five men. They walked past you in a queue outside and when they were all gone, the guy at the table smiled pleased.

“He was bluffing,” you noted, after taking a quick glance at the cards that were lying open on the table.

“What?” the barman asked, who had watched the play with you, and you were reminded that you were not alone.

A warm rush spread in your cheeks and you turned your head to the bartender. “That guy was bluffing to scare the man away.”

The man squeezed his eyes at you and said a little too late: “Why’d you think that?”

“Look at the cards on the table,” you said and peered back at the big table. “That man on the left had two of the highest and the person two seats from him had another. I can’t see the cards on this side of the table, but whatever they are, this guy can never have enough to win.”

The barman looked at you for a few seconds. “How do you know?”

You looked out over the hall, scanning the games on other tables. “You learn things,” you shrugged and then nodded to a little table closer by. “See that guy? How he is glancing between his cards and the dealer’s hands?” The barkeeper leaned forward over the bar and looked at where you were pointing. “He has good cards and is trying not to let anyone notice it.”

The man leaned back from the bar and filled your glass without you even asking. He rested one hand on the bar and looked at you. “Where did you learn that?”

“Well, you have to do something on a ship,” you said, swirling the drink. “Eventually staring at the stars all night gets a bit boring.”

The barman snorted laughingly. “You’re from a ship?” Then he looked at your outfit again and he nodded. “Now that makes a lot more sense,” he mumbled. “When did you arrive?”

“About an hour ago,” you answered and pulled the clock from your blouse.

Meanwhile, the handsome guy from the big table walked to the bar and he greeted the bartender as he sat down one seat away from you. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and stopped at the guns on his hips. The clock lowered without you realising and you gave up on trying to hide your stare.

The two pearl-handled guns shone in the light from above and you shook your head in disbelief. Zemini-made revolvers were rare, and you would know. You had heard stories about them from your mates on The Teufel, but none of them had ever even had one in their hands. Only Nerseh in his younger years had owned one, but he had lost it in a battle. The Zemini guns were feared among your crew and there were two of them right next to you now.

“See anything you like, darling?” the guy asked and your eyes shot from his revolvers to his face. He had that same mischievous smile on his lips and there was a glimmer in his eyes as he raised his eyebrow at you.

“Those are pretty rare guns,” you said, ignoring the guy’s suggestive tone.

He took one of the revolvers from the holster and let it twirl in his fingers. Though you didn’t want to, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the ease with which the boy handled his guns. You had gotten quite familiar with your own guns, but you had yet to learn that.

The boy must have seen your googling eyes because he smiled a bit more real now and said: “I know, Zemini-made. You don’t find that very oft—”

“Faen!” you interrupted in Fjerdan, using the word that you had heard Stefan say so often. You had looked at your watch and realised that it was much later than you had thought it was. It was already a quarter till midnight and it would take you at least twenty minutes to get back to the harbour. You jumped from your seat, threw some coins on the bar and straightened your coat, mumbling: “Stupid windowless walls…”

Without sparing another look at the two guys you left behind you stormed out of the Crow Club into the street. Rain was pouring down from the sky and you shivered at the sudden cold. For a second you looked around and scanned your surroundings and then you hurried off in the direction you had come from.

People passed you in a blur of colours and shadows as you ran over the streets, desperately trying to find a way back to the harbour. The captain wouldn’t appreciate you being late and it would most likely cause you a night scrubbing the deck on a night you actually had been free. But perhaps Stefan would accompany you.

Your mind automatically seemed to find a way to think of your best friend. The situation in the gambling hall had taken your mind off him for a minute but now your logical senses were numbed by the alcohol the Fjerdan was back again. Stefan could’ve easily found his way back. The boy could find a route almost everywhere, even in a place you had never been before. He would just follow the direction of the sun or look at the leaves on a tree and know where you were.

But Stefan wasn’t there to guide you back. He was probably already back at The Teufel, waiting impatiently on you.

Every alley looked the same and all the gambling houses had the same flashy lights. You didn’t know if you were moving forward or just running in circles. Somewhere above in the sky you heard the twelve bells that told you you had to be back already. With the feeling you had passed the house on the corner of the street three times before, you ran on, ignoring the protesting people if you ran into them. You almost fell over your own feet and nearly stumbled into a girl dressed all in dark clothes.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pushing away from her softly but when you turned around to her she was nowhere to be seen on the street. You were too much in a hurry to worry about that and ran on, sighing in relief when you saw the fluorescent lights from the Lid.

The Lid was filled with more people than the Barrel you ran from and it was harder to manage a way through. You pushed and threw yourself between people, growing a little nauseous from the smell of so many bodies together combined with the smells that came from the kitchens around. As you hurried through the tourists, your breath was high in your throat and you could feel your heart beating in your head. Heavy breaths fell over your lips but you refused to take a moment to rest.

The glittery lanes were soon exchanged for the dark open space of the harbour. The cobblestones echoed the sounds of your footsteps as you ran. People shot you weird looks as you raced past them.

The closer you came to where The Teufel lay, the busier it became, but instead of searching for a reason you just hoped that you could still make it past them. However, the crowd became too big for you to run as fast as you had and you slowed your pace slightly. You zigzagged between people and pushed them aside, getting various insults thrown at your head. As you came closer to the inner circle of the crowd, you realised that they weren’t just randomly standing there; they were standing around The Teufel.

You stopped running completely and approached the busiest part of the crowd at walking pace. Now you weren’t focusing on your own thoughts you heard that the people were all muttering and talking with each other—and that the people closer to the water were screaming and shouting.

The few people that stood in between you and your destination you pushed aside softly and the closer you got the more you felt a strange heat on your face. When the woman in front of you stepped aside, your jaw dropped.

There, in the water, right where it had been when you left earlier this night, lay The Teufel completely in flames. Not a single part of the main deck had been spared, flames were reaching high up in the sky, eating the masts like a monstrous creature. Thick dark grey clouds hung above the ship in the dark blue night sky. The flames curled around the hull of The Teufel, like a devil claiming its prey. Wooden walls collapsed, iron melted and ropes caught fire, sending the flames up to destroy the crow’s nest.

Among the chaos on the shore and the sound of the fire, all you could think about was one thing. My family. The shouting and cackling couldn’t drown out the screams of terror that came from the belly of the ship. Cries for help, prayers to all gods and saints. Your crew was in there. Your people were inside of a burning ship. Your friends and family. They were all trapped.

It could have been you. If you hadn’t lost track of time, you would’ve been there with them. You would have arrived before the twelve bells, gone inside with the others and would be trapped in there now. It could have been you, but instead it was your crew. And you didn’t know what was worse.

There was nothing you could do. No way to run on the ship and free your mates without catching fire yourself. No way to stop that fire that was capturing The Teufel. No human could do it, no grisha either. This was more than an accidental fire, this was controlled. Don’t fight a bigger power without knowing its weaknesses. It was a phrase your father would say to you whenever you had been mad at the world as a child. The advice he had ignored before he had gone to fight his way into death. You didn’t know what the fire’s weaknesses were, if there were any weaknesses at all. All you could do was stand on the shore with your hands clasped over your chest and your eyes stuck on what had once been The Teufel. What had once been your home.

The screams of the crew were engraving themselves in your mind, cutting you open and leaving deep wounds. The last bit of your hope had been left behind on that ship and was now burning away, leaving nothing but a hollow chest.

Time passed by as you stood on the shore, watching the last remains of your home falling apart. You didn’t look away when the fire burst through the portholes in the hull of the ship and you didn’t flinch as you heard the last sounds you would ever hear from your crewmates. You took it all in, soaked your mind in the pain, feeling the shock and terror making place for fury. One day, you promised yourself. One day you would find a way to get revenge.

You knew that in a city like this news would spread fast. Surely before sunrise all the people in Ketterdam would know of the ship that had burned away in Fifth Harbour. You wouldn’t be safe; not from the questions of the people and not from whoever had done this. You were sure that they wouldn’t be too keen on having missed someone from the crew before they blew it up. Chances were big that, if anyone ever found out that you had belonged to The Teufel, your days would be numbered.

Fortunately you hadn’t told anyone you were part of The Teufel’s crew. Anyone but the barman at the Crow Club. You hadn’t literally told him, but you were sure he could put two and two together.

Once the fire had been settled and the ashes of the wood were only still smoldering, you straightened your back. You would find the barman and ask him not to tell anyone. Or perhaps you would find your ending in the streets of the Barrel. The Teufel had been your home for two years, but it was time to get moving.

-=-=-

The Crow Club stood proudly in front of you. Rain was running down your face, following the lines of your neck into your blouse. You were cold and your entire body was shaking but you knew that was more from the shock than the rain. In the back of your head you still heard the screams but you tried to block them out as you stepped to the gambling house.

As you walked closer to the entrance, a boy stepped in front of the door, blocking your way. He was huge with arms full of tattoos and a mouth full of crooked teeth, some of them missing, and when you approached him you realised he was watching you. He expected me. This guy had been waiting for you, he had known that you would come back. How could he?

Hesitating you went forward. You had already seen the gun on his belt and you were quite sure if you turned around and walked away he wouldn’t be afraid to use it. In front of the boy you stopped and leaned to the side to look inside the building.

“I’m sorry, could I go inside?” you asked, your voice mellow and innocent. “I would really like to warm up a little.”

The man just tilted his head to the side and his lips turned into a stupid grin. His hand rested casually on his gun, though you knew that all his moves had been precisely calculated. Whether by himself or someone’s orders was your next guess.

“You better follow me,” the boy said and his eyes glassily looked at you.

“Do I have a choice then?”

“No.” The man took his gun from his belt and easily pointed it to your chest. If he shot now he wouldn’t kill you, just harm you. So he wants me alive.

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled and lifted your arms in the air to show you were defenceless.

The guy roughly pushed you away from the door and held the barrel to your back as he led you away from the Crow Club.

You weren’t sure why the boy didn’t just put a bullet through your head. If he was part of whoever had burned down The Teufel, why would he want you to stay alive? The rest had been murdered mercilessly, what did they have in mind for you?

However, if he wasn’t not part of the fire, why did he want to have you at all? You couldn’t think of anything you had done wrong or of any danger you could be. You were pretty much just a harmless teen in a strange city.

The man pushed you through the street and over a bridge. You made a few turns into small alleys and streets, passing houses in all shapes and kinds. Behind some windows flickered a soft light, others were dark. You heard screaming from one house and music from the house next to it. Laughter of children and cursing from adults.

You stopped in front of a house that looked exactly like all the others; crippled and on the brink of collapse. The guy held his gun to you as he kicked open the door and then pressed the barrel deeper in your back to make you walk. Slowly you passed over the threshold and stood still in the hall of the house.

Much different from what you had expected, the inside of the house was not damaged like the outside. While the colours and construction did look old, the house was built to survive for longer than just a few years.

“Up,” the man mumbled and he nodded to the stairs.

You followed his order and headed up the stairs, feeling your legs ache from all the walking on land you had done in the past hours. Though you got used quite fast to the difference, a sudden change from sea to shore did have its effects on your body. Especially if you crossed an entire city twice in one night.

The staircase led to a landing with many doors. The house wasn’t particularly big and with that many doors, you figured the rooms must be small. You wondered what this house was used for. It almost had the feeling of a hostel, but there wouldn’t be many guests if putting a gun to someone’s head was their way of advertising.

“That room,” said the guy and he gestured at one of the doors in the corridor.

The wooden planks creaked under the weight of your body. The door of the room was closed and the man with the gun knocked on it with much more restraint than you expected from someone who had just abducted you from the streets.

It was silent for a moment as you and the man waited for the door to open. Your heart was beating in your throat and you swallowed deeply. Nerves were running through your body, sending tingles down to your fingertips.

The door opened and before you had time to look inside, the guy pushed you inside and closed the door again behind you. You were inside a small room, with a bed, a chair and a closet that put half the room in shadows. On the wall opposite of the door was a little window, showing the side of another building that stood next to the house. The window reminded you of the portholes inside the hold of a ship, your least favourite place as there was very little light.

However, the room didn’t have much space in your mind as your attention was caught by the person in the room. He could not be much older than you yet it felt like this boy had more character than an old man. His face was hidden in the shadows but you could make out the hard lines framed by sleek black hair. His eyes shone like emeralds under his dark brows and there was a malicious glance in them when they rested on you.

“Sit,” he spoke and the rock salt rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. “Please.”

You sat down on the simple wooden chair in the middle of the room, though you rather would’ve kept standing. The boy was towering over you now, standing in front of you, leaning on his cane. Your eyes slid to the silver handle under his gloved hands. It had the shape of a crow’s head.

“Who are you?” you asked, trying to calm the nerves you felt rushing through you. You weren’t necessarily afraid of the boy, but you also couldn’t deny the unease in your body.

The boy cocked his head to the side and the smallest wicked grin played on his lips. “An hour ago a ship was set ablaze in Fifth Harbour,” the boy said and you looked away from his stern gaze. “The Teufel. A rather bold way of naming a ship, after the devil, isn’t it? Nothing is left of The Teufel, no plank, no crewmate. Or at least, so is said. That is why you are here, not y/n?”

Your head snapped up to the boy and your eyes narrowed at him. “You know my name?”

“I know lots, y/n, and your name happens to be on that list,” the boy said and it was a little harder for him to hide his smirk. He’s enjoying it, you realised in disbelief. This is what he’s trained for. “I also know that you are the only living crewmate and that you visited my club this evening.”

“Your club?” You frowned—he seemed way too young to have a successful gambling club.

“Yes, my club,” the boy repeated and he shifted his weight, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “You sat at the bar and ordered more drinks in two hours than an average adult would in four hours.”

You looked back at your feet. You knew you had trouble staying away from the drinks, but that didn’t make it any nicer when someone pointed it out. At sea it had never really mattered—the others had drunk with you and as long as you did your duties successfully the captain didn’t care if you were sober or not.

“You spoke with no one and just watched the games, until my barman got some information out of you,” the boy went on and you felt his gaze on you. “He said you were able to determine the outcome of the game after just the first card was played.”

“So?” you shrugged. Surely that was not why the boy had gotten you there and it was definitely not something that was on your mind right now. All you could think of were the screams and the longer you sat in the dark room, the more cramped it became.

“Can you?”

“I don’t see how—”

“Answer the question.” His voice was hard and cold, but laced with curiosity that he failed to hide from you.

“I guess I can, yes.”

The boy stayed silent for a while and the tension in the room reached for your throat. You had never been one for small rooms, that’s why you had chosen for the sea. And now the anxiety of all that had happened that night was piling up on your chest, like someone pressing down on you. The walls were closing in on you, leaving you gasping for breath. Your clothes were still wet and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck, but you were no longer cold.

You clenched your hands around the fabric of your blouse, feeling it crumple between your fingers. But even in your panicked state you could see the change in demeanor in the boy. He planned this. He had known this would happen, he had deliberately put you in this room, knowing what it would do to you.

“What do you want from me?” you breathed, looking up to meet his eyes, and then added with an intensity you didn’t know was in you: “Did you kill them?”

The hard expression on the boy’s face fell for a moment as he looked at you. For a minute he turned into a boy his age, someone with a soul. “I promise you I didn’t kill them. I had nothing to do with the fire.” Then he straightened his back and slammed his cane on the floor, pulling himself out of the moment. “I have business. We’ll continue in the morning.”

The boy limped to the door and the cane suddenly made more sense. He pulled the door open and stepped through it when you interrupted him.

“Who are you?”

He looked over his shoulder and casted a dark glance at your figure. You had stood up from your chair and were still holding onto the back for balance. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t read and you feared that it wouldn’t be the last time that happened.

“Kaz Brekker. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

-=-=-

The mattress you were lying on was lumpy and hard, forcing your back to straighten in a way it never had to. The blanket was itchy and heavy and pressed hard on your chest, not allowing you to take deep breaths.

You were shifting in and out of sleep, unable to tell reality from imagination. One moment you were staring at the dark ceiling above you, the next you were sitting alone in the hold of The Teufel. The room around you moved in front of your eyes, the shadows dancing on the walls. In the ship, water slowly rose around you. You tried to get up, tried to run away, but it was as if you were glued to the floor. Unable to move you sat waiting for the rising water to reach for your throat.

Something moved in the room. It was a flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye but enough for you to notice. You forced your eyes open, but the water was rising so quickly it was impossible for you to focus on anything else. The water level was at your jaw now. You took a final breath and the shadow in the room moved again. Closing your eyes against the water, it rose above your nose.

Then there was more movement. The shadow was coming closer to you, moving with the grace of a cloud.

Feeling the water on your face, you opened your eyes and shot up in the bed. The water disappeared and you were in the dark room again, shaking and coughing. Yet the threat wasn’t gone; the shadow was still in the corner.

You shifted to the side and rested your back against the cold wall, looking at the shadow in anticipation. While your heart was beating in your throat, you calmly looked ahead of you until the shadow moved from the corner.

“How did you see me?” the shadow asked and you shrugged.

“You move like a spider.” And I’m afraid of spiders.

Out of the shadows stepped a young girl, hidden in a flowy cloak that moved along with her. The lack of light threw a veil over the room, covering it with a black and white filter, but still you could make out the brown skin of the girl and her almost black eyes, that were staring right at you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though it would be no surprise if the girl had something to do with your meeting with Brekker a few hours ago.

“Look,” the girl said and she moved to sit next to you on the bed. You caught a shimmer of something near her wrists, but when you looked at her she was wearing a light smile. “This isn’t the worst place to end up. You have walked through these streets; you know where you could have ended.”

You thought back of earlier this evening when you were walking through the roads of the Barrel for the first time. The girl was right; if you hadn’t been brought to where you were now you could have turned into the colourless types that you had seen or, worse, you could have ended up in one of the brothels.

“Kaz doesn’t just take anyone in,” the girl continued. “He must think you have some use, or he would have left you on the streets.”

You snorted; that wasn’t exactly a much better prospect.

The girl must have guessed your thought because she chuckled shortly. “I know it does not seem like it now, but trust me—this is the right place to be.”

Silence filled the room for a minute as you thought about the girl’s words. Instinct told you that you could trust her, and that her trust once lost, was lost forever. There were so many questions you wanted to ask her but you were afraid of the answers. You preferred mystery over knowledge right now.

The shadow girl was looking at you with pity on her face, like she felt bad for your situation. There was sympathy behind her eyes and compassion in her touch as she placed her hand shortly over yours, giving it the lightest squeeze.

“What’s your name?” you asked, your throat tightening at the threat of tears.

The girl stared at you for a second and then she gave you a smile. “Inej,” she said. “But you might hear of me as the Wraith.”

Inej got up from her place on the bed and walked to the door. Her cloak fluttered behind her through the air as she walked, falling against her legs when she halted. She turned around to you. “Kaz will send someone to get you in the morning.”

“What will happen?”

“I don’t know what he has planned,” Inej sighed. “But I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do.”

She shot you a final smile and left the room silently. The shadow disappeared as quietly as it had come.

-=-=-

You didn’t know if you had slept at all. Undoubtedly you had dozed off for a while, but for most of the night you had just lain on your back staring at the stains on the ceiling above you. When the morning sun had brightened your room, the hope that it might all be a dream had disappeared when reality came in crashing hard.

The clothes you had worn last night had dried from the rain, but they no longer brought the comfort they used to. Here wearing those clothes meant that you stood out; you couldn’t blend in. When the same guy as last night had knocked on your door and ordered you to follow him you had left your jacket behind, deciding that the rest of your outfit was conspicuous enough on its own.

Last night in the dark the house had been silent, but now you heard noise everywhere. There were many more doors than you had thought and behind every one lay a secret. The house seemed bigger now it was light. Although there was no direct sunlight in the corridors you could sense that it was day. Last night you had felt mystery as you had walked through the corridors but now it felt more like the boarding school you had gone to with all the whispers.

“Where are we going?” you asked the boy who had brought you to this house.

“Crow Club,” he grumbled and then kept silent.

You walked the same route you had last night, but now the streets were deserted and the houses quiet. The Barrel was the part of Ketterdam that lived at night.

The big, silver crow that hung above the entrance of the Crow Club like a guardian quickly came to your sight and you shivered lightly. Entering that club was what had gotten you in this situation and you feared you would only get deeper in this mess when you entered again.

However, the big guy behind you left you no choice and before you even had time to think he had already pushed you over the threshold.

Stumbling inside you were greeted by the same black, windowless walls and the same stuffed scent. The crimson stools at the bar were unoccupied but the tables on the gambling floor were played on, despite the early hours. Games of Ridderspel and Spijker were in full motion as you were led through a door on the side of the room.

“Close the door behind you, Pim,” a voice from the shadows said and the boy who had led you there, apparently named Pim, closed the door.

You looked at the strange scene in front of you. You hadn’t known what to expect but it sure wasn’t a gambling parlor. There was one big table in the middle of the room and around it stood eight chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied and with a jolt you recognised the boy from the Zemeni guns.

“Goede morgen,” he smiled at you as he leaned back in his chair. “Care for a game?”

“What?” You stood rooted to the ground, staring in confusion at the guy at the table.

From the shadows on the side of the room Kaz Brekker stepped. The loud, rhythmic thud from his cane on the floor was the only sound in the room as he walked to the table. He stopped in the middle and looked up at you with his hard cold gaze.

“Play a game,” he said, resting his two hands on the crow head of his cane.

“I don’t understand,” you tried.

“It’s easy,” Brekker said. “You said you were good at card games, right? So prove it—play a game with Jesper.”

Jesper, the boy at the table, flashed his smile full of white teeth at you and raised his eyebrows. It felt like a trap, but you couldn’t forget what Inej had said to you that night. I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do. An invitation to a game wouldn’t be your end.

Behind you Pim stepped closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder to push you forward. Within a second you had turned around and taken hold of his arm, twisting it dangerously close to breaking. The boy looked at you with somewhat of fright on his face and there was a little wave of triumph in your stomach. The emotions of the situation got the better of you and your heart was racing as you felt the anger rushing through your veins.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed through gritted teeth and pushed his arm a little further. “Understand?”

Pim’s eyes flashed to the two people behind you and he recollected himself. He pulled his arm from your grip and stepped back to the door, avoiding your eyes and looking gruffly ahead.

You turned around and found Jesper looking at you in awe and even Brekker couldn’t hide his surprise. Then you nodded at the two men and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Let’s play then.”

Brekker nodded approvingly and shuffled the cards with his gloved hands. Your eyes were glued to the smooth movement of the crows imprinted cards. They slid through the fingers of the pale black-haired smoothly like water.

“I assume you know Ridderspel?” the gloved dealer asked as he placed four cards in front of you on the table.

“Of course,” you said, watching Jesper intently as this one got his cards.

Because everything in the situation was new for you, it would take you two or three rounds before you would get used to the game. All, from the cards and chairs to your opponent and the dealer, was unfamiliar to you and combining that with the pressure of supposably your life on the line only made it easier to overlook things.

Therefore you had to pay extra attention, and mostly to Jesper. His easygoing attitude and big smile were dangerous tricks that could throw you off without any difficulty but you wouldn’t fall for them. You were looking for little things that would give him away, like the slightest falter of his smile, a tiny frown or nervous twitch.

Jesper picked up his cards and you watched him from the corner of your eyes as you pretended to look at your own cards. For this round however those wouldn’t really matter. First you had to find Jesper’s tell. That you might lose and give him confidence was only an additional benefit; people made more mistakes when they’re blinded by the price.

At first nothing seemed to happen. Jesper kept the same smirk on his face and played the round with nonchalance, taking all but one pair in the game. Triumphantly he leaned his chair back on two chair legs and stacked his chips in front of him.

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get it later,” he said, giving you a wink.

You shot him a sweet smile back and took the new cards off the table. After one look you had them memorised and you looked at Jesper. He was looking at his cards with sparkles in his eyes, but yet again it was no different than before.

Silently you cursed yourself. Last night he had seemed so open and easy to read, but you realised now that there were many more layers to the guy with the pearl-handled revolvers.

Again you lost the game, now with all your cards being lost to Jesper. His pile of red chips was building and yours was only getting lower. You looked at your chips. If you didn’t win soon the game would be over and you’d lose, and you didn’t want to think what consequences that had.

The third game were the last cards of the deck before it was shuffled again. Your hand was to your benefit with no card lower than six. You knew there weren’t many high cards, if any at all, left in the game since Jesper had beaten you with high numbers every time. That meant that he would have low cards and now was the perfect time to watch his reaction.

You took a new approach to finding his tell. Instead of focusing on his facial expressions, that he proved to have under control, you now concentrated on his body language. His shoulders hung relaxed and his arms were resting on the edge of the table. Though you couldn’t see his legs under the table, you knew they weren’t standing neatly on the ground but were instead crossed or at least moving. Nothing in his posture gave him away.

Until it did. It was a flash of a second, if you’d blinked you wouldn't have seen it. For a fraction of time Jesper’s shoulders fell and his arms stiffened. No one else in the room noticed it, but your senses became hypersensitive.

Then, when you looked at his face, you saw more. His smirk wasn’t genuine anymore and the sparkles in his eyes weren’t as bright as before. It were minuscule changes, but big messages to you.

“I raise,” you spoke calmly and you pushed forward the last of your chips. It was all or nothing.

You saw Brekker raising his eyebrow in the corner of your eye, but you were focused on Jesper. His brows furrowed a little and he pushed forward the same amount. Though he had chips left, if you won this round you would have much more than he, meaning you won this game.

“Let’s play,” you grinned and opened with your six, your lowest card, but still a rather high card.

Jesper’s card would be crucial. If he had higher than a six, he would play that and you wouldn’t win the game. If he had a six, he would play that one and the cards would be evened out, but you would know that the six was his highest card. If he played anything lower than a six it would mean that you had won the game, for no one would lose a round on purpose and play a lower card when they had a higher one.

Expectantly you looked at Jesper. His smirk had gone and made place for a frown as he looked at the card on the table. His joyful bluffing face was nowhere to be seen and a sigh fell from his lips when he realised his defeat. He threw a five on the table and sunk back in his chair.

With a grin on your face you played the rest of the round and won all Jesper’s cards. At the end of the game, you rested your chin on your folded hands and smiled at Jesper. “You know what?” you started and Jesper looked up at you. “I think I got it.”

-=-=-

Kaz and Jesper had left the room after the game and Pim was standing on the outside of the door, making sure no one would get in. They had not said a word to you when they left and now you were alone in the silent gambling parlor. At least, that’s what they wanted you to believe.

“Inej,” you said. “Come out please.”

No matter how focused you had been on the game, you hadn’t missed the little shadow sneaking inside near the end. And you hadn’t missed how Brekker’s eyes had shifted to one particular corner while he was watching your game with Jesper.

The girl appeared from the shadow and silently walked over to you, giving you a small smile. “How did you know I was here?”

“Because you wanted to be seen,” you simply said and by the way her eyes widened you knew you were right. “I don’t really know you, but I have the feeling you can be really invisible if you want. Me seeing you is not a coincidence or special talent of mine. You wanted me to see you.”

Inej chuckled softly and shook her head. “How do you do that? Knowing what I feel by just looking at me?”

You smiled and shrugged. “I had a tutor,” you said. “Mayranoush was her name. She taught me how to know people before they even see you.”

The memory of The Teufel’s quartermaster hurt. The weird situation you were in had taken your mind off the loss for a moment, but now there was nothing to distract you the pain came double as hard.

You thought of your crew and how much you already missed them. Captain Nerseh and his brusque manners but warm heart; Marina and her cheerfulness; Vinay, who was the only one who still had wanted to play games with you. You missed them all so much and you couldn’t believe that they weren’t there anymore.

But the one you missed the most was Stefan. He had been your best friend for the past two years, you had spent every day together and never had you thought you’d have to say goodbye. You thought of his last words to you. Back then you hadn’t known what to say, but now as you were sitting there without him you knew that you loved him too. But it was too late.

“Jer elsker pe,” you whispered to yourself.

“What?” Inej asked and you looked up. You had forgotten she was sitting next to you, so silent she was.

“Nothing,” you mumbled and then turned to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” Inej answered and she smiled at you.

“Have you ever loved someone?”

Inej’s eyes flickered to the door Kaz had just left through and then she looked at you in silence for a minute. “No,” she said finally. “Never loved like that. Why?”

You stared at the upholstered table in front of you and swallowed away the pain in your throat. “I just… It hurts so much. Everyone always says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world, but no one ever mentions the pain…”

“Maybe the pain makes you appreciate it more,” Inej said. “Often we don’t see what we have until it’s gone.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and you shook your head. Inej was right; you hadn’t known you loved Stefan until he was gone. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way you could get the Fjerdan back and you wouldn’t turn into a mess trying to find one. You would keep your love for him deep in your heart until it was nothing more than a memory.

“Life’s not fair,” you said and you wiped the tears from your face. “But I’ll get my even.”

“How?” Inej asked and you turned to her.

“I will find who burned down my home and I will destroy them to the ground they’re standing on.”

“I suggest you find help for that,” the cold voice of Kaz Brekker said.

You looked to your side to meet Kaz and Jesper. Pim was standing inside of the room again, still avoiding your eyes when you looked at him. Jesper was watching you with a smirk and he winked at you when he caught your eyes.

Finally you turned to Brekker, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression. There was something playing around his lips that you would almost call a smile and his eyes had lost the ice cold gaze.

“Who do you suggest?” you asked, looking up at Kaz.

He shrugged half and said, before he walked away: “I have some connections.”

Pim and he disappeared behind the door and you were left dumbfounded with Inej and Jesper. The latter placed his hand on your shoulder and chuckled. You looked between him and Inej and raised an eyebrow. “What just happened?”

“I think you just became a member of the Dregs.”

- - - - -

special thanks to @awritingtree for the support and encouragement <3

there’s no taglist yet, but let me know if youw ant to be added to the SoC-taglist!

MASTERLIST

#six of crows #six of crows imagine #crows x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa imagine #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #soc #six of crows x reader #the crows x reader #crows imagine #the crows

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djadins · 3 years

Text

aurora glow | thrawn x f!reader — part two

warnings: if you squint there is fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.8k

Thrawn requested your company through the rest of the day in order to have you available for any questions he might have. You trailed behind him as he ordered his men around effortlessly. Some were scrounging in the woods around you, some were working on repairs. Others were guarding the perimeter that had been set up. The plan was to shut the backup power on the ship off at night when work had ceased and only to turn it on when work began again at daybreak.

You warned Thrawn that it got dangerously cold at night in the fall in this part of the country, especially now after the flare.

He did not seemed too concerned at this, as his men would return to their bunks at night unless they were on perimeter patrol. He mentioned that there was a place for you, too, to sleep on the ship and refused when you offered to sleep in the warehouse instead.

“Absolutely not. You may not be one of my men, but you are under my protection now and I will not have you sleeping out here alone.”

You wanted to mention that there in fact would be troops outside and that you may feel slightly more comfortable in semi-familiar territory (as you had been used to sleeping in whatever abandoned buildings or caves you could find) but you decided not to say anything. You had a feeling if you said what you were thinking, he would insist that you sleep in the ship anyways.

The sun was soon setting and your stomach groaned. You only had a breakfast of some foraged berries this morning and although you were used to eating light, it had been at least 12 hours since your last meal. Thrawn turned around to face you, chuckling slightly. The man he had been speaking to looked like you, but was not from Earth. He was in a greenish gray uniform, one of the men who had been working on repairs inside of the ship. “This is Ensign Eli Vanto, my translator and friend.” Thrawn gave Eli your name and he bowed slightly.

When Eli excused himself, you looked up curiously at Thrawn. “Translator?”

He hummed in response. “Yes, in the part of space I am from, we speak a language far removed from the common tongue. Although I was vaguely familiar with Galatic Basic, Eli was from a planet near to mine and we both could speak a different, common language. He then was assigned as my translator.”

You assumed Galatic Basic was like English, because you had been communicating with Thrawn this whole time without Eli.

“Once the ship is repaired and we are back on mission, I will do my best to tell you all about the galaxy. Eli will be able to fill in whatever I cannot.”

You murmured a thanks. “I would like to learn about your planet,” you said softly.

Thrawn seemed surprised at your statement. “I’d be happy to share it with you.”

You both walked in silence the rest of the way to where some men where preparing dinner. There were at least 10 fires going with large cauldron-like pots balanced on top of them. A thick, delicious smelling soup was inside, although you already knew that you would be unfamiliar with the ingredients. Thrawn had ordered all perishables to be used for dinner.

You were impressed by the efficiency of the men. They were clearly used to feeding a ship full of people, but still. Multiple tables had been moved outside of the ship to hold trays, plates, bowls, silverware as well as foods you did not recognize. What you assumed was fruits, vegetables and other side dishes.

Thrawn must have noticed how wide your eyes had become because he gently put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t realized how cold the end of the day was becoming until you felt the heat radiating from him. “Don’t worry if there is something you try and do not like. It took me a while to become familiar with my food preferences.”

You realized based on his last comment and this one that his part of space must really be separate from the Empire that he talked about. You had seen other men in his crew that did not look human-like, and more of what you had imagined aliens might look like, but there was nobody else so far of those you had seen that had looked like him.

At one point, he had gone through the same thing you were going through now.

Thrawn led the way, being the Captain allowed him the first meal. You being an honored guest meant you got to follow behind him. He passed you a tray with an empty bowl, plate and silverware on it. “If I may make a suggestion?”

You nodded in response. He hummed approvingly. “I’ll pick out your food based on my own personal preferences. If you see something you take interest in that I’ve missed, please add it to your tray.”

You nodded again and Thrawn’s lips curled upward. You followed close to him as he loaded both of your trays up with the same exact meal. You saw something that looked like raspberries that you added to you plate. At the end of the lineup, one of the workers filled both of your bowls with the chowder.

You followed Thrawn to a log not far away and were surprised when he sat on the ground, his back against the log. You both ate in silence next to each other, apart from the inquiries he had about the food’s taste. You were surprised at how much you liked everything on your tray, trying a bit of it all.

You became full rather quickly and knew that you should stop eating. This was entirely way more food than you had been used to in years.

“Everything alright?” he asked between bites.

“Very good, thank you. I’m just not.. not used to eating this much. I don’t want to get sick.”

Eli joined the both of you in that moment. He slid down on the other side of you against the log.

You listened as the men talked while eating about the state of the ships repairs so far. It sounded optimistic to you, but you knew that in reality you had absolutely no idea what most of it meant.

One of the soldiers started a fire in front of the three of you after the sun went down. Another man took your, Thrawn’s and Eli’s tray.

You looked across the encampment at your fellow Earthlings. They had been given a small tray filled with food to share amongst themselves, eating with hands bound in front of them.

Thrawn grabbed your attention when he noticed you observing them. “Do you have any suggestions on what we should do with them?”

You shook your head no. The laws of men no longer existed. “What would happen if they did this in the Empire?” you asked.

“They would be.. executed.”

You shivered, even with the heat of the fire and Thrawn’s body heat at your side. Though you weren’t touching each other, it was radiating off of him in a blaze against you.

“What would happen to them if your planet wasn’t in ruin?” came a voice from the other side of you.

Thrawn tsked at Eli’s carelessness even though he himself had admitted to you that your planet was dying just after meeting you. Thrawn noticed when you tensed up.

“They would probably be jailed,” you thought aloud.

The three of you looked over at your fellow humans. “We do have a brig, though I do not want them on the ship,” Thrawn admitted.

“We will watch them, for now. Depending on their behavior, we will let them go when the time comes for us to leave.”

You weren’t sure if he was saying that for you or Eli.

You watched the flames of the fire while Eli and Thrawn resumed talking about the plan for leaving. At one point you shivered and Thrawn immediately stretched his arm out behind you on the log. He was barely brushing against your back, but it was enough to warm you a little more.

Eventually Eli left to get some shut eye, leaving just you and Thrawn. You both sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying the night. If it weren’t for the bustling of his men around the various scattered fires or the patrols off in the distance, you might have fallen asleep out here next to him.

“Why don’t I show you to your room?”

You looked up at his eyes, shining and reflecting the fire. You nodded and he stood gracefully in one movement. He held his hand out towards you and easily picked you up on your feet when you gave him yours.

This time you walked just past what you remembered to be Thrawn’s office door. As the backup power was now off, he had to use one of those suction cup thingies to open your door. He waved you inside and you walked into the room in front of him.

The room was lovely and big. “Meant for any visiting dignitaries,” he explained, as if reading your mind. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”

Thrawn explained how to use the lantern and then left you to settle in. You unpacked what little you had in your bag — a few snacks (apples, nuts), a tattered, thin blanket, along with your rotating small pile of clothes. You had recently washed them all in a stream and folded them neatly to place into the dresser. You put your 9mm in between the stack.

Thrawn had noticed it earlier in the day and said that you wouldn’t need it while here, but if it made you feel safe, then you were welcome to keep it on your person.

You slipped out of your boots, putting the knife you carried inside under the fluffy pillow on the bed at the end of the room.

You pulled out your toothbrush and the plastic water bottle that you had filled yesterday and poured a little water on it. You swished the brush around your mouth for about two minutes and then put it on the sink top. You flicked your tongue over your teeth to make sure they felt smooth.

You refrained from looking at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom, instead opting to change into the clothing you usually slept in — a light pair of joggers and a baggy t-shirt.

You settled into the bed — it was surprisingly comfortable. Even with your blanket on top of you, however, the bedding provided little warmth. Now that you weren’t moving, you were starting to get very cold. You quickly slipped out of bed to put two pairs of socks on your bare feet.

It didn’t seem to help you much. Just as you couldn’t take it anymore and were about to put on every piece of clothing you owned, there was a soft knock at the door. Thrawn called out your name. “May I come in?”

You told him to come in and slipped out of bed to meet him at the door. Your teeth were nearly chattering but you closed your jaw tightly.

“I wanted to make sure you were getting settled.. are you alright?!?” Thrawn’s tone went from calmed to what you imagined was worried soon after he walked inside. You hadn’t seen this much emotion on his face since you had met this morning. He walked up to you and you resisted the urge to bury your face into the heat you knew his body would be giving off. “Your temperature has dropped drastically since I left.”

You couldn’t stop your teeth from chattering when you talked. “I.. its.. c.. c.. cold.. in h.. here.” An uncontrollable shiver ripped through your body.

Thrawn immediately enveloped you in his arms. Your tense body loosened in the warmth of his grip. He had changed out of his uniform and was wearing a tight black shirt and black pants similar to yours. You could see that his body was rather defined now that he wasn’t hidden under all that armor.

“This won’t do,” he said under his breath. You shivered again, but no longer because you were cold. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up bridal style. With one hand, he closed the door to your room and opened the door to his, the other supporting your weight.

After closing his door behind him, he carried you through his quarters. Past his desk in the door you had seen earlier, was a short hallway. Connected was a training room, bathroom and bedroom that you could see in your quick pass through.

He sat in his bed against the headboard, with you still in his arms. He positioned you in his lap and then brought his blankets up and around the both of you.

“Apologies, I did not realize. You warned me it would be cold for you tonight and I didn’t know the extent of it.”

You shook your head. “I mean it as a warning for everyone, but.. thank you.”

“I hope this doesn’t bother you, but it was my.. instinctual response.”

You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt to be touched by another person again after so long so instead you told him that it was okay with you.

He had one arm wrapped around you, supporting your back and reached onto his bedside table for a small looking tablet. When you peered at the screen, there was a bunch of letters arranged in words you did not recognize.

“I usually update my daily log at the end of the night. If it aggravates you, please let me know.”

You were surprised at the events that had transpired in the last few minutes. Not that he had been rude to you at all today, quite the opposite, but his attitude and demeanor were entirely different than they had been all day. Although you had seen a little bit more of his softer side when you had been alone with him, he had remained fairly impassive all day. He was commanding when talking to his men (well, except for Eli).

Now here he was, hoping not to disturb you after carrying you into his quarters. Keeping you warm, in his lap, in his bed. It was unexpected to say the least.

“I don’t mind,” you told him.

He began softly speaking in another language and as he did so, writing filled his tablet. You were mesmerized by it even if you had absolutely no idea what he was saying. He would pause every once in a while, or erase a few lines and change something.

His voice startled you out of your stupor. “Feel free to ask me anything, if you have questions.”

You hummed. “What are your people called?”

“Chiss. I’m from a planet called Rentor, in the Unknown Regions.”

You nodded at his pad. “And is this your native tongue?”

“Yes, its called Cheunh.”

You settled against his a little more. “It’s very pretty.”

He turned to face you a little more. “Really? Most other species I’ve encountered think it is harsh to the ears.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

He paused for a moment. “Are you warm enough?”

You nodded against his chest. After a few moments of silence, he continued his entry. When you heard your name, you looked up at him.

“Just recording everything that happened today,” he explained.

You listened to him for a bit longer, watched the letters appear on the screen, before the drowsiness pulled your eyes closed.

“Thrawn?”

“Mmm?”

You paused as you thought how to phrase your question. “Are you the only one of your kind in the Empire? Chiss, I mean.”

“..Yes.”

You understood it a little better now. You were both alone in your own ways and he recognized that piece of himself in you.

You were curious as to what he was saying every time you heard your name brought up, but were too tired to ask. You weren’t sure if that would be pushing it either, however you had a feeling that he was willing to answer most of your questions.

Your breathing was starting to slow down, you mouth slightly agape. You hadn’t opened your eyes since you initially shut them. You heard a light clank as Thrawn reached over and set his tablet back down on the table beside his bed. He shifted you off his lap and over to the side of the bed that you both weren’t currently occupying. You were hardly aware of what was happening, as sleep overcame you.

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Mirdal’ika (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Reader takes care of the Razor Crest and the child while Mando is out hunting. When Mando doesn’t return when he’s supposed to, the book-smart reader has to learn some street smarts and help her Mandalorian.

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, cussing, mentions of blood

A/N: Okay, I’m a nerd, a certified nerd as if that wasn’t clear. This is my love letter to the nerds out there, to the ones who had their first kiss a little late, who stayed in and read books rather than partying. I love you, you’re cool. Italics are for emphasis and internal dialogue, but in some places also to show that another language is being spoken. Hopefully that’s clear! Oh, also: mirdal’ika is a word of my own creation. No Mando’a word exists for “nerd” that I could find, so this is my interpretation of the language using my best etymological skills!

mirdala= intelligent, clever -’ika = suffix meaning small or little mirdal’ika = intelligent little one; Mando’a slang meaning nerd.

Growing up, you were the kid who had her nose buried in a book at all times. You rarely interacted with the outside world. While the other children on Tatooine made sandcastles or played games, drawing in the sand, you read encyclopedias and fact books, learning about the other planets in your systems and other cultures. Your fixation at age 12 had been on Mandalorian culture, fascinated by the warriors that were like faraway, mythical knights to your young self. As a child enraptured by fairy tales and stories of intergalactic heroes like Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, you’d somehow always been enchanted by the bad-boy type, the dark and mysterious man who reluctantly saves the day, more along the lines of Han Solo. Naturally, the fact that Mandalorians never showed their face was mysterious, and you’d admit that you dreamed of being swept away by the Mand’alor and having the privilege of being the sole person to see their face, of being a queen and finding true love. You later moved on to research other cultures, even teaching yourself various galactic languages should you ever get the chance to travel. That didn’t seem likely, growing up on a planet where the only claim to fame was Luke Skywalker’s brief residence a few towns over. Your knowledge of Mandalorian culture was part of what made you so special to Mando, your employer-friend-coworker-roommate-co-parent whose name you had yet to learn. You never asked questions of him. Never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked him what was under it, never asked anything too personal, understood that the helmet could only come off in front of members of his clan. You’d cut him off and finish a sentence when he’d explain something of his customs to you, stunning him with your knowledge. He liked it, and by association he liked you. You had bore much of your life story to him, and he gladly would’ve given you some of his. He had come to like you, to trust you even, but you never asked. For fear you wouldn’t want to hear it, he held back. You even spoke Mando’a, though he didn’t know that. It always brought a smirk to your face as he’d turn his back after calling you some sweet words in his native tongue, thinking you’d be oblivious. It shocked you at first; you didn’t expect such a stoic and silent man to be so openly flirtatious, but after a while it most certainly grew on you. You would tease him equally in another tongue, calling him handsome or dashing in Pak Pak or Bothese. It was fun, the way he’d try to guess what you were saying, usually assuming it meant something negative.

With your vast knowledge of languages, you’d both expected that you would be able to interpret the words of Mando’s adopted son, that his babbling would be easily deciphered into some species’ tongue. Eventually you realized that he wasn’t speaking a language yet, simply regurgitating syllables like any child would. He was a baby, after all. You set out to make it your mission to teach the child languages when Mando was away, and he had begun to identify the meaning of words, even if he couldn’t say them himself. He could identify body parts on himself, you by your name, and Mando by his; well, the name you called him, which you knew wasn’t his real name. Mando had taken you on as a crewmate for the Razor Crest a few months ago now, and you still knew next to nothing about the beskar-clad warrior. He was a forward man, so you assumed he would tell you things when he was ready. That’s about all you knew: he was a man, and he was a Mandalorian. He wanted to tell you everything, especially the fact that he had been enchanted by your intelligence and wit since the first time he met you, stopping on Tatooine for a bounty and encountering you when he asked a fellow villager who the most knowledgeable person around was. The tiny green thing he held was a menace, and you cared for him while the Mandalorian man went and hunted his bounty. The child was hesitant to leave you, getting attached after a quick few days of staying in your hut, and the man had decided you could be valuable. Just before he walked through the door, he turned and offered you a job. You were shy when you accepted, and had nursed a crush the whole time you two had traveled together. You couldn’t believe the situation, just like in those trashy novels you’d read when you were interested in his culture. Now that you lived with him and the tiny green thing, you stayed aboard his ship while he hunted and cared for the kid, cleaned, fixed up the piece of junk, and generally ran the almost-household. It was enjoyable; you liked the man, especially once you came to find his sense of humor similar to your own, and you absolutely adored the child in your care. Your little ragtag crew fell into a rhythm after the first month or so: Mando would leave on a hunt for a few days. While he was gone, you’d play with the baby, feed him and care for him. You washed the blood and dirt from the man’s clothing and the child’s bile from the clothing belonging to you and the baby, taught the child new words, and generally… well, raised him. The baby felt like your child when you two were alone, but when the Mandalorian came home, he was the only thing visible in that child’s round black eyes. It was all about him, sitting in his lap, babbling incoherent words to him, playing with him. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian is on a hunt. You and the child sit in the bed compartment; you lie on the mattress and the child rests in his mesh hammock above the entry. At the last port, you picked up as many books as possible to entertain both you and the child. He loved listening to your voice, and so you happily read aloud to him as you rest together. The Mandalorian should be home tonight, you figured, since he told you that this was a rather easy bounty and that it should take him no more than 3 days. It’s now a couple hours after the third day, but you’re sure it’s fine. The child’s eyes droop closed as you read to him, flawlessly translating the book from the Pak Pak it was written in. The Basic words pour from your mouth, and the little thing gives a gentle yawn before curling up with his favorite blanket and silver ball and passing out. Looking up, you laugh at the sight softly and transition to reading in your head. Not long after the kid falls asleep, you follow. It was unintentional, but reading soothes you, and the perfectly cozy bed that smells like Mando draws you in further and further until sleep washes over your body. You hug one pillow to your chest as you sleep, imagining it was the man’s body you cuddled up against. - Mando is 24 hours late. You’ve been pacing in the ship since you realized it’s officially a day later than he said he’d be back. Dammit, you’re going to find that man. You’re not unaccustomed to violence, having been in scuffles as a child and teen, fighting off Jawas or unsavory men in Tatooine cantinas. You need to track him down and find him. First, you go up to the cockpit and look at the comm watch he gave you. It has a two-way tracking device; one for him to find you, and one for you to find him. Mando has the technology to see where you are built into his vambrace. You, however, have nothing. After searching the cockpit, you find and crack open a tracking fob he used in the past. You open the back of the comm watch, finding the bit with the tracker and wire it to the fob. As you connect two wires, the fob suddenly blinks with light. Laughing at the fact that you made it work, you relax a little. Now you can track the Mandalorian man down. After slipping the fob into a pocket of your pants, you scoot back down the ladder and to the cargo hold’s back wall: Mando’s arsenal. You can do this, you tell yourself, and dare to open Mando’s personal armory built into the wall. You strap a holster to your thigh, adding a vibroblade there. A belt with two guns rests on your hips. An ammo belt drapes across your chest, settling between your breasts and pulling your black tank top tight, the back of the leather sash holding Mando’s backup pulse rifle. You take a look in the mirror of the refresher, and you have to admit that you look badass. Weapons and homemade tracker at the ready, you set out to find him. You leave the baby with a trustworthy woman at the hangar, one who has babysat him before for Mando, then enter the bustling city. - Following the blinking and beeping of the fob, you find your way to the opposite end of the city, to a building located near the outskirts. It’s run down and looks abandoned. It makes perfect sense that someone would hide here. As you approach, the beeping of the fob encourages you; the Mandalorian is definitely here. You disable the sound on the fob and slip it in your pocket, grabbing one of the blasters from your hip. As you approach, the building is silent. The roar of the city is quiet but present, and you slip through an open doorway quietly. You scan the rooms, blaster held in front of you and ready to shoot. You take inventory of the first floor and find nothing. The staircase looks terribly old, and you wince as you take your first step onto it and it makes a noise. Now or never, you tell yourself and quickly run up the steps, knowing the noise can’t be avoided, so you’d better make it quick. You reach the top of the steps, pulling out your other blaster, and find a male Twi’lek standing over a pile of silver and black on the floor. Mando. He’s most definitely unconscious, maybe even- no, he can’t be dead, you can see his slow breathing and the way it makes his body rise and fall. “Fuck,” you say out loud, and the Twi’lek turns towards you. The man is large, much larger than you. He’s overweight and dressed in combat clothes, his face battered and bloody. Your heart sinks as you realize this man is the bounty Mando was going for. You need to start thinking on your feet, and quickly. The man starts to move toward you and you hold out both blasters. “Easy there, nerra,” you tell him in Twi’leki, calling him ‘brother’ to attempt to put him at ease. It doesn’t have the effect that you hoped. “Why are you here?” he asks back, also in Twi’leki, reaching for his weapon. “Don’t draw,” you threaten and inch closer. He was a bail jumper, Mando had informed you before he left, but not for a petty charge; he had escaped in order to avoid several charges of murder. He was a former bounty hunter, who Mando had encountered once. The idea strikes you. “I’m here for him,” you say and nod to the lump of beskar behind the man on the ground. “There’s a bounty on his head. I… heard whoever turns him in gets to keep the beskar too,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “You going for him too?” The Twi’lek man shakes his head. “No. He was coming for me. Thought he could beat me.” You seize this opportunity. “From what you look like, I don’t think anyone could. This one is worth a lot of credits. Enough to run away to a pleasure planet… twice over,” you say, inching closer. Mando makes a soft groan and it breaks your heart as he gains consciousness. He must notice you; he starts to moan out words, but you know he can’t speak or he’ll expose you both. “Silence, Mandalorian,” you say again in Basic, words holding acid. “Twice over… let’s bring him in together. Find some wonderful planet to share that bounty on…” you offer, raising an eyebrow and slowly creeping closer to the man. “What’s your name?” You ask. He tells you his and you tell him yours, then give him a seductive smile. The man’s face falls into a smirk. You put both blasters in your belt once more and his posture relaxes fully. “Sounds wonderful to me, beautiful.” “Wow. For a jaded bounty hunter, you’re more foolish than one could ever believe.” Before the man can process your words, you’ve slung the pulse rifle over your shoulder and pull it into position. You shoot a pulse and it finds its target in his chest. He groans in agony and falls backwards, directly on top of Mando. Wincing for the man beneath the hulking Twi’lek, you grab a blaster, shooting the man in each leg. “Mando, hey, it’s me,” you tell him as you roll the behemoth from on top of him. “I’m here,” you murmur. He starts mumbling back, but it’s in Mando’a. That makes sense, you suppose, that he’s reverting in such a moment of crisis. “How hurt are you?” you ask, beginning to speak Mando’a to him in hopes he’ll understand you better. Mando’s brain works through the fog, hearing your words and recognizing that it’s you. “Real bad,” he groans out, speaking his native tongue. You touch his elbow, unprotected by beskar, and he whines. “No, no,” he whimpers, sounding almost like a child. You sigh. This was going to be harder than you expected. “Fuck, how am I going to get you out of here?” The brain function that the Mandalorian has left is your saving grace. “Speeder bike. Hidden down there. We can get on.” “Yes, but how are we going to get you downstairs?” He doesn’t respond, simply groans in pain. If this was going to work without immense pain on his part, some kind of miracle was going to need to happen. “I’m going to drag you down the stairs as carefully as I can, okay? We’ll let gravity do the work. Do you have a good arm?” “The left one… so clever, so smart, pretty girl,” he breathes out, words rasping. You blush at the words but chuckle. He’s in so much pain there’s no way he can think straight now. “I’ll go get the bike, then we’ll get you down there.” This is the hard part, you think to yourself. First, you run down the steps and search for the speeder bike Mando mentioned. You find it and sigh in relief. It’s a piece of junk, but it should do. You position it at the bottom of the stairs and then run up them again. “Okay, this is going to hurt. Can you roll yourself?” “No, shoulder’s all fucked up,” he mumbles and you groan. “Well, I’ll have to drag you on the good one. Get ready.” Taking his good arm, you begin dragging him towards the steps. He groans and you wince. “I’m so sorry, you’re doing so well,” you tell him as you move him. “Here we go.” Once he’s at the top of the steps, you hold him under his armpits, blushing at how close you are. He’s so strong, even injured, and you smile softly to yourself. You lower the two of you down the stairs with careful movements and manage to hold him long enough to get him seated on the speeder bike. He leans forward onto the handles. “One moment,” you tell him. Running up the stairs once more, you shoot another pulse into the bounty. He gives a dazed nod, clearly not understanding anything through the pain he’s in. You can’t let Mando leave this man behind. You’re sure he’s unconscious, so you repeat the same movements as before but with next to no gentleness. You toss him on the back of the speeder bike, where the gunner would sit, and tie him down with ropes before covering him with a blanket. “Alright, back to the ship as quick as we possibly can,” you inform Mando and get the speeder to a door wide enough to fit it through. Once it works, you hop on between Mando and the handlebar and start it up, moving as quickly as you possibly can. Soon enough, you’re back at the hangar that holds the Razor Crest. You enter the back way, using the speeder bike entrance. You hop off quickly and park it by the Crest. “Stay right there, I’m going to get this asshole into the carbonite,” you tell Mando. His consciousness hasn’t been clear for at least a day. He didn’t even process the fact that you had grabbed the bounty. “What? You got him?” “One of us had to,” you tease, enjoying the fact that the two of you are finally conversing in his native tongue. You’ve always loved Mando’a, the way the words sound rolling off your tongue. You untie the man, still unconscious, and haul him up the ramp of the Crest. You’ve seen Mando work the carbonite freezer once or twice, and you hope you press the right buttons as you force the man onto the slab. “Come on, baby,” you murmur to the machine, hoping it’ll work. With one final button, there’s a hiss and cold air blows from it, freezing him. You sigh in relief. You return to the main hold and pop out a cot for him to lie on. Running back down the ramp, you find the dazed Mandalorian in the exact spot you left him in. “I’m going to carry you into the ship,” you tell him, grunting with effort as you lift his practically deadweight body off of the side and into a standing position. You drag him up and immediately shove him onto the cot. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you cringe as he moans in pain at the contact with the cot. “One more thing and we’ll get some bacta in you.” The owner of the hangar is waiting for you outside the ship, holding the kid, both confused by the commotion. You very quickly and hurriedly explain to her that everything is fine now, thank her and pay her a generous amount of credits, and rush back onto the ship with the baby. “Keep the speeder!” You shout behind you as you close the ramp. - A full day and a half later, the Mandalorian awakens from a deep slumber with a pounding headache. He sits with a jolt, which only makes the headache worse. He looks around to find that he’s in the Razor Crest, the familiar hum indicating that he’s in hyperspace. The events of the past few days begin to manifest in his memory and he groans, lying back down on the cot. You climb down from the cockpit as you hear him stirring and find him on his side. “Good morning,” you say softly as you sit on the edge of his cot, the kid in your arm. You set the child down and he toddles off elsewhere. “You were out for a good day and a half,” you tell him and stroke his side softly. “How do you feel?” “Like shit,” he groans, rolling to his back again. He’s hyper aware of your touch, the way your fingers drag down his- oh shit, he’s shirtless, armorless- skin, avoiding the bruises. “You… thank you,” he says, gravelly voice soft. It sinks in that he’s wearing just a pair of shorts and his helmet. You must’ve undressed him, cleaned and bandaged his wounds. His breath catches in his throat. You nod and stroke his good arm. “Of course. That’s why you brought me on, isn’t it?” you tease. He chuckles, but it’s clear that takes effort. “Really, thank you. And you got the bounty too! Shit, mesh’la, I-” he says as he starts to sit, but you push him back down with a hand to his chest, caressing the side of his beskar helmet. “Nayc, stay down,” you tell him, chuckling softly. “Rest. I’ll bring you some water and go back up to the cockpit so you can take off the helmet,” you say with a soft smile, standing and going to where you keep the food and water bottles. As you move, he mulls over the events that led him here. He got knocked down and beat by the man that was supposed to be his bounty. That never happened. You came to rescue him and- wait. You just told him no, nayc, in Mando’a. In fact, you were speaking Mando’a to him the whole time you rescued him, reassuring him and directing him in his native tongue, which he had no idea you spoke until just now. You return with a nutrient bar and water bottle, setting them next to his side on the cot. “I’ll head back up-” you start to say, but he stops you by grabbing his wrist. “You speak Mando’a,” he says simply, looking up at you with wonder behind his mask. “Yeah,” you chuckle and admit, face flushing with warmth. His is equally heating beneath the beskar. He sits up slightly but instead you come to his level, sitting on the edge of the cot and pushing him down with a firm palm to his chest. He chuckles softly. “So you’ve understood me every time I’ve called you beautiful,” he says, a tinge of shyness in his modulated voice. Nodding, you tuck a stray hair back from your face. “I… yes, I have,” you nod, giving him an awkward smile. “I hear you talk in Mando'a in your sleep too, sometimes.” Even his chest is flushing with warmth now. You look away, at a corner of the ship “You talk about your life. People from your past.” The silence hangs between the two of you, your hand still resting in the center of his chest. You slowly drag it to his good shoulder, and down his arm. He clasps your hand in his when it reaches his fingertips. “Have you heard the name Din?” He asks in his native tongue, and you shake your head softly, truthfully. It never came out. “That’s… my name. Din, Din Djarin,” he admits to you, hand squeezing yours softly. You gasp softly, not expecting that information from him. A smile settles on your face after a moment. “Well then. Hello, Din.” You lean down and press your forehead to where his lies beneath the metal. A keldabe kiss, you know, the most intimate gesture a Mandalorian can do. It truly melts his heart, the organ pumping frantically in his chest. “Hello to you too, gorgeous. Wait,” he stops and pushes your face from his, gently. He returns to speaking Basic with a chuckle. “How many languages do you speak?” You look upwards, mentally counting. “Uh. 8 and a half. I’m still not finished with Ubese,” you say and turn back to face him, a shy smile gracing your face. “Wow. You’re a mirdal’ika,” he tells you, the smile evident in his voice even though you can’t see it through the mask. Separately, the syllables make sense. You understand the direct translation, but it’s odd, and you cock your head to the side as you look down at the Mandalorian- no, Din. “Little clever one?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Yes, well, that’s the direct translation. It’s really more of a slang term.” “For?” “In Basic… I believe the equivalent would be… nerd.” “Din!” You squeal and laugh, smacking his good shoulder lightly with a backhand. “Excuse me, that’s rude,” you chuckle, the smile growing even wider on your face as you look down at him. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you give a soft sigh. “Well, you need to drink that water. I’ll head back up to the cockpit,” you tell him, really meaning to leave this time, the smile falling. Once again, as you stand and try to move, he grabs your arm. “I… I think I’m going to need help with that,” he admits, almost ashamed. “Please. Stay.” You nod, but then realize what it implicates. “No, Din,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t do that to you, you and that helmet, it’s… it’s your everything, I couldn’t possibly-” “Please, cyare,” he asks in his native tongue again, and your heart melts. “I want you to see me. I need you to see me.” Heart pounding, you take a beat before you respond with a nod. You sit down once more, hands slowly tracing up his sides, then his chest and up to the base of his helmet. “You’re sure. Positive,” you ask. “Of course I am.” With a nod, you allow him to bring his hand to the side to unlatch the lock. Once it releases, he lifts his head just above the pillow and you slide off his helmet, catching the back of his head with one hand and easing it back down to the pillow. You make sure the helmet rests on the floor before you finally look at him. He’s gorgeous, truly. His tanned skin, which you saw when cleaning his wounds, is covered with dark stubble and a mustache on the lower half of his face, broken by two plush lips. Your fingertips trace his jawline as you take in his softly hooked nose, his dark eyebrows, his dark and messy hair, but most importantly, his eyes. His eyes are a beautiful chocolate brown, set gently into his face and looking at you like you’re a shimmering supernova, no, something even more beautiful. For a moment, you get caught up staring at him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Din,” you mumble in Mando’a. He just gives a soft smile and murmurs his thanks. After you finish staring, you shake your head quickly. “Sorry, the water,” you chuckle nervously, turning to grab it from your other side. Din’s hand catches the side of your face. “The water is a secondary need,” he says softly in Mando’a, turning your face back to his. “I took this off for something else.” His eyes hold a question as he looks up at you. You bite your lip for a moment before breaking into a smile and nodding. The Mandalorian pulls your face down to his, and, ever so gently, your lips finally meet, real and warm and absolutely delicious. You sigh softly, putting a hand on the side of his face too. His lips are softer than you’d expected, while yours are just as beautiful as he dreamed about at night. You both continue for a moment, his hand drifting to your neck, completely lost in each other. A moment later, you pull back and giggle. “I have to admit something, Din,” you tell him and lovingly stroke the side of his face. “It better not be that you’re secretly engaged,” he asks teasingly, a soft smile on his face and raising an eyebrow at you. “No,” you laugh and run your hand through his curls, carding your fingers between the surprisingly soft locks. “That…” you gulp and look away before looking back at him. “Was my first kiss,” you admit and bite down on your bottom lip. He laughs softly but there’s love in his eyes. “A girl as beautiful as you never dated when you were younger? Never went out and flirted with her classmates?” You shake your head. “I was generally too busy at home, reading or teaching myself the language of the man who’d eventually be my first kiss.” You both laugh at that and you grin. His hand rests on the side of your face, gently sweeping his thumb across the skin beneath his fingers. “Of course you were. My little mirdal’ika,” he laughs, bringing your face to his to kiss you once more.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #baby yoda #the mandalorian fanfiction #grogu #the mandalorian fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #din and grogu #mando x reader #mando

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generallynerdy · 3 years

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Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

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“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din.

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right.

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

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courtofcravings · 3 years

Text

Another you (1)

Context: In which you get stuck on a planet and have to save kirk, whichhe admits feelings for you and ya both land in the Med Bay.

Warning: Some blood, needles, minor injuries. mild choking

Feb 2nd/21

I always find it funny that my go-to thing is to have the reader afraid of needles, but I myself am actually trained to give vaccines and take blood.

This was also my first Kirk x reader in a long time// It’s hard to write flirty confident characters because it is the exact opposite of who I am, yet it’s the personality i love in my men and women so xoxo

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

Dr. McCoy was again trying to coerce you down to the Med Bay; he really thought offering to get the Captain involved would change anything. “I’m telling you right now, Y/N, you can’t go on your away mission without your immunizations for this planet. Have you have heard of the Quazulu VIII Virus, no? That’s because there is a vaccine for it!”

“Dr. McCoy, It will be a quick up and down to the planet to grab some specimens; I won’t stay for diplomatic reasons like the rest of the party is.” You justified to him. You had almost finished packing everything you needed from the research ward before your ship’s chief medical examiner ambushed you.

“As a scientist, I’d figure you would be one of the most appreciative of vaccines.” He replied, helping you collect tubes from the drawer beside him. “Ah contrary, as a scientist, I am well aware of how dirty hospitals and MedBays are.” The doctors face contorted,

“You do realize you are going on an away mission, on a un sterile planet. There is a risk of injury; are you just not going to receive first aid if something goes wrong on the planet?” He’s not wrong, and you knew it. You just hated needles. They grossed you out.

“I won’t get hurt then,” You confidently stated, which earned a scoff from the young doctor.

“What if I bring the vaccines to your research lab? And gave them to you here?” You admitted that wasn’t a bad compromise. The Med Bay gave you more of a bad feeling than needles do. You always found that most people you had to bring to the Medbay or hospital didn’t always come out. You just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread when you go in.

“Fine.”

“You remind me so much of Jim.” He said while pulling out the vaccines. He had the vaccines here!? He already knew I wouldn’t agree to go to the Med Bay and thought ahead. You really have left an impression on the doctor.

“Who? And you really knew I’d say yes?” Referring to the cooler filled with the vaccinations. “Ah, you see, they are not just for you,” He said. Taking one of the two doses you needed into one of his hands and pinch “Done.”

Oh, that wasn’t horrible.

The doors swooshed opened behind you, but you couldn’t open your eyes, knowing there was another needle coming. “Bones, you called me here?” Immediately recognizing that voice as Captain Kirk

“You Actually Told The Captain On Me!?” You stood up to look accusingly at Dr. McCoy. He only shrugged his shoulders, looking between the two of you. “You need to get your inoculations, Jim; why don’t you explain to Y/N here how important it is to get them before an away trip,” He said while getting another dose ready. “You do have a lot of experience of finding out the hard way.”

You met the captain’s eyes, so blue. “Captain,” You correctly addressed him, “Y/N, will you be coming tonight?” He asked, his voice so alluring.

“I will, sir,” He smiled at you, taking a seat. “So, Bones here is giving you trouble?” He grabbed your backpack, taking a glance inside at what you were going to bring. It reminded you of a kid who couldn’t sit still.

“Bones?”

“Do not call me that,” Dr. McCoy said fast. pinch “Ouch, I wasn’t ready for that one!” You growled, rubbing your arm, earning a small laugh from the captain sitting across from you. You watched Dr. McCoy draw up his last dose for you and started to feel sick to your stomach.

“Captain, I believe you were explaining to Y/N how important the vaccines are,” He asked the Captain. Funny, it’s not often that Dr. McCoy will address the Captain formally like that. You think Captain Kirk noticed as well as he looked caught off guard.

“Well, as your Captain, I have to inform you that it is mandatory, and Starfleet regulations to get your vaccines before the away mission. Otherwise, you can compromise the health of my crew,” He said professionally. Looking at bones with a thumbs up.

You couldn’t help but get distracted by his deep blue eyes while he talked more about it. You were not really paying much attention to his words. “All done,” Dr. McCoy said, cleaning up his tray of discarded utensils. You were so distracted by the captain you didn’t feel that last pinch.

You pulled your blue shirt back down to entirely go over your arm, “Well, if that is everything, I should be preparing for the away mission,” The captain said, dismissing himself.

“No, No, No, Jim.” Dr. McCoy stood up fast, grabbing the Captain by his arm before he could get out of his chair. “You just lectured Y/N on the importance of inoculations; I do believe it is your turn,” You figured that was why the doctor brought those extra doses. This was his plan all along.

“For the well being of the crew and all,” You spoke up, paraphrasing his own words. Dr. McCoy let out an agreeable laugh, while the captain just sat there, defeated.

“Alright, alright, just make it fast,” The captain lifted his shirt enough to sneak his left arm out. Your first instinct, of course, was to look around the room at literally anything else.

“I was just telling Y/N how alike you both are; I mean, she’s basically another you,” Dr. McCoy said. You couldn’t help but scoff at this, you and the captain having something in common? Sure, but you being basically like him? Definitely not.

“What gave it away? Was it the height? We are pretty close in height,” The captain responded, a playful smile on his handsome face.

“Maybe, It is our common interest in specialties on the ship? You know, being captain and being a biomedical engineer are very similar jobs.” You asked, teasing the doctor. He only responded with a sigh and poked the Captain with the needle, making him jolt.

“You know Y/N; I think he might be right. I am certain he was referring to our matching taste in clothing.” The Starfleet uniform being all match except for the colours. Where scientists wore grey or blue, the captains wore gold. Gold was definitely his colour.

“Nope, he is definitely talking about our boobs; they are just so alike,” You said, a giggle ripped from the captain, making him move back slightly.

“Dammit, Jim, stay still.” He said, giving the last dose to the Captain, then turning back to look at you, “You know you’re both just proving my point,”

“Well, then that’s just double the fun for you, Bones,” The captain said. He was taking his leave before the Doctor comes up with more to poke him with. After two years on this ship, bugging Dr. McCoy never got old.

“I couldn’t imagine being stuck on an away trip with the two of you,” Dr. McCoy said while grabbing his bag. “Hey, Bones, that’s kinda hurtful,” You responded, using the nickname the Captain used with him.

“Dammit, Jim,” Bones muttered under his breath, leaving to go track down more officers before the away trip.

-----

The trip mission for you was supposed to be simple: collect some plant samples with specific regenerative properties. This would help in your designs of tissue regeneration equipment you worked on in the lab aboard the enterprise with Dr. McCoy.

Unfortunately for you, It seemed something went wrong, you’re assuming with the diplomatic party that came down with you. You only took fifth-teen minutes to gather enough samples to fill your small bag, but when you used your comm to contact the ship, no one responded.

As a matter-of-fact, no one on the mission on the planet was answering either. You hoped they hadn’t forgotten you on this planet and left, unlikely, but still a thought. You didn’t remember where exactly the other group got transported to, and it was still a debate whether you should leave the last known location they had of you, but it was getting dark.

You needed shelter and possibly a fire. It was far too cold on this planet for you to stay extended out in the elements. So you started walking, with no means to defend yourself and no map of the jungle-like terrain. You couldn’t help but think bones may have been right about laughing at you confidently declaring nothing will go wrong.

“Y/N to enterprise,” You repeated every few seconds, waiting for any response as you trudged through the thicker bushes. Soon it was dark and cold. You could barely see anything, and it was getting too dangerous to walk around.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the faintest light. Maybe it was your crew? You thought about following it, but you also thought of that fish that used a light on its head to lure its prey back on earth. Maybe you are about to be angler fish food; You don’t think they make vaccines to prevent that.

Maybe it is called “not being stupid and walking toward the scary lingering light.”

But where else was there to go. So, against your better instinct, you started walking towards it. Although, the closer you got, you figured out it was a fire and not some carnivorous fish. Picking up the speed and getting closer, you could clearly hear voices. Thank goodness

You have always been told you had two left feet for a reason, so of course, before you could enter the camp, you tripped and ate dirt. Getting up on your knees, you backed up slowly. You seemed to have cut your arm open on something, possibly a branch, when you fell. Great, now you’d have to admit to bones he was right.

Captain Kirk and the rest of the diplomatic crew were tied up, surrounded by another species. It seemed someone- a woman was attempting to speak to them in their language.

They didn’t seem to be responding to her in the same kind tone. Every so often, she’d stop and talk to the captain, translating for him, you figured. Maybe some sort of negotiations or clearing up a misunderstanding, but it did not seem to be going in our favor.

You lowered yourself deeper in the bushes and looked around the camp. There didn’t seem to be any device blocking the signal you could spot, so why wouldn’t the comms work, you wondered. You did, however, find Starfleet-issued phasers, more phasers than you had men. You suppose this meant you guys were not the only Starfleet officers caught by this group.

You watched as the conversation turned sour, and one of the species took what looked like a long fork and put it through the captain’s leg. Yup, This is definitely not good. The same one who stabbed the captain untied the translator and the two other men, walking them out into the forest in the other direction, to where you had no idea. This left Captain Kirk alone, guarded by two others.

You ever so slowly made your way around the camp to the phasers, laying on a flat table with other confiscated items. Your arm was not letting up pain-wise or blood wise, but you knew it wouldn’t matter much if you couldn’t make it off the planet. Grabbing one phaser at a time, you managed four.

Although taking a look at them, you realized you were way in way over your head. Too far in over your head. Getting stranded on a planet with a lacerated arm was fine; watching your crewmates get tied up and minorly stabbed was fine because you could have helped. There was a solution in sight, but now?

Looking down at the phaser, you had no recognition on how to use it; you were now too far in over your head. Starfleet trained you on a basic low power phaser; the highest setting was three. This phaser had so many buttons, far too many than necessary, you thought.

Taking a deep breath, you put two phasers in your bag and slowly made your way behind to where Captain Kirk was tied up and bleeding. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to untie the Captain, you watched the two guards pace around the camp, talking. You needed a distraction, but what could you possibly do?

You snuck up to the Captain silently, but you knew there wasn’t enough time to do too much before they’d glance in your direction. Grabbing the Captain on the shoulder reassuringly, “Don’t make a sound,” The last thing you wanted was for him to be surprised by you sneaking upon him and startle the guards. “I have no idea how to use this, so I really hope you can move and are not completely out of it from blood loss!” You whispered urgently, putting a phaser in his still tied up hands.

“Y/N?” The captain whispered, “Don’t do anything stupid,” You loved his esteemed confidence in you.

“I don’t have enough time to finish untying this knot,” It was so close to coming undone, but you heard one of the guards pacing this way, so you left. You watched the captain look around, but you were hiding in the bushes already. He started to loosen his hands subtly.

Now time for your distraction. You walked around the campsite again, furthering yourself from the captain. “Hey!” You screamed at the guards, hopefully taking the guard’s attention of the captain. “Hey!” You shouted again at them, waving your arms in the air with one phaser in your hand. The guards started slowly approaching you; however, you hadn’t really thought this far.

“Okay, I know you can’t understand me,” You pointed the phaser directly at them, “But I know you understand this, and I...I don’t want to hurt you! So don’t come any farther!” You yelled pointlessly as they kept on approaching you, towering over you. Up close, in front of the light from their fire, you could clearly see their leathery skin, their large muscular frames, and very large weapons in hand.

“Hey, I mean it!” You said, waving the phaser at the one to your left. They were approaching faster with no sign of stopping until they were in front of you. One put their hands on your throat, your feet dangling in the air as he started to choke you. You knew they could crush your throat in a second if they chose to but instead decided to apply pressure slowly.

A loud sound echoed in your ears; It definitely belonged to a phaser. The guard let you go, both of you falling to the ground. And you couldn’t stop the intense coughing fit that erupted from you, your body trying to get as much air in as it could. Distantly you heard the second guard fall to the ground. A hand was on your back as you coughed, “Are you okay?” It was the captain.

After catching your breath, you stood up, looking at the captain. He was standing beside you, phaser in hand, with blood rushing down his leg. “You’re the one with the stab wound,” You responded hoarsely, slightly concerned. “This is nothing,” You reached under his arm so he could support his weight more onto you, “Let me help, sit down over here and let’s tie something around your leg,” He let his weight fall on you slightly. To be honest, you probably would not be able to carry all his weight, especially since your arm was starting to throb.

Sitting him down, you reached into your bag, looking for anything you could use as a makeshift tourniquet. Thankfully, you packed a mini first aid kit. Yes, it was extremely small, holding only a few items; you knew it had a small roll of gauze in it. He let out a laugh when he saw you pull out the little red box. “Laugh all you want, but this could potentially help save your life,” You said seriously.

“That’s not why I am laughing,” You looked up at him curiously, waiting for him to continue his explanation. “I’m sorry, but.” You wrapped a long strand of gauze around his leg, pulling and twisting, as you were taught. “I have this deep, stab wound, and you pull out the smallest first aid kit that I have ever seen in my life,” You took an alcohol swab and wiped his wound gently, cleaning it as well as you could.

“I find it extremely funny that when I looked into your bag this morning and saw it, I thought it was cute, you would bring it,” You looked around to see what dressing you had, not a lot. “I thought it was cute you’d bring a small little first aid kit when we have an on-hand medic come with us.” You ripped his pants just slightly so you start dressing it, “And now you are providing first aid to me with it, in the field, I don’t know I just find that funny” He finished looking down at what you were doing before deciding maybe watching isn’t the best idea.

“I don’t know if I should pack dressing around… this fork thing, or if I should take out the object and dress you properly.” You leaned back on your legs and looked up at him.

“Leaving it in would be safest because I can’t be sure if it hit an artery or not, and you’d bleed out.” You paused, letting him take in the information, “On the other side if I don’t take it out and we have to move fast, it could potentially do more damage.”

“Take it out; we need to get moving to find Uhura, Sulu, and Montgomery.” You were slightly nervous about doing this; killing your captain does not look good on a resume. You opened the dressing packages, ready to work fast. The tourniquet should have stopped any bleeding; you should be safe to pull it, you hoped.

And with one fluid motion and no warning for the Captain, you pulled it out, throwing it to the ground. You placed one hand on the wound to keep pressure and reached for the dressings. The groans of pain were agonizing to hear come from him; however, you knew you had to keep going and get the wound bandaged up. You had wished the small kit had medication or pain relievers of any kind to help him, something you’d need to remind yourself to add for next time.

“I am so sorry; I know that must have been pretty painful for you.” You said sincerely. It was over, but he was still breathing hard, reeling over the pain. He reached toward you, leaning forward, and rested his head on your shoulder. You put a hand on his head and brushed his hair with your fingers, staying like that for a few minutes, peacefully.

“Your arm, there is blood on the sleeve,” He said, grabbing your arm to inspect it; however, you pulled it away, “I scratched it on a branch, it hurts but it’s not bleeding anymore. Besides, I used all the dressing on you- being the more urgent injury.”

“We need to move; they might have heard me.” You helped him stand, and he continued to use you for support. “It’s so dark. I have no idea how or where we’d find everyone.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed a phaser, “They went to their nest. It should be north; there is a map of the terrain on the phaser we can follow,” And with that, he pressed a button of the phaser, which also turned on a flashlight. “Captain, do you think you are in any shape to fight? I was surprised you were able to stand up long enough to take down those two guards.”

“I am fine. I can fight, don’t worry about me.”

“Which, by the way, thank you for saving me back there,” You had never been that close to dying before. “Y/N, it is me who should be thanking you. Without you, I am fairly sure I would have bled to death tied up at that camp.”

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

Part 2

I enjoyed writing it so I hope yall liked it

#jim kirk #jim kirk x reader #jim kirk imagines #james kirk #jim kirk imagine #james kirk x reader #james kirk imagines #star trek #james kirk imagine #star trek imagines #star trek imagine #captain kirk x reader #startrek x reader #startrek #star trek fanfiction #kirk x reader

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artaefact · 3 years

Text

grinchly, yours.

—wordcount: 15k+

—genre: angst, fluff, bookshop owner!reader, florist!hoseok, bookshop au, christmas au, flower shop au, s2l au

—pairing: jung hoseok x f reader

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: awkward moments, a cemetery scene, mention loss of loved ones, a soft!hobi

—summary: Christmas time is around the corner, everyone is celebrating to their heart’s content, but not you. No, you despise Christmas and the joy it brings. That is, until a friendly florist decides to pay your bookstore a visit.

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write a character with the grinch’s personality and this story has been revolving around my head for some time !! happy reading everyone 💖

prompt: “carolling” for @btsholidaybingo event & “winter market date” for @kdiarynet winter hearts event !!

You nearly lose it when a snowflake lands on your face — specifically, your eye — for the third time now as you pad along the asphalt road. Releasing a breath, you calm yourself. This should be a regular occurrence for you. Still, you can’t help but scowl at the sight of fake candy canes and decorated fir trees near the streets and shops, and well, basically everywhere.

Once you near your bookshop, another annoyed sigh escapes your lips when you find a group of people singing right in front of the door again. Honestly, your patience is running thin as you have once told them to not sing in front of your bookstore.

Cursing under your breath, you try not to meet anyone’s eye and opt to quickly enter your shop. However, one of the members notices you and waves at you. You recognise him as Jimin — a local baker who likes to stop by your bookstore to look for recipe books.

After responding with a brief nod at him, you unlock your door and rush inside.

It’s not even Christmas yet, so why are these people singing Christmas carols early in the morning already? The sun has barely even risen up!

A relieved sigh escapes your lips when you can’t hear the choir anymore, at least muffled by the door of your bookstore. Moving towards the cashier table, you place your messenger bag underneath it before getting to work.

Carrying boxes of books back and forth from the supply room is the daily norm for you. You find comfort hidden between the shelves while you stack the newly-delivered books neatly into their allocated place. Many would say that it’s a lonely job, especially since you refuse to hire anyone to work in your store. But you don’t. You seldom feel that way.

The soft music from the jukebox is the only thing that keeps the bookshop from falling into complete silence as you work on reshelving and rearranging the books. That is until the bell on top of the front door rings.

“Welcome!” You place the books on the wooden floor, standing up only to see Jimin peering on the aisle you’re in, smiling ear-to-ear.

Sighing internally, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to pop in and say hi.”

You sit back down on the wooden floor and continue to shelf the books. “Didn’t you do that before?”

“You didn’t say a word.” He moves closer and plops down beside you.

You merely shake your head, still focusing on your task. “How many times do I have to tell you not to let those choir people sing in front of my store?”

“Right,” Jimin answers sheepishly. “You see, we are still scouting for another area and—”

“Well then, find it quicker. Why don’t they just sing in front of your bakery?”

“It’s not exactly an ideal spot for singing…”

“And the front of my store is?”

“There’s not much public transport station here—”

You huff in annoyance. “If you don’t have anything else to do besides making excuses, I would appreciate it if you leave. As you can see—” Lifting one of the books in emphasis, “—my hands are full.”

Despite your cold words, Jimin dismisses it quickly. “Well, I’m looking for a book about plants.”

“Botany?” Your brows furrow. “Did baking go wrong?”

He snorts. “As if, but my friend is looking for one. He asked me if I could get one for him.”

“Is there a particular book he’s searching for?”

Jimin hands you a piece of paper.

“Oh, I have to place an order for this one,” you utter. “I’ll send you a text when it has arrived.”

Nodding, Jimin finally stands up and is ready to leave when you call him.

“Oh, and Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“For the last time, take your fellow choir crew somewhere else to sing.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

The box lands on the cashier desk with a thump before you send a message to Jimin, a week later.

[ 2:05 PM ] You: your friend’s book is here

Placing your phone on the table, you peel off the wrapping tape and open the box. The printed white letters of Guide to Gardening contrast against the pine green background of the hardcover as tiny drawn flowers scatter across the edge of the cover.

You read the synopsis curiously, wondering how someone can find garden-work interesting when your phone dings — a text notification from Jimin lights up your phone screen.

[ 2:09 PM ] Jimin: Oh! I’ll tell my friend to pick up the book himself. He should be able to swing by today.

Not bothering to reply to him, you put away the book for safekeeping — leaving Jimin on read, as usual, and get back to check your supplies, making sure everything’s in stock.

An hour or two have passed until someone enters your bookstore. “Excuse me?”

Looking up from the papers, a new customer staring at you. “May I help you?” You ask, standing up from your seat.

“I ordered a book. And my friend, Jimin, told me it has arrived.”

“Oh!” You scramble through your paper-covered desk, reaching for the book. “Are you—” You check the name it was ordered under. “—Hoseok?”

He nods, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“Here you go.” Handing the book to him. “Is this what you were looking for?”

The subtle smile on his face turns into a bright grin as soon as he reads the title. “It is.”

“Great,” you nod. “Do you still want to take a look around, or would that be all?”

Hoseok’s gaze lingers on you, a bit too long for your liking, but he shakes his head regardless. “This would be all for now.”

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”

While you print the receipt, he asks, “Are you a friend of Jimin’s?”

“Acquaintance,” you correct him, handing his receipt.

“I see. May I know your name at least?” He extends his hand.

Blinking at his question, your hand moves before you can think twice about taking his hand in yours. Ignoring the way your hand fits so well in his, you introduce yourself, “Y/N.”

And a bright, bright grin appears on his face, one that you swear can light up the whole bookshop. “Hope we’ll see each other again soon, Y/N. Just recently opened up my shop near the corner of the street.” Then he makes his way out of the store, steps faltering slightly before the entrance, giving the bookstore a once-over and walks out.

The next time you meet Hoseok is when he visits your store in passing. “Hey, Y/N!” He greets you as you place a stack of books on the cashier table from the delivery box earlier.

“Hi, Hoseok...” You do not know what to make of his cheerful demeanour.

“How’s your day?”

You furrow your brows in confusion. Is he seriously asking that for no apparent reason?

“Fine, I guess,” you answer nonetheless as you rub your palms against your jeans. “Just had to clear out the storage and rearrange some shelves.”

“Do you need any help?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh! I’m looking for a book about orchids,” Hoseok explains. “It’s so hard to grow them.”

“Give me a moment, I’ll check the supplies,” you mumble, moving and clicking your mouse to find what he is searching for. Hoseok moves to a nearby aisle, looking through random books while you move to the allocated aisle of the book he wants.

Hoseok is confused for a moment as his attention is set on the little post-its on the shelf. As he takes a closer look, he realises that these are your reviews of the books. He can’t help but chuckle at how enthusiastic your reviews sound.

It’s amusing how you are interested in The Grinch.

Plucking one of the books, he makes his way to you. You are so focused on the books as he stands beside you, then he pokes your shoulder and you jolt. “Oh my—”

Hoseok apologises sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

You clear your throat. “It’s fine. I tend to tune out my surroundings when I’m focused. And, uh, here—” You hold out the book to him. “—is this it?”

Hoseok nods, smiling as he takes the book and follows behind you to the cashier. As you type in the order, he asks, “Do you like this book?” Your movements falter at his sudden question, which he notices. “I saw some stickers you posted beneath the books that seem to be your favourites.”

Cheeks growing warm at his words, you stammer, “Well, I thought it would encourage people to buy and—”

He places one of the books that you recommended on top of the book he was looking for. “I’ll get this one too.”

“But… It’s a children’s book.” You gape.

“I’m not big on reading heavy novels, Y/N. So, I think this is a good start,” he shrugs. “Plus, you recommended five stars for this and your review—”

“Okay!” You cut him off, grasping the book. “I-I get what you mean, but are you sure? You don’t have to—”

“Am I not here as your customer?”

Sighing mentally, you proceed to scan the barcode. “That will be forty-seven dollars.”

Meetings with him are refreshing, as it is odd. Hoseok would come by your bookstore once in a while — once a week or even twice. At first, you thought something was up. Definitely, since he didn’t purchase books on every visit. But what throws you off is that he would come by to drop desserts or even just a quick ‘hi’ when he is busy that day.

You’re sceptical indeed. Was there a bet being made to befriend you? But he wouldn’t have treated you to those sugar-coated doughnuts or hot chocolate if he wants money.

Deep in your own thoughts, you walk along the usual route to your store; hands tucked inside your thick coat, even ignoring the snow that’s covered your beanie.

You’re not used to this; someone just straight-up approaching you, or just enjoying being in your presence with no obligation to do so. Haven’t he heard of the rumours that surround you? In a small town where you live, he must have heard something.

Thoughts drifting back to reality, your eyes twitch as you find those carolling people in front of your store again. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out an annoyed sigh.

How many times should you tell them to scram? And where is Park Jimin?

You scan through the faces of the group, and he was nowhere to be found. Muttering a curse under your breath while ignoring the slight aching in your chest, you stomp towards them.

“Hello,” You plaster on a big fake smile, ceasing their singing at once. “I thought I had told one of your crew — Jimin — that you can’t sing in front of my store. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s not joining us today,” one of the choir members answers, nonchalantly. “We didn’t know that this is a private area. I thought you only own your part of the store.”

The other choir members glance nervously at each other; their reaction an obvious contrast with this chipper, unheeding chatterbox in front of you. Gritting your teeth, you force down the curse words that are on the tip of your tongue back before clearing your throat. “Well, now, you know.” You pin down that girl who opens her loose mouth with your sharp stare. “So, I would appreciate it if you’d leave and never sing in front of my store again.”

She is about to respond when her crewmembers stop her from saying anything further, which is fortunate for her. In minutes, they pack up and finally leave.

Rubbing your temples, you make a mental note to put a sign in front of your store that says no choirs allowed, or any Christmas activities at all. After changing the ‘close’ sign to ‘open’, you place your things on the cashier table. Looking at the old jukebox fondly, you trace the intricate, beautiful designs for a little while before you turn it on. Soft jazz music fills the air instantly, and your heart warms up at that.

Deciding to have a little reading time, you pick a book from your favourite section. However, you falter momentarily when you realise it’s the same book Hoseok bought last week from your post-it recommendation. Sighing, you place the book back and pick another.

Time flies so quickly when you immerse yourself in books. By the time you check your phone, it’s afternoon already. And then the quiet atmosphere shatters when the bell of your bookstore rings.

“Y/N!” His familiar cheerful voice startles you.

“Hoseok…” You’re back again.

“I’m grabbing a bite in Jimin’s bakery, would you like to join?”

“No, I’m—” Your stomach growls loudly as if on cue.

Hoseok laughs at that, “Your stomach says otherwise. C’mon! You shouldn’t stay cooped up in your shop the whole day.”

And you can’t bring yourself to reject his offer again.

“How long have you been running your bookstore?” Hoseok asks as you both make your way towards Jimin’s bakery.

“It’s been... Five years,” you answer hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s quite long! Have you always been interested in books?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ve loved reading since I was a child.”

You didn’t realise how much you had enjoyed conversing with Hoseok until you reached Jimin’s bakery.

That was quick, you thought, at the sight of the pastel pink store.

Stepping into the bakery, Hoseok calls out, “Kookie!”

“Hyung?” The familiar man called ‘Kookie’ greets him after serving a customer with their order.

You wreck your head for his name — you know this guy. Well, have seen him with Jimin most of the time but you didn’t bother to know his name. Or actually, you did, but you forgot.

The only ones you can come up with are “John Cook’ or ‘Jungkook’. It has to be either one of those or else you’d embarrass yourself further.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s nice for you to come by!”

Screw it.

“Nice to see you too, John.”

Kookie lets out a giggle. “You can call me ‘Jungkook’ instead of my last name.”

Then it clicks. Right— it’s Jeon Jungkook. Thank the heavens ‘John’, and ‘Jeon’ sounds similar.

You feign indifference. “Alright, Jungkook.”

“Jimin is out with his girlfriend for hot chocolate, he’ll be back soon.”

As soon as you and Hoseok take a seat, Jungkook hands you both the menu before dealing with other customers.

“So... Are you sure you’re new here?” You break the silence. “Looks to me that you seem to know everyone here already.”

Hoseok chuckles at that. “Not everyone. But Jimin, Jungkook, and I go way back.”

“Ah, I see...” Then you cast your stare to the menu once more. But your attention shifts to the glass door to see Jimin and his girlfriend laughing. Not long after you catch his gaze, however, the warmth dissipates almost instantly. He stalks towards your table at once.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin seethes, eyes boring into yours as you match them equally with your icy ones.

“Ah, Jimin,” Hoseok turns to look at him. “I was grabbing something to eat, and I invited Y/N along and—”

“Y/N is not welcome here,” Jimin seethes.

Hoseok’s eyes widen before it gradually hardens at your defence. “Since when?”

But Jimin’s eyes are on you once more. “Why did you drive the choir crew away again? What did they do to you? They managed to sing a few blocks away from your store!”

“That is bullshit.” You stand up and level his gaze. “They sang in front of my store again, still disturbing the peace in my shop. And I told you to take your choir crew somewhere far to sing.”

Jimin lets out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not what they—”

“Believe whoever you want,” you cut him off, mood darkening. “And since I am not welcome here, I’ll see myself out.” Without another word, you head out of the bakery. Clutching your coat tighter to your frame, the sound of your boots thumps along the cobblestone until another pair of rapid footsteps follow behind you.

“Y/N!” Hoseok calls out, grabbing your arm. “Hey… I—” He catches his breath. “I’m sorry, Jimin is an asshole to you—”

You shake your head. “No, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I—”

“Hoseok.” You turn to him. “Why do you even bother to befriend me?”

His eyes widened at that before he splutters, “B-Because, why not?”

Taking a step closer to him, you consider asking him if there is a bet going on, but decide against it. “I’ll be fine. You go back to Jimin.”

Without another glance, you turn away once more, leaving him in the midst of the cold weather.

Autumn flies away too quickly, you bitterly thought. You find yourself missing the warm colours of the town, where the crunching sound of fallen leaves will always fill the silence when you go to work or go back home. Or, spring sounds good to you too — bright, vivid flowers loitering around as the warm sun kisses your skin.

Not this whole white fiasco. Your mood always dampens when you walk out of the house, only to find the usual bright morning still dark as it takes later for the sun to rise up.

‘Achoo—!’ You let out a sneeze, wrapping the thick blanket around your form tighter. The heater of the store is cranked up to the fullest, yet the winter cold still manages to get you.

Letting out an annoyed ‘tsk’, you continuously flip through the accounting records of your store, eyes scanning the numbers to make sure no mistakes are made. Unable to focus further, you sigh.

Maybe you should do other things before getting back to these numbers.

You let out another sneeze as you trudge to the storage room, huffing in annoyance while you sniffle. Taking out an opened empty box from the shelves, you pack children books into it when your doorbell rings.

“Please wait a moment!” You quickly shove the box to an empty corner before rushing out.

“Umm,” Hoseok stands awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Hi…” He takes a few steps closer. “I’m sorry about yesterday—”

Posture stiffening, you cut him off, “It’s not your fault, nor it was Jimin’s fault. It was my own mistake.”

He tries to argue. “No, it’s—”

“Hoseok, it’s alright.” You reassure him, plastering on a tight smile. “Really.”

“Ah, that’s… Well, these are for you.” He extends a bouquet of orchids.

You stare at him. “W-Why…?”

“I thought it would brighten up your bookstore,” he rambles. “Uh, unless you don’t want it? It’s really fine—”

You take the bouquet from his hold, your smile turning genuine on your lips. “Thank you.”

He grins at that. “Well, I’ve got to go back to the shop. Maybe we can go out for coffee or even lunch whenever you’re free?”

When you nod in response, Hoseok’s expression lights up further. With your numbers exchanged, he waves you goodbye and exits your store. It’s quiet once again, and you merely stand there, still staring at the bright purple hues of the orchids.

Perhaps, it’s still ol’ winter outside, but it feels as though spring blooms within the walls of your bookshop now.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

Hoseok is in a good mood; he whistles some random pop songs as he makes his way back to his shop. “I’m back!” he chirps, scrubbing his snow-covered boots against the ‘welcome’ rug.

“I was beginning to think you have lost your way,” Jungkook comments, eyes focusing at the bouquet in front of him, wrapping it up. “The next customer won’t be here until three and, wait—” He looks around frantically at the scattered flowers on the counter. “Hyung! Where are the orchids?!”

“Huh?” Hoseok feigns innocence. “I thought we had them. You’ve cut their stems right?”

“Yes, but—”

It’s kinda funny to see the usual composed Jungkook, now, panicking. Little did he know, Hoseok had taken the last of the orchids to make a bouquet for you.

“Hyung! We need orchids! The colours don’t match! And—”

Hoseok snorts. “Use the hydrangeas. They fit with whatever bouquet you’re wrapping.”

Jungkook makes a face. “It’s not going to be the same as how I pictured it, Hyung. It has a different meaning too!” However, Hoseok has gone into the changing room to change into his usual working attire. From outside, Jungkook grumbles to himself, “I don’t deserve this treatment. I helped Jimin, and now Hobi hyung too. And for what exactly?”

“So, you won’t stay cooped up in your room until New Years.” Hoseok comments, tying his apron then rolling the sleeve of his shirt till it reaches just before his elbows.

“Okay, but ‘fess up, Hyung—” Jungkook still looks unamused. “What did you do to the orchids? I know you’ve worked hard growing them so you won’t give away those flowers easily.”

“Huh,” Hoseok feigns innocence, grabbing a set of flowers to wrap. “Really? Maybe I did give it away to someone pretty, who knows.” Beautiful, in fact.

“Who?” Then Jungkook’s face turns dumbfounded as he seems to realise something. “Wait, don’t tell me it’s Y/N.”

“Why not Y/N?” Hoseok raises a brow, sparing the younger one a questioning glance.

Jungkook groans. “No, hyung, don’t you know she’s like… Unapproachable? Like even Jimin’s charm does not affect her at all. In fact, she made him angry the other day!

Hoseok mindlessly nods at Jungkook’s rambles. “Yeah, yeah…”

It goes quiet for a moment before Jungkook asks, “So… Did she throw away the flowers at once and kick you out of—”

The image of your bright eyes and soft smile engraves itself into his mind as he works on the bouquet at hand.

“No.” A smile appears on Hoseok’s face. “She loves it actually.” All that time he spent and the hard work of growing those orchids really does pay off.

“What did you say to her? I don’t think she’s the type to accept an apology gift that easily.” Jungkook tilts his head slightly, still questioning.

True. At first, he wanted to give it as an apology gift. However, at your insistence that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but your own, he thought of another reason — to brighten up your cozy bookshop with the vibrant colours of the orchids.

“Well, I thought of other reasons,” Hoseok answers vaguely, finishing the arrangement. And boy, did his heart soar when you accepted his gift afterwards.

“It’s so hard to believe…” Jungkook mumbles, focusing on his own task at hand.

Hoseok sighs. “She’s not what you guys seem to paint her to be. At least, not with me. Does anyone even try to approach her in the first place?”

Jungkook nods. “Jimin hyung did. You know how he is.” Silence falls for a few moments until Jungkook mutters, “I think she’s always grumpy when it’s Christmas season.”

“Why?”

Jungkook answers with a mere shrug. “No one knows. We just avoid her during Christmas.”

With furrowed brows, Hoseok clicks his tongue in disapproval of how people treated you. There must be a reason why you are acting this way. You weren’t a complete grouch with him, and your smile earlier proves that. If it takes hundreds of orchids to make you smile like that again — even when others say you are a grouch and your presence is unpleasant — he would gladly grow them all over again.

Sipping the gingerbread latte, you let out a satisfied hum at the burst of sweet taste on your tongue from the warm beverage. Definitely perfect for cold weather as you sit near the window, mindlessly staring out at the falling snow and the buzzing people beneath.

Hoseok has agreed to meet in the cafe. You are too stubborn to admit that you actually enjoyed his company these past few weeks. But, as soon as he texted you to meet in this cafe, you barely thought twice before agreeing.

Speaking of the devil, he sits across from you with a grin on his face. You snap out of your thoughts when your gaze zeroes in on the bouquet in front of you.

Irises.

“It’s for you.”

Blinking with furrowed brows, your voice comes out unsure. “For me…? But why?”

He lets out a sheepish chuckle, “I just think it suits you. Like those orchids.”

At his words, your heart beats faster. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admit, gaze dropping to the bright yellow flowers, arranged prettily and pleasing to the eye. “But… Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Do you know what irises mean?”

You shake your head, taking the bouquet reluctantly.

“Hope and friendship,” Hoseok beams then raises his own steaming cup of coffee to you. “So, here’s to our friendship!”

Chuckling lightly, you lift your own cup.

“Right, I read the book,” Hoseok starts, earning a raised brow from you. “It’s a whole lot to digest even when it’s merely a children’s book. What makes you like it so much?”

You shrug, eyes averting from his briefly. “I just admire how the Grinch put so much effort to ‘steal’—” You quote with your fingers. “—Christmas. I mean he’s an entertaining character to read about.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “What makes him so?”

“He sticks to his plans and goes through with it. I admire his perseverance despite the hardships he has been through. And I feel the same way about Christmas as he does.”

“Do you not like Christmas?”

“Nope. Don’t like this season at all.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s…” Your eyes are downcast, gaze on your steaming cup of coffee. “It’s a bit overrated, in my personal opinion. This season seems to force people to be happy.”

“Huh…” Hoseok sips his coffee. “I never really thought about it in that way. But I can understand. Is there anything else that makes the book so special?” Curiosity swimming in his eyes. “You mentioned in your review that it’s comforting, but how so?”

Just how on earth can this man be so observant?

You purse your lips, pondering. “Well, it’s comforting to see how the Grinch manages to have a change of—” You falter before shaking your head. “He’s just a great character.”

Hoseok nods, agreeing with you.

Then you change the subject, asking him how he got into gardening and decided to open his flower shop. Conversation flows so easily between the two of you that time flies so quickly.

When you step out of the cafe building with Hoseok, you couldn’t stop smiling as you hold on to the bouquet he gifted in hand. You walk back together, just enjoying each other’s presence. That is until you come across the carolling choir who takes notice of you, or actually, of Hoseok.

“Hobi!” One of them calls out, breaking from the group. Her puppy-like excitement exudes out of her in waves as she draws closer. And then you recognise her as the chipper chatterbox whom you never bother to learn the name of.

Hoseok greets her, “It’s good to see you.”

Then she glances at you, more specifically the bouquet of irises in your hands. “You both went on a date?”

You snort, earning a surprised glance from Hoseok and the girl. “We just got coffee, and Hoseok is nice enough to bring me these lovely flowers as a gift. But, I don’t think it’s any of your business, right?” Lifting a brow, you spare her a questioning stare — recognising that familiar face — as she fails to come up with an answer. “And shouldn’t you get back to your singing activities spreading the Christmas spirit in this public area?” Sarcasm dripping your tone.

Her gaze narrows at you as a flash of recognition crosses her. “Aren’t you the one who sent us away from our first location?”

You nod blatantly. “You were singing in front of my shop. You were disturbing.”

“That was so rude—”

“I did warn you and your group before,” You quip. “Or would you rather I call the police next time?”

Hoseok gapes at your exchange with Chatterbox seemingly at a loss. Lucky for you — well, Chatterbox actually — the tense conversation ceases as another choir member approaches you, this time a lovely-looking elder lady. “Oh, Y/N!”

You blink, expecting her to recognise Hoseok instead since the boy is a social butterfly and probably know half of the townspeople already. “Y-You know me?” Her delicate features are somewhat familiar.

“Well, of course, I do! I volunteer in the or—”

And it clicks. “Oh!” You cut her off loudly. “Oh, nice to meet you!” Hoping the pleading look you send her can stop her from blurting other things besides pleasantries. Fortunately, she gets the message as she smiles knowingly at you before glancing at Hoseok who is utterly quiet as Chatterbox talks his ear off while he mindlessly nods.

“I should get back to my store,” you explain.

The lady smiles warmly, reducing her voice to a whisper, “Hope you come to visit us again this year.”

“I won’t miss it,” you reply with a smile of your own.

Her eyes light up at that. “And Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Have a good day, Miriam.”

And when you finally turn your attention to Hoseok, he’s already looking at you mouthing, You want to go?

You give him a brief nod. He smiles, bidding Chatterbox goodbye. But what nearly sends your heart into overdrive is that he strides to you and grabs your hand as if it’s the only natural thing to do.

“Slow down!” You huff as Hoseok turns briefly to give you a cheeky smile.

“I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of there,” he teases, steps slowing down. Your hand goes limp, but instead of letting go of your hand, Hoseok interlaces his fingers with yours.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there myself,” Hoseok comments. “I thought my ears were going to fall off.”

Letting out a chuckle, you tease, “I thought you were enjoying her company.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “She was mean to you. I don’t like that.”

At his words, you stumble on your steps. If it isn’t for his fast reflexes, you would be face-planting to the ground. “Ah, t-thank you.”

He chuckles, “No problem.”

And you curse your own heart for beating faster at his smile.

“She’s not bad, Jimin.”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin huffs, wiping the table aggressively. “Until she decides to piss you off all the time.”

“What did she do to you?”

“Don’t even get me started.” Jimin clicks his tongue in annoyance. “She literally said to take the choir crew away from her store, and Ellie—”

“Ellie…?” Confusion is written all over Hoseok’s face.

“The girl who likes you,” Jimin sighs.

“Who???”

Jimin makes a face. “For someone who flirts easily, you’re awfully dense to someone else’s feelings.”

Hoseok lets out an unamused snort. “I don’t flirt—”

“You gave Y/N flowers,” Jimin gives him a pointed look.

“How did—” Hoseok comes to a realisation. “—right, Jungkook.” he mumbles before he explains, “It was supposed to be an apology gift—”

“And then yesterday you empty your supply of iris flowers too to give her for no apparent reason—”

“The kid should really learn to shut his mouth.” Hoseok groans, his cheek heating in embarrassment.

“—if that isn’t called flirting—”

“Jimin, you flirt with everyone too.”

“That’s different, hyung. I charm people.”

Hoseok sighs. “We’re going off track here.”

“Okay, so I had told the choir members to sing a few blocks away from her store. But, she drove them away again!” Jimin slaps the table with the cloth.

Hoseok scrunches his eyebrows. “What do you mean a few blocks away? Y/N said she found them in front of the bookstore again.”

“That’s not what Ellie told me.”

“I still don’t know who Ellie is, but I think there’s a whole misunderstanding here.”

“No, hyung. There is no clear proof—”

“Did you ask the other choir members?” Hoseok asks before sighing. “I mean, shouldn’t there at least be a few other witnesses that can confirm where exactly they were singing?”

“The entire choir said so.”

“Did they actually tell you that? Or did only Ellie tell you that and you assumed it was the whole choir crew’s answer?”

Jimin purses his lips.

“Y/N is not the type to lie, Jimin. It’s not fair to her if you only consider one person’s point of view. And I saw how unhappy Y/N was that day. Don’t you think you should’ve confirmed it with other people first before jumping to conclusions?” Hoseok lets out another disgruntled sigh.

Jimin goes silent, seemingly pondering at Hoseok’s words.

“And I invited her here—” Hoseok points at the ground, indicating the bakery. “—that afternoon, since she likes your sugar doughnuts. And other things you bake. Thought it might cheer her up, but look how it went.” He raises his arms in exasperation.

“She tried it? She never even stepped into the bakery until she came along that time with you!”

“Well…”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ flashback ]

“___, I’ll take more of these home today!” Hoseok lifts up his hand that’s holding the powdered doughnut.

Jimin’s girlfriend nods. “Anything else?”

“Oh! Your caramel cookies too, please.”

She nods again. “Coming right up.”

A few minutes later, Hoseok steps out of the bakery with a paper bag in hand. His nose is buried in his scarlet scarf, and he hums a soft tune while padding through the snow-covered sidewalk. As he gets closer to your dimly-lighted bookstore, his glove-covered hands start to grow clammy while his heart beats a tad faster.

“Y/N~” He calls out after the bell of the doorstep rings.

You scramble up to your feet from your slouching position behind the cashier register, wide-eyed. “H-Hoseok? What are you—” Your words falter when he lifts up the paper bag in his hold, grinning at your confused state.

“I brought some sweets.” He stops right in front of you, placing down the bag before opening it. “So… I got some powdered doughnuts…” He takes it out. “I hope you like them.”

“Well, yes. But—”

He puts the paper-wrapped doughnut on your hand. “Go ahead, try it.”

“I…”

“Or do you want me to feed you?” Hoseok teases, raising up the other doughnut towards your mouth. “Then here, ah—”

You take a step back, avoiding his reach before taking a bite out of your doughnut. He laughs at your pout while you chew, patiently waiting until you swallow it. “So...?”

Nodding slowly, you observe the bitten doughnut for a few moments then snap your gaze at him. “Thank you. This is really good.” You take another bite of the doughnut, fighting back the instinct to smile.

“Great! Now, try the caramel cookies!”

“Wait, but I—”

Hoseok plucks the doughnut from your hold, replacing it with a caramel cookie and urges you to try it and you comply.

“Where did you get this?” Eyes full of wonder as you stare at the cookie.

“Jimin’s bakery.”

“What? No way.”

Hoseok tilts his head in curiosity. “You’ve never tried his baked goods before? Even after months the bakery has opened?”

You shake your head. “Never had the chance. I assumed it’s nothing special. But now…”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

“She said what?” Jimin gapes, not sure if he heard what Hoseok said was right.

Hoseok repeats, “She likes your sugar doughnuts and caramel cookies. She said they were ‘excellent delicacies’ when she tried them.” More precisely, you said, I suppose despite his absurd personality, he still makes excellent delicacies. But Hoseok knows better than to say that.

Jimin is downright speechless at your compliment.

“Anyways,” Hoseok clears his throat. “As I was saying, I frequently visit her, and on that day she wasn’t happy at all, Jimin. So, I didn’t visit her that morning to let her cool off and visit her during the afternoon.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ flashback ]

Hoseok gazes up from his phone when the streetlight turns green. Shoving the device into his coat’s pocket, he crosses the street. From the corner of his eye, your bookstore comes to his view, and a smile appears on his face. As he draws nearer, his steps grow lighter. That is until he peeks in from the window and notices a deep frown on your face. He falters, weighing his own thoughts on whether or not to approach you at this moment. And he decides against it and plans to visit you in the afternoon instead to let you cool off from, perhaps, an argument.

And off he goes, still passing by your store; still purposefully slowing down his steps to see you through the stained glass window for longer, to see if you’re okay. He’s surprised at the sight of you tracing your jukebox slowly, gazing at it fondly. It must have meant so much to you, he assumes. Smiling softly, Hoseok continues down the pathway to his flower shop.

It’s nearly midday when a familiar face from Jimin’s choir group visits him. She waves at him. “Hobi!”

“Welc—”

“So, glad to see you again!” The girl squeals as she reaches him at the counter.

“Hi…”

“How are you?”

“Good and uh, shouldn’t you be singing with your choir members?”

Her face falls slightly at his question before she scoffs, “It’s cancelled because someone was so rude. She just told us to scram. Like who does that? We’re spreading the Christmas spirit! Everyone should be happy, especially at this time of year!”

And Hoseok instantly has an inkling of who this someone is. “I don’t think we have the right to judge someone. Everyone has their own problems, after all.”

She seems genuinely shocked by Hoseok’s words. But Hoseok didn’t bother waiting for her response as he said, “If you aren’t planning to buy anything, I would appreciate it if you leave. There are other customers here. And I would listen to Y/N if I were you.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

“I’m sorry.”

You raise a brow at the unexpected guest who is standing right in front of you, eyeing him briefly before shifting your attention to the man beside him.

“What are you both doing here?” You ask. “More specifically, what are you doing here?” Your gaze snaps back to Jimin, who is huffing in annoyance with his arms crossed against his chest — looking like he was just scolded by, you presume, the grinning man beside him. So you ask, “Hoseok, what is this?”

“I talked some sense into him,” he replies, elbowing Jimin not-so-subtly.

“I am here to apologise, Y/N. For the way I reacted in the bakery—”

Your stare narrows. “I thought we’re past that. And I told you it was my fault.”

“Would you please let me finish?” Jimin asks in a surprisingly polite manner. You assume he’s trying his best not to get frustrated further with you since, well, you always have that irritating presence during this time of the year and have the knack to run his patience thin. “I also want to apologise for assuming the worst of you.”

Now that catches you off-guard. Your silence spurs him on.

“I contacted the choir members and told them to not sing in front of your store. And I told them to sing at least a few blocks away. I should have confirmed their location with you instead of blindly trusting the people I barely interact with outside of choir activities—”

Not like we interact much either, you thought but hold back your tongue.

“—and it was my mistake for doing that. I only recently found out that they were really in front of your store—” He glances Hoseok, unamused. “—Hyung had contacted the choir people and had them confirm that they were singing in front of your store. Which is why—”

The sudden burst of your door opening startles the three of you.

“You brought her here?” Your expression clearly shows disdain at the sight of Chatterbox strutting in like she owns the place. And you wish nothing but to kick her out at this moment because she’s like an impending doom that’s about to befall your bookstore.

“No, we didn’t—” Hoseok looks flustered.

“I’m here to spread the Christmas spirit to Y/N!” Chatterbox claims with a few drinks in her hand. “Since she seems to hate our singing so much, I thought a few drinks will ease her up for Christmas!”

“Did she follow us?” Hoseok hisses to Jimin who looks just as flustered.

“I thought she should apologise to Y/N too.”

“Clearly, she has the wrong idea about this meeting,” Hoseok groans. However, just before Jimin can respond, a crash cuts him off.

It feels as if time is slowing down and your heart drops when she trips over one of the antique rugs and spills on…

“No!” You lurch forward — figure blocked by the counter you’re standing behind — towards the jukebox that’s drenched in eggnog, regarding it with widened eyes and trembling hands in the air.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Chatterbox whispers, standing up straight on her feet. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

You clench your fists as you snap your head towards her, eyes blazing. “Get out.”

“But the drinks—”

“I said, get out!” Rarely do you ever raise your voice, but you are already trembling in anger as no one made a single move. You grab Chatterbox, pulling her along with such strength that she struggled against your iron-like grip.

“I said I was sorry!”

“Well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it!” You seethe, shoving her out like a ragdoll. Jimin approaches you carefully and tries to appease you, but you shake your head. “Now, this is your fault.”

Hoseok looks downright devastated as he watches you. “Y/N…”

“Get out, leave me alone.”

There are no other words but warmth and pure joy that can describe the sight of children excitedly rushing towards you; they are all giggling and squealing.

“Uh, please don’t block the way,” you huff. Stopping momentarily, you lift a knee to support your hold on the heavy box briefly to prevent it from slipping down.

“Y/N,” Miriam greets you with a warm smile on her face. “So glad that you can make it.”

“Of course,” you reply, crouching to place the heavy box on the wooden floor of the living room. Taking off your gloves, you ask, “Where’s Helen?”

“She’s staying with her grandson for a couple of days; said something about a family Christmas reunion.”

“Ah…” You tear open the duct tape and take out the children’s books you packed a few weeks ago. “Well, then—”

“Y/N! Are you going to read us a Christmas story this time?” One of the children — Amy — asks with a big smile on her face.

“I shouldn’t… Maybe Helen can read to you once she’s back—” Words die on your throat at the expectant — hopeful — gazes of the children that have gathered in the warm living room. “Okay… Maybe one book won’t hurt—”

The children squeal happily.

“—so, you guys pick whichever book you want, and I’ll read it to you.” Then they rush to the opened cardboard box. You make yourself comfortable against the velvet cushions that’s spread on the rug-covered floor. While the children are busy discussing which book would be their pick, you fish out your phone from the pocket of your discarded coat only to realise that Helen had sent you a message that she won’t be in the orphanage tonight.

After replying to her with some reassurance — that you’d take over the story-telling position just for today — your fingers hover over Hoseok’s unread messages from yesterday night. Well, since the day you told him to get out of your bookstore in your fit of rage.

Hoseok constantly messaged you about many things — asking how you are doing, if you want to go out to get some coffee, or even just ramble about his day. You read all of them through the notifications from your phone — the ones that are not cut off by the message bubble — and your heart aches just a little more.

“This one!” Amy runs up to you, handing the book before taking the spot right next to you.

When you read the title, you falter. “Wait, are the others okay with this or are there any books you’d like me to read?” You look around at the children who are already in their respective seats surrounding you in a half-circle; they nod eagerly.

Letting out a sigh, you purse your lips for a brief moment. “Alright then—” You lift the book up; front cover facing the children. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas…”

Then you flip the book open and begin reading the story…

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

By the time you have finished reading the book, it’s nearly midnight; most of the children have fallen asleep with a content smile on their faces. You make it your mission to help Miriam tuck them into their beds since Helen is not here tonight.

“I really appreciate what you did today, Y/N.” Miriam follows you out of the building, stopping on the doorway.

“It’s not a problem, really.” You put on your gloves.

“But I really appreciate it, Y/N. And you know you will always be welcomed here.” Miriam reminds you.

You let out a sheepish chuckle. “Thanks, Miriam. Maybe I’ll come back and help around.”

She pulls you in for a hug. “The children love you. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled whenever you decide to come visit.”

After exchanging a few more words, you leave the orphanage and walk into the winter night. Gradually, your thoughts take you to Hoseok once more. You’d be lying if you don’t miss his presence and it has been just a few days since the incident. However, you just can’t find the right words to explain yourself, not when Christmas Eve is nearing.

Shaking your head, you keep your gaze low; eyes focusing on the snow-covered streets while the night grows darker with only street lanterns dimly lighting up the pathway. Just as you pass a particular house, loud laughter catches your attention, causing your legs to stop abruptly.

Through the bright window, you watch silently at what seems to be a Christmas gathering. You recognise some people who live in the same neighbourhood as you; even Jimin and Jungkook are there and… And Hoseok. Their smiles are so warm, and they seem to be enjoying themselves as they sit by the fireplace. The lively atmosphere inside the warm room is a definite contrast to the quietness of the night outside.

Letting out a sigh, you stop watching and continue on your way; once you arrive at your house, you mutter weakly, “I’m home…” After taking off your boots and gloves, you tug off your coat, brushing off the snow before you hang it on the coat hanger. Making your way towards the dark kitchen, you flip the light on and boil some water.

While waiting for it, your own mind seems to have an internal battle of its own. After that incident, you think it’s better to revert back to your old self who has no worries in being alone. However, after spending time with those children — it’s hard to admit, but you know you can’t be alone at this time of year. Spending time buried between pages of a book no longer distracts your thoughts, nor does sorting out books that are usually enough to distract you.

Opening the cabinet, you take out a box of your favourite tea, placing it on the counter. Looking back at the opened cabinet, you falter for a moment, staring at the unused mugs labelled ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’. With pursed lips, you quickly take your own mug and close the cabinet.

Rain drizzles down onto the asphalt path while the repeated sound of Hoseok’s footsteps crunching fills the empty air. He avoids the wet snow, treading carefully to not soak his boots further in this weather. Rain during winter is perhaps one of the things Hoseok considers unpleasant, but it reflects his current mood despite today being Christmas Eve.

Crossing the familiar street with an opened umbrella in hand, he lets out a sigh into the cold air, fog coming out with his exhale. Growing nearer to your dark bookstore, his heart grows heavier with each step. He stops momentarily and peeks inside your darkened bookstore, then his shoulders drop in disappointment.

Arriving at his store, he closes his umbrella before entering. Hoseok rubs the sole of his boots against the ‘welcome’ rug, shaking the umbrella to shed the remaining frozen droplets on the material.

Jungkook — already onto his task of assembling bouquets — spares a glance at the older man. “No luck?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Hoseok mutters a ‘no’, passing by the counter gate and into the employee changing room.

It’s been more than a week since anyone has seen you. There has always been warm light filtering out through the window of your bookstore. However, now, your bookstore is completely dark as if life itself has been snuffed out of it.

Tugging off his thick coat, Hoseok places it on the hanger then takes the usual apron, tying it around his waist.

Hoseok wonders what had happened; the expression on your face was unlike anything he had ever seen… And, he really wants to reach out, but you have seemingly disappeared without a trace. As he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he’s still deep in thought, that is until Jungkook gasps rather loudly.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?”

But his movements stop completely when he hears a familiar voice — the voice he has been dying to hear again. In seconds, he barrels out of the room slamming the door albeit too loudly, startling Jungkook and…

“Y/N…” He stands in shock, still processing that you’re here.

“Hey,” you say nonchalantly, “I’d like a bouquet of chrysanthemums and dahlias, please.”

The three of you lapse into silence for a few moments until Jungkook mutters, “I’ll… Work on them... Yeah...” Jungkook snaps his finger while pursing his lips. “I’ll do just that…” Jungkook gets to work immediately, leaving you both near the main counter as he scuffles around the shop where the chrysanthemum and dahlias are.

Your gaze wanders along the neatly placed shelves on your side, and the various colourful flowers that’s set in silver-coloured buckets. It’s your first time visiting his store, and it is unexpected, alright. After your “disappearance”, you’re now here as if nothing has happened.

“I texted you…” Hoseok mumbles, earning your attention on him. “I called you too; visited your store a few times. What happened?”

“I needed time to get myself together,” you answer, fiddling with the button of your black coat.

“Why didn’t you call or at least let me know you’re okay? You had me really worried.”

“Because it’s none of your business.” You speak monotonously, but it still manages to strike at his heart.

Hoseok clenches his fists. “Right… My friend’s business is none of my concern.”

You exhale at that but still keep your mouth shut. Even as Jungkook timidly passes by you with the wrapped bouquet. Right after you pay for the flowers, you rush out.

Hoseok releases a breath that he did not even know he was holding. And he can feel his heart squeezing in pain.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

In silence, standing in front of the two tombstones — with an umbrella on one hand — you lay the bouquet between them. One shoulder is drenched from the rain, but you don't find it in yourself to care; not at this moment when all you can think about are your parents and that tragic day.

Countless of tears you have shed on the same day, each year; though it has been half a decade since then. But your heart still lays heavy in your chest, borderline suffocating in the middle of the quiet cemetery. And it feels as if it just happened recently.

Tearing your gaze away from the tombstone, you look up to the cloudy sky and blink rapidly — adamant about not letting any tears fall this year. With a deep breath, you look back down and leave.

The cold isn’t the worst when you walk back. Usually, you would even cry on the way home thinking about your parents. But this time, your mind persistently drifts to the disappointment on Hoseok’s face from earlier, unable to forget as if it is burned into your mind.

Biting your trembling lower lip, your steps grow faster to your bookstore. You promised Miriam you would come to visit the orphanage and bring more books for the children.

Arriving at the front door, you slot in the key and are about to unlock the door when you freeze momentarily, body seizing as your brows furrow. Taking a slow deep breath, you open the door and darkness greets you as usual. Closing the door behind you, the sound of your boots clicking on the wooden floor fills the air as you make a beeline towards the storage. Flicking the light on, your eyes search for the packed box on the corner, lifting it up in your arms once you find it before turning the lights off.

Walking between the shelves towards the front door, the jukebox appears in your sight. As everything that happened comes rushing back, you move towards it — dropping the box on the floor, nearly tripping over it — and your eyes looking around it frantically. “It should work now…” You mumble to yourself, at the now-cleaned jukebox and after letting it dry for days. You click the usual button, and wait…

And wait…

And…

“No…” Hands trembling, you make an attempt and press the button once more, but it just won’t turn on. “Please, please, please…” You begin to plead, tears welling up in your eyes and again you press the on button. This is the last resort, after all. You’ve called all the possible service stores that fix instruments and jukeboxes, but they all had the same response, ‘We’re sorry, this model is too old.’

“I’m sorry…” You whimper, knees giving out as a sob escapes your lips. “I’m sorry…”

The last piece of memory of your parents ceases. And your heart has never felt so cold on the night of Christmas Eve.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

When the fiftieth sigh escapes Hoseok’s lips, Jungkook spares him an empathetic glance as he does his task. “You should talk to her.”

“I don’t think she wants to.”

“Huh… That sounds so unlike you,” Jungkook muses as he cleans up the counter. “And you’ve been brooding all day.”

“I do not brood.”

“Tell that to the five customers the usual all-sunshine-and-rainbow florist has scared away today,” Jungkook remarks and stops cleaning to face Hoseok. “You should talk to her, Hyung. It hasn’t stopped you before. What changed?”

“I… I don’t...” Hoseok falters, searching for an answer. “She’s my friend, I…”

“You…?” Jungkook nods with a know-it-all look, urging the older one to continue.

Hoseok narrows his stare at the younger one. “You’re mocking me.”

“Nope,” Jungkook says, emphasising the ‘p’ with a pop. “I mean, you have always been forward with your feelings, and I really admire that. Unlike, you know, Jimin—” He pauses. “—please don’t tell him that, but yeah, what’s stopping you now?”

“I just—” Hoseok releases a deep sigh. “—I don’t want to lose her, not after everything. And she’s the type of person who really values her space. I can’t just barge in and demand to make everything alright. She’ll come around, and she’ll show it when she’s ready.”

Jungkook purses his lips, seemingly in deep thought.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” Hoseok asks in frustration.

“I think I know why…” Jungkook mutters.

“Why Y/N is acting the way she did?”

“No, not exactly,” Jungkook answers. “But on why she hates Jimin’s guts, ‘cuz you know, he tends to not read the situation he’s in and go all in without thinking of the consequences—”

Hoseok makes an attempt to cut Jungkook off. However, Jungkook raises his hand to stop Hoseok as he continues, “—but you—” Jungkook gives Hoseok a pointed look. “— you tend to read the situation you’re in and that’s a good thing. So, I suggest, instead of moping around, you can just go to her and see how she is doing? See if she wants to talk and if she does, you talk, and if not, then you can leave.”

Blinking, those words sink into Hoseok’s mind. “That’s actually… A great idea…”

“Yeah, wonder why no one has thought about it, but ends up scaring away customers instead,” Jungkook retorts and clears his throat at the glare Hoseok sends his way. “Which, you know, is okay since we’re humans, after all, right? We make mistakes. And the only thing we can do is try to make up for it.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes at that before chuckling. “You’re right, JK.”

“I know I— I mean, am I?”

Hoseok clicks his tongue. “Right, okay. So, I’ll go check on Y/N. And since it’s already closing hours—” He glances at the wall clock while untying his apron. “—you can just close up today.”

“What?”

But Hoseok ignores him and runs straight into the changing room to grab his coat. Once he goes out, he tosses the key to Jungkook. “I’m entrusting you with it.”

“Wait, but—”

“See you tomorrow!”

And Hoseok rushes out of his store, leaving a baffled Jungkook behind.

Hoseok scores a new record in the number of minutes it takes for him to reach your bookstore. However, his shoulder droops as the last bit of his hope vanishes at the sight of the dark place.

So, you had left. Or still not coming in.

He steps closer to the window, futilely peeking inside. After a few moments, he sighs in disappointment, putting his hands inside the pocket of his long plaid coat. Just as he’s about to leave, he stops — furrowing his brows when…

Is that a whimper?

Curiously, he goes near the door once more and makes an attempt to turn the knob and it opens. Eyes widening, he enters quickly into the darkness. And there he can finally (barely) see your hunched figure on the floor beside your antique jukebox, burying your face as your arms are wrapped around your knees… Crying?

“Y/N?” He calls out in hesitance, taking a few steps closer. You look at him and Hoseok braces for you to tell him to get out.

But instead, all you can mumble is his name. “Hoseok…”

“Hey…” Slowly, Hoseok crouches on one knee to meet your gaze. “I’m here.”

You merely stare at him, unmoving.

“You’re not alone anymore, Y/N,” he says, softly. “I’m here.”

Throat bobbing, more tears flow down across your cheeks. Hoseok opens his arms. “Come here.”

One moment you are still unmoving, and the next you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Hoseok leans back — both knees on the floor now — one hand gently pats your head while the other arm keeps you close to him.

“Let it all out. I’m here now,” He whispers, letting your face rest against the crook of his neck. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

[ flashback ]

It should have been a happy time for Hoseok as he gathers with all the people he cares about. Well, not all of them when you have not even read his texts. He scrolls through his phone mindlessly, staring at the texts he had sent over the past few days.

Hoseok [18/12]: Hey… how’re you feeling? I brought some sugar doughnuts today but you weren’t working today :( i hope everything’s well

Hoseok [20/12]: Y/N, i’m really sorry about what happened. Please let me know if you need anything

Hoseok [21/12]: you know i hate it when it rains so hard during the winter, i swear i came into my shop with icicles hanging on my face and jungkook had to say that i looked like that squirrel from ice age 😭 anyway, i met a tough customer today… I spent three hours waiting for them to choose which flowers they’d like for their bouquet. Even jungkook was close to combusting as well. it was torture 😢

Hoseok [22/12]: Hey, so we’re having a christmas celebration tomorrow, would you like to come? It’ll be fun!

Hoseok [23/12]: hey, Y/N! I was wondering if you’re going to make it to the celebration?

But that last text was hours ago and you had remained unresponsive. Hoseok sighs harshly and his emotions overwhelm him. And he lets himself think if you’re worth all the trouble and turmoil he’s facing.

“Something on your mind, dear?” His grandmother asks, placing one comforting hand on his knee. “I know that look on your face all too well. Your father used to have that look whenever he’s in deep thought. So, let me guess, is it a girl?”

Hoseok blinks a few times, flustered at his grandmother’s guess. “Yes, but well, no? Not really?”

“Who is it? I never heard any news about your love life. And now, your dear grandmother is absolutely curious,” she says, laughing with mirth lighting up her crinkled eyes.

Hoseok smiles softly at his grandmother before he relents and tells her all about you. At the mention of your name, he swears his grandmother just smiles a tad wider.

“It’s about time she finds someone,” she mutters to herself but Hoseok still hears it anyway.

“You know Y/N, Grandma?”

She nods. “Y/N used to live in the orphanage a few years ago… Poor thing.”

Hoseok gapes at that. “I… Never knew.” His heart twisting painfully in guilt and worry. “I’ve always assumed she had a really bad past since she never talks about it.”

“Definitely traumatising for someone so young to face heavy losses.” His grandma explains. “She dealt with most of it on her own, and… She may come across as cold, but she isn’t cruel, she’s just closed off,” Helen says softly. “But I guess you know that already?”

Hoseok nods.

“So, don’t give up on her. I think right now, she needs someone more than ever. She has had no one to lean on for so long.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

You stare silently at the crackling flames with a blanket wrapped around your frame and for some time your mind stays quiet after you have emptied out your pent-up emotions. Hoseok busies himself in the kitchen for a few minutes, and brings out two mugs of hot chocolate.

After your cry fest in the bookstore, Hoseok has taken you to his place for some hot chocolate he received from his grandmother, who had insisted that he should let you try it even when you know nothing of her. You rejected the offer at first, not wanting to bother him more after your breakdown. But Hoseok being Hoseok, from the time you have gotten to know him, you’ve learned that he can be very persuasive and persistent. And now, here you are, where he claims is his humble abode.

One thing for sure, this place screams Hoseok. It’s definitely more to the cozy side despite some unique furniture you spot decorating the place.

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking a mug from his extended hand as he takes a seat beside you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better...” You take a sip of the hot chocolate, sweetness spreading across your tastebuds. And you resist the urge to hum in delight.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok shifts his gaze from the flames to you.

“Why did you help me?” You blurt out. “I mean, you didn’t have to… Like just now, and after the way I treated you, usually people would... Leave.”

Hoseok ponders for a moment. “Maybe it’s because they don’t know you like I do.”

“But we just met each other not too long ago.”

“And that’s enough for me to get to know you, at least some part of you. And as I’ve mentioned before, I would really like to get to know you even better.”

“I don’t think you really do…” You mumble, staring into the half-finished hot chocolate.

Hoseok snorts at that. “You’re someone who really values her space and if someone dares to cross that line you’ll give them hell for it.”

His facial expression softens further as he continues, “And you’re also someone who knows how to stand up for herself, not needing anyone to defend you. You don’t care what others think of you because you already know your own worth.”

You stare at him wide-eyed.

“Do you need me to continue? Because I still have more and—”

“Hoseok… I’m not— I don’t think I’m a nice person to be around...” you admit.

“That is the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Hoseok scoffs. “So you’re telling me someone forced you to donate children books to the orphanage and read to those children?” He recalls the pictures his grandmother showed him the other day — of you reading to the children and having a pleasant time with them.

Blinking, you gape at him. “H-How did—”

“My grandma told me.” Hoseok is now looking at you, unamused. You shoot him a confused look as he explains further, “Helen is my grandmother. And I may not know what you have gone through, Y/N. But I told you I’m here and you don’t have to face things on your own now.”

You look away from his gaze, unable to keep looking into his intense stare any longer.

“Why do you hate Christmas?”

You stiffen at his question as it becomes silent between the two of you besides the crackling sound of flames. Hoseok sighs after a few moments, placing his hand on your arm briefly as if to say ‘it’s alright’ then standing up from the couch.

Just as he’s about to step into the kitchen, you blurt out, “I loathe Christmas.” And his steps falter, he turns slightly to look at you fiddling with the mug nervously. “I hate anything that has to do with Christmas because like I once told you, this season seems to force people to be happy. It doesn’t care whether or not you’re hurting inside, no consideration of how people truly feel in the heart. And I gradually find it pointless and fake.”

You shut your eyes tightly. “I… I lost my parents on Christmas Eve.” And the image of the car flipping upside down still vivid in your mind and you can hear the crash as clear. “I don’t deserve to feel happy, not when I should’ve gone with them at the incident. I-I should have gone with them. It's n-not fair that they’re gone and I’m here and alone and if I’m happy while they’re not here—” you blabber, hands shaking rapidly. “It’s not fair and now, I’ve failed them, I lost them— Their jukebox is broken and I can’t do anything about it,” you whimper. “Just like that day.”

“Y/N…” And you didn’t realise Hoseok is already in front of you, crouching. He lays his hand gently on yours after taking your mug, placing it on the coffee table. “Look at me,” he stares up into your eyes, gaze so warm and gentle that you might even break down again. It’s been a long time since someone looked at you that way. “You can’t take responsibility over the things that are out of your control.”

“And what you had gone through is unimaginable, but do you think you’ve punished yourself enough, even though it’s not your fault? You stopped letting yourself enjoy life itself and — correct me if I’m wrong — your parents wouldn’t want that for you,” Hoseok says. “Would they want you to be trapped in your past?”

You let his words sink in.

“And despite your jukebox not working anymore, that doesn’t mean that your parents are gone.” Hoseok grips your forearm, lifting your right hand to place it on top of your heart. “They live in you. You’re their daughter after all. The jukebox only serves as a memory of them, but surely, you have other memories of them.”

After all this time, you realised that’s what you needed to hear — you haven’t failed your parents, despite everything.

“And looking at how you’ve grown into this amazing woman that I have the privilege to get to know, I’m definitely sure your parents are proud of you.”

Face crumpling, your palm covers your eyes as another sob escapes your throat.

Sitting again next to you, Hoseok coos and gathers you in his arms. “Cry all you want, I’m here, love. I’m here…”

And you cried again, the hardest you’ve done in a long time.

Once you have calmed down, you murmur, “They used to dance around the house a lot...” Tear-stained cheek resting against his chest as you find yourself curled up on his lap. “Hanging socks and filling them with candies, claiming that they’re for the elves that visit late at night.”

Hoseok leans against the throw pillows, quietly listening as you tell stories of how your parents used to love the winter season. His warmth comforts you and your still-aching heart.

That night you fell asleep in his arms; the last bit of your emotions all used up, but your heart definitely feels lighter than the past years.

Knocking on the wooden door, you clear your throat, hearing scurrying footsteps before the door opens.

“Y/N!” Miriam exclaims. “I was so worried, you didn’t show up yesterday.”

“Sorry, something came up yesterday and I didn’t realise how late it was when I was done. But I bring another couple of books?” You lift up the box in your hands in emphasis.

Miriam lights up at that. “Well, come on in. The children will be so happy. They are excited to—”

“Oof—!” The loud thump behind you causes you to turn to see Hoseok huffing, catching his breath — one hand on his knee as he sits on the stairs — another box on top of the stoop. “I didn’t realise how much book you’ve packed, Y/N.”

Snorting, you place the box you’re holding on your left hip and extend your right hand to him, instinctively, to help him up. “C’mon, the children are inside and we should help to unpack the boxes first.” He takes your hand and pulls himself up, nearly stumbling and having his face close to yours.

As if his piercing gaze locks you in a trance, you stare back until he murmurs, “Well, someone is looking beautiful today.”

Spluttering, you let go of his hand, face burning. “Let’s go.”

Hoseok laughs at your embarrassment before he lifts up the box on the floor and makes his way inside, passing by Miriam who’s waiting by the door.

When you step inside, Miriam whispers, “Is he—?” Her tone lace with curiosity as a teasing smile appears on her lips.

“Uh, no, he’s not my boyfriend—” You say too quickly, flustered.

“Well, I meant to ask if he is Helen’s grandson, but I see.” Miriam fails to stifle a big smile now. “You two would look really good together.”

You curse yourself, walking faster as Miriam laughs behind you, closing the door. When you reach the living room, the children are already waiting and once you step into their view, they squeal happily.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Amy waves to you giddily. “Hobi says you brought more books for us!”

“H-Hobi…?” You blink. Snapping your gaze towards said man who is already looking at you intently and you avert your gaze once more to the grinning children. “Umm, yeah. I do.” You sit beside Hoseok, tearing the tape off the boxes you two brought in.

This time you brought in colouring books and other story books.

“Can Hobi read to us today?” One of the children asks.

You shift your gaze to his surprised face, a teasing smile appears on your face. “Yeah, Hobi, you should read to them today.”

Hoseok narrows his gaze at you before leaning close to whisper, “You should call me ‘Hobi’ from now on.” Then he turns to the children, smiling. “Alright, I’ll read for today. And which book do you want to read?”

“Which one is your favourite, Hobi?” Another kid — Ian — asks, curiously looking through the books.

“Well…” Hoseok scans through the titles of the stacked books. Your eyes widen at his pick. “This one!” He lifts up the How the Grinch Stole Christmas book.

“Wait— I read that to them already,” you try to stop the children’s interested looks.

“He can read it to us again!” Amy says giddily. “I think it’s a really nice story!”

“But there are other better books to read,” you offer. “Like…” You look through the books you brought. “This! The Night Before Christmas!” you read the title aloud.

“We can read that later,” Quin whines. “We want to hear Hobi read the book!”

Unbelievable. How the hell can these children choose him over you already?

As if he can read your mind, Hoseok shoots you a smug look and you pout like a petulant child. “Fine, I’m gonna go to the kitchen to help Miriam,” you huff, standing up and stomp out.

Hoseok watches your figure disappear into the kitchen before he says, “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

Amy nods, grinning. “She’s grown up, but she’s still like us! That’s why playing with Y/N is so fun!”

“Right…” He gives a brief soft smile at Amy before he clears throat. “So let’s begin…”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“You’re not reading to the children?” Miriam asks when you appear in the kitchen.

“No, Hoseok’s handling that.” You take a fresh apron and tie it around your waist. “So… I’ll help out with the cookies.”

“Alright then,” Miriam chuckles, handing you the mixing bowl and mixer. “You can continue mixing the ingredients until everything’s smooth and I’ll take out the cookies I baked earlier.”

You flip the switch of the mixer on and continue to mix the ingredients. When the texture of the dough is smooth, you place the mixture into small scoops on the baking tray and that’s when you overheard Hoseok’s voice.

“What can you learn from the Grinch’s story?”

“Oh! Oh!” One of the kids exclaims. “That Christmas isn’t all about gifts!”

“That’s right,” Hoseok agrees. “And also, despite the Grinch being mean at first, even unkind, that doesn’t mean that they are truly that way at heart.”

Your movements falter at his words.

“There is always a reason behind their actions,” Hoseok points out. “So, it’s always best to learn about them first before assuming things.”

“You sound like you know the Grinch well.” Amy tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you happen to know the Grinch, Hobi?”

“Well, I don’t know the Grinch personally,” he muses. “But I do know someone who is very similar to him. Maybe that’s why I grew fond of the Grinch.”

Did Hoseok just compare you to the Grinch?

You scoff internally. Quickly, you finish scooping the rest of the cookie dough onto the tray before placing it in the oven after Miriam takes out the first batch of cookies and then retrieving a serving tray from one of the cabinets.

“Oh!” Amy raises her hand enthusiastically. “I know! I know!”

“Yes, Amy?”

“An act of kindness towards someone can change them!”

Hoseok blinks. “That… Is right.”

“That’s right.” You walk into the living room with glasses full of milk for the children. “An act of kindness can change a person’s life.” Placing the tray on the coffee table, you look at the children one by one. “So, it’s important to be kind to others.”

As if on cue, Miriam brought out the freshly-baked cookies. And the children flock around her to get a piece. She chastises them and sets the cookies on the table alongside the glasses of milk.

You spent the entire Christmas day in the orphanage, helping out and spending time with the children and Hoseok. You even meet Helen who never stops gushing once she finds the two of you visiting the orphanage.

When it’s already late at night, you and Hoseok bid the children farewell with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart. Hoseok walks you home afterwards, and silence falls between you — both comforting and soothing. Arriving in front of your doorsteps, you turn to him who is already staring at you with his bright eyes.

“Thank you for today, Hoseok—” You stop at his unamused look. “What?”

“I thought I told you to call me ‘Hobi’ from now on.” He steps closer to you. You step back. “Hearing you saying ‘Hoseok’ all the time makes it sound so formal between us.”

“Alright—” You place your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him away. “—Hobi, got it.”

“That’s better.” He chuckles at your antics before he steps back, stance growing uneasy. “And, uh, I forgot to tell you that there’s a winter market near the town hall. Would you like to come with me tomorrow?”

You nod without any hesitance.

“But Jimin will be there too.” And he adds quickly, “With his girlfriend. So, he won’t bother us and—”

“I’ll go.” You pause for a moment. “There’s something I need to resolve with him too.”

A gentle smile appears on Hoseok’s face at that. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Definitely.”

He grins before tugging you in for a hug to which you reciprocate as if it’s second nature. And you both stay like that for a while until Hoseok mumbles suddenly, “I think I left something in your bookstore when we went to pick up the books earlier.”

You laugh. “Well then, I can go with—”

“Oh no, that's okay!” He says quickly. “I’ll go there myself, if you’re okay with lending me your key?”

“Oh, sure.” You take the keys out of your pocket. “Don’t lose it, yeah?” You chuckle, handing him the keys.

He nods. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s another cold morning. Jungkook stifles a yawn as he walks along his usual route to Hoseok’s flower shop. Unable to contain his yawn any longer, he covers his face with his hand before he freezes — mid-yawn — when he sees you standing in front of the shop.

Quickly shutting his mouth, he calls out, “Y/N?”

Your gaze snaps to him from your phone. “Jungkook, hi!”

Uh-oh. Jungkook wonders if Hoseok has screwed up — since the man himself isn’t here — and now you’re seeking help from him to perhaps find ways to get rid of his hyung.

“Hey… May I ask what you’re doing here?” He checks his watch briefly. “So early…?”

“Hi, yeah, so I need a bouquet…” You fidget nervously.

“Oh?” Jungkook focuses on unlocking the glass door. “May I know what you’re looking for?”

“Hydrangeas and irises...”

He opens the door and motion for you to enter before following suit. “I’ll put my things in the back and I’ll wrap your bouquet.”

You mutter an ‘okay’ as he quickly changes into his uniform. Jungkook changes in record time as he has heard of stories of you being impatient, especially during the winter season. And well, someone has never intimidated him so much even though he is taller than you.

“Okay, so, hydrangeas and irises,” Jungkook mutters once he’s out of the changing room. He makes a quick dash towards the respective flower buckets and brings it back to the counter.

“Oh… They’re pretty,” you comment, eyeing the flowers curiously. But somehow Jungkook feels like you are scrutinizing him, ready to nitpick at him should you find any mistake or flaw.

“Why are your hands shaking?”

“Huh?”

“Your hands—” you point out. “—are shaking. Don’t you do this every day?”

“Not every day,” Jungkook mumbles, trying to stop his hands from shaking. “Anyways—” He clears his throat, changing the subject. “Who’s the special one?”

You blink. “Uh…”

Another uh-oh. This will not end well. Hyung is going to throw a major fit if he finds out about this.

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me.” Jungkook arranges the flower stems together. “No one is going to hear about this. I promise you. I know you really value your privacy.” You shoot him a confused look while he rambles. Not long after, he lifts up the bouquet. “Is... This okay?”

“Do you have yellow irises?”

“Uh, you want the yellow one?” He makes a face.

“What is it?”

“It’s going to be ugly,” he blurts out before he remembers who he's talking to. “I-I mean if you want them then I’ll search for the yellow—”

“No! That's okay!” Your hands flay to stop him from finding more irises. “It’s fine, really. I trust your opinion. You’re the expert.”

Jungkook blinks, clearly caught off-guard by your words. “Oh… I— Thank you.”

You nod, giving him a smile that is, dare he say, pretty.

“Okay,” He relaxes, bunny-smile appearing on his face. “I’ll finish this up quick.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook finally manages to finish the bouquet and you thank him incessantly to which he responds with a flustered ‘No problem, just doing my job…’

Rushing out of the store, you check your phone for Hobi’s text which says that he’s on the way to the market and would meet you there. With your heart fluttering, you put your phone back into your pocket after sending him a ‘see u too, hobi :)’.

Arriving in the market twenty minutes later, you spot him standing near the entrance, waving at you enthusiastically.

“Hey,” he starts before gaze dropping on the bouquet you extend to him. “Wha—”

You mumble, “These are for you...”

His eyes grow wide. “I… Thank you.” He breathes out. “Wow, this is so unexpected. I don’t know what to say.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle.

“So…” He observes the bouquet. “You bought these flowers from my shop and you’re giving them to me.”

At his words, you blink as realisation dawns on you. “Uh, oh right I—” You stammer, flustered.

And Hoseok laughs at your cuteness. “Aww, that’s okay. I’m just joking. But, thank you. It’s really meaningful.”

“You know the meaning of the flowers?”

He grabs your hand, tugging you along into the market. “Of course. Hydrangeas means—”

“—grateful for being understood.”

“Thank you for being understanding.”

You both say simultaneously.

He stops, turning to you as his hand tightens on yours.

“I never got the chance to properly thank you.” You meet his gaze. “And, I really appreciate what you did for me these past few days — months — actually. I really can’t thank you enough.”

A soft smile decorates his lips. And before the both of you are able to say anything else, a familiar voice calls out Hoseok’s name. Turning your gaze to Jimin and his girlfriend, you greet them with a small ‘hello’ and a smile. As they walk closer, Jimin has a wary look on his face while his girlfriend responds to you with a smile of her own.

“Jimin…” You earn his attention. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods as his girlfriend and Hoseok gives both of you space.

“Look. About the other day, I know you had no intention of bringing Chatterbox to my store to mess things up. I just want to apologise, you just wanted to set things right and I blamed you for her actions which you have no absolute control over.”

“No, Y/N. I could have explained better that we’re going to just apologise — no drinking and no singing—”

“And it’s in the past,” you cut him off. “And that’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m really sorry for not trusting you,” Jimin sighs. “I thought they had really sung a few blocks away, but you still did not like it and drove them away.”

You shake your head. “Even though I hate their carolling so much, I would have tolerated it if they were singing a few blocks away. But they still sang in front of my store and that angers me.”

“I wouldn’t take your words lightly, Y/N.”

“I sure hope not,” you snort, but then a grin appears on your face. A genuine smile appears on Jimin’s face in return as he extends his hand. And you shake it with yours, finally making up.

Returning to Hoseok’s side, you both wander around the market and you take in the festivity of it all.

“Oh! Look at those skewers!” Hoseok points out in excitement. “Wanna go try it?”

You nod at him. “I’ll go wherever you want to go. I’ve never been to any of the winter markets.”

“Alright,” he answers giddily, taking your arm to loop around his own. “Don’t want you to get lost now.” Chuckling at that, he leads you towards the first food stall of the day.

People are smiling, laughing, and enjoying themselves and for once it does not bring as much bitterness as before. It’s been quite some time since you are able to feel this way without holding back. But you’re certain you’ll move on, little by little.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“That was really fun,” you laugh, walking back to your bookstore with Hoseok still glued on your side. Despite not being in a crowded place any longer, he refuses to let go of you.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he muses. “We should do this more often.”

“Hanging out in markets, trying out various kinds of food together?”

“Well, if you consider it a date,” Hoseok says as you reach your store.

“Are you asking me out, Jung Hoseok?” You fish out the keys, unlocking the door.

“You remember my whole name?” He teases.

You shoot him a playful glare, stepping inside. “I mean, I have a sharp memory when it comes to relevant people in my—” You stop, gaping at the sudden colourful hues of orchids and dahlias decorating the broken jukebox. “I… What—”

Hoseok watches you stride towards the jukebox, observing the flowers intently with your glassy gaze while he takes off his gloves. At that moment, you seem like a child finding a surprise gift from Santa. And if Hoseok could, he would like to keep this moment into his memory forever.

When you finally turn to him, you ask, “D-Did you do this?”

He nods. “It’s fake though, since we don’t want them to wilt and—” You lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nearly drops the bouquet you had given him earlier. Setting it down on the cashier counter, he wraps his arms around you as well in a tight hug with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“It’s still beautiful, Hobi…” you murmur, breathing in his scent. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I hope it would bring comfort to you, Y/N…”

Pulling away — still in his arms — you meet his gaze and blurt out, “Gosh, I swear I think I can kiss you right now.” The pair of you stiffen as heat rushes to your cheeks. “I-I mean—”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” he says, cupping your cheek. Leaning down to close the distance between you. You scan through his eyes for any signs of hesitance and when you find none, you close the remaining distance, meeting his lips with yours.

Everything happens so fast, but Hoseok is the only clarity at this moment as his hand on your waist moves up to cup your other cheek to deepen the kiss.

“Hobi...” You breathe out as he backs you against one of your shelves. “Hoseok—”

“Y/N...” he murmurs, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as he looks into your eyes, gaze half-lidded. “Do you know what blue irises mean?”

You blink, still processing his question. “Hope… And faith?”

He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear. “It also means deep feelings when gifted to someone.”

Gaping, you stare up at his face.

“Is that how you feel? Towards me?”

You nod slowly.

He kisses your forehead softly and your eyes flutter shut. Interlacing your fingers together, he leans his forehead on yours while he whispers, “I feel the same way. I have feelings for you, Y/N.” He then mumbles, “I really, really like you, Y/N.”

“I really, really like you too, Hobi.” You meet his lips again. He smiles into the kiss.

When you both pull away to catch your breaths, you bury your face on the crook of his neck. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

And he kisses your temple, holding you tighter in his arms.

After punishing yourself over the loss of your parents, you had never given yourself a chance to move on. But you have known for quite some time that some part of you longed for a change. That is why you admire the Grinch who has a change of heart towards Christmas. Now with Hoseok by your side, you realise that you can move on as he encourages you to finally take a step forward. And for once you look hopefully to a happier future.

author’s note: honestly, i nearly turned this into a drabble series, but well, my writings are either too long or too short theres no in between so, oneshot it is sjdksjkfsd i hope you guys enjoyed it and as always, feedbacks are always appreciated !! if you’re interested in jimin’s story, you can find it here! thank you for reading 💕

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sarahjtv · 3 years

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BNHA Chapter 309 Spoiler Thoughts: Izuku and Inko Midoriya, and Some More Things Along The Way

The chapter leaks are here again! Thanks to all the people on Twitter and here on Tumblr for providing us with scans and translations. This chapter helps explain some things that a lot of us were wondering about. Sadly, there’s still no Bakugo, or Shoto, or any other UA kids really; they’re only in flashbacks. But, we do get to see what All Might and the Top 3 Heroes (Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist) are up to, so that’s something. Anyway, remember to take what I say with a grain of salt until the official translations come out on Sunday:

The chapter starts a few minutes after Deku beat Muscular. He’s flying through the air taking an unconscious Muscular tied up in his Black Whip. The other Ketsubusu Academy students from the Lisence Exam see him too. Thankfully the stubborn civilians from 2 chapters ago are willing to help Yo Shindo recover in exchange for not listening moving to the school shelters. Also, Shindo’s barely conscious, but he does actually remember Deku. He’s just not the same Deku as before. Not much for me to say here except that I wonder if Shindo’s going to help spread the word about Deku’s actions. Not just to his classmates, but I wonder if the words’ going to get out to the news and UA. Actually, word might not even get that far since Shindo was only one of the few people in that exam that really even interacted with Deku...

Deku hands Muscular over to the police for them to take care off. He also makes sure to cover himself up in Smokescreen to hide his identity. So, Deku really is working in the shadows here. It is best that the public doesn’t know what Deku is doing so that the LoV don’t track him down. My man’s really going down the Batman route. Oh, I also have to admire Deku’s smartphone here kept in this steel case. I was going to say it’s a burner phone, but burner phones break easily for a reason and this one clearly doesn’t. Maybe it’s a special one that can’t be tracked down.

And we finally get to see All Might again! He is actively working with Deku instead of just not knowing where his protege is. He’s wearing casual clothes (jacket, jeans, sunglasses, the works) when he meets up with Deku in an alleyway. I’m honestly glad that All Might is still supervising Deku. I mean, Deku on his own would’ve been badass, but when you’re going up against people like AFO and Shigaraki, you’re going to need some help. Especially when laying low. Even with supervision, I still think Deku counts as a vigilante b/c I don’t think his license works if he’s not at UA. I will believe this unless proven otherwise.

It’s explained that the “wrapping” on Deku’s arms are actually gauntlets called “Mid-Gauntlets”, which are what are helping hold Deku’s arms together. And they are VERY similar to the gauntlets that Melissa Shield from Two Heroes gave Deku. Deku even says that All Might ordered them from the USA before travel restrictions were put in place. I know that it’s only implied, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Deku’s new gauntlets were made by Melissa. Even if you want to doubt it, at this point, Two Heroes (and by extension Heroes Rising and probably the upcoming 3rd movie, World Heroes Mission) are canon. Honestly, I’m cool with it. I liked Melissa and I’m glad her presence is still around (she was even in a Team-Up Mission chapter with Hatsume). I do wonder if we’re ever going to see her in the main story. It would be nice to see Melissa again.

The gauntlets are test samples and are used to enhance endurance. All Might says that they can’t withstand 100% of OFA yet. Which means that Deku actually beat Muscular with less than 100% unlike their first fight where Deku had to use over 100% just to knock him out. So, does this mean that, say, Deku’s current 45% is stronger than his 100+% back in the Forest Camp? Or maybe it was just the combo of moves and strategy rather then Deku just punching his way through things.

Small detail, but All Might’s phone goes off with that “I AM HERE” ringtone we heard before and Deku comments that this particular one is from All Might’s Silver Age TV Special! It’s such a small thing, but I love that Deku still has that All Might fanboy in him despite everything 💚! Somethings truly never change.

And back to the Top 3: Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist! Endeavor and Best Jeanist are teaming up to kick a villain’s ass while Hawks is talking to All Might on the phone. It looks like Hawks got a few costume changes particularly his visor/glasses which look more boxy than they did before if that makes sense. Oh, and they’re also helping All Might work with Deku. Makes sense since all three vowed to help take down Dabi earlier and Shigaraki and AFO definitely extend from that.

Deku’s Danger Sense is going off, so he’s probably going to check out any danger he can find in case it’s the LoV. I do wonder if that harms Deku still. It was said that it felt like a stabbing in his head and it must’ve been bad enough for the 4th OFA Holder to live in the forest away from society. Man, I really hope our boy is ok (I know he’s not really, let me have this).

But yeah, Hawks (still wingless, but with a nice little undercut btw😳) explains that Deku's afraid of dragging other people in his battles like All Might. Hawks also goes on to say that it’s best to take the initiative in taking down AFO and Shigaraki rather than waiting for them to appear all powered up. He also wants All Might to keep supporting him despite the difficult position he’s in (remember that All Might’s technically Qurikless again and can’t really fight on his own). It makes sense for them to go after the Villains again while they can. If Deku fought Shigaraki while Shigaraki was at full strength, Deku would lose easily. Even at 75%, Shigaraki was able to kill and injure A LOT of people, and Deku was lucky to even make it out there alive. They need to find Shigaraki SOON!

Flashback to Central Hospital before Deku jumped UA ship! Recover Girl and Central Hospital’s high-tech were responsible for many of the patience recovering quickly and being discarged. Deku was just there a little longer than the others. So, we can assume that all our UA kids and some notable heroes made it out alive after being treated. Still don’t know what happened to some people like Tamaki and Fat Gum tho 😭.

All Might and Deku’s mom, Inko (thank god she’s ok), are by Deku’s bedside as his casts are taken off. Deku’s doctor (who looks like Super Mario/Luigi; the whole Super Mario crew must run this damn place. Where’s Bowser and Princess Peach) explains that despite his former warnings about his ligaments, Deku’s limbs are still functioning because he’s not the same as he was before. So, before, Deku’s injuries were like his limbs were exploding from the inside, but this time those “explosions” were able to escape his body. Also his Black Whip cast helped keep Deku’s arm in tact so that he wouldn’t pulverize himself. His ligimates are still degrading too, so Deku still has to be careful. I think he might have a few more small scars too, but that could just be shadows or muscle lining from Horikoshi’s pen-work.

Ok, honestly, I’m not sure how this logically works... I’m no medical professional, but I assume this means that Deku’s built his body up so much that it’s naturally able to withstand more damage than before and that’s why he’s more durable. But, I don’t know how Deku was able to let the “explosions” escape this time. I get the reverse; I get how he got injured before, but I don’t get this. Was it the Black Whip brace he made for himself? I honestly don’t really understand this. Maybe the official translations will clear this up. Or Horikoshi will in a Tweet or Volume Extra.

And Inko is finally informed of OFA thank the gods! She was in the top of my list of “People who should really, really know OFA and what’s going on with Deku because I swear...”. She’s clearly shaken up as anyone would be, but I’m glad she at least knows what’s going on with her son. Yes, she’s still worried, but at least she can stop guessing why all this is happening.

Deku announces the reason why he won’t go back to UA and it’s basically that Shigaraki can sense where Deku is and he doesn’t want to see anyone else close to him get hurt and/or die. So, basically what I thought would be the reason. Absolutely no surprise there. But, going after Shigaraki and AFO first was originally Deku’s idea, so that’s something new. Kid’s bold.

And this broke my heart 💔! Inko insists that Deku stay with her to stay safe, but Deku knows what he has to do. So, he thanks his mom, thanks her for making him happy, and tells her that he’ll be ok and that he’ll come back home with a somber smile on his face. We see a flashback to Little Deku and Inko too when they were happier. Bro, I don’t even know what to say. I am in tears just writing this 😭 I’ll just post these two panels so y’all can cry with me. I will never recover from this. I’m fucking devastated. You better come home, Deku:

*sniffs* All Might remembers what he said to Inko. He remembers how he said that he will protect Deku with his life. All Might encourages Deku to go and he says that he’ll go with him with tears in his eyes. He asks the Top 3 to help with this mission (finding Dabi) as their own mission coincides with Deku’s (finding Shigaraki and AFO). I’m so glad all these adults are staying by Deku’s side throughout this. It’s good to know that Deku still has support, though I wish it were from some of his friends too. Maybe one day.

Deku goes to see Grand Torino in his hospital room to talk to him about OFA. He mentions his friend and 7th Holder Nana Shimura. Torino thinks he was responsible for killing Shigaraki (he really wasn’t let's be real). He also tells Deku that Deku shouldn’t be so persistent in saving Shigaraki as killing can sometimes lead to salvation. Ok, few things:

1. I am surprised Grand Tarino is still alive. I mean, we don’t know what happened to him after this talk, but at least he got to hear from Deku again. It’s kind of nice to know that Tarino willingly passed down his cape to Deku too instead of Deku just taking it after his death. Also, I’ve been watching some of Jujutsu Kaisen like everyone else has and this give me some Yuji & his grandfather vibes to it. Knowing what happens there and that JJK’s magaka is good friends with Horikoshi, I have a sinking feeling I know what happened after this talk...

2. Deku looks so much older here. Like, it’s not that cute, innocent baby face we knew at the beginning. I don’t even know what it is exactly (maybe the eyes), but he just looks more mature here. Also, his uniform some buttons down looks really good on him, I’m sorry but I need to mention that too 💚.

3. “Killing is a means towards salvation”. Oh, boy... I mean, I get it. Some people just can’t be saved or captured in hopes of rehabilitation/redemption. Sometimes killing people is necessary to save others. But, Deku is not a killer. He will try to save Shigaraki no matter what. That was established again last chapter. He tried to save Muscular for god’s sake. But, I am curious if Gran Tarino’s words are going to hold any weight in the final fight. Like, will Deku have to kill Shigaraki? What will that do to Deku as a person? I’m really curious if Horikoshi is going to make Deku do this.

And finally, there’s a page showing off the Top 3, Deku, and All Might team up with the resolve to beat the LoV. I am really interested to see where this goes. Deku is working with the big Pro Heroes instead of his classmates/friends. This hasn’t really happened before. I also wonder if Shoto and Bakugo know what Deku’s doing then. Because Shoto’s going to help Endeavor and his family find Dabi. Endeavor’s activley helping Deku. Also, Endeavor and Best Jeanist are both Bakugo’s mentors. All Might too actually. Look, maybe I’m making excuses to see my Origin Trio together again, but I do have to wonder if Shoto and Bakugo are involved somehow.

Welp, that’s it. This chapter was a rollercoaster! I was excited, I was confused, I was worried, I cried my eyes out at one point because THOSE TWO PANELS I CANNOT 💔😭! I’m honestly just waiting for Horokishi to drop some major time-skip on us at some point. I don’t want him to, but I won’t be entirely surprised if he does. The end of this chapter is a good place to end if Horikoshi wants to segway into something else like, oh IDK, THE UA KIDS LET ME SEE THEM AGAIN HORIKOSHI PLS I’M BEGGING 💸

Me @ Horikoshi almost every week:

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meggannn · 3 years

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shepard/garrus?

oh boy, sorry for the late response! I always end up posting these things and then going to read/take a nap/play a game or something. anyway writing this up took two hours, i hope it is even slightly interesting to read. cut because this is looooooong

What made you ship it?

I think I was interested in this ship before I even played ME. I was just like “I know Shepard is a character and an alien named Garrus is a character, and people draw porn of them together.” because I think it’s reasonable to say it’s one of, if not the most, popular ship in the fandom, or at least in ME’s tumblr fandom? and the way people talked about it, I knew their tropes were #banter, #battle couple, #partnerships, and... and as we’ve learned from royai, I am a bit weak to those tropes (assuming I like both of the characters). the way people talked about them also from a “best friends” angle—which is sort of forced in-game in a way that seems strange to me now—was also a plus in its favor at the time. (if they get together, I do see their friendship/companionship, in whatever form, in some ways integral to their romance—unless you’re playing full far-right renegade who’s like a xenophobe and hate-fucking Garrus, I guess?—but Bioware also kind of shoehorned Garrus into that best-friend role and that’s a topic for another day.)

What are your favorite things about the ship?

(my friend will hit me if I say “partnerships” again) I’m gonna talk about the way I play my Shepard now, because so much is dependent on the unique Shepard. for Lydia’s journey over the series, I see a large part of her journey as basically a study of her (often self-inflicted) loneliness. and she never entirely breaks her habits of self-isolation, but the events of the series force her to be vulnerable in a way she would prefer not to be in front of a crew, or, y’know, ever. Garrus becomes an integral part of that story to help her break her out of these bad habits (all of the crew does, particularly also Ashley for my Shep), but to my eyes, the story of “Shepard and Garrus’s relationship” is also one of mutual respect, burden-sharing, and sanity and morality checks.

I don’t think of their “mentor” relationship in ME1 very often mostly because I don’t think it was done particularly well, but for all its faults, I do like how naturally the jump from “subordinate” in ME1 to “ally” in ME2 felt; once you meet Garrus on Omega you feel more on the same footing as two friends greeting each other because you’ve both recently been through trauma and the sight of a friendly face in a station full of hostiles is so unexpectedly welcome that it lets them both hope things will be okay for a minute. starting from that moment, Garrus becomes one of the few people who can see “under” her mask, I guess: partly because he’s one of the few combatants from the SR-1 who knows Shepard well and sees who she is both on the field and onboard the SR-2, with the ability to compare both to the times of “before you died”; partly because he has trauma response training and recognizes it in others even if he doesn’t in himself; partly because his loyal personality makes him sensitive to wonder how she’s dealing with being resurrected; and also partly because they’ve both gone through similar things. namely, getting your squad killed and blaming yourself for it, and it possibly being your fault (BioWare is inconsistent on what Shepard’s role was on Akuze, but in ME1 she has the chance to reply that she was responsible for getting them out safely, and failed).

necessity forces Shepard to adapt to things like being effectively forced to work for terrorists; being isolated from her support system; being resurrected and feeling like a stranger in her own body; later, getting decommissioned for making an incredibly difficult call to save the galaxy; watching your homeworld burn; being forced into a political role negotiating high stakes you don’t know how to play; being told you’re the spearhead of a galactic war; doing all of this without a full crew complement; the list goes on. those are all, on their own, incredibly isolating, traumatic experiences, and my Shepard’s not emotionally sane at the best of times. (emotionally stable, perhaps, only in the most literal of terms, at least on the surface. she’s like a rock when shit hits the fan. emotionally sane, no, for that reason and more.)

the tables have turned, and Garrus ends up becoming a large part of helping her regain agency in most if not all of those things: in ME2 he was a former crew member she trusted, and he was eager to work for her and be distracted from his failures on Omega. over in the battery, he is himself recovering from a major injury (like Shepard) and going through the aftermath of a bloodbath he feels responsible for (like Shepard), working on a crew that holds him at arm’s length, that he also... arguably... didn’t have much choice in joining (like Shepard—I’m assuming he wasn’t held hostage and joined voluntarily after waking up, but lbr this is unconfirmed). their reasons are different and varied, but they don’t realize until much later that they have found each other at the most opportune time, providing a sense of stability for each other, and also, frankly, sanity and morality checks.

in ME3, he steps into this role more fully because he’s become more disciplined, is doing work firmly in his wheelhouse, and paired up against Shepard struggling with their positions somewhat reversed from ME1: him more confident and her now completely out of her element, floundering with her place on a galactic scale. without Garrus—and Chakwas, and Joker, and Tali, and later the loyalty of the entire SR-2—the story of ME would be a tragedy, and it would end shortly in ME2; it’d be the story of how my Shepard slowly went insane being forced to fight boogeymen under a terrorist banner. Garrus isn’t, like, the keeper of her sanity, but their ability to check each other, and see themselves in the eyes of each other, provides stability and occasionally a bit of a wake-up call to both of them. when they’re both vulnerable, they both feel most seen, and most understood, by an alien that listens.

one angle of this ship that highly interests me at the moment, along with the above, is that while it’s not illegal for them to be together, it’s still... a really bad fucking idea lmao. (I could make the argument that it’s a bad idea for Shepard to be in any relationship with their crew but I think there are a few ships—Garrus, Tali, any Alliance crew at all—that realistically would be huge political clusterfucks.) so overcoming personal insecurity and fear of the unknown to acknowledge interest in each other, and the desire to become an item, getting roadblocked by a reality wake-up call with the fact that 1) she’s his boss, 2) Garrus comes from a society where station matters, like, sort of a lot and it even determines your job and how much legal power you have, 3) the potential political blowback (which would be ENORMOUS because lbr the hierarchy may not care about what turians do in off-hours but they WOULD care about the superior/subordinate thing, the human thing, the fact that they’re doing this while a war is going on. basically one of their best agents is on the Normandy to negotiate their interests and they’re basically at the whims of their relationship the whole time)... it’s a lot! all of that sort of makes it tragic, but I’m curious to see how they’d overcome it.

anyway, all of that is where I’m coming from when I think or write about this ship, but there’s a lot more I’m not mentioning here. there are a lot of juxtapositions that in my head that I’ve either added or extrapolated from canon that also interest me about this pairing. Garrus is a former cop, as is his father; Lydia is a poor kid who used to be in a gang out of necessity. Garrus is a turian with often traditionalist thinking; Shepard is a human who has much less sociopolitical power than him, even if she is his superior on the Normandy. both of them are roughly as old as the First Contact War, when their people were at each other’s throats not thirty years ago. Garrus idolizes Spectrehood while Lydia hates it, feeling it was forced on her. they can’t eat the same food. and yet despite all of that, and the fact that they need translators to communicate, they manage to understand each other when a lot of the world around them doesn’t.

god this is not even the full list of it. anyway I could go on but I’ll stop there lol.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

oh jesus, so much. I’m a grouchy and picky shipper, be warned.

pining can always make my ships more interesting, and imo it’s a consistent part of any ship of Shepard’s, considering it’s wildly inappropriate and unprofessional for her to be fucking any subordinate, so I think more consideration could be given to shakarian in the “we shouldn’t be having a thing and oh also you’re an alien and I’m kind of scared of both your government and your body” angle! I hope to explore that a bit with a fic I’m writing (if I ever finish it, god).

I hate the flavor of fandom!shakarian where Shepard romanced Kaidan in ME1 then felt “betrayed” when he’s confused and hurt on Horizon, so she gets with Garrus as like... revenge? idk. and then Garrus usually develops this bias against Kaidan as a sort of author mouthpiece (which is inconsistent with his characterization cause Garrus is nothing but pleased to have Kaidan back on the SR-2 in ME3!) and takes up the anti-Kaidan crusade cause K ~questioned the commander~ (since when does Garrus fall over himself defending a superior from criticism?) like, idk. I think Garrus can be sensitive to the fact that that reuniting must’ve been painful for Shepard, but also be aware that it was also really painful for Kaidan because all of Kaidan’s complicated feelings about Shepard’s resurrection were, realistically, things Garrus should’ve felt too! this trope is very popular but just feels like manufactured drama for drama’s sake, idk, I’m also not big on love triangles so. I would much rather people just rescue Ashley on Virmire and avoid the whole thing rather than have previously-romanced Kaidan around in ME3 for the sole purpose of forcing him to watch Shepard/Garrus being happy together tbh.

I think full goody-goody paragon Shepard is too preachy to make a good partner for Garrus and full shoot-anyone-in-my-way renegade Shepard encourages and emboldens his worst tendencies (and Castis Vakarian is right to disapprove of them). most people end up playing some combination of both, or if they do settle in one camp or the other, usually there is some sense of realism where Shepard doesn’t play nice/naive or play mean all the time, so it’s rare I see either of those kinds of extreme Shepards depicted, but in general if there is a Shepard that is so far in one direction it seems illogical to me that they ever stay together.

I think wanting a mShep romance for Garrus is a pretty welcome idea in fandom, but adding onto that, I think Garrus should’ve been romanceable in ME3 for players who changed their minds on other romances or want to play slow-burn romances! we had it for Kaidan—and should’ve had it for Ash—so (pounds fist on desk) Garrus too imo!

I hate the canon get-together because Shepard walking into the battery and asking “do you want to fuck” feels very tailored to the players who want to romance Garrus, not to who Commander Shepard is, imo. it lacked all of the subtlety and depth of some other romances—until the scene of Garrus coming to her cabin with a wine bottle, at least, cause I do like that scene, but anyway, I dislike the actual get-together.

just in general, I’m a stick in the mud, so my favorite iteration of this ship is where Shepard is resolutely professional, and the challenge of it becomes him getting her to open up, not the other way around. like, I think on some level every iteration of Shepard is a bit of a lunatic/eccentric, because you have to be to do the things they do, but I like to see their flirting with less of her calling him “big guy” (not sure where that came from, is that in canon? I must’ve missed it, but personally I don’t like it) and more of Garrus making wisecracks in the canteen while he’s talking to Joker, but he’s looking at her out of the corner of his eyes and he really said his joke with the aim of making her laugh, and as she’s reading her datapad she hears him, and even when she wants to chuckle she stops himself and just smirks cause she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a laugh, but he sees her lips twitch and feels his heart flutter. that. I want more of that.

oh lastly, I hate “Shepard takes Vakarian clan markings” in any iteration. there is no canon relation to turians being poc—in fact I’d argue they have sociopolitical privilege real-world bipoc do not—but the concept of social face markings, face tattoos, etc., is rooted in non-white cultures and with the fact that 1) turians had a literal civil war over the territories those markings represent, 2) we don’t even know if marriage is how markings are shared or if non-turians are ever invited to wear them in the first place, 3) most of the art of this trend, lbr, is of mostly white Shepards in wedding dresses and blue face paint... all that combined just makes me frown and scroll faster every time I see it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bipoc Shepard with Vakarian face markings in fic/art, and that to me is very telling (not because they should have them, but because bipoc fans who make bipoc Shepards usually recognize when a racially-coded trope is uhhhhh not so great to appropriate for someone not of that group).

#megan does memes #marisjellyfish #shakarian

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ka-writes · 3 years

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Notes- Did I decide I was gonna write a fic at 2:00 AM? Yes yes I did... anyways I don’t have an archive account yet but I wanted to get it out there.... um here is chapter one of my space AU, because I absolutely fell in love with the AU.

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Ohh also challenge if you wanna do it, fill in the Title! And another one... if you were an alien what question would you ask a human other than basic questions, like name and age.

Also suggestions are always appreciated! And if you wanna support my main blog it is kadoodle.. also I have no updating schedule so I will when I want to.

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Warnings: Cussing, mentions of tight spaces and characters being trapped, mentions of corpses, and needles.

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“Humans are [Insert text here]”

Chapter 1: Idiots kidnap the wrong kid..

Honestly, life hasn't been bad. His needs were met, most of the time, and he had a.. place to sleep…

Yeah no life wasn’t great.

Tommy was easily, barely, avoiding Social Services. Sleeping on benches and occasionally grass. He got whatever wasn’t wanted and had an official bag for the first time. He had some spare clothes, and no money. The authorities stopped looking for him after a while and the only main challenge was getting essentials.

No one would miss him. No one would look for him. Therefore he was the perfect target among many others. The only thing setting him apart was his sheer ability to survive, not a want, like many of the others, it was a fact he would survive. Not that his captors knew that of course.

Alternative: Tommy gets kidnapped by aliens and sbi rescues him.

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He woke up in a cage.

Not a cell or a room, a fucking cage.

There were a few others in various cages around the room. All of which were either dead or close to it. Most of the ones still alive had been there for months, possibly years. No one knew of course.

The smell of rotting bodies stenched the place with a coppery coating. The room wasn’t large but not quite small. It was dull grey with layers of grime settling on the floor and cages. The room was long and skinny, lined with cages against either wall in a zig zag format. The only light was coming from the small door window, which happened to be positioned right in front of Tommy. It glowed a faint yellow and was blurry, not allowing Tommy to see into the hall.

Shadows would occasionally pass by the window. None ever stopped at it. Causing the ever growing hunger to grow more. Once one had stopped at the door, not for more than a second, before it screeched. It was inhuman and sounded like a hurt hawk from one of those nature documentaries. Tommy shoved his hands onto his ears and waited for it to stop. The thing chuckled, not like a human, but something close to it.

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Tommy waited for what seemed like hours before something happened. The door opened, sliding into the ceiling. A weird looking creature stepped in. It looked like it had a porcelain mask over its face with a painted smiley face. There were no ears or hair, instead just more porcelain, which formed a spear which sat on shadows. The thing was wearing a lime green hoodie and black leather pants that seemingly faded into the creature's legs. The knees bent inwards causing it to look awfully awkward as it crouched near Tommy’s cage. The hands were long and lanky with no real palm. The creature also had a tail that looked close to how Tommy pictured a devil's tail to look. This was the first time in ages Tommy was glad to be behind bars.

The thing pointed at itself and said,

“Dream.”

In the most heavily accented English Tommy had ever heard. That didn’t matter as much of the fact that the seemingly painted smile moved with the words.

“Come.”

The creature unlocked the cage and half dragged Tommy out of the cage into what Tommy presumed to be the lab. He noticed a window. The only thing for miles was stars. He was in space. He had been kidnapped by Aliens. Fuck.

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Humans were a heavily avoided species. The things were what kids would expect to come out of their closet. They were feared, and for good reason.

The first ship to find Earth was ecstatic. Finding another intelligent species in what would’ve been deemed as a planetary desert was a scientific breakthrough. Causing the entirety of the media to go insane for a couple of years.. That was until the first ship ventured onto the planet. It was immediately shot down. The entire crew was killed and the entirety of the ship was destroyed in a matter of minutes. The ISF (Intergalactic Safety Force) deemed it as a no flight zone and claimed to punish anyone in the desert. Even so poachers smuggled humans and within days had their ship crashed.

The only ones allowed to take humans were scientists, who were specialized in taking care of difficult species. They were allowed to test on said species and do whatever they wanted, in the name of science of course. Most people didn’t care how they treated them and were really only interested in what could kill them.

Which is where Wilbur came in. He was a toxicologist, a scientist studying poisons, he also dealt with various potions and other chemical mixes. This knowledge is what gained his entry to the Dream Team Ship.

He had been testing on around nine different humans for the past six months on the celestial calendar. This time Dream, his boss and the captain, brought in a juvenile human. He was skinny and lanky. Clearly had been starving before being taken. He felt bad before shaking off his pity.

“V74 and V83. Make sure he can communicate beforehand.” Dream promptly stated before leaving the kid in the room.

Wilbur tried not to think about his terrified face, before he clipped on the translator. Usually it is worn on the back of the head, since humans brains are vastly different than most species, it is clipped to the left side of the head.

The translator looks like a simple device when in reality it took dozens of celestial years to perfect it. It’s a small silver disk that ingrains into the part of the brain that controls communicating. After the body gets used to the device it can translate any language into one you understand instantly.

It took a couple more years for the translator to incorporate the estimated 7,000 languages spoken on Earth. For a planet that has been isolated it has a more complex and diverse set of cultures and languages, than Pellucidian has had in centuries. To say Wilbur was jealous, wouldn’t be far from the truth. Not that he studied cultures for a living. It was something that always interested him.

He put the device on the kid’s head and grimaced at the pain that was on the kid’s face. He quickly dried up the blood and mixed a solution that would ease the pain. It was clear and tasted like water, which is the only way they got humans to take the pain reduction.

The kid relaxed for a spilt second before tending at the unfamiliar setting.

“Where am I?” He snapped, causing Wilbur to jump back a bit, before collecting himself and standing up.

“The Dream Team craft’s labatory.” The kid’s face flashed with panic for a split second, “You have two testings scheduled for today. It will go quickly.”

“Will it be painful?” The kid asked. As standard for testing, Wilbur ignored the question and measured the substances. He quickly cleaned the puncture spot before giving him the needle.

The kid winced in pain. Wilbur swiftly led him to the testing chair. It had restraints that moved with the patient's body, which prevented bruising while keeping them in place. Wilbur clicked them on and sat at the desk located to the left of the kid.

“What did you inject into me?” The kid asked clearly trying to fight off the anesthetic.

“A dosage of Lidocaine, which is an anesthetic for your species. It’s only to numb pain that may come with the solutions we will be using today.” The kid’s face flashed with a deeper panic than before, causing Wilbur to tense. “We won’t start yet, since we have a list of questions to go through before we begin.” Wilbur lied. He hated testing people, especially kids. Dream of course didn’t care, like the rest of the Dreamon species. It made him sick. That was when he made a split second decision. Hoping he could get a distress signal out, without alerting the other crew members. He was gonna get the kid off the ship, at the next stop of course. Which was in three celestial hours.

The kid scoffed, clearly not believing the lie. He paused a moment thinking over his options before he smirked,“Fine. Ask me what you want bitch-boy!” Wilbur gasped, clearly not anticipating the insult.

——————

Chapter 1 End

1406 words

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End notes: Why the hell does google docs make it so hard to copy and paste??

Also I had to do some intense googling for this... I hope you enjoyed!

(Also also this is my first ever fanfic... please give feedback and reblog!!)

Minor mistakes are forgiven... don’t expect me to be perfect... I am dyslexic.

——————

Tommy: ....

Wilbur: ....

*intense starring*

Wilbur POV: I am kidnapping it.

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Chapter 2:

#my writing #my fanfic tag #okay 2 rb #tommy mcyt #wilbur soot #dream mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #sbi au #space au

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thewildwaffle · 4 years

Text

Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?" She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

#stay spooky #halloween #humans are weird #aliens #humans are space orcs #haunted #writeblr

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yukipri · 4 years

Text

On Deuce, Part 1 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Alrighty, here's a story thing on Deuce!

My goal for this story? series? thing, is to not just give everyone a better idea of who Deuce is, but also bring up other Novel A characters and events that are relevant to the Mermaid AU (and there are several), especially for those who have not read the novels. Also want to give some info on what the hell Ace was doing in his Three Years between when he first left Dawn at 17, and him restarting his journey together with Lu.

I am defs in no way going to retell Novel A (if you wanna read them, the official English translations are out through Viz), but there are defs some major changes that occur in Ace's past as a result of Lu being a mermaid, that I feel are relevant and will tie in to some future decisions.

WARNINGS for this section:

＊I have not read the English translation of Novel A, only the original Japanese, and as such names etc. may be inconsistent.

＊This section contains MAJOR SPOILERS for Novel A volume 2, specifically about the identity of one of the novel only charas. If you want to read the novel without being spoiled, you may want to hold off on this, but if you don't care, go ahead!

＊Just a lotta Deuce being introspective, he's just that kind of guy.

＊Hint of implied AceLu

Three years ago, Deuce met Ace on a deserted island, and they formed the Spade pirates together. Deuce was Ace's first crew mate on his first adventure, and he finds it poetic that he's also his first on his next, a journey all the way back to the starting point.

Deuce, in many ways, is Ace’s opposite. While Ace was the Spades' fire, their Sun, the charismatic leader who drew them together and whose flames fueled them forward, Deuce was the voice of reason and responsibility. Deuce was their strategist, their navigator, and their doctor all in one, a true First Mate who gave more orders than the captain to keep their crew functioning. If Ace was their beating heart, Deuce was their backbone.

Ace loved the Spades, and the Spades loved their captain, love him still, even after joining the Whitebeards. But Ace also carries darkness, and secrets that he decided he didn't want to burden his crew with, both for his benefit and theirs.

Ace has two major secrets: one, that he’s the Pirate King’s son, and two, that his “little brother” is a female mermaid.

The first, only Deuce knew among the Spades. He found out on accident, back on that deserted island where they first met.

Deuce likes to think that the rest of their crew would have accepted Ace regardless, that their faith wouldn't be so easily shaken by their captain's heritage. But at the same time, he both understands and sees wisdom in Ace choosing to remain silent. Knowledge of even the mere existence of the continuation of the Pirate King's bloodline is something that the World Government would and has killed for. Ace doesn't want to subject his crew to that, and to be honest, Deuce doesn't either.

But one other on their crew knew Ace's second secret, regarding the identity of his younger brother.

When Banshee, the lone woman on their crew, revealed that she was a mermaid, Ace's reaction wasn't that of a typical pirate. Their other crew members were a mix of awe at her tail, and rude disappointment that their mermaid crew mate was a plump older woman and not a sexy young babe.

But Deuce watched Ace, and saw his eyes widen, glued to the shimmering rich green of the mermaid's tail, and Deuce knew that he was being reminded of a specific person.

Deuce was already in the room when Ace asks Banshee to join them to talk in private. Deuce makes to leave, but Ace gestures for him to stay--after all, Deuce already knows what they're going to talk about.

"Auntie, sorry for calling you in here all of a sudden," Ace begins, using the nickname the crew had adopted for her.

"This is about me being a mermaid, isn't it," she says bluntly. "Is that going to be a problem, or...?"

"No, no, not at all!" Ace quickly holds out his hands placatingly, eyes wide.

Deuce doesn't blame Banshee for her wariness; he's heard more than enough about the dangers of mermaids out at sea, especially around pirates. Which, is probably what Ace wants to talk about anyway.

"It's...well, this is less me wanting to ask you questions, and more me wanting to let you know something," Ace begins, and Banshee frowns. The crew knows the basics of their captain's origins, and has had their ears chatted off about his love for his brother--but he doesn't talk much about himself much.

"It's about my little brother--"

Banshee heaves a huge sigh, all tension leaving her shoulders, and she throws an are you fucking kidding me glance at Deuce, who also sighs but minutely shakes his head to redirect her incredulous gaze back to Ace. Because well yeah, it is about Luffy, but it's actually serious this time.

"Well, you know my little brother Luffy," Ace begins again. "I don't tell a lot of people this, and actually other than you, only Deuce here knows. But...he, is actually a she, and she's, well, a mermaid."

Deuce watches the information sink in, because it clearly wasn't what Banshee was expecting.

"Is that why you caller her 'younger brother'?" she finally asks.

"Well that...that's a bit complicated, actually. That's not the reason why she's my younger brother. But I realized it's convenient, so I've just been going with it."

"I was going to say, if it's intentional, that's awfully clever of you, captain," she smiles teasingly, and Ace sputters while Deuce snorts. Banshee has a point, because Deuce actually had been the one who'd mentioned the convenience of the title 'little brother' in protecting Luffy's identity. But, he keeps quiet for now.

"So, yeah, I just wanted to let you know that well, that's where I stand regarding mermaids." Ace shrugs, then scritches his cheek, looking away. He's always awkward about Feelings talk, but it needed to be said, and Deuce feels proud of him.

Because mermaids are so incredibly vulnerable above sea level, surrounded by humans. While young maidens are the most targeted, coveted by slavers as a free ticket to wealth, power, and connections to even the Celestial Dragons, even an older woman like Banshee might face discrimination and danger. Ace had wanted to make Banshee feel safe and secure on his ship, and revealed his own familial connections to give his words weight.

The woman smiles fondly at Ace, much like she might a son, and ruffles his hair as Ace blinks dumbly. "Thank you, captain," she says. "I knew I had a good feeling about you, before I asked to join this crew. It's not often a mermaid joins a pirate crew, you know?"

"You surprised me, I didn't know mermaids could have legs," Ace says honestly, eyes brimming with blatant innocent curiosity as they flick shyly to her feet, and Banshee ruffles Ace's hair harder. "It's my first time meeting a mermaid other than Lu."

"Mmm, well, she seems to be in good hands, with an older brother who knows how to be discreet about her, even if it's only by following Deuce's plans," she says, and Deuce guffaws while Ace buries his face in his hands, because of course she'd already guessed. "But well, I know now. So you can ask me anything you'd like, and tell me about her, if you want."

With Banshee's invitation, Ace pounces on the opportunity, and Deuce listens in even as he continues writing in his journal, occasionally taking notes in the margins when their their conversation gets interesting. Banshee tells them how merfolk tails split when they reach thirty, allowing them to live as humans on land. She tries to convince Ace to keep his brother hidden until that age, when mermaids are far safer and less attractive to slavers, but Ace shakes his head. It was hard enough convincing her to stay behind this time. She'll be leaping off that island at seventeen, no matter what I say.

Eventually, someone comes banging on the door to pitifully beg Banshee for food.

"Thank you, Auntie," Ace says as they get up to rejoin the crew outside.

"You talk to me again whenever you want, captain. And I'm always ears to hear more about your darling Luffy." She says the last part with a knowing little wink, before stepping out, leaving Ace blinking with confusion.

Deuce sighs, because Ace can be oblivious at times, and clearly doesn't know how he looks when he talks about Luffy. And Banshee just found out that said Luffy's a girl, a mermaid, and unrelated to Ace by blood.

To be fair, Deuce's pretty confident that Ace's feelings wouldn't be any different even if Luffy was a guy and human, but he gets where Banshee's coming from. Even if it still seems far too early for Ace to come to any realizations about himself.

Bc YEAH, Ace had a mermaid on his crew, so of course that is Majorly Relevant to AU.

Prolly jumping right to Whitebeards next update for this series, whee~

As always, thank you so much for reading, and an extra thank you so much to anyone who can spare me a few words of thoughts! ;A;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#Masked Deuce #OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid AU #One Piece #text headcanons #long post #longpost #AceLu #future DeuceLu #yes today is apparently Deuce night bc I said so

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

Text

Tangled Salt Marathon - Lost and Found

Another plot episode and another mountain of missed opportunities, failed set ups, and foreshadowing that goes nowhere. But outside of that it’s pretty entertaining. Are we seeing a pattern yet?

Summary: Rapunzel and Eugene go on a journey to retrieve the fourth and final piece of the scroll that will lead them to the Dark Kingdom. They receive help from Vigor the Visionary, who reveals himself to be Lord Demanitus himself, the author of the scroll depicting the purpose of the Sundrop and Moonstone. He leads them to the maze that he hid the last piece of the scroll in. Guiding them through the maze, they obtain the last piece, which united the four into one singular map. As they are about to leave, they are attacked by a stone monster.

Maybe That’s Why You Should Have Brought the Only Person Who Can Read It Along?!

Once again, having the characters acknowledge their stupidity in meta dialogue doesn’t alleviate the fact that the audience is going to think them stupid.

Regardless of your personal feelings towards Varian or what he has done in the past that does not change the fact that he is literally the only character in the show thus far who can translate the scroll. The mains knew that before leaving and they knew from the get go that they were going to need the scroll piece which is why they took it from him.

Not bringing him along, not getting a translation key from him before leaving, nor even showing us a scene of Raps trying to ask him to translate the scroll for them before leaving and then having him refuse to do so, is a plot hole.

Timeline Hint...Sort Of...

Rapunzel said last episode that it had been almost year since they left Corona, and it’s now close enough to her birthday again that Eugene could be tricked by it but not enough to actually be her birthday.

So...when are we again?

I’m going to guess 10 months after Secret of the Sun Drop? Maybe... It could also be 9 or 11 who knows... but I am still seeing fall like trees which is our only indication of a changing season in this show because the creators don’t understand climate apparently.

Maybe cause we’re now further north of Corona we see fall/winter leaves even into early spring?

Where Was This Rapunzel In Season 3?

Rapunzel actually giving a crap about what Eugene wants is as rare as seeing a fawn in the woods. It happens, but most of the time you forget it's even there.

While come season three, Rapunzel will just shoot the poor deer dead.

Madame Canardist is a Wasted Character

I’ve already discussed at length the biggest problems with Madame Carnardist in my Vigor the Visionary and Curses reviews. So I won’t rehash those talking points here again. However what I spoke about were larger problems with the media industry and bigotry as a whole and not the specific impact the character has on the story. Which is next to none.

The crew went through all of this trouble to make a deleted character from the film relevant to the series’s plot, and even there they failed. Madame Canardist is nothing more than a translator for Vigor when Demantius isn’t around. The story doesn’t utilize her properly despite her connections to one of the more plot important characters.

What is her relationship to Demantius and Zhan Tiri? How did Vigor come into her care? Why is she the only person who understands him when Demantius isn’t in control? If Vigor is centuries old by this point than how old is she? What is her stake in all this and why does she bother with Rapunzel at all if she has nothing to gain from it? Why doesn’t she go along on this important quest through the maze seeing as how she is Vigor’s caretaker?

She’s not completely useless, but like with Lady Caine, Xavier, and Hector before her, she has far more potential than the series is willing to explore with her.

So Much For Caring About What Eugene Wants

Welp that lasted all of five seconds.

Man, Rapunzel is a shit girlfriend.

The Pay Off Works, But It Then Serves No Purpose Afterwards

I don’t mind the idea of Demantius being the monkey. I mean it is one of the very few plot points in the show with proper foreshadowing and follow through. And yes, Demantius does accomplish one thing here, by helping Raps obtain the last scroll piece.

The problem is, nothing changes with this revelation.

No one’s perceptions or interactions with Demantius/Vigor are altered after this reveal. No one changes their plans, goals, or motivations afterwards. Things carry on more or less afterwards the same as if they had never met. The only thing of importance here is the scroll pecice and that’s only relevant in Cassandra's Revenge and is then forgotten about completely for the rest of the series.

What’s the point of having a plot twist if the status quo still remains?

If the information being revealed doesn’t alter the story then why keep it secret to begin with?

How Could You Research Them If You Never Found Them?

So did Demantius write the incantations or not?

He is the one who put them on the scroll, so it’s natural to conclude that he did create them, but he couldn’t have done that unless he had studied both the moonstone and sundrop to see the effects the two macguffins had to the spells.

Now according to this exposition dump, the sundrop and moonstone had been around for ages before Demantius and had become legends by his time. It is possible that someone else studied the two macguffins before him and came up with those incantations, but who?

The ancient people of the Dark Kingdom might have studied the moonstone since they were tasked with guarding it, but no one knew where the sundrop was until Gothel found it.

The audience needs to know this sort of information in order to understand the motivations driving the conflicts of the characters.

Imagine a Lord of the Rings trilogy that never bothered to say where the one ring of power came from or how it came into Gollum’s possession. You’d be left wondering why everyone was fighting over what amounts to an invisibility spell that once belonged to a small deformed hobbit who used to catch fish.

This Explanation Goes Nowhere

Why did the disciples betray Demantius? What did they gain from siding with Zhan Tiri? Why was Gothel with them? Did she betray everyone once she found the sundrop? What was Demantius and Zhan Tiri fighting over to begin with?

Don’t expect any of those questions to be answered. The series inexplicably makes a big deal over Gothel being connected to Zhan Tiri, but then never actually explains what that connection is, what they’re relationship dynamic was, nor how it connects back to Rapunzel’s and Cassandra’s current conflict.

That’s the real failing of the show’s lore and backstories. They don’t connect back to the current conflict. It’s just there.

In a well constructed show, Demantius would have been a parallel to Rapunzel who was also ‘betrayed’ by people she trusted. It would have been revealed that it was Demantius’ own actions that drove away his followers and caused them to side with Zhan Tiri. Thereby serving as a warning to Rapunzel herself and forcing her to realize in the end that in order to save everyone she’s have to apologize to those she hurt. We also would have gotten three betrayals instead of two since that’s more thematically impactful.

But this isn’t a well constructed show and the characters in it don’t ever evolve.

This Contradicts What We Find Out In Season 3

We find out in the last season that Zhan Tiri was originally from this world and that the only reason she was ‘bent on destruction’ was because of Demantius ticked her off somehow. She also had no magical powers of her own until after Demantius had banished her to that other realm where she was imprisoned.

Also Demantius didn’t use any powers. He just chucked her into a portal he had built without any warning or trail, with zero idea if it would kill her or not, all because she just stood there yelling at him. Like there wasn’t even any physical fighting, so it wasn’t a case of in defense either.

Demantius should have been revealed to be the real antagonist all along but that would require the showrunners to be actually clever for once and not misogynistic towards their female characters.

This Makes Zero Sense

First off, when was Zhan Tiri ever looking for Demantius? She’s been too busy trying to escape from her prison and it’s been centuries. She has no reason to suspect that he’s still alive nor does she care. Zhan Tiri’s plans are not dependant upon whether or not Demantius still exists.

Secondly, how is the host body still alive after centuries? Why go with monkey when I’m sure there are actual human beings out there who would agree to living forever. Does the transfer actually destroy the mind? Cause if not you could have had an actual coherent host that could have helped out when Demantius was dormant.

And don't give me any guff about ‘ethics’ because this is the man who played judge, jury, and executioner to his supposed friend/possible lover and probably killed one of his disciples as Sugarbee’s spirit was trapped in his device.

Not the Best of Plans My Dude

So Demantius is basically committing suicide here for no real reason.

Unless he was just already dying anyways when he made the transfer, then Demantius is drastically shortening his conscious life span. The monkey will live on, but he won’t.

So why? He had no way of knowing that the sundrop would become a person in the future, it’s completely coincidental that he met Rapunzel just at the right place and time to help her, and as stated above, Zhan Tiri was no longer a threat to him or the world since he imprisoned her and defeated his disciples.

Like what was his thought process here? “I just really, really want to be a monkey?”

Eugene Isn't Wrong

Look, I am a deeply religious person and I have faith in many things, but even I know that critical thought is necessary for basic survival and that scepticism is just plain common sense. Believing in something doesn’t mean shutting your brain off and never thinking for yourself.

Demantius has yet to give any reason for why Eugene and Rapunzel should trust him. Him saying ‘have faith’ repeatedly does nothing to instill confidence and in fact does the opposite. If you want to people to believe in you, especially in a dangerous situation that you dragged them into, then you need to earn that trust.

There’s a world of difference in assuming the best in people and being a fool, and Rapunzel is not the better person just because she blindly goes along with anything because she stubbornly wants to do whatever she wants and assumes she’s always right.

Eugene is Still Right

Is ‘Faith’ the new ‘Destiny’ now? Are we just assigning different meanings to random words in order to push the story’s narrative along?

This entire maze only involves solving puzzles, answering riddles, and a bit of running and climbing here and there. ‘Faith’ has absolutely nothing to do with it.

This theme doesn’t even work when you take into account the reveal that it’s Eugene who needs to have faith in Rapunzel. Because Rapunzel isn’t the only one doing these things and getting them through here.

In fact Demantius being here, and being the one who built the maze in the first place, kind of negates Rapunzel’s importance in this area. Secondly, Eugene is doing half the work anyways so it should be a message about having faith in each other. But they already have that so...yeah what’s the point of Demantius constantly bringing it up?

Why Are You Caring About Money While Stuck In a Death Trap?

You’re rich now, Eugene. You’re the future prince consort and live in a palace. As soon as you get back to Corona or a place that recognizes Corona as a kingdom you’ll have plenty of money to spare. But you can’t do that if you’re dead inside a maze.

Moreover, Rapunzel still has money on her. She just threw two coins in to the well; one for her and one for Demantius. You two live together! You’ve been traveling inside a caravan together for over a year now and neither of you work. Ergo, you should logically be sharing your finances at this point in time. Especially since that is what you’ll be doing anyways once you’re married for real, as you’ll both be heads of state.

That’s Now How Faith Works

Faith is evidence for things unseen, or to put it more accurately the evidence for things that are unprovable. God, death, the future, creation, souls, the meaning of life, ect, are all concepts that can’t be proven nor disproven. No one upon this earth will ever know for certain what happens after death, how the universe was made, or if there is any intelligent life out there beyond ourselves.

People don’t like the unknowable.

Believe systems of all kinds, whether they be religious or not, exist to bring us comfort when face with the dread of such existential questions. Even if that belief system is agnosticism itself.

Gravity, weight, and basic physics however are all provable concepts that have been around since Ancient Greece, if not longer. Man has always known that if you drop something it falls, even if they didn’t have the math to back it. It’s just a fact of life.

‘Faith’ isn’t going to stop Eugene from falling. It’s not going to make the bridge more sturdy. It’s not going to magically make him as light as a feather. It won’t turn the acid below him into water. “Faith’ can’t literally give you wings and make you fly; that’s just a metaphor.

What Demantius is promoting here isn’t faith. What he’s asking Eugene to do is to blindly follow his orders without question.

This is especially jarring when you consider that Demantius is supposed to be a famous scientist. He should know very well the importance of critical thought and that having faith doesn’t mean shutting your brain off.

The Scroll is Such a Let Down

We’ve spent a season and a half finding the pieces for this thing and it won't actually be relevant until the halfway through season three. Mostly because the one person who can translate it isn’t here.

On top of that, it’s no longer important outside of one episode. It’s an example of the payoff not living up to its hype.

So This Is a Lie

The scroll only contains four incantations on it, and one is on the back in invisible ink and not the fourth pecice itself. None of those incantations involve combining the moontsone and sundrop together. In fact, after using two of those incantations only once they’re never seen being used again for the rest of the series. Furthermore, once the moonstone and sundrop are combined they only allow the user to perform the healing and hurt incantations, which Rapunzel can do anyways without the moonstone.

Demantius wrote the dang scroll himself! He should very much know what is on it and what it does. This is yet another case of the writers not planning things ahead.

Being Good at Riddles Doesn’t Make You ‘Pure of Heart’

Being ‘pure of heart’ means that you are kind. One does not need ‘faith’ to be kind. Being kind is doing the right thing and helping others even if it doesn’t benefit you at all.

Not only does running through a maze not have anything to do with faith, it also has nothing to do with kindness.

The only thing it proves is that Rapunzel enjoys running through a maze, and will do so in addition to dragging others along with her regardless if those people want to do it or not.

That’s not being kind.

If anything Rapunzel has only proven thus far in the series that she is a very selfish person who shouldn’t be trusted with such grave responsibility.

But as already pointed out, Demantius doesn’t care about actual faith, kindness, or purity. He just wants blind obedience. He’s mistaken Rapunzel’s exuberant and stubborn nature for nativity; not realizing that her complancany is only because they both desire the same goal.

Had he asked Rapunzel to do something that she didn’t already want to do, she wouldn’t have been so ‘pure’ to his mind.

That Is a Very Valid Question

Eugene has a point. There’s no reason to go on this quest. In fact knowing about season three in hindsight, turning around now and not going to the Dark Kingdom would be the better option for everyone.

Cass couldn’t steal the moonstone. Zhan Tiri would never be freed. Corona will never be destroyed and the brotherhood never mind trapped. As for the black rocks they will just sit there impotently not doing anything.

Even freeing Quirin, not that Rapunzel cares, only requires the hurt incantation, which she already has.

The only problem is that Cassandra has ZT trapped in her mind but without the moonstone that has no consequences outside of Cass hearing a annoying voice in her head that she is perfectly capable of ignoring. And even that wouldn’t have happen if they had turned around after the Great Tree.

SHOW DON'T TELL

Nothing in the show back up what Demantius is saying here. We haven’t seen the rocks being active since season one. Even when Rapunzel was lollygagging around or going off the path.

When they do become active again in the next episode it’s to help her, and after that in season three it’s all Cassandra’s doing.

Also in season three Rapunzel is able to rebuild Old Corona around the rocks with little problem even though she didn’t reunite with the moonstone.

In a Competent Show This Would Be Foreshadowing. This Is Not a Competent Show.

I genuinely thought this was hinting at Moon Eugene, when I first saw this. Now couple that with the talk of ‘three betrayals’ earlier and I thought Eugene would be the final ‘betrayal’ and that a true love's kiss, after Rapunzel had apologized to him, is what would reunite the two powers and save the day.

I’m not going to fault the show for not living up to my expectations and predictions, but I will fault the series for failing to utilize Eugene properly and not working him into the main conflict. He’s the duel protagonist of the franchise. He should have just as much weight in the narrative the same as Rapunzel has.

Oh How I Hate Where This Arc Goes

What the show does wind up doing to Eugene however, is incredibly stupid and frustrating.

Remember how I said that ‘faith’ in this show is just blind obedience?

Yeaaaahhh....

That’s what Eugene takes from all of this. Not that he should support and believe in his partner, something that he already was doing by the way, but that he needs to be a doormat to her and her whims.

Like with Rapunzel yelling at Hook Hand in Brother’s Hook, this is the point where Eugene’s character starts to break. You just wouldn’t know it until after watching season three.

This Is Such a Lazy Cop-Out

Like the audience has these questions too. Neither us nor Rapunzel will ever have these questions answered. You just backed out of committing to any real answers because you didn’t have your story planned out like you should have.

Why Does Everyone Act Like There’s a Prophecy When There Isn’t Any Actual Prophecy?

Once again, Demantius had no way of knowing that the sundrop would become a person. No one did. There’s no prophecy and there’s zero explanation for his psychic abilities, which are inconsistent at best. In fact I don't think he does have such powers, otherwise he’d be more helpful inside the maze. I think those are reserved for Vigor only and we don’t know where he got them or if he even is a ‘real’ psychic.

Tangled the Series wants to act like it’s running on a predestination plot. That events must occur and will occur regardless of what actions you take to prevent it. Now ignoring how that causes problems with the characters’ agency for a moment; you can not have any predestination if there’s no actual destiny.

Chosen one plots often have prophecies for a reason. Predestination is there to evoke either tragedy that can’t be prevented or present consequences for if/when the main hero doesn’t follow along. Either way it’s there to establish conflict.

Everyone in TTS acts like there is a conflict when said conflict hasn’t actually been established!

This is writing 101. You need conflict. You need to establish shit. You can’t just pretend that a conflict exists where it doesn’t. ‘Fake till you make it’ doesn’t work in long term storytelling and television animation. It has to be pre-planned.

Also The Timeline Doesn’t Match

Demantius said that it was a millenia when the sundrop and moonstone fell.He also just said he’s been waiting for a millenia to ‘meet the sundrop’. Yet Demantius acted like the sundrop and the moonstone were already legends by the time he started to search for them. That means they had to be around longer than he has. It also brings us back to the first question of who wrote the incantations if he and Zhan Tiri never found them?

Believing In Someone Does Not Mean Shoving All the Work Onto Their Shoulders

You’re supposed to be in this together. Couples should work as a team. Both of your lives depend upon getting out of here so you should both be coming up with ideas and working together.

Not only does this miss the entire point of what ‘believing in your spouse’ actually means, it’s also incredibly unfair to both of these characters. It’s unfair to Rapunzel for put so much pressure and unrealistic expectations onto her and to have her be the person to carry both of them through when Eugene is perfectly capable of physically doing things. It’s also unfair to shove Eugene to the side and make him a useless character all of a sudden.

Rapunzel Does Nothing To Earn Such Blind Devotion

Rapunzel’s magical hair has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. It’s an entity separate from her being. Literally. The hair can move of its own accord as shown here and it’s possible to physically separate Rapunzel from her powers as seen in the finale.

Believing in Rapunzel should be about believing in who she is as a human being, about her individual character. It should not be because she has magic glowing hair.

Not only is this a betrayal of Rapunzel and Eugene’s relationship and why they came to love one another in the first place, but it’s also a betrayal of Rapunzel’s growth as a character. It’s not only Eugene who blindly kisses her ass after this point, it’s everyone, even though she gives them little reason too.

This the Last We’ll See of Vigor and Madame Canardist

Three episodes spent establishing these characters and now they’re just gone for no reason. They’re never seen of nor mentioned again beyond a single meta joke. Despite the main conflict revolving around Demantius and them both having the closest connection to that character.

This Is Bad Foreshadowing, But At Least It’s Actual Foreshadowing

Up till now any ‘foreshadowing’ we got for Cass’s villain arc has been confined to poorly thought out background images; the painting of the moon, the broken mirror in Gothel’s tower, and I won’t even dignify Chris’s bullshit about her handmaiden dress being blue.

Not to mention all of that was only in season one. Outside of her conversation with Eugene about their parents, way back in Cassandra vs. Eugene, we haven’t had any real foreshadowing until we hit the Great Tree.

Since the Great Tree we’ve only had a couple of bitch fights with Raps, which I personally don't consider real foreshadowing since no ill will was attached to those, and her glaring angrily at Rapunzel after escaping the shell house.

In light of that, this scene is at least genuine foreshadowing, it’s just poorly done foreshadowing.

While the other attempts at foreshadowing were too subtle, this one is too obvious. It gives the game away too early because there’s no other viable options within Rapunzel’s group. Adira comes closest and she’s not actually here and not really considered a friend by Rapunzel herself.

So what winds up happening is that Cass’s arc feels rushed despite being planned since the beginning.

Conclusion

I spent three days fighting tumblr to get this review posted! Appreciate it!

As for the episode itself, it’s fun to watch in isolation, but it’s such a let down knowing what’s to come from it all.

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-tangled #demanitus

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 3 years

Text

Crescent || Chapter 10

Fandom(s): ATEEZ

AU: Treasure Hunters

Genre: Action, Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Relationship: Everyone x Everyone, Established Hongjoong x Yunho

Language: English

Status: Ongoing

Chapter WC: 5,414 words

Warnings: Character Death, Stabbing, Fighting, Blood, Aliens, War, Funerals, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Mentions of Child Abuse / Child Work, Explosions, Murder Attempt, Robbery, Homeless/Runaway Character, Torture, more will be added.

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Injuries (Dislocated shoulder), Torture (electrocution).

Summary:

"You don't make friends easily, do you?" Yunho asked.

"Why does that matter to you?" San immediately retorted, posture growing even more tense. Yunho raised his hands in an attempt to placate him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, it was just a question..." Yunho opened his eyes wide, not expecting this reaction from San. "I genuinely just want to talk to you, I've never seen you interact with anyone else from the crew..."

"You're worried about me, basically?" San asked, looking at him with distrust, but relaxing a little bit more.

"Yeah, you can put it that way." Yunho smiled, putting his hands down.

AO3

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

Tagged: @angel0taiyo

Jongho was lying on his bed, reading a book about other treasure myths and stories. Hongjoong had picked it up for him in the last stop they had made when it had caught his attention. He wasn't much of a reader, but with their hunt for the treasure, he had gotten interested in it. Jongho had never received a formal education, and so everything he knew had been learned from the workers that had taken care of him all of his life.

The reading was simple enough that he could understand it and enjoy it, but every once in a while he would stumble against a couple of words that he wasn't too sure of their meaning. Whenever this happened, he would ask the person closest to him. At that moment, the person was Mingi, who was sprawled on the bottom bunk bed, more asleep than awake. Jongho poked his head from over the railing on his bed and observed the taller man as he fought sleep.

"Mingi..." He called. If Mingi didn't answer, he would just let him sleep and go look for someone else.

"Hm?" Mingi replied back, eyes opening and meeting Jongho's gaze. "Oh, hey..." He yawned softly. "What's up?"

"Do you have any idea what these words could mean?" Jongho asked, passing him the book and using the bookmark to point at the words.

Jongho noticed as Mingi immediately tensed once he received the book. He put it on his lap and just stared at it blankly for a moment, eyes fixed at the point in the page marked by the bookmark. Jongho waited, patiently, maybe Mingi wasn't sure either and was trying to decipher them. He knew how much Mingi liked helping others, maybe he didn't want to disappoint Jongho.

Still, the seconds became minutes and nothing came from Mingi's mouth, and Jongho started to get worried. The truth was that Mingi couldn't read. He had been orphaned pretty early in his life and raised like most kids in an infirmary until he had had the age to work at the mines. The only education he had ever received was how to operate explosives. So as Mingi started at the words, he began to panic, and without realizing, he started to breathe heavily.

Jongho got off his bed and knelt in front of Mingi, grabbing his shoulders with both hands and shaking him softly, urging him to react. Mingi looked at him after a moment and Jongho took the book from his hands, throwing it away. He couldn't understand why Mingi had panicked like that, but that wouldn't matter until he calmed down.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jongho asked, grabbing Mingi's face with one hand to make sure he was looking at him and was focused on something. "Follow my breathing, it's okay."

Mingi did as he was told, following Jongho's breathing as he looked into his eyes, unable to tear his eyes away. Little by little, his breathing returned to normal and he no longer felt like he was about to pass out. Jongho didn't let go of his face until he was sure Mingi wasn't going to faint in front of him.

"What happened just now?" He asked softly, when he felt like Mingi would be able to reply.

"I'm sorry," Mingi apologized, looking so regretful that anyone would think he had committed some sort of crime.

"Why are you sorry?" Jongho continued speaking in a soft voice to him, softly coaxing the answer out of Mingi.

"I'm sorry," Mingi repeated again, closing his eyes. "I don't know how to read, or write... I-I never learned, I'm sorry."

Jongho's eyes widened slightly before his expression softened once again. So that was the reason Mingi always refused to help when there were documents involved. It also explained why he hadn't wanted to order at the restaurant bar when they had gone, even though he had been staring hungrily at Jongho's food the rest of the night. Mingi didn't know how to read.

"It's okay, it's not your fault." Jongho reassured him, trying to come up with the right thing to say at a moment like that.

"It's pathetic, though, it's such a basic thing... and I can't do it." Mingi sighed, feeling worthless. A little voice in his head shaped like Wooyoung told him he wasn't, but he pushed that voice away, feeling tired and defeated.

"It's not pathetic, you're not pathetic," Jongho insisted, grabbing Mingi's hands. "It's not your fault that you didn't get the chance to learn. There's nothing wrong with you, you're perfect."

Mingi looked at Jongho with big eyes. He almost looked like he was about to cry, but didn't, deciding to hold it in instead because he didn't want to ridicule himself in front of Jongho more than he already had.

"You do have the universal translator installed though, right? Those are supplied by the government." Jongho asked, wanting to make sure that the situation wasn't worse than it seemed. Mingi nodded. "Then I can try to teach you how to read and write, if you want. I'm sure the others would be willing to help as well."

"No!" Mingi raised his voice, startling Jongho. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, just- You can't tell anyone." Mingi insisted, looking a bit scared. "I don't want them to think badly of me."

"I'm sure they wouldn't," Jongho reassured him, but Mingi's expression told him that he just wasn't ready to believe him something like that. "But it is not my place to tell them anything, so I promise I won't."

"Thank you." Mingi smiled weakly, and Jongho smiled back at him.

"Don't worry about it, go to sleep now." Jongho leaned closer to ruffle Mingi's hair and Mingi stared at him.

His heartbeat picked up as he stared at Jongho from up close. No one had ever told him he was perfect, yet Jongho knew so much about him, about his imperfections, and he had not hesitated when he had looked Mingi in the eye and told him he was perfect. Jongho told him to rest well before getting off of his bed and going back to the top bunk.

Mingi could only stare at him. His heart was beating so fast and loud that it flooded his ears and he couldn't hear anything else. There was no way Jongho couldn't hear it too, but if he did, he had decided to spare Mingi the embarrassment and not talk about it. Mingi, too, decided to spare himself from the conflicts that came with feelings and just covered his head with a pillow and willed himself to sleep.

The next morning, Yunho felt so much better after spending that small moment with Hongjoong. He wasn't necessarily a stranger to sailing through space, but he had never before passed so much time on a vessel with no obvious destiny in sight. He could tell he wasn't the only feeling like that, though, so he knew he had to keep himself in high spirits to motivate the rest of the crew. Yunho did wonder though how Hongjoong wasn't absolutely exhausted of the whole thing yet. He suspected it was probably because he wanted to honor his brother, and nothing would stop him from doing just that.

As he paced around the deck, Yunho spotted San softly stretching on the opposite side. Yunho observed him with curiosity. Since the beginning of the journey, San had kept to himself for the most part; he didn't really speak with the rest of the crew members and was always locked with Hongjoong in the quarters just working on the map. Yunho had heard from other crew members that they found him intimidating.

San had never complained about how much time he spent working on the map, and there was no way to tell only by his expression if he was enjoying it or if he hated the whole thing. Hongjoong had become sort of close to him after spending so much time together, but other than that, no one ever talked to San. Yunho couldn't help but feel curious about him. Especially after what he had noticed when they had revealed the little bet they had going on with Hwanwoong and Siyeon.

To be fair, Yunho understood how people would sometimes be drawn to Hongjoong. He was just attractive in many ways. Yunho himself wasn't jealous, so he found it very amusing when other people showed interest in Hongjoong and then were surprised when they learned about Yunho. Which was funny, because they were hardly ever apart and they weren't secretive about their relationship either.

In a split second, and driven by curiosity, Yunho changed his route and walked towards San. San looked at him at first, but seemed to convince himself that Yunho was just going to pass by and didn't say anything until Yunho stood in front of him. San continued stretching until he noticed Yunho wasn't leaving, and decided to ask him if he needed something.

"Not really," Yunho shrugged. "I was just thinking of chatting with you."

San looked at him with confusion, stopping mid stretch to just look at Yunho from head to toe and then back up again. Yunho chuckled, unable to understand why it would be so weird to San that someone wanted to talk with him. Maybe he was conscious about his intimidating presence. Maybe he was doing it on purpose and hadn't expected someone to bypass it and talk to him. Whatever it was, Yunho had made his decision that he would learn something about the man that day.

"Why are you so weirded out?" Yunho smiled. "I mean, I know we've never had just a chat before, but it can't be that weird, can it?"

"I guess not..." San mumbled, finishing his stretches before facing Yunho.

It was obvious by the straight line his shoulders formed that he was tense, and Yunho couldn't help but find it amusing. San was always so serious and kept to himself, but Yunho had never seen him tense. Now though, he looked uncomfortable and out of place, and he realized that this might be the first time someone from the crew was actually talking to him.

"You don't make friends easily, do you?" Yunho asked.

"Why does that matter to you?" San immediately retorted, posture growing even more tense. Yunho raised his hands in an attempt to placate him.

"You're worried about me, basically?" San asked, looking at him with distrust, but relaxing a little bit more.

"Yeah, you can put it that way." Yunho smiled, putting his hands down. "We've barely spent time away from this ship, and I can imagine it might be getting to some of the crew members, so I just wanted to check on you." Yunho shrugged. "It's harder when you don't have someone to rely on."

San sighed and leaned against the rail with his back, tilting his head backwards to look at the black canvas that was space. There were so many stars and planets and whatnot out there, but even with all of that, it was dark. He reckoned it would probably be difficult to see on the ship if it wasn't because the artificial atmosphere it came with emitted a glow of its own.

"It is a bit hard, yeah," San agreed, letting his defenses down a little. "I'm okay though."

He was very stressed, but it was not for the reasons Yunho was thinking about. Honestly, he couldn't care less about being away from land for so long, it was something he could handle. But the stress of not fulfilling his mission was killing him. He had yet to make the choice of killing Hongjoong and each day it only became harder and harder to pull the trigger on the Captain.

Of course, that wasn't something he could share with anyone, so he had to carry the burden alone. Plus, even if he could share it by some sort of miracle, no one was willing to approach him, and he wasn't there to make friends, so there was no one to share with anyway. Yunho didn't seem quite satisfied by his answer though, so San guessed he wasn't going to get away from that one easily.

"Why don't you try to approach the others?" Yunho suggested, leaning on the rail by San's side. "Also aren't you close to Hongjoong? You could try talking to him, he wouldn't push you away."

"Well, why don't the others approach me, then?" San huffed, not wanting to have this conversation. "I wouldn't say I'm close to the Captain either..." He mumbled right after, trying to ignore the feeling akin to guilt setting on his chest.

"It would hurt him quite a lot to hear you say that," Yunho smiled slightly, but he seemed uncomfortable. "And the others don't approach you because you look..."

"Scary?" San supplied, having heard that countless times before. "You can go ahead and say it, I don't mind."

"I wouldn't say scary," Yunho shook his head. "Maybe a little intimidating."

"Well, I didn't do anything to intimidate them so..." San shrugged again. "They can just think whatever they want, I'm okay anyway."

"You're a difficult one, aren't you?" Yunho chuckled, looking down at San.

"I get told that often, yes," San nodded, scoffing.

"What is the real reason you don't approach others?" Yunho insisted.

"Why do you think there's a reason?" San crossed his arms and looked back at Yunho, challenging him.

"Well, you're particularly defensive about it, so there must be something, right?" Yunho leaned in closer unconsciously, putting an arm behind San's back on the rail. San briefly looked at it before looking back at Yunho.

"Not really," San let out a deep breath. "Let's just say it's something my people are not very good at."

That wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't completely true either. San just had never had an opportunity to socialize. People like him were especially raised, from a young age, to be used as weapons and tools. He knew nothing but the training he had received in proper etiquette, how to act like a normal human being that had grown with a normal background.

San had never particularly excelled at those classes though. He was an expert at managing all sorts of weapons and carrying out any kind of technical task. He had learned so many languages in case his universal translator ever failed, and he could absorb almost any kind of information. But he didn't know how to properly interact with others. He couldn't pretend to be a friend or play games of seduction.

Because of that, he was usually sent out on missions where he didn't need to interact with people much, and this one was supposed to be like that. He would just get in, kill Hongjoong, and disappear. But it had not gone as it was supposed to, and now he was basically trapped in the ship with no idea of what to do and how to deal with his situation. And he was alone, because he just didn't know how to interact with the others.

"Fair enough," Yunho said after observing him for a while and stepped back. San had to hold himself from sighing in relief. "There's not much that can be done in matters of culture and such." San nodded and stepped away from the railway, assuming that was the end of the conversation. However, Yunho spoke again. "You can come speak to me if you need something to, or to Hongjoong. You don't have to think of us as friends, but we won't push you away."

"Okay," San agreed, his voice quiet and small. "Thanks." He didn't look at Yunho as he said that and just left towards the crew's quarters.

Yunho stalled in the main deck for a little while before going to Hongjoong's quarters to look for him. He found him sitting next to Yeosang, their heads close together as they examined a picture of a statue, probably trying to find the code in it. He smiled, amused, when he noticed the glances Yeosang would spare at Hongjoong every few seconds.

He decided it would be fun to give them a surprise and approached them in complete silence. He looked over their heads at the picture, it was kind of blurry, so no doubt they were looking so closely at it. And after a few seconds waiting for them to realize, he decided to announce his presence.

"What are you looking at?" Yunho asked.

Hongjoong raised his head in surprise and hit Yeosang on the eye by accident. Yunho grimaced at the nasty sound of their bump as they both complained in pain and tried to rub the spots. He felt only mildly sorry as his grimace turned into a laugh. Neither of the two victims paid him any mind as Hongjoong checked on Yeosang to see if he was okay.

"I'm so sorry," Hongjoong repeated, grabbing Yeosang's face delicately to check on him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine..." Yeosang insisted, trying to push Hongjoong away because he was too close.

Instead, Hongjoong pushed Yeosang's hands down with one hand and used the other to check the affected area. Yunho had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing as Yeosang's face became red and he made the inhuman effort to not look Hongjoong in the face. When Hongjoong was satisfied with his little checkup, he patted Yeosang's head and then turned to confront Yunho.

"Why did you do that?!" He yelled, standing up to confront him. Yunho's shoulders just continued to shake slightly as he laughed, trying really hard to keep it under control. "Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry!" Yunho tried to pull a serious face before he broke into a wide smile again. "I just wanted to see what you were looking at," he turned to look at Yeosang, "it's not my fault that your reaction was so funny."

Judging by how red his face went, Yeosang knew that those words were directed at him. He stammered an excuse before giving up and just turning to look at the picture again, wanting the ship to swallow him whole instead. Yunho grinned until Hongjoong slapped his arm, claiming his attention back. He didn't seem very happy with his little prank.

"Stop teasing him, you have no rights," Hongjoong reprimanded him. He looked adorable when he wasn't truly angry, just like right then.

"Oh, and you do?" Yunho teased, raised an eyebrow. He could see how Yeosang sunk deeper on his seat from the corner of his eye, and it took copious amounts of strength to not start laughing again.

"Shut up, shut up!" Hongjoong whisper-yelled, looking absolutely scandalized at Yunho, who just shrugged.

"Yeosang, can you give us a moment, I think the Captain has something he wants to talk with me?" Yunho glanced at Yeosang before looking back at Hongjoong, who was trying to kill him with just his stare.

"Y-Yes, I'll be outside." Yeosang dropped everything he was doing and left the quarters in a hurry, gone within seconds.

Yunho turned to look at Hongjoong and smiled, but Hongjoong only looked at him with murderous intentions. The taller man raised his hands in defeat and yelped when Hongjoong hit him on the arm again. Hongjoong could be short, but he was ferocious, and usually only Yunho could get out of it unscathed.

"What was that, Yunho?" Hongjoong asked him, serious this time. "Are you trying to scare him off because you didn't want him on the ship to begin with?"

"I promise I'm not." Yunho's smile softened. "I genuinely just wanted to scare both of you 'cause you looked so focused on that picture, thought it would be fun."

"And?" Hongjoong pressed further, not satisfied with that answer.

"And he might have been looking at you in a way that made me want to tease him a little." Yunho grinned, exposing his intentions.

Hongjoong hit him again, a few times for good measure, and Yunho ran away from him until he stopped. Hongjoong seemed a little ruffled, and Yunho wondered if maybe he had hit a sore spot. He had seen the way Yeosang was looking at Hongjoong though, so he wasn't about to take back his words, he was an honest man after all.

"Stop joking about these things," Hongjoong mumbled once he got tired of hitting him on the arm.

"I'm not joking! I seriously think you've charmed at least a couple of our crew members," Yunho exclaimed. He was trying to look serious, but Hongjoong's embarrassed expression made it hard for him. "You should stop seducing our crew, Captain, it's going to make work difficult."

"I'm not seducing anyone!" Hongjoong yelled, hitting him again, but weekly this time.

His face was so red that Yunho decided to take pity on him. He brought Hongjoong into a hug and he buried his face on Yunho's chest, taking deep breaths to calm down from how embarrassed he was.

"Stop teasing me..." Hongjoong complained weakly after staying in that positions for a few minutes.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Yunho smiled. He knew Hongjoong wasn't genuinely upset beyond his embarrassment, but he still felt a little bit bad about it. "But for the record, you know we can work things out if one of them catches your eye, right?"

"I know,"Hongjoong nodded, voice muffled. "But that's not what's happening, okay?"

"Okay, I believe you," Yunho kissed the crown of Hongjoong's head and dropped the topic. It had been enough teasing for one day.

Wooyoung was sitting on his bed in the hotel room he had booked in Umeri. He had been having more dreams recently about his destiny. They were still confusing and he couldn't completely understand them since he didn't have the full picture, but the one thing he knew was that they weren't supposed to meet yet. He knew his dreams would show him where to meet them once it was time.

Truth be told, he was starting to get a little impatient. He had been visiting Mingi and Yeosang in dreams, and had already met Hongjoong once, but he really wanted to meet all of them, in person. Yunho scared him a little bit, because from what he had heard, he didn't seem to trust others easily. And San was, apparently, intimidating. The only other options were Jongho, who Mingi seemed really fond of, and the mystery man they were missing.

He went to bed trying to make his mind, and before he realized it, he had fallen asleep without choosing who to visit next. The place he found himself in was far from pleasant as Yeosang, Mingi, or even Hongjoong's dreams had been. Wooyoung was inside of some sort of building, completely white, which made the light bounce off the walls and the floor in painful ways. It took him a while to get used to it, but once he did, he began walking around.

Wooyoung had never seen a building so white, and it was starting to make his head hurt, but it's structure was so detailed that this could only be another memory. The hallway was slightly curved, and Wooyoung deduced that the building he was on was some sort of tube. Eventually, after walking for an eternity, he found an entrance on the wall to his left, towards the interior of the building.

There was nothing near the entrance that told him what it was, but it was completely open, and since he was tired of just walking around in literal circles, he decided to try his luck. The inside of the room was the same blinding white, but here and there were specs of black that filled it up. They were training equipment. He had stumbled upon some sort of training room, and he wasn't alone.

In the center, there was something akin to a boxing ring, and a tall man dressed in black clothes stood in one of the sides as two other people sparred in the center. Wooyoung walked closer, and soon he noticed that one of these people was San, dressed in completely gray clothes. The person he was fighting with was also wearing gray clothes only, which had made it difficult for Wooyoung to differentiate them at first.

The breathing of the two fighters was heavy, and they were both covered in sweat. San had a little bit of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, where a purple blotch was starting to form. However, this was nothing compared to the other person, who had multiple bruises and gashes and was holding their left arm close to their body, probably dislocated. Wooyoung wanted to interrupt the dream, but San's determined eyes deterred him from it.

Instead, he watched how the other person dashed towards San and tried to throw a punch. San easily dodged to his right and grabbed the person's arm, using their weight to throw them over. He sat on the floor and pulled the arm between his legs, placing them on top of the person's neck and cutting their air flow.

It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds before the man dressed in black, who Wooyoung guessed was some sort of coach, stopped them, but to Wooyoung it felt like an eternity. He watched the other fighter struggle, but it was obvious he had already lost. He tried in vain to ask San to stop, and then the coach pulled a small device and pressed a button. San yelled and shook in his place before his body went limp, and Wooyoung had to cover his mouth to not scream.

The coach called someone else to pick the body of the person that had lost before leaving San abandoned on the floor. Once everyone had left, Wooyoung got on top of the ring and approached San. He was on the verge of crying, unable to comprehend where the horrible dream was coming from, but he held it in and sat next to San. San was awake, but he was breathing hard from the pain of the shock, and seemed to be unable to stand up.

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung asked with a trembling voice.

San eyes immediately shot open and he looked at Wooyoung. Despite having talked to him, the dream place didn't disappear around him like it had happened with the other dreams he had visited before, and Wooyoung looked around in worry. With some effort, San sat down and grabbed Wooyoung by the neck of the shirt pulling him closer. Wooyoung yelped and looked at him in fear.

"Who are you?" San heaved out. He sounded exhausted, and Wooyoung knew that his real body was probably also restless.

"I-" Wooyoung didn't know what to say. He was terrified by what he had seen before and couldn't make up his mind.

"How did you get into my dreams? Unless..." San narrowed his eyes as he examined Wooyoung closely. His expression lightened up with understanding. "You're a Somnum."

Wooyoung's eyes widened, and he immediately tried to rip San's hand off, but it was like the other had regained all his strength all of a sudden. San pushed him to the floor and sat on top of him, immobilizing both his arms with his legs. Wooyoung trashed around, panicking, but San was too strong and he couldn't push him off, couldn't get him to move.

"Calm down!" San yelled. He too was panting, seemingly still tired from the sparring he had been doing before.

San conjured a knife and pointed it to Wooyoung's neck. Wooyoung immediately stopped moving and looked at San with tearful eyes. He was scared, this was not how things were supposed to go. San wasn't supposed to be threatening him with a knife inside his dream. Wooyoung's panic was so strong, that he couldn't even remember how to force his body to wake up, to leave.

"Who sent you here?" San asked, voice rough.

"W-What?" Wooyoung asked, a couple of tears spilling from his eyes.

"Who sent you, to kill me?" San's mind was going a mile a minute. He knew that the Organization had captured a few Somnum and used them on special missions to kill particularly difficult subjects that wouldn't be easy to take care of with their normal tools. San was probably one of those difficult subjects.

"No one sent me!" Wooyoung yelled, trying hard to control his tears.

"Stop lying! Why else would you be here?!" San was starting to lose his patient. Had they finally decided to get rid of him?

"I promise I'm not going to kill you!" Wooyoung was now full on sobbing. If San chose to kill him, that would be the end of it all, he couldn't let that happen.

"Then why are you here?" San's resolution lost force as he saw Wooyoung cry. It made him uncomfortable, but it was impossible to think that someone who looked so afraid was there to do him any harm.

"Because you're part of my destiny," Wooyoung sobbed. His arms hurt under San's weight, but he was too scared to try moving again. "I saw you in my dream, you know what I am, you must know!"

"I don't believe you," San muttered, but his resolve was shattering.

He knew very well about the traditions and lifestyle of the Somnum, they were always urged to capture them if they saw one during their missions. Captured Somnum were treated worse than the soldiers of the Organization, worse than even animals. San had met a few and it was like their personalities had been stripped away from them. But the man under him still seemed human, still seemed like himself.

"P-Please," Wooyoung begged. "You can ask Yeosang, Mingi or Hongjoong, they've seen me in dreams too, I beg you."

"Why them?" San asked, leaning closer to Wooyoung. It was a dream, but he was still self conscious of his surroundings.

"Yunho and Jongho are also part of this, and someone else, but I haven't met any of them yet..." Wooyoung began to calm down as San's aggressiveness died down as well. "We're supposed to be together, there's something else beyond finding the treasure, but I don't know what it is yet."

"So you know about the treasure," San mumbled. "What else do you know, about this destiny of yours?"

"I really don't think you want to know..." Wooyoung mumbled. He still hadn't revealed to anyone what happened to them, and he was afraid to.

"Tell me," San insisted, reminding Wooyoung there was still a knife pressed to his neck.

"We're supposed to fall in love," Wooyoung mumbled, his face growing red with embarrassment. "The eight of us."

San dropped the knife, feeling genuinely shocked about the revelation, and the knife vanished in a cloud of thin smoke. Wooyoung looked at him in curiosity. The grip on him softened and he was able to get his arms out. He sighed in relief as he watched all sorts of thoughts reflect on San's face, like he was trying to decide just how bad these news were.

"That's impossible, it can't happen as you say." San mumbled, remembering his mission.

"Why?" Wooyoung had managed to stop crying. He was still pretty much shaken, but he didn't think San would try to kill him again.

He sat down instead, causing their faces to be just millimetres away from each other. San pushed him away, slightly startled, and moved to sit down beside him, suddenly too self conscious about Wooyoung's presence. What Wooyoung was saying just couldn't be possible. San had been sent there with a mission, and yet... And yet he didn't think Wooyoung was lying either. He was in trouble.

"I think you should leave..." San said, looking at Wooyoung without really looking at him. Wooyoung wanted to complain, to stay and clarify things with San, but that empty look San gave him was enough to deter him from insisting. He nodded and stood up.

"Just... Please don't tell the others, they're not supposed to know yet." Wooyoung added, looking at San with worry.

San nodded, and Wooyoung woke up.

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