#i also liked Dark Skies (whatever year that was)

[rosemarytrash]

personally i headcanon rose as a really, really gay. idk if that's going to make anyone mad but that's just my hc.

#homestuck #rosemary #rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #davekat #theyre also there #pls send me movie recommendations #specifically horror movies i dont watch much else #so if thats ur genre #also if you like alien movies #like little grey men alien movies #like The Fourth Kind (2009) movies #i also liked Dark Skies (whatever year that was) #oh and Abduction (idk) which was not as good as Dark Skies IMO but it was still enjoyable #but yk the vibes? #i want to watch movies like that #more of htose #anyway #art

[lvandrskies]

— from eden

synopsis: eve found a snake in her garden, and then fell in love with the fruit it offered.

tags: god au, past lives, soul bonds, angst, smut

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (fem. receiving), corruption kink if u squint, character death

word count: 18.3k

m.list

a/n: if you've read this before, it's because i deleted my old account and then decided to come back. as a disclaimer, religion is pretty broad in this fic. "god" in this fic is not god from the christian/catholic religion. also !! thank u @yeonjunszn for betaing this last year, love u pookie!! <33 [photo creds]. MINORS DNI

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall in love with Eve, and she pliantly went along with it. 

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God. 

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

________________

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm? 

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room. 

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it. 

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living. 

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan. 

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more. 

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again. 

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice. 

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

— 

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order. 

Not if he wants food on the table. 

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking. 

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple. 

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds. 

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps. 

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping. 

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically. 

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy. 

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening? 

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it. 

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes. 

That’s called a job. 

I don’t work here. 

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal. 

Didn’t know God can get hangry. 

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude. 

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that. 

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight. 

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you. 

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!” 

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production. 

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything. 

His stomach growls. He groans quietly. 

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat. 

Will you shut the fuck up?

________________

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth. 

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish. 

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder. 

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

________________

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck? 

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.” 

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower. 

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler. 

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.” 

The way you said that just sounds so… weird. 

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes. 

For us, yeah. 

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you. 

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

________________

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent. 

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?” 

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears. 

She’s so lonely. 

________________

Chan is reeling. 

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt. 

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now. 

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.” 

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one, it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get to know you. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches. 

I felt that. 

Shut up. 

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles. 

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.” 

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again. 

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it. 

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.” 

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud. 

Don’t ask that. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

Don’t ask that. 

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?” 

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.” 

I don’t like that answer. 

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile. 

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

________________

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.” 

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands. 

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

________________

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed. 

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun. 

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow. 

This time, Chan does roll his eyes. 

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture. 

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute. 

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile.  “You ready?” 

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response. 

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side. 

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud. 

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward. 

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?” 

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

________________

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries. 

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face. 

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face. 

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

________________

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover. 

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles. 

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check. 

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday. 

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way. 

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs. 

It means she likes you, idiot. 

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you. 

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.” 

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words. 

Oh! You pathetic man. 

Stop. 

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him. 

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his. 

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips. 

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets. 

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down. 

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.” 

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh. 

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine. 

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.” 

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. 

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations. 

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.” 

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato. 

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it. 

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that. 

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.” 

And you slept with her. 

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.” 

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening. 

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.” 

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather. 

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan. 

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man. 

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch. 

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again. 

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back. 

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

________________

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said. 

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers. 

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil. 

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover. 

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face. 

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber. 

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.” 

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

— 

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath. 

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot. 

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!” 

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?” 

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you. 

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.

His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”

You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.

Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him. 

Chan dies every time.

Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.

He can never escape it.

________________

❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞

Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here — it could be months. It could be centuries.

He doesn’t think he cares anymore.

Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body. 

It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness. 

“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.

“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.

“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”

Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.

Chan is going to die. Again.

“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”

“Kill you?” God repeats.

“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”

God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”

Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”

“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”

“How do you wish to go?”

“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond. “I will fling myself into the sun.”

________________

Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.

You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.

When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.

“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”

“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”

“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”

“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”

“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”

You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”

“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”

Your phone falls from your hand.

________________

God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.

“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”

“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”

“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”

“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”

“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”

“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”

Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas. 

Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired. 

God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.

And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.

Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.

________________

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

© lvandrskies — all rights reserved. no reposting.

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #skz #skz x reader #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz bang chan

[spacebarbarianweird]

Would you do some headcanons for Astarion/a Druid Tav, I know druids are supposed to be opposed to the undead on principal, and I dunno, just want to see people dealing that.

It turned out a bit long and bittersweeet and, I hope, you will enjoy it! Tav \ Reader is a Forest Circle Druid since it's the most popular one.

Astarion x Druid!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You're complete opposites, even if you don't take into account the fact that he is undead.

Astarion has always been a city person, someone who feels comfortable in bustling, busy places.

Even after 200 years of torments, he is still ready to live in his favorite city, Baldur's Gate.

But you are a child of nature, born in a small village and raised by the Druids of the Forest Circle.

You love and respect nature in all its forms: animals, plants, trees, insects…

You can sleep in the dirt and feel comfortable under the starry skies.

All materialistic things make you feel sick. Meanwhile, Astarion craves them as repayment for 200 years of the most pathetic existence.

Moreover, Druids aren't really of the Undead.

The Undead desecrate nature and all your spells hurt Astarion, reminding him he will never be truly alive.

You try not to think about the future. Who knows if you even manage to survive.

But then, it's over. You are alive. The nasty astral thing in your head disappears, and you want just to wash it all from yourself and disappear into your beloved woods.

Astarion cries in pain as the sun burns him alive. He runs away and disappears in the shadows.

You look for him, in daylight and at night, but he is gone. What if he is dead? What if he burnt to death?

After a few days, you finally decide to leave the city and return home. With a broken heart.

Only to wake up at your small camp by soft steps.

You yell at Astarion. You curse him. You even cast a druidic spell that hurts him a bit.

"How could he? Why? So everyone was right about the undead; they are cruel after all."

Astarion apologizes. He was embarrassed and scared. He decided you would never want to have him by your side.

"You are a Druid, my love. You are supposed to hate the undead. I will desecrate whatever you hold dear. I just wanted to say goodbye."

And he looks like a miserable stray cat, saying this.

"I was a Druid when I met you. I was a Druid when I let you have sex with me. I was a Druid when I accepted your darkness. Nature is about a choice. You choose not to be evil. I choose you."

He is still hesitant. "It's not like you would allow me to murder animals."

"Would I forbid a wolf from eating a deer? Would I condemn a falcon for feeding its fledglings? You are a predator, Astarion, so be one. Just don't take more than you need."

You travel through Faerun—Astarion might not admit it, but he misses nature; he craves it.

He wants to enjoy the fresh air and green scenery, far from dirty city streets.

Astarion loves stargazing. You teach him to use stars to find the way in the woods.

You also teach him basic survival skills: how to build a fire, and how to find shelter. He is a good student and soon does all these things even better than you.

There is also something changing about him.

Astarion's obsession with his looks has always come from his vulnerability and lack of body control. His face and body were the only things Cazador didn't take from him.

But nature… nature has a different beauty.

Suddenly, you notice Astarion doesn't freak out if he scratches his perfect skin or breaks a nail.

He is okay wearing simple clothes even if they are a bit dirty or ripped.

He stops asking if his hair looks good, and, some days, he resembles a Feywild, not a High Elf.

First, you worry it's a sign of a soul illness, fatigue, and mental tiredness.

But, no. He is happy. He enjoys walking barefoot on grass or climbing up trees.

One day, he admits to you that he can't be happy in the cities. They will always remind him of his death, revival, and slavery. But the woods mean freedom.

But it doesn't mean he doesn't struggle. Nightmares, panic attacks—name it yourself.

He screams. He cries as if he is being tortured at the very moment.

"No one will hear you here, my love. Cry and scream as loud as you need. Cry away all the pain you've stored in your heart."

And he does. He yells. He howls like a wounded animal. Letting himself express everything he couldn't before.

It's a way of healing.

If you notice he is anxious or depressed, you make the drink for yourself, and then, when you feel the effect, let him drink from you.

You teach him to hunt.

You kill a deer. You eat the meat, he drinks the blood. Together you bury every single bone in the ground so the animals can find the path to their next lives.

There is another perk you have. You know how to polymorph.

You constantly take the form of a falcon, a wolf, or a cat. Other forms don't feel natural to you.

Astarion especially likes your cat form—a red feline with a fluffy tail.

"Oh darling, you are the most adorable little cat."

One of the issues he still has is a fear of touches. It's mostly okay. You sleep together, cuddling each other (almost always naked).

You have sex, loud and wild, not caring about being noticed.

But sometimes he just can't let you touch him. Touches are a pain; intimacy becomes torture.

He tries to force himself, but it always ends up bad.

So when you notice he is like that, you polymorph into the cat.

You crawl on his lap and start purring.

He strokes your fur and ears, pressing you tight to his chest as if you were a plushie.

You just adore being held like that.

In daylight, he stays inside the tent while you look around. Once, he notices you stand in the center of the beautiful meadow—while he, as usual, hides in the tent.

He can't take his eyes from you—you smile, opening your arms wide.

And then, suddenly, you put off your tunic, drop it onto the ground, and start dancing.

Absolutely naked.

There is nothing sexual about it—but something very wild instead.

You dance to the music you are the only one who can hear—as if praying to the sun and to the woods.

You are free. You are wild. You are part of nature.

He looks at you in awe as if seeing you for the first time.

After sunset, he dances with you the same way—naked in the moonlight.

He knows you will always be with him. Even when your time comes.

When it happens, he will bury you in the roots of an oak, giving you back to nature.

Your body will become grass and flowers, and, wherever he goes, he will know you follow him.

And when he decides it's enough, he will undress and dance till the morning comes.

He will face the sunlight one last time and turn into ashes, that will be scattered on the wind.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanon #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #tav x astarion #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fluff #astarion imagine #astarion x female reader #tav druid #dnd druid #tav bg3

[magicalrocketships]

I adore your deaged max AU! Curious if while max is small, if daniel and him celebrate any holidays together? How does max feel about them? Do they establish any traditions? :)

I don't think this version of Max is particularly excited by Christmas, but he does like lights, and being with Daniel, so I've combined them together for them to have a little outing of their own. And because I personally love lights in the middle of winter.

This follows on - with a few days unaccounted for (because I haven't written them, but they've been staying with Christian and Geri) - from this part I posted yesterday. Max was a tiny toddler but now he's back to being seven.

(this link shows the stuff I’ve already posted in chronological order if the tag isn't working.)

Happy holidays, pals. 🧡

The day after New Year's Day, Daniel takes Max to visit an Enchanted Light Trail. It's only on for another couple of days, and a lot of local schools have gone back today so it's quiet when Daniel parks the car. It's already mostly dark, and Max, seven years old again and interested, almost stumbles out of the car. He's in his new wellington boots, with a puffy winter coat that Daniel has to spend two minutes talking him into getting zipped up. Then a scarf and a hat and gloves. Max is unconvinced by them all, especially the gloves, but when he sees Daniel wearing a pair too, he concedes to keep them on.

He slips his hand into Daniel's, and asks if it's going to be loud. Max doesn't always like loud. He's not loved sharing Daniel with the other people in Christian and Geri's house over the past few days, and he is not quite over being left behind with Monty and a babysitter when Daniel and the others went to the Red Bull New Year's Eve Extravaganza. So: a little treat that's just for Daniel and Max together, alone, now that Max is back to being seven.

"Not loud," Daniel says. "Just lots of nice lights, and a place to see animals, and we can have hot chocolate." He shoulders his backpack, which also has a thermos flask of tomato soup and some bread and butter in little pieces in a lunch box. He's learned from experience that Max will experiment with experiences more than he'll experiment with unfamiliar food in unfamiliar places. "But I've brought tomato soup too."

"Okay," Max says, only semi-dubiously. He's so serious sometimes. Daniel lets him think through whatever he's thinking about as they wander through the car park and up to the little ticket booth. He'd bought tickets for them online, so he only has to wave his phone screen at a bored teenager who wishes them a desultory happy new year to be given a little trail map and a token to get through the gate.

Daniel lets Max feed the token into the entrance gate, and then they're inside the farm park, and at the start of a path lined with trees wound with hundreds of tiny, coloured lights. The branches are also lined with lights, and even Daniel is almost floored by how pretty it is.

"Oh," Max says, in sheer unadulterated wonder.

Daniel for a single, desperate second, wants to cry. Every moment with Max might be his last. It had been awful enough when he'd been sitting next to a little chunky three year old Max a couple of days ago, and he'd had to squeeze his eyes shut and almost couldn't bear to open them again in case it was a grown up Max sitting next to him, desperate to get away from him.

But it was this Max, Daniel's Max, his seven year old, his favourite seven year old on the planet.

It doesn't mean grief doesn't sit, tentative and yearning, on the edge of everything he experiences.

"Do you like it, Maxy-Max?"

Max nods so hard his hat almost falls off, and Daniel has to stop to make sure it's on properly and keeping Max warm.

"Good," Daniel says, and he lets Max set the pace as they wander down the track towards the barns. The next part of the path doesn't have little Christmas lights, but the trees are lit in purples, greens, and are wrapped in starlight skies, little spotlights along the ground turning the trees into beautiful swathes of colour.

Max looks up at him in wonder. "Like the nightlight at home," he says, clutching Daniel's hand. The nightlight in Max's bedroom at Daniel's projects colours and stars across the ceiling. Max hasn't been home with Daniel in a while. It doesn't mean it isn't his home too. It'll always be his home, even if Max grows up and stays grown up and stays a long way away from Daniel like he does now.

"Just like the nightlight at home," Daniel agrees.

The Enchanted Light Trail is supposed to be a 60-90 minute experience, but it takes them almost half an hour even to reach the barns where the farm animals are. Max loves the colours, and the trees, and the lights — just like Daniel had hoped he would. Max had liked going to the zoo that time, and he likes colouring in, and he likes things that are just him and Daniel, so it had made sense when Daniel googled that this was the thing he would pick to get them out of Christian and Geri's hair for a bit.

If Max doesn't get big again in the few days or so, Daniel's taking him back to Monaco, and he doesn't care what Christian says about the pre-season work Max is supposed to be doing here. Daniel's Max's guardian, nobody else. And he wants to take Max home.

"What happens if you are scared?" Max asks, before they go into the barns. He always asks about Daniel being scared, and not him.

"If I'm scared or if you're scared," Daniel tells him, just like every time, "then we can come back out here. That's fine."

"Okay," Max says, and his face is a picture of fierce determination. Daniel's seen that face before, a hundred thousand times, before and after races. It's funny to see it reflected on such a little Max, a Max that just doesn't have any of grown up Max's competitive spirit in him. Daniel gives him a moment to acclimatise, and then Max nods and they go inside.

The barns have also been lit up in swathes of pretty colours. The animals seem quite happy, and they see the rabbits and the sheep and the goats. Max refuses to go near the goats, even though the farm staff say he can help feed them. That is a solid no, which Daniel understands entirely because the last time they met a goat together at the zoo that time, it had tried to eat Max's hair for dinner and Max had cried. Instead, they stand against the opposite wall of the barn, as far away from the goats as possible, and Trixie, who works at the farm, points out each of the goats in turn and tells Max their names.

Max puts up with this for three minutes, which Daniel counts as 150% a win, and then they say thank you and move on to the next barn. This one has cows in it, and one moos loudly as they come in. Max bravely does not nope out, but they stay away from the gates. One of the cows is called Strawberry, which Max finds hilarious. Daniel suggests some other very silly names for cows even as they go and look at the pigs and meet a horse dressed for the season in a big knitted scarf and blanket. There are chickens, and more rabbits, and a dog, which Daniel suspects isn't part of the attraction in general and that Max is very cautious of. Daniel is too, but he tries not to let it show.

Then it's time for the 'things to do' barn, which has some little tables for crafts and a cafe at the other side. Max doesn't want to make Christmas crafts and he doesn't want to join a table with other people on, but there are some tables with pictures to colour in and some crayons and pencils. He settles himself at one of the tables, and tells Daniel that it's okay if Daniel crosses the barn to get them some orange juice (Max) and some hot chocolate (Daniel). Daniel keeps turning around to find Max watching him with his little serious expression on, and so Daniel makes a series of increasingly silly faces just to make him laugh.

"You've got yourself a serious one too, then," the woman behind the counter says as he pays for their drinks. "Mine's the same."

"Yeah," Daniel says. "Best kid in the world, though."

"Fight you for it," the woman says, laughing, and that grief is back, hovering, desperate, endless. Daniel tries to smile. He wishes her a happy new year and goes back to sit beside Max, who's picked out a farm picture to colour, with lots of trees and some animals. He's got one for Daniel too. He doesn't want to try Daniel's hot chocolate, but he does like the smell. He's industriously colouring in one of the trees in purple — like the ones outside — when one of the farm staff comes over to ask if he'd like to make a tree at one of the craft tables.

"No, thank you," Max says, attention focused on his picture. "Me and my daddy are colouring."

Daniel has to swallow down an actual sob. "We're good here, thanks," he says. "But thank you."

After she leaves, Daniel has to use one of his hot chocolate napkins to blow his nose. Max looks up at him.

"Can we go home soon?" he asks.

"To Christian and Geri's house?"

"No," Max says, giving him a withering glance. "Our house, Daniel."

Daniel leans in and kisses the top of his head. "Yeah," he says. "Promise."

"Okay," Max says, content with Daniel's yes. Daniel doesn't lie to him. Except, maybe, about the growing hole in his chest. Max goes back to colouring. Daniel swallows, tries to get a hold of himself, and resorts to naming all of the animals in the picture the stupidest names he can think of, just to make Max laugh.

Later on, they walk along a little pathway through the lit-up woods, and drink a cup of tomato soup at a picnic table. Max is amazed at the idea of drinking soup outside in the dark. They don't stay at the table long because it's cold, but Daniel takes a thousand pictures of Max beaming at him, soup around his mouth, and lets Max take some of him in return.

"I love you," he tells Max as they walk back towards the car. It seems important to tell him, urgent, imperative.

Max swings their joined hands. He's got his coloured-in picture and a glowing stick with a star on it clutched in his other hand, a present from the farm shop. Daniel's got one too, and a bag with some in for Monty and Olivia and Bluebell even though Bluebell's probably too old for it.

"Love you, love you, love you," Max says back, kicking his feet in his new wellingtons. He looks up at Daniel, sleepy but happy, and Daniel's heart twists in his chest. "Can we go home now?"

"Tomorrow," Daniel says, making a decision. Fuck it all, he thinks. I'm taking Max home.

Thank you to Zoe and Lena for reading this through for me. 🧡

#my fic #de-aged maxiel #baby max #fic that i wrote

[bbanghiitomi]

| ophelia

synopsis: hyein has a keen eye for observing people as well their energy, you have an eye that can see ghosts. when the child of your parents' friends starts a club, it leads them to you.

— non!idol!student!lhyein × non!idol!student!femreader!

note: implied platonic!

-⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠--⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠--⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠--⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠--⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠--⁠ᄒ

"geez, those girls again? they never get tired of their antics don't they?" you look at your friend — hyunseo as she looks over your shoulders to the abandoned underground hall of your school, you follow her line of sight to see five girls carrying flashlights and lined up on the way to the old exchange student building. "what are they doing?" you ask, hyunseo shrugs and laughs as she scratches her cheeks.

"ghost hunting? i don't know, their youngest member went around convincing others to join." it's getting dark, you finally walk past the old building to the pathway leading towards the main gate of the school campus. you've heard about this gimmick by that specific group of friends, you have found it ridiculous too but decided to just ignore them — it's not like their hurting anyone anyway.

you didn't realize hyein was actually serious about the ghost hunting thing, you've once thought she might have been fooling around and just making things up but she seems to be the person who doesn't lie. she goes around the class even sometimes to the floor beneath your classroom to recruit people to join but they always push her away and say she's absurd.

their friend group is made up of different ages, with hyein being the youngest — she's always the most enthusiastic about their whole gimmick, you've never been interested at all and sometimes would hear her talking about it to some people, sometimes the half australian girl would come to your classroom and converse with her.

actually you've never been interested in hyein at all, maybe she's cool, pretty, and fun but you were always surrounded by the same people and have never tried making conversations with hyein unless for school purposes, hyein has also never approached you about their ghost hunting gimmick, not that you minded it or whatever but you were just a bit jealous that other people seemed more fitting for it other than you.

"wouldn't they get in trouble if they got caught?" you ask hyunseo, who once again shrugs and looks at you whilst you two walk inside the district market. "didn't you know? jiwon who's in the same class as minji said that minji lives in our school dorms so sometimes they go to the suite lobby to kill some time." hyunseo answers, you two live in the same neighborhood — have you mentioned? hyein lives in the same block too?

you often see her playing in their front yard with the same group of people, but you never really see her when you go to school because oftentimes she's late.

"so, they get away from sneaking inside?" you ask, following behind hyunseo who shrugs. "you can say minji is a master at hiding trespassers." you laugh when she says that, you realize how different your friends are with hyein's... they're much more reserved, crazy loud when it's only the seven of you but everyone thinks differently.

you shift your eyes a bit and in the seemingly darkening skies then to the bustling market, you see a ghost nearby — you've had this ability to see spirits ever since you were a child, you've gotten used to it, so much that it doesn't faze you anymore. you feel the cold breeze of the air, everywhere you go— they're everywhere, you hate this feeling but it's been sticking to you no matter where you go.

"you okay?" hyunseo asks, looking back at you and you realize you've stopped walking, all of a sudden in the middle of the crowd. you blink your eyes and shake your head before following. "yeah, i just remembered something." you mutter, smiling at her.

in all honesty, you haven't told any of your friends about this peculiar ability, none of them have took notice of it... you were pretty good at hiding it. on the past few years growing up, you started to get braver when it comes to facing spirits, none of these dead souls know your ability so it was easy to avoid them but then again... you've made it your mission to look for your missing mother and the biggest mystery of her disappearance has something to do with ghosts.

hyunseo and the other girls know you're adopted, it wasn't like you hated admitting it... you've grown to acknowledge that fact quite well and they admire you for that. maybe the worst part of it all was not knowing why your mother left you with a friend.

hyein... knows that too. surprisingly, even with that non-stop running of her mouth, she haven't spilled anything about it to anyone at all.., maybe it's her natural skill to be able to read through someone's experience and understand what they feel.

ophelia

coming home again feels nothing new, you close the door and slowly excuse yourself to an empty living room, they're all currently at work, living you in charge of the house. when your 'mom' comes home late, she makes sure to bring home food and your 'dad' is nice, it's just two of them but it's okay.

the only time ghosts don't bother you is when you're in your room, whether you're sleeping or daydreaming, ghosts cannot enter your room... it's weird but you've never really find out what the reason is.

you hear the distinct sound of car honking, realizing it's from hyein's family and you peek to see hyein dashing to their porch, followed by her angry father who got off the car. you shrug, hyein's never changed... she's totally the same stubborn, nice, hot blooded kid.

it's not like you know hyein deeply but it's also not like you don't at all. you've been living in the same area, both your parents biological or not, like hyein once described it as "uncomfortably close", she might have been overreacting but that's the reason you know hyein almost too much for two kids who don't even talk to each other.

hyein sometimes gives off a vibe of someone who avoids you for certain reasons such as "she might not like me" or "we're very different" both can be true, but unfortunately none of this are. hyein has a different direction to go and that's why you seem to never both cross paths.

the only thing that you wonder about hyein is the reason behind her ghost-hunting activities. why does she do that? why did she recruit people to do that?

you've once thought if the girl ever knew that you could see ghosts, but you never really got the answer.

it's also weird how she tries to recruit people in it, but specifying no actual goal.

you turn your back to the window as you shake your head, erasing the thought of hyein in your head before jumping onto your bed.

ophelia

hyein runs to her room, her father isn't really mad and she knows that. her father doesn't follow her to her room as hyein enters and runs to her computer to immediately contact her friends.

forestry club (science hall building)

minji_kim04: do you really think we'd be able to follow the spirit inside the campus?

minji_kim04: i went around and most entrance are blocked by barricades.

sparkle.grace: don't give up yet.

sparkle.grace: why don't we keep contacting ms. seulgi, she knows this!!!

kitty_k4ng: surely you guys will leave my sister alone eventually.

kitty_k4ng: she sells antique, she doesn't know anything about ghosts.

honey04ever: haha... it's not about seeing ghosts, it's about the camera.

mo.dan_yell: yes! the camera can trace spirits, we've been stuck just at the barricade of the dormitories. i think we can find another way.

honey04ever: yeah, we've gone so far and i would really hate having to go back.

kitty_k4ng: ugh alright, we can go ahead ask her for fortune where it should lead us.

sparkle.grace: great! i'll bring the camera tomorrow and let's meet at kitty's place!

it didn't take quite long the next day, it's raining very hard when the five girls meet at the small village, an antique shop that also provides fortune telling services. the current goal of the team is to find a way to follow the spirit that went behind the school campus, there's no other exit nor entrance that leads to that path, it's an unknown place that is occupied by the school.

"it's raining hard today." minji says, holding an umbrella for her and hanni, danielle sighs and scoots closer to haerin who's holding an umbrella for them too. "but i checked the news, it's supposed to be sunny." she complains.

in this year, there's really no other clear way to know the weather except from the radio or news.

hyein grumbles, holding her own umbrella as they stand in front of the antique shop. "are you guys leaving?" she asks the four girls, who look at each other, each doing their own style of shrugging. "hyein, what's your plan? we're not going to leave you behind." hanni says, looking at the youngest, taller girl.

hyein nods her head, a determined look on her face. "we'll carry on. let's call ms. seulgi!" she says, making her way inside the store.

"unfortunately, the school now owns that place... it's an empty lot, i figured but the only way in is from the school premises, which you girls are not allowed." seulgi says, bringing her hands down to the clothes table, all receiving looks of disbelief from the owner.

"there's no other way? that's impossible." haerin says, seulgi shakes her head, looking at her younger sister. "i'm following the path that the spirit took, that's the only way she went," she informs the girls, she lights an incense and leads the smoke inside the lamp. as the girls watch in curiosity, the light immediately dies down.

"what does that mean?" minji asks, leaning on the table as the other girls wait for an answer. seulgi stands up and walks out of the fortune telling room, surprising everyone.

the girls look behind where the older kang left, hanni scatters to follow where seulgi went. the other girls follow to the entrance of the shop, where surprisingly your adopted mother was standing.

"y/n's missing..." hyein pushes the other girls as she runs to your mom, looking at the older woman with concern written all over her face. "what happened?" she asks, your mom sighs and shakes her head.

"i don't have any idea too, she went out yesterday and hasn't come back at all." your mom says, seulgi nods and leads your mom to the fortune telling room, where the other girls except hyein stayed outside the room.

"do you think you have any idea where she is?" hyein asks, sitting across your mom. seulgi lights another incense, where it stayed in the lamp for a 2 minutes. "she's somewhere in the forest." seulgi says, putting the lamp down as the smoke flies to the south.

"the mountain?" your mom nods at hyein. "yes, the mountain that was once a home to the biggest inn here... i knew she'd be there but the place is too dangerous to visit." seulgi nods and walks over to the door of the room. "it's raining... the water in the mountain." she says, before turning to hyein's direction. "you have the camera right?" she asks to which hyein nods her head immediately.

"yes! i brought it here with me." seulgi walks over to hyein. "tell haerin to follow y/n's spirit... she might have been looking for the same thing your group have been looking for."

ophelia

"are you sure we're gonna continue? it's dark and empty in the mountain." hanni says as she walks in front of minji. "hey, it's alright. haerin has the lamp with her and we're all wearing raincoats." minji tells the shorter girl, looking over to hanni with a small smile. hanni sighs.

"it's dangerous to get wet there, it's slippery and dark. as long as i have the lamp we're going to be alright." haerin says. danielle nods and smiles at the girls. "i really think we should focus on looking for y/n." she says, hyein is walking a lot faster than the others and she they got to the old train station, she immediately turns the power on.

"do you think her friends know she's missing?" hanni asks as they sit on the chairs of the train station, minji standing beside where hanni is. "if her mom announced, police officers would be all over the case." minji answers.

"no they don't. i think her mom keeps it because it's nothing police officers could solve." hyein answers, they all look to each other before haerin speaks. "you know that y/n can see ghosts?" hyein nods, putting an index finger on her chin as she thinks.

"it's obvious when she moves or the way she acts, i just don't have any idea what she's looking for like what ms. kang said."

danielle looks at haerin then back at hyein. "do you know? i think you're really the only one who can sense that. you have such observant eyes."

"if my sister implied that she's looking for the same thing, we might honestly find the entrance to that place where the spirit went to." everyone looks at haerin before the train stops. hyein looks at the other train inside, that must be the train you used to get to the mountain.

danielle, hanni, and minji all brought flashlights while haerin carries the lamp to avoid evil spirits and hyein holds the camera.

the shutter goes off. your traces can be seen on the ground, hyein takes the lead. the camera doesn't guarantee your steps or location but it is useful in tracking spirits as well as scaring them away. it's dark inside the forest, it's raining as well... there are lots of papers scattered on the ground and hyein assumes it's from the old inn nearby just at the entrance of the mountain's shrine.

there's a continuous line of water flowing, it's from the mountain's peak, a waterfall that connects every part of the forest.

danielle picks up a paper from the ground, noticing how it's relatively drier than the ones on the mud. she opens it and reads what is written below. "a black box of coffin in the shrine... under the cave, the water is rising. what?" all the girls look at her and hyein immediately asks for the paper.

hyein looks over the cliff they are standing upon, not too far from them is the old building of the large inn...

helping each other, they were able to get down from the cliff and reach the back entrance of the inn, with deteriorating walls, the inn stands almost unrecognizable from what it looked like before. haerin takes an envelope from her shoulder bag, opening it with your picture and your information... one of the pictures include the inn.

hyein takes a picture of the inn, while minji helps haerin raise the lamp. hyein can sense your trace from the entrance, going to the front entrance of the inn.

hyein screams when she's met with a ghost, backing up and immediately taking a picture before the ghost disappears. the girls all huddle together, with minji standing behind to keep them close. "should we keep going?" she asks, hyein nods and looks at everyone. "we'd be alright at the shrine, it has to be close here." haerin mutters and walks forward where everyone followed.

they were able to find traces of the path that lead to the shrine after multiple turns, picking up pieces of paper until... they reach the shrine but it doesn't look quite right. "is this the shrine?" hanni asks, looking at haerin who looks around and shrugs. "i mean it is, but this might not be it." minji looks at haerin with her furrowed brows. "what do you mean?" the rain starts pouring harder, before haerin sighs and steps on the stairs to the abandoned shrine. "it's the shrine of dolls." danielle says, as she reads the sign above.

hyein blinks and nods. "there's an underground path there, right?" she asks haerin who looks behind to hyein and nod. "i think, it's quite dark out there though. i don't want to risk trying to get in the cave." haerin shakes her head before turning her back on the girls again and opening the door, unfortunately, it's stuck.

"great, let's take a turn." haerin sighs before leading the group behind the shrine where it had a door that was left open wide. it's dark, almost like it was never a place where actual people lived in before. the light source comes from the moonlight, the shrine of dolls in display in front of them

hanni scoffs. "dude, are we really doing this?" she asks as she shifts her gaze away from the dolls. "it won't kill you, don't worry. if we find y/n, she can lead us out of here." hyein nods as haerin says that, looking at the second oldest of the group. "besides, we don't know the way out, we can't go back to the train station. if we're going to die, it's because we couldn't get out of here." hyein deadpans, minji sighs and puts a hand on hanni's shoulder. "it's alright." she whispers.

danielle follows haerin as well as minji and hanni, hyein volunteers to grab the candle from the underground passage after promising them she won't try to find the way to the cave. unfortunately, it's hard to fulfill the promise when your traces allure her to the cave, when she opens the door to the cave, there's water... flooding the area until it all went inside the shrine's underground passage. the water reaches hyein's knees and the cave was brighter than the shrine, every corner had candles and lamps, but other than those hyein's eyes focuses on the black box in the middle of the cave, where water overflows to the ground.

hyein runs to the box and opens it, only to be greeted by a wooden box overflowing with water, until she leans closer to take a better look. hyein shrieks in surprise when a hand comes out of the water, almost enough for her to fall over. hyein hears a gasp as she looks at the box again and sees a girl sitting up, soaking wet and cladded in a familiar set of uniform.

"y/n... y/n!?" hyein shouts as she immediately helps you up, you start to breathe heavily.

"hyein..." you mutter, looking up at the taller girl. hyein sighs in relief, almost like she's about to cry. "oh my god, we found you..." she whispers, full of relief.

ophelia

unfortunately, when you and hyein went back up at the shrine, the four girls are nowhere to be seen. hyein starts to panic as there was no way for her to locate their traces.

"where did they go!?" she asks, looking around. you sigh, shivering before pushing away the strands of hair sticking to you face. "they got lost..." you mutter, walking behind her and you reach for her shoulder. "let's find them." you suggest, trembling due to the cold air.

hyein turns around to you, before taking off her raincoat. "this isn't much but wear it! it's super cold." she says, you look at her and then to the raincoat, before chuckling and shaking your head.

"it's fine..." hyein shakes her head, before walking over to you with the raincoat in her hands. "wear it, please!" she sighs with a worried look on her face, and a pout. "come on, we have a long way to go... can't bring you back to your mom shivering to death." you know you can't win, so you nod and she puts the raincoat on you, surprising you.

"did you get lost your way here to?" hyein asks, you blink your eyes, before nodding. "i... i went the wrong way." you only say, hyein looks confused. "did you get inside the box? what if you drowned?" you look at her before laughing. "the spirits led me there, i've mistaken the doll shrine for the yuukon shrine, and i got trapped." you were able to tell her through your shaking breath and thinking about it now that you're safe doesn't make things less scary.

"you okay now?" hyein asks, you nod.

it was silent, for a while until hyein talks again. "yuukon shrine, you know about it?" hyein asks, after a while of hunting for spirits, hyein might have found the answer to her club's long overdue question...

the forestry club wanted to prove something, aside from plants and animals, hyein wanted to explore more about the mountain's history and it led them here; looking for the story for them to feature.

"we've been looking for it." she adds, you can only give her a short hum. "me too, almost like forever..." you mutter, hyein listens and puts all her attention to your words as you two walk the dark forest. "three years..? yeah, and just as i was about to find it, i got lost and well, it feels like everything i have found have gone to waste." you tell her.

hyein sighs. "it's really hard... i don't want our club to break apart. my only hope is this feature, i need to bring this mountain back to life again." hyein says, her voice filled with determination. you can only give her a meek sigh.

"that's... i hope you can do it." you tell her, giving her a moment of silence... hyein stares at your face, smiling brightly before she nods.

it took you both not that long to eventually find a manor, hyein looks at you and you gesture her to walk first. hyein peeks at every corner she can find, two of you were able to find the main hall of the manor but sadly, the girls were nowhere to be found. "you should get going..." you tell hyein, as you stand behind her. hyein holds the camera and shakes her head, pointing the camera at you before she takes a shot.

"i won't leave without you." she says, you widen your eyes but it softens. "i have to find my mother." you tell hyein but she walks towards you and holds your hand. "let's find her!" you give her a confused look. "but what about your friends..?" hyein takes a deep breath before letting out an airy laugh. "they'll be alright."

"this is the yuukon shrine? it's bright here..." hyein says as she walks beside you, you've been seeing this place in your dreams... a restless dream that haunts you and your mother's spirit that keeps you awake. hyein reads your small gestures, the way your eyes glimmer along the candles inside the shrine.

"i know..." the rain continues to pour, not as strong as before but still can be heard.

"have you been here before? or at least have familiarized this place?" hyein asks, you blink your eyes as you stand at the entrance beside hyein who looks at you endearingly. "i..." you hesitate to tell her the truth and she sees it. "it's okay." she assures you.

"i've been seeing this place in my dreams when i think about my mother, i have so many questions that only this place will be able to answer..." hyein nods and takes a step closer to you. "don't be scared to tell me! i'll keep your secrets, promise." realizing how hyein's knowledge about your family has never been found out by anyone, you knew hyein was trustworthy.

"i know... i just don't want you to worry about it." you look down and hyein continues to look at the way the orange and yellow lights illuminate on your face, she nods in understanding, still holding your hand. "i will of course, but you don't have to think of it like it's bothering me. i mean, i know you and you know me."

ophelia

when you enter, there's a shrine of flowers and charms that are mostly for marriage, the table is decorated by bright candles as well as lamps and incense. other than the bright decorations on the table, you don't ignore the obvious picture frames of your parents, your mother and who you assume to be your father.

"yuukon is a ritual, right? binding souls of the dead and a living person..." hyein says, looking at you as you kneel on the small pillow on top of the tatami mats. you nod as you stare at the shrine, closing your eyes with your hand clasped together. "i use to have dreams of my mother, i don't understand how i got here and where she is." you mutter, hyein sits next to you but not on the small pillow beside yours. "i read it somewhere, this is the house of joining... isn't this where the maidens get married to a living person?"

you nod. "the black casket, my mother sacrificed herself to be with my father and she must be somewhere here, drowning under the mountain's water." you open your eyes to look at hyein, who shifts her gaze on the shrine.

"my father, i have no idea where he might be. my mother left me with my mom and i'm guessing..." you trail your sentence, thinking very carefully. hyein waits before she opens her own mouth. "he might have been the ghost? i wonder, i haven't read something about a man being the ghost."

"my mother sacrificed herself for it to work." you give hyein a small smile before standing up. "maybe after she had me, like a maiden who have fulfilled her duty... she left me with my mom." you brush your hair back before walking towards the exit of the house.

"it ends here, i think. the school now owns this part of the place, i wanted to see it for myself before it disappears." you hear hyein's own steps. hyein looks down on the camera before taking a picture of the shrine, the house and you.

"we can go back now, i feel that they're out of the mountain." you tell hyein and she follows you to the exit of the mountain, passing through a long forest.

hyein walks, with her shoulders slump. "i... wanted the girls to see the shrine." she mutters, you look at her as both of you stand in the middle of the village.

"you can still create a feature out of it." you tell her with a small smile, hyein looks up at you and grins. "i know. i won't give up..."

"hyein! y/n!" you hear danielle's voice coming closer, the four girls all run to you and hyein, immediately they embrace the tallest girl with sighs of relief. "you're back with her..." haerin whispers.

hyein nods at the girls and looks at you. "we found the house of joining... i took a picture of it!" hyein takes the camera and shows the girls, they all huddle up to look at it.

"i should leave now..." you excuse yourself, hair still wet and hyein raises her hand. "wait! let's go and eat first." hyein takes your hand as the four other girls walk their way back to the antique shop.

after that, you decided to join the forestry club and help the girls release their feature for the mountain, eventually being able to help them reach a big population of readers.

#newjeans #kpop #kpop imagines #female reader #girl group #newjeans imagines #girlgroup imagines #danielle #kim minji #lee hyein #hyein newjeans #newjeans hyein #newjeans fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #Spotify

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Fever Kisses

(A/N); First, I’d like to apologize to everyone for falling off the face of the earth this last YEAR. I’ve been diagnosed as Immunocompromised, so it’s been a fun ride catching every single cold known to man :’) Currently getting over a 3-week long cold, and I’m Miserable, so I need a healthy dose of our favorite dwarven brothers. — This is also my 1st Fic/Drabble ever, so here goes nothing!

Summary: A wet rainy night proves no challenge for dwarves or hobbits. The same, however, cannot be said for humans.

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Fevers/Sickness, Very soft and fluffy fluff, with a bit of angst and drama.

Translations:

Ibrizinlêkh: Sunshine

Bunnel: Treasure of All Treasures

—————————————————

The rain poured harder than ever before, showing no mercy to the trees, the bees, and certainly no dwarves.

The dark and stormy clouds blanketed the skies, casting shadows amongst the rolling hills. Soaked to the bone, through cloaks and tunics, still the company of Thorin Oakenshield trudged on.

Dwarrow are hardy folk; cold and damp environments bothering them none. Humans on the other hand, however, do not share the same trait.

(Y/N) found herself at the back of the line, trudging her way through ankle-deep mud, her arms wrapped around herself in hopes of holding onto whatever warmth was left. Kili stayed close, whereas Fili opted to lead the pack side-by-side with Thorin.

Quiet conversation could be heard from certain members of the company, including the one beside you. Kili regaled you with his adventures with the Blue Mountains and how Fili had scored a 5-point Buck with a single throw of a dagger, enhancing his story with wild gesturing hand movements.

“— And man, you should have seen Amad’s face when we got back with the buck! I daresay she had never looked more proud!” Kili boasted properly. “…(Y/N)?”

You looked up, meeting his soft honey eyes, not realizing you had stopped in movement. “(Y/N), are you alright? Are you tired?” Kili took a step towards you, concern etching its way onto his face. You stared at him, a strange, skin-crawling feeling rolling up your spine, a harsh shiver wracking your frame.

Kili closed the short distance between you, his hand gently landing on your arm before repeating his question. Only, this time, as the sound hit your ears, it sounded as though he were not speaking Common Speech at all. Your face scrunched in confusion, before it hit you. You felt a gasp rip through you as you quickly grabbed hold of Kili’s tunic, your legs feeling as though they were to give out. Your vision swirled as though you were one with a tornado, nausea quickly settling in.

Beyond the ringing of your ears, you could hear Kili yelling something, before the shadows of the others came into your peripherals. You tried to breathe, feeling the weight of a thousand bricks upon your chest — you felt as though you were suffocating; your vision began to darken with infectious black spots. Increasing your hold on Kili’s tunic as one last whimper escaped, you felt yourself fall.

—————————————————

“…(Y/N?)” Kili called back to you, having paused in his story at your stillness. He closed the distance between you two, lying his hand on your arm. He called to you once more, only to be met with confusion. He found himself mirroring your expression, if but only for a moment, before that expression quickly turned to terror as your body seized.

One arm shot out to hold up your weakening frame, the other gripping your arm tightly. “Uncle!” Kili shouted, his panicked tone ringing through the air. One look back from both Fili and Thorin had them sprinting to the back of the line.

“What happened to her?” Fili inquired while quickly reaching out with the goal of steadying you. His fear quickly grew as your weak frame shuddered one last time, before alast going limp. Barely catching you in time, he quickly hauled you upwards into his arms, your head lolling heavily against his chest.

Thorin laid his hand upon your too-warm forehead, quietly cursing in Khuzdul. “We need to find shelter. Now!” Thorin barked at the others, watching as they quickly scrambled towards the rocky cliff side.

—————————————————

Safely inside the dry remains of the cavern, a fire was hastily made while Fili and Kili worked to lay out a bedroll for you. Oin frantically dug through his pack, looking for his medicines and ailments as Thorin dug through his own looking for anything dry.

“We need to get her into dry clothes. This will do for now.” Thorin held out an oversized, but dry Tunic.

Fili and Kili shared a look, waiting for their Uncles’ instructions. Surely he didn’t expect them to undress her? Sensing his nephews hesitance, Thorin grumbled under his breath. “All of you. Turn away, now!” Thorin barked once more, before shedding your jacket. Together with his nephews, they worked to undress you, much to said nephews embarrassment.

Moments later, you lay peacefully upon a bedroll, clothed by nothing more than Thorin’s tunic, and a blanket modestly wrapped around your lower half.

Oin knelt beside you, lifting your head gently as he pressed a small glass vial to your lips. “Come on lass, swallow it down.” Oin quietly prayed, pouring the liquid onto your tongue, before sighing with relief at the sight of your body naturally swallowing the rather horrible tasting liquid.

“And now we wait.”

—————————————————

You were floating through the air — clouds more specifically. You were sure of it. You breathed in deeply through your nose, smelling the distinct smell of… a campfire? Surely not in the clouds…

You forced your heavily eyelids to open, finding yourself looking up at a pair of dwarves, whom were sitting side-by-side, heads leaning against one another as they both slept peacefully.

You attempted to recall how you got in said dwarves’ lap, but your brain felt far too mushy and not up to the task. You brought your hand up to Fili’s arm, with the intention of pulling yourself up. However upon doing so, you found yourself with not even enough strength to close your fist around said arm. Grumbling slightly, you tried again.

“Would you like some help?” A tired voice whispered beside you, causing you to jump. You looked up to see ice blue eyes peering back at you, a soft smile creeping their way into them.

At your silence, Fili brought his hand to your forehead once more, clicking his tongue at his findings. “You still have a fever. You need to rest more.” Fili pawed at your blanket, bringing it farther up your body, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Here, Fee. Get her to drink some water.” Kili, awakened at the commotion, handed Fili an opened canteen. Slowly, Fili helped you sit up with a hand at your back, the other bringing the canteen to your lips. You sighed at the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down your throat; Refreshing. A few sips and Fili lowered it, much to your dismay. “Not too much at once, Ibrizinlêkh.” He chuckled, handing it back to Kili.

Swiping your tongue over your now moist lips, you sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, before shimmying back down to rest your head upon Fili’s chest once more.

Eventually, quiet conversation broke out between the two brothers, offering you distraction while you rested your heavily eyelids. Before long though, you found yourself peering back up at them, breaking said conversation as they both returned your gaze, a sight of content and fondness donning their faces.

Without thinking, you found yourself gripping Fili’s outer coat, raising yourself up to his chin. Using your other hand, you placed it on the back of his neck, gently guiding his nose to rest alongside your own. Instinctively Fili closed his eyes upon the close proximity; you gently lifted your head slightly, to rub your nose along his. Up, down. Up, down. And a third time, before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you…” You whispered quietly, before pulling back to reveal a stunned look upon his face. Had your brain not been mush, you surely would have laughed.

Looking to his right, you found Kili staring, dumbfounded at your stunt. Chuckling, you reached for his cheek. Despite his confusion, Kili leaned forward until his nose lay along side yours. Up, down. Up, down. A third time. Slowly, intimately.

Pulling back, you found yourself wearing a content smile, theirs quickly mirroring your own. “Goodnight” you offered softly, before settling back down into Fili’s arms.

“Goodnight… Ibrizinlêkh.”

“Goodnight, Bunnel.”

—————————————————

As the sun climbed over the horizon, you stretched comfortably, before opening your eyes. Once again, you found yourself peering upwards at a pair of blue eyes, alongside a pair of honey-brown.

“Good morning you two!” You yawned.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Kili returned,

“Good morning.” Fili whispered softly.

The company worked to pack up camp after each companion ensuring your health, before Thorin set them off once more.

Beginning your steps, you were stopped by a couple of hands — one upon your wrist, and the other on your arm. “(Y/N), can we ask you something?” Turning to meet both Fili and Kili’s eyes, yours in question. “Last night… you had… uhm.” Kili started, looking to his brother for assistance.

Fili touched his own nose, before continuing: “you had rubbed your nose with ours… what does that mean?”

You quickly found yourself stifling a laugh behind your hand, furthering their confused expressions. “Did I offer you both one? I’m sorry! My fever must have did away with my manners… it’s called an Eskimo Kiss. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, both of you.” You grabbed each of their hands, offering a quick squeeze before turning back and following the others.

Fili and Kili found themselves standing there, baffled, before your words soaked in. The next sight, was picture worthy… Their faces quickly resembled that of a strawberry.

“An Eskimo Kiss?!” They squealed, quickly chasing after you.

—————————————————

I wrote this on the fly, on my phone at 3AM, as I personally have my own fever, so if this is horrendous to read, I blame my fever.

I do not have a Beta, nor did I honestly proof this before posting… but regardless, I hope y’all enjoy! This wasn’t supposed to be this long, but, that’s how fics/drabbles are supposed to go, right?

Goodnight and to the doctors I go!

#hobbit #hobbit fanfic #kili #kili x reader #fili x reader #the hobbit #fili

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER ONE (BAHRAIN)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: hmmm nothing i think

word count: 5.3k

author's note: aaaa first chapter !! i don't rlly like it but still !!!! a very much opener/get-to-know-the-characters/intro chapter, so maybe boring at times idk. still so excited, thanks to everyone who's contributed. love u all <333

author's note pt2: when i write about the different drivers and their living situations, i know it's not all accurate to how they actually live irl. ik i wrote modena instead of maranello here for ollie although idk exactly when he moved, but there are mentions of milton keynes for the rbj drivers bcs it made it easier for me. anyways, just go with whatever i say about how they live lol. also !!!! i changed yn's team from mp to campos hehe. okay now let's start :)

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the winter break coming to an end is always a bittersweet feeling.

having a lot of free time to catch up with friends and family is always greatly appreciated, but at the same time, it doesn't take many days before you miss racing after the last race of the season. especially when the season is as short as the f3 season is, and especially when you don't partake in any of the winter-season races.

this year, though, coming back to the paddock doesn't feel as complicated as it most often does. your heart is light and your smile is big as you enter through the gates after the long taxi ride from your hotel, and you already can't wait to get started.

as you make your way toward the campos truck, you greet a few people you meet here and there, but it's the sight of a head full of dark, curly hair that makes you stop in your tracks. "jak!"

the american turns around when he hears your voice, grin taking over his face already. you strut all the way over to him, practically throwing yourself into his arms. "hey there," he chuckles, giving you a big hug.

"oh, i've missed you so much!" you exclaim, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. "it feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"right? the break was way too long."

juan pokes his head through the door to the truck when he hears your voices, making some kind of comment about all of these loud teenagers always causing a commotion, before coming down to greet you with a hug as well. "how was your break?" he asks.

"wonderful, really. i spent most of it at home, catching up with family and friends. then me and ollie-" your eyes widen at your own words. you clear your throat, looking away from both of the boys for a second. "well, i went to italy."

your relationship with ollie isn't exactly a secret around the paddock, but it's a bit of an unspoken rule not to mention it too much. both because you all want to separate your personal lives from your racing ones – you don't wish to crash into a close friend like jak any more than you'd like to crash into ollie, after all – and because a certain other driver might be around to hear.

someone who's quite the conflict of interest in this specific topic.

your break truly was wonderful. it felt like the only things on your schedule were skiing in the italian mountains, gym-and sim-training, and just relaxing at home in england to recharge for the next season. you had spent a lot of it with ollie, getting to know both him and his family better. it hadn't taken you long before you were best friends with his little sister, sharing little inside jokes and spending time cheering her on at the stable. and you'd even grown surprisingly close with ollie's younger brother, and you loved seeing the three siblings interact.

they all made you feel truly at home with them, like an extended family. you couldn't have asked for anything more.

ollie was well-known in your family even before the break, especially considering how he was one of the first drivers your father picked out for the academy. and during the break, he only further impressed them; he always helped out with household tasks, he did his best to create connections to every relative of yours that he met, and he even bought the sweetest little christmas presents for your parents and grandparents. however, just the mention of italy in your current conversation is enough to make the dams drivers understand. no other detail is necessary.

when you're done talking about your break, it's juan's turn, and then jak's. during the catchup, more and more people drop by to say hello, and it doesn't take long before there's a full-on gathering outside the dams truck. dennis, another one of your former academy members, and pepe, your new teammate and newly found platonic soulmate, both listen in as jak tells you all about how jetlagged he is after coming back from the states just two days ago. "have you gotten properly settled in with aston?" you ask with a smile.

"totally. it's been great, honestly. even the apartment they found for me is top-notch."

"oh? better than milton keynes?"

jak raises his eyebrows at you, and then he bursts out laughing. "duh." throughout the many years of living next-door from each other, there wasn't a single day when the two of you didn't complain about something the apartment complex. the smell, the noise, the trails of blood in the staircase; not exactly things you'll miss when you move out one day.

"i still can't really believe we're not neighbors anymore," you complain, jutting out your bottom lip as you speak. "i've been so close to knocking on your old door so many times, but now some other freak lives there-"

"hey!" pepe shoves your shoulder, and the whole group laughs. "you're much worse than i am!"

"i'm so glad i finally moved out of there," dennis chimes in. "if i had been neighbors with y/n and pepe at the same time… i don't think i would've gotten any sleep at all, man."

"i didn't get any sleep for four years when i lived there..." jak groans.

"is this your first time in a series together?" juan jumps in, looking between you and jak, but seems surprised when you both nod. "best friends but you've never raced each other? maybe this season is what forces you apart."

"yeah, what will you do if i crash into you when you're in the lead?" jak teases, pressing an elbow into your side.

"then i think a few compromising pictures of you might make their way to the aston martin headquarters..."

when it's like this, being on the same grid with all of these people is so easy. you're all friends, not opponents. all in the same boat with the same excitement and expectations for the season. unfortunately, you know it won't stay this uncomplicated for long. when you're actually out on track in a few weeks, forcing each other into the walls and swearing at each other over the team radios, there won't be any more happy faces.

but for now, you enjoy smiling with the people who are just as much your friends as they are your enemies. that is, until you spot someone else joining your little group.

paul.

suddenly, the smile feels much more forced; the air is thicker and harder to breathe in. and when he makes his way over to you, a lump forms in your throat.

a lump you understand probably won't disappear all season.

the second you're back in your hotel room, you reach for the little dark blue book you've hidden in your bedside drawer. the pen in your hand is one you've had for years, one you always bring with you to every race weekend. the ink has been refilled possibly hundreds of times, but the plastic body has remained the same ever since you bought it.

the journal itself is torn; it's been used and loved for many years, too. it's like an extra best friend, a second home. when you're writing in it, it's one of the few times you feel like you can actually be your true, authentic self – it's one of the few times when you're not afraid that someone will judge your emotions or thoughts.

today, you know what you want to write about instantly.

i saw paul for the first time since abu dhabi.

i haven't been able to stop thinking about him. no matter how hard, i couldn't get him out of my mind. i've been wondering what he looks like now, how his voice has changed, if his smile is still as bright. and suddenly, he was there and i saw him.

the answer? he's just as he always was. and i can't tell if that makes me feel alright or awful.

you're pulled out of your head by the sound of a knock on your door, and you instantly scramble to hide your journal in the drawer again. the second you pull the door open and ollie's gaze meets yours, it's like all of your previous thoughts disappear. it's just you and him again; no one else even exists.

especially not paul.

"are you ready to go?" ollie asks, hands finding your sides as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "i found the address of some good pasta place, it's just a few blocks from here."

you nod, your hands landing on top of his and giving them a quick squeeze before pulling away. "i just need to put on some earrings," you start, backing into the room. "will you help me choose?"

"of course."

"carlos set a stunning lap today. did you see it?"

the question makes you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you bring out three plates from the cupboard above the stove. your dad has always been quick to comment on anything good regarding ferrari; to anyone living in the max verstappen era, even a sliver of a good result is enough to spark some hope, so you aren't exactly surprised. "yes, dad. of course i saw it."

"i reckon this will be our year," your dad continues as you walk past him cooking by the stove, carrying the plates to the dinner table. "carlos will make them regret getting lewis instead of him."

you can't help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. your mom gives you a knowing glare over her newspaper – don't start anything. you choose to ignore it. "you really think this is how it's going to look next week during the actual race?" you ask. "you don't think max is sandbagging the slightest?"

"i'm just telling you," your dad starts, giving his stew a good stir. the snarky tone in his voice is unmistakable. "don't come home crying to me when you realize red bull isn't going to cut it anymore. if you regret your choices, go somewhere else."

even like this, when you're back home for a few days to catch up with your family, neither of you can stay away from this bickering. your dad is always pestering you about sticking with the red bull junior team, and you never can back down from a fight. you're way too stubborn.

"are you saying that i wouldn't have a place in ferrari if i wanted to?" you set the plates down with a thud, the sound making your mother flinch in her seat by the table. "you would say no to your only daughter, huh?"

"i'm just saying that you'd need to prove yourself to get into the academy."

despite your harsh tones, most people around you think you're just joking around when you act like this; some family-mockery can never hurt, right? however, there's always a hint of seriousness behind it. it's been like this between the two of you forever, and especially ever since your dad became the head of the ferrari driver academy – the rivalry between you two is stronger than ever.

you've always been sure of your choice; you've always felt like the red bull family is perfect for you. but recently, you've started to wonder if staying with the team actually was the right thing for you. what really is your future in the team? it's not like you haven't got great drivers ahead of you, drivers who will be called in for a possible f1 seat before you.

and it's not like red bull has a stellar record of keeping all of their drivers. they only have four seats in formula one, after all.

your dad wants you in ferrari, that much is clear. you may have joined the red bull junior team because of his past with the team; he did win their first ever championship, after all. accepting was the only option when you got the offer to join. however... your dad really wants you in ferrari. there's just something about the brand, the colors and the history that obviously is intriguing for everyone. even lewis hamilton couldn't stay away, for god's sake.

you can't admit it, though. not here, not right now.

so instead, you choose to fight fire with fire. "bullshit," you mumble under your breath before speaking clearly again. "second in the championship last year wasn't proof enough?"

"stop this," your mom says, folding up her newspaper and placing it on the table. you roll your eyes yet again but look back at her when she speaks again. "new subject: how is our dear ollie doing?"

you visibly relax at the question, your heart softening in your chest. "he's good. he's back in modena now, so..."

if it had been your dad asking about ollie, you know it would've been because he's interested in how the academy is doing. but since your mom is the one asking, you know it's real concern and curiosity. "how did he find the new car? did he enjoy testing?"

"not really," you say, slipping into the seat opposite your mum as your dad places the pot of stew in front of you on the table. "though, you know, the prema cars are never that good in bahrain. but he assumes they'll bounce back."

there's something in your dad's tone when he speaks again that makes you stop in the middle of your reach for the ladle. "yeah, so i've heard..." it's almost sarcastic, maybe a bit... irritated?

you turn towards him, a frown on your face. "what?"

"william," your mom says with a shake of her head. she knows something. "let's not go there." but just as you're about to call them out on how strange they're acting, she speaks again: "what do your upcoming weeks look like? for how long will you be back in england?"

anyone with eyes – or even without, to be fair – can tell that they're hiding something. and while your curiosity is killing you, you're not in the mood for a full-fledged fight at this time. you take the high road, which isn't your most familiar way of handling things like this, and try your best to push away any wishes to question your parents. you answer, engage in polite conversations and chat about your upcoming season. then, you thank them for dinner and leave the house after giving them their respective kisses on their cheeks.

but all evening, your mind is on something else. and when you get back home to your apartment, your fingers itch to send ollie a text asking if he knows anything. but instead, you go to bed with a knot in your stomach. maybe it's a topic for another day.

being back in the car for testing was great, but it was nothing compared to being back on the track for an actual race weekend. the first round of the championship was something you'd looked forward to for what felt like years, and now it was finally time. you've never been more excited, or nervous, for any race weekend.

you weren't off to the best of starts, though. qualifying has always been one of your stronger suits, so coming 13th was not a result you had anticipated. thankfully, it meant you had time to practice overtaking and had a good chance of improving your place. having to start right behind pepe and paul in both races was an interesting coincidence, but you were obviously not going to let any of it affect your racing.

though p8 is not the best place to finish, you are actually quite pleased with having gained several positions in the sprint race and taking your first point of the year. the car was, as you knew it would be, very different from the f3 car, although you were surprisingly confident and managed it well despite the circumstances.

paul, too, handled it all very well – p12 to p5 is a great record. and when he sees the timing board and realizes that you also did well considering the circumstances, he's overjoyed. he's practically bouncing down the paddock when he finally gets out of his car, accepting the fans' cheers and the handshakes from his engineers with a big grin. and when he sees you further down the paddock, his mind is filled with memories of the two of you celebrating your good placements in all other categories.

just because you aren't a couple now doesn't mean you can't honor these results together, right?

but just a second later, he realizes that you're surrounded by the familiar red-clad staff members instead of your own campos staff, and you're standing right by that red prema car he knows so well. and, sure enough, soon the person he'd forgotten about steps up to you.

paul watches as you wrap your arms around ollie's shoulders, and his heart sinks in his chest. your boyfriend hides his face in your shoulder and your hand comes up to stroke the skin on the back of his neck. paul can tell how your lips are moving, and the pout you're showing off tells him enough about what's going on even though he can't actually hear what you're saying. you aren't prioritizing being happy about your own race – it's more important to comfort ollie.

to paul, there's something so unsettling about the sight. he's seen the two of you together many times before – besides, he gets tagged in pretty much every picture a fan takes of you with your boyfriend – but it isn't your proximity that he has issues with.

the thing that upsets him is the fact that there's a frown stretched across your features; one that doesn't leave even when you part from ollie, or when you're cheered on by your mechanics, or when you leave for your post-race interviews. a frown that any other time would be replaced with a big, proud smile because of your accomplishments.

the music blasting into your ears from your airpods cuts out the rest of the world, the usually so busy and loud paddock all gone the second you pressed the play button on your phone. it's been your favorite way of getting in the race mood for years; you're not superstitious in many other ways, but your playlist has stayed the same since your first season in f4. walking around the garage, doing your warmups, or even just sitting around and waiting to get in the car like you are right now, you listen to the exact same songs on repeat. it's one of the few things that makes you truly focus on the race ahead of you.

so when you feel two hands on your shoulders from behind, you jump in your seat. turning your head, you're relieved to see the big smile of pepe shining down at you. "did i scare you?" he asks loudly enough to cut through the music, and you barely have time to nod and take one airpod out before he speaks again. "good, that was my intention."

you slide your airpods into their case as pepe plops into the seat next to you, eyes zoning in on the f3 feature race on the screen in front of you. "i'm so upset," you huff, shaking your head. "did you see the start?"

"i heard," he answers just as dino's red car appears on the screen, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "but he's made up ten places already, right?"

"yeah..." you lean your head onto his shoulder with a sigh. "we should focus on the positives. like chris!"

"and like our upcoming race." you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. "i have a good feeling about it."

when you found out that jak was leaving the red bull junior academy last fall, you were heartbroken. he's been one of your closest friends ever since you first met; the two of you have always been joined by the hip, despite how you've never raced in the same series before, and you spent most of your free time either training together or just hanging out. how would you ever get over him leaving you all alone in the academy?

thankfully, pepe joined in the late summer. at first, you were just acquaintances, but something about his personality was too good not to fall for. it didn't take long for him to become one of your closest friends, too. another boy your age, another boy with crazy energy and amazing potential – he filled the void in your heart quite well.

as well as jak's old apartment.

you'd raced each other in f3 last season, though barely ever crossed paths or talked. but living next to each other, doing all of your sim work together, and now even being on the same team meant that your relationship went from zero to one hundred in just days.

this season is your first with campos, while he's been with the team for several years already, and so far he's been very good at helping you get used to everything off track. they took a big chance choosing two rookies for their lineup, and the two of you promised each other to do your best to make them satisfied with their choice. so far, you've gotten one third and eight place in your first-ever f2 race – and you're just getting started.

"i do, too," you hum. "let's go out there and show them today."

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. finally, he thinks to himself; this definitely makes up for all of the things he felt yesterday.

"congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and prema, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie's entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations, and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

"p5 is still good, my dear." your mom's voice booms out from the speakers of your phone as you drop it onto the desk, and you can't help but let out a sigh, taking a step back.

"of course, but... i feel like i could've done more." it was both true and not; with paul's five-second penalty, you definitely could've gained at least one more position if only you had stayed within that gap. but then again, a fifth position and ten more points was a great result for a rookie.

"but you'll still be going out to celebrate with your friends, right?"

you ended up telling pepe you weren't in the mood to party, despite his persistent complaints, and decided to instead use the evening for relaxation and recovery. your entire body, especially your neck, has really suffered this weekend – you were already sore after the shakedown, but this is on another level – so a bubble bath and a good night's sleep in your hotel room seemed like a much better choice.

"no, i'm just going to rest a little..." you hum, flopping down on the chair by the desk. "maybe grab something to eat with ollie."

weirdly enough, you haven't been able to get in contact with him all evening. you were told that he hurried back to his hotel room right after the race, not in the mood to talk to anyone on the team at all, so you chose to give him some time alone to cool down before you'll eventually go over there. still, you thought he would've answered at least one of your many texts by now.

thinking about your boyfriend, you suddenly remember something. "hey, mum?" she lets out an affirmative sound. "you remember when i was home last time, and dad said something about ollie and the car? and he acted all weird?" you pause for a moment, but when she doesn't say anything, you keep going. "what was that all about?"

"well darling, we..." you take the sudden silence as a sign that she might not be sure how honest she wants to be right now, and it makes you frown instinctively. she sighs. "we're just a little worried about him, that's all."

your confusion only grows. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we're worried he's feeling too pressured to impress us." you hear her take a deep breath. "of course, your father is his boss, so it is natural in that way. but we wish he would just see us as any regular parents. he's always talking about racing like there's nothing else in the world, and..."

"that's not fair." you shake your head despite the fact that she can't see it. "that isn't him. he isn't all racing and no fun."

"oh love, i'm sure he is loads of fun, but-"

"i really have to go," you cut her off, standing from your seat. "talk to you later."

you hang up before she can even answer, the guilt in your head from treating your mother like that already pushed away by the anger growing inside of you.

you always assumed your parents loved ollie. sure, you knew they adored having paul over when you were still a couple, too, but ollie is every mother-in-law's dream son. he's from your country, he's a pure sweetheart, he's even in the fda for god's sake. how could they not love him?

and so what if he tries to impress them? who wouldn't do the same?

when ollie opens his door for you, he looks like he's just woken up from a bad night's sleep. bed head, bags under his eyes, and just a general aura of tiredness. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was an insomniac. but thinking back to how badly his race went, the sight of him just makes your stomach churn.

your arms wrap around his neck in an instant, pulling him into your warm embrace. you feel the tension in his upper back release right away, and ollie's hands find your sides, giving you a light squeeze. you refrain the urge to pull away when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, standing strong against your usual ticklishness, and your heart softens slightly when he lets out a deep sigh into your skin.

"you okay?" you finally manage to get out, and his answer comes in the form of a nod against your shoulder. "is there anything i can do for you?"

he pulls away but stays so close that you feel his breath against your face; so close that you're both slightly cross-eyed when your gazes meet. "stay with me?"

your answer is expressed through the fleeting kiss you press to his lips, your way of saying of course. ollie doesn't waste any time pulling you into his hotel room, and you flop down onto the bed with him. he sits up and watches you lie down against the covers, your head nestling into the pillow. "tell me about your race," he says as he reaches down to take your hand, his fingers slipping in between yours. "eight positions gained, huh?"

of course he doesn't want to talk about his own race. but the fact that he's willing to think about racing at all, just to let you have a chance to talk about how well you did and boast a little; it all makes your heart flutter.

and you're sure, you're so sure that he is so much more than just a racing driver. he's not what your parents think he is. he's an incredible racer, sure, but he's also the sweetest man you've ever met. the perfect boyfriend.

even when he's feeling like this, he takes his time to still pay attention to you and ask questions. and then he listens, he really listens, because he wants to understand every inch of your mind just as well as he geeks out about every detail of apexes and tyre degradation. and then he says just the right things, the things to sweep you off your feet yet again.

he's so perfect that he's incredibly easy to love.

so why is there a knot in your stomach at the thought of the race – and more specifically, the person on the last step of the podium?

why does your mind keep running back to how he's celebrating, and what it would be like if you'd been there with him?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername double pookie podiums & good points in the bag! thanks camposracing for a great car ❤️ we go again in a week!

show all 81 comments

user top job this weekend!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user i will stop hating on red bull if either of these get into f1

→ user red bull juniors >>> anyone else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user what happened to ollie though 😭

→ user it's just the first round, calm your horses

→ user why always bring up ollie on her posts... is that all she is, ollie's gf? 😐

→ user forreeaaalll

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam y/n and pepe making us proud ���

→ user pls admin you're making me cry

→ yourusername me too 😭

#perfectly fine! #f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula one #paul aron #f3 #formula two #formula 2 #ollie bearman #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #fluff #angst #series #scenario #prema racing #ferrari driver academy

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1 

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol). 

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed. 

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt. 

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that. 

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options. 

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.” 

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall. 

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past. 

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run. 

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone. 

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him. 

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them. 

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch. 

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself. 

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine. 

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour. 

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.” 

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being. 

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.” 

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man. 

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.” 

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.” 

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life. 

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while. 

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.” 

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them. 

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head. 

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off. 

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit. 

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack. 

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?” 

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something. 

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.” 

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar. 

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly. 

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.” 

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw. 

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears. 

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story? 

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you. 

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment. 

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime” 

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood. 

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention. 

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped. 

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you. 

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him. 

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before? 

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it. 

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?” 

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said. 

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming. 

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“ 

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch. 

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned. 

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box. 

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed. 

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment. 

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.” 

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin. 

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.” 

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight. 

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe. 

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.” 

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.” 

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits. 

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter. 

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned. 

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes. 

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.” 

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze. 

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.” 

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?” 

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.” 

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.” 

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner. 

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground. 

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta. 

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth. 

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.” 

“Culinary school, huh?” 

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.” 

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?” 

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted. 

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly. 

“I gotta go.” 

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall. 

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.” 

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.” 

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home. 

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile. 

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes. 

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven. 

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder. 

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed. 

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her. 

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.” 

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin. 

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile. 

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way. 

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response. 

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?” 

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it. 

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.” 

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.” 

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?” 

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged. 

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.” 

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze. 

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation. 

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct. 

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes. 

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.” 

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over. 

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.” 

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile. 

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why. 

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him. 

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy. 

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!” 

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes. 

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal. 

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself. 

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.” 

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?” 

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.” 

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life. 

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his. 

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.” 

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle. 

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you. 

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her. 

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely. 

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods. 

“I’d uh…I’d like that.” 

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you. 

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye. 

You were definitely going to be the death of him. 

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance. 

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever. 

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me. 

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec. 

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though. 

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous. 

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.” 

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly. 

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs. 

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism. 

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown. 

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled. 

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him. 

“Fine. Yours?” 

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled. 

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.” 

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?” 

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected. 

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one. 

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh. 

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?” 

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.” 

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.” 

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl. 

Taglist: @cheshirecat484

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fc #my writing #gray skies

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

summary: bucky and y/n discuss sadie’s future.

masterlist

She couldn’t believe some asshole had spilled coffee all over her dress and hadn’t even apologised. What was she supposed to do now? She had an interview to attend with someone whose secretary had made him sound like someone who made the dad from Sound of Music seem like the most relaxed man to ever walk the Earth. Yet, here she was about to walk into an interview to be an au pair with coffee stains all over her only interview-appropriate dress. She really needed this job, her tenancy was running out on her home and every single home in New York seemed to be occupied and she was quickly running out of money. If she didn’t get this job, she would be sleeping in the university library, eating whatever free samples she could find in student fairs. 

She mentally prayed to whatever gods roamed the skies, hell, the universe - wherever God was - for this man not to notice her stained dress, although the moment she opened the door and the man’s eyes immediately went to the dark spot on her white dress, she knew her prayers went unanswered. 

       - Hi, I’m Y/N. - she extended her hand towards his, attempting to block the stain as if he hadn’t seen it already. The man, Sergeant Barnes, was taken aback by the motion, looking at her hand as if she had offered him an offensive comment rather than her hand. - Your secretary said you’d be expecting me.

He cleared his throat, not really saying or doing anything other than pointing to the chair in front of what she guessed was his desk. She looked down at her shoes like a petulant child, feeling like she wasn’t getting the job. They always say to make the best impression - something she was sure she had now failed. 

      - You’re studying at NYU ... - he started.

      - Columbia. - she corrected him. - I’m in grad school and I promise I usually don’t look like this. I was trying to get some coffee and this guy spilled his all over me. Blotting didn’t seem to work ...

      - I didn’t ask any of that, Miss Y/N. 

      - I know but if you were to call NYU and ask if I go there they wouldn’t know anything about me. I’m really involved in student life at Columbia, I am part of the school paper, I was top of my undergraduate class and I shadowed Dr. Hill’s during early childhood psychology research last year. I also babysat for most of my teenage years. 

      - I didn’t ask any of that but glad to know you’re a very good student. 

      - Your secretary said you’d also be interested in someone who could tutor your daughter later on and I tutored in high school and my sister only knows maths because I drilled it into her. - she chuckled, nervously but he remained still, looking at her with the best poker face he could muster. - Look, I know you already don’t like me because I have coffee all over myself but you have a 2 year old, right? You must know the feeling of someone throwing stuff at you, maybe not coffee but ink or cereal. 

     - My daughter threw her whole orange juice in my face. Twice.

     - Oh ...

     - She’s going through a phase. Terrible twos. 

PRESENT DAY

     - I told you so. - Y/N spoke from the living room as Bucky attempted to take the remaining spaghetti noodles from his hair. - You gave her the plate before the knife and fork. That’s just an invitation for her eating with your hands and beginning a food fight. 

     - Says the au pair who is currently not doing any au pair work. - he grabbed a clean tea towel, trying to soak up as much tomato sauce from his hair as he could before hopping on a shower. - What are you doing?

    - Have you forgotten I have a PhD to finish possibly in the next 2 years? Data wrangling. 

    - You know, I have data analysts ...

    - I know. - she interrupted him. - Details of your utter incompetence at coding languages do not interest me. 

    - In my defense, when I was your ...

    - You’re 10 years older than me. - she interrupted him once more, her glasses slightly sliding off the bridge of her nose. - Data science is relatively new but not that new. Go shower before you start growing tomatoes on your head. 

Bucky merely chuckled at the idea before taking to the shower. Soon Sadie would turn three and hopefully she would stop throwing every single item of food at him when cutlery wasn’t in place - though Y/N thought it was more likely she would continue to do so until she no longer found it funny. Bucky chose to be more positive, besides, he didn’t like thinking about the future. In two years he’d have to find someone to fill her shoes and he didn’t think it was possible to find someone as good as she was. 

On the other hand, Y/N seldom found herself with time to wonder about what life would look like after Sadie. She wanted to continue on working in academia and some of her tutors had suggested she become a junior lecturer at the university, however she preferred not do dwell on the future, specially when she still had to defend her thesis. She also didn’t want to think of not being able to see Sadie. She had become attached to her, she was proud of her achievements and to think she would just become a murky memory in the 2 year old’s brain made her heart hurt. 

    - You want something to eat? - Bucky returned from the bathroom, dressed in the loungewear which she did not dwell looking at due to the fact it made her an unhinged woman. 

    - We just had dinner. 

    - We’re grown ups. Don’t you want some ice cream? - he joked. - C’mon, I’ve hide some from Sadie. 

    - I have to finish this data analysis tonight, James. If I don’t, I might as well quit and become Columbia’s biggest disappointment. 

     - You think you will become Columbia’s biggest disappointment when Casey Affleck went there?

     - At least he finished his degree. - she looked up from her laptop. - I’m gonna have to move in with my parents. 

    - You can live with me and Sadie. I’d much rather you have the girl talks with her. 

    - Oh so I get to live here and have to have all the complicated talks with Sadie? 

    - Okay. I’ll have birds and the bees, you get puberty, bras, periods, boys, actually scratch that, no boys until she’s 35.

    - 35?

    - You’re right. 85. Actually, make sure she waits until I’m dead. 

    - Won’t be too long. - she joked. - Now stop distracting me. I have work to do and as far as I know you’ve only hired me to babysit Sadie and not you. 

Bucky sat next to her, his eyes wandering to what she was doing before wandering back. He considered himself a smart man, business savy, but Y/N was smart smart. The kind of smart women who could probably take his business from under him and he wouldn’t even notice.  

   - You’re getting Sadie tomorrow? I know you have work at Columbia in the morning so I’m dropping her off but I can’t pick her up. 

   - Yeah, it’s on the calendar. - she pointed to the fridge on the kitchen with a pinned up calendar. - Stop talking, you’re distracting me.

   - You know ... I can have my data team give you a hand. - she finally looked up from her laptop. - I’m sure one of the managers would be thrilled to get on my good side. 

   - I can do it myself. - she replied, returning back to look at her laptop as if he had offended her. 

    - I know, but you don’t have to. 

She gave him a split second look, a world of words and feelings in the bright eyes which he was used to seeing everyday, before going back to her laptop. Bucky sighed, not knowing how else to continue the conversation without further upsetting her. 

    - If you’re too busy at Columbia, we can discuss how many free days you get a week. 

    - I’m fine, Sergeant Barnes. 

    - I can take Sadie to the office for one of the weekdays and then you can do your work by yourself. 

    - I can handle my work, Sergeant Barnes. It’s fine. 

    - You look stressed, Y/N. I won’t take any of your pay if that’s what you’re worried about. C’mon, Y/N, you’re not gonna do any good work if you’re stressed. Please. 

She sighed, closing her laptop and stared at him. If she wasn’t staring at him as if he was the most unimpressive man alive, he would’ve high fived himself. Yet, the look on her face and the tears which were starting to pool in her eyes were sufficient to have him immediately forget any single sense of funniness about the situation. 

   - I am trying. - she sighed, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears welling up, yet even the sigh came in interrupted breathes. - I really am trying and I can do it myself. 

    - Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to. I want to help you.

    - You hired me to help you not the other way around. - she shut her eyes, trying to somehow store the idea of her thesis away. - I’m just tired and overreacting. 

     - You can talk to me. - he moved his chair closer to hers. 

     - I just told you I’m tired and overreacting. It’s nothing special. - she rested her forehead on her hand. - Doing a PhD is hard work. 

     - I wouldn’t know. Didn’t do one. 

     - Maybe you should. You could become Dr. Sergeant Barnes. 

     - Too many achievements. - he joked. - I hope your academic vein rubs off on Sadie. I think she’s a pretty smart kid. 

     - She is but currently I think that she wants to be a ballerina. Although, last week she wanted to be an astronaut. 

      - No can do. No astronauting, I would miss her too much. 

      - What did you want to be when you were younger? - she questioned, a loving look gracing her features.

      - I wanted to be a super hero then I wanted to be an accountant. 

      - An accountant? - she chuckled. - No way. What kid wants to be an accountant?

     - My uncle was an accountant and I thought he was the coolest. What about you? Wait, let me guess. 

     - Go on. - she crossed her arms. 

     - A princess? 

     - Ugh, stereotypical much?

     - President Barbie? 

     - You’re joking but my parents bought me President Barbie when I was a kid, and Doctor Barbie as well. I didn’t like President Barbie’s outfit as much so I stuck to science. 

     - Always wanted to be a psychologist?

     - I am not a psychologist, Barnes. I am a scientist.

     - A psychologist scientist.

     - Stop. - she chuckled. - I’m sure Sadie will be fine. She takes after you.

     - She actually takes after her mother sometimes. - he shrugged. - Anna was really smart, bit feisty. Sadie reminds me of her sometimes. 

     - You never told me Sadie’s mum’s name. I thought her name would be something like Jessica or Melanie. 

     - Do you base your name assumptions on romcom villains?

     - Anna sounds like such a tame name. Not like someone who would just leave her child on her father’s doorstep. 

     - She never really wanted a kid. I don’t blame her too much either, she was really bright when we were together, anyway. I do hope that’s all that Sadie takes from her. 

     - She looks like you. - Y/N added. - Except for the reddish blonde hair, I’m guessing that’s Anna?

     - Actually, that’s from my mother. My mum’s grandmother had red hair, that’s why she’s spoiled rotten. 

     - You’re gonna do fine, Bucky. - she held his hand. - You’re a good dad and she’s gonna turn out just fine. 

     - You’re gonna do fine too, Y/N. I am looking forward to calling you Dr. Y/N. 

     - Dr. Y/N and Sergeant Barnes.

    - Dr. Y/N and Sergeant Barnes. - he bit the inside of his lip before smiling at her. - What a team.

    - Even though you hated me when you first met me. 

    - Whatever you say, Y/N. Whatever you say.

#Sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky x you #bucky/you #bucky x reader #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n

[miabebe]

I Am What I Am (V)

A man of the shadows and a woman who belonged in the skies - fate could not have brought two more different people together.

But was this fate or was this a choice?

Pairing - Im Changkyun x OC, Kim Mingyu × OC

Word Count - 7.3K

Warnings - guns, slight mentions of violence blood, death. This is a necessary, filler chapter so its not as intense, but boy oh boy, brace yourselves for the next one my friends :) also, I tried a new writing style, so the pov in this chapter is a little different!

Previous chapter

Much to her surprise, when Na bi woke up the next day, it was already past noon.

She had passed out from all that exhaustion quite early last night - the muscles of her legs were still sore but the warmth of the bed and the weight of the duvet were comforting. She had forgotten to close the curtains before dozing off and now the yellow of the sun was all over the room. The trees outside were standing still as ever, birds chirped all around - The forest looked so alive, yet still felt so daunting.

Dragging herself off the bed, she closed the curtains, submerging the room into darkness before flipping the switches of the lights.

Something had changed.

Na bi walked up to the small study in the corner, eyes falling on the new contents on the table. It was her belongings - her unnecessarily thick medical textbooks, study guides, lecture notes - all her personal material from home, neatly stacked. On the shelf were her novels, magazines she liked to flip through, journals she had filled over the years. How did he manage to get these?

Even her toiletries were arranged for, neatly laid out by the sink - new bottles of her soap, shampoo, creams and serums of her night routine. In the ten minutes she took to wash up, a fresh set of clothes which, albeit she didn't change into, were laid out for her and outside, on the table was a piping a hot coffee and biscuits. Her bed had been made, the curtains were pulled back again, and the fire of the night had been put out. It was as though Changkyun had a bunch of elves working around here for him - efficient, meticulous and invisible.

Na bi sipped on her coffee as she looked through the books and papers on her table again. When Changkyun said whatever she needed would be arranged for, he kept his word - every small thing, down to drawing pencils and her favourite set of highlighters was here.

Everything except her laptop.

Na bi looked around, eyes searching for it as another realisation slowly dawned upon her. She hadn't seen her phone in very long either. Panicking slightly, she left her coffee and rummaged through the sheets of the freshly made bed - it was not there. She opened the drawers of her bedside table hurriedly, scoured the shelves and cupboards of the room, checked the bathroom, checked the closet but it was nowhere to be found. She tried to  recall when she last saw it. A very faint memory told her it dropped out of her hand when she was shoved into Wonho's van.

Fuck.

She needed that phone, how was anything going to work out without it?

Na bi sank onto an ottoman, massaging her temples, her mind behind it racing. She wasn't prepared for this. She hadn't expected things to be in motion so soon; screw Mingyu for not so much as warning her before putting their plan to action. But now it was too late to curse him - she was already in the middle of it all and she had to figure it out on her own, there was no other way.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair back, pulling it into a tight ponytail, something she rarely ever did. Leaving her half empty coffee cup on the table, she stuffed two biscuits in her mouth for some sugar and slowly opened the door of her bedroom. If she was going to crack Changkyun's empire, his house would be the first place to begin.

When Na bi stepped into the familiar corridor, she found herself alone again, a chill running down her spine. It wasn't eerie or haunting in anyway, but the thought of just what she might discover in this inhabitation was terrifying her already. Cautiously, she began walking further down the corridor, doors of two rooms coming into her view - one she assumed was the second guest bedroom Changkyun mentioned and the other was perhaps his own. Surely if there was any place in this house that could give her a clue, it had to be his room.

Opening the first door on her way, Na bi immediately concluded it to be a guest room for the layout was unmistakably, exactly the same as hers - the colour of the walls, the sheets, the furniture, all of it. Except the view from the window. From the left most corner, Na bi caught sight of a sliver of the beach she saw yesterday. So it wasn't a mirage conjured by her exhaustion or a figment of her imagination.....

Gulping at the possibilities, she slowly left, proceeding to the next room, only to find it locked shut. She tried the handle a few times, with both force and technique but neither could open it. Stepping back she glanced at the walls that spanned on either sides of it. It had to be a huge room, which meant it most definitely was Changkyun’s but clearly, neither was he home, nor was anything about him accessible to her.

Na bi though, wasn't one to accept defeat. Besides, how hard could it be to break into a room? One bobbypin and she could have easily found her way in. And perhaps she would have too if she didn't hear the strange sounds of clanking metal from a distance. Frowning, she turned, walking towards the source, trying to locate it. Softly she whispered Changkyun's name, guessing it was him and instantly, the noise stopped. And so did Na bi.

After a long silence and a long period of immobility, Na bi finally took another daring step ahead, the living space downstairs slowly coming into view. It was just as empty as yesterday, only more harshly lit by the afternoon sun. It looked just as beautiful though, she observed as she walked down the stairs, looking around. Changkyun was definitely a man of strange taste but she didn't expect to find herself in approval of it. Except those ceiling high windows. Those still made her stomach churn with discomfort.

When Na bi managed to make it all the way down to the last step, she stumbled, noticing a door she hadn't really seen before. The walls felt warm and she could hear the sound of firewood crackling from the other side. Wondering if that was the source of the noise, she knocked softly before grabbing the handle and pushing the door, only to feel a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Na bi bit back a scream, turning to meet the eyes of a  woman almost a whole head smaller than her, looking at her fiercely. Her salt and pepper hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, and with her cute little pink apron and half moon glasses, one would think she was a sweet old lady, but the sharpness of her tone told Na bi otherwise.

"I'm...I'm looking for Changkyun." Na bi watched the woman physically wince at the mention of his name. "Where is he?"

"Master's not home." Master? She wiped her hands on her apron before walking past her and closed the door loudly. The point had been made. "If you there's something you need, you can ask me."

"Is this Changkyun's room?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it is."

Na bi's eyes flickered between her and the room. What was in there? And if this was his room, who did the room upstairs belong to? And why was it locked?

"Wait, wait." She rushed as the older woman began walking away, following her footsteps. "Where's Changkyun?"

"Master is a busy man." She huffed. "He comes and goes as he pleases-"

"Goes where?"

"He doesn't inform me about his whereabouts."

"When does he usually come back?"

"Whenever he decides to."

"When is that usually-"

"Ms. Baek," Na bi's lips parted in surprise at the mention of her name. And at the faint but apparent annoyance in the woman's voice. "I do not concern myself with master's business and frankly, neither should you. But if your curiosity cannot handle the ignorance then I suggest you ask him yourself, whenever he's back."

And with that, she walked off into the kitchen across, a lot faster than before. Na bi stood in the middle of the hall, staring at a loss.

There's a lot you need to learn about this place Ms. Baek.

Indeed there was. The rooms of this house were just the beginning of things. If she was to be successful in her mission, she needed to know all that was there to know. She had to unravel Changkyun’s world down to the core and she had to do it without letting him get even the faintest idea as to why she was here - that would ruin everything. So right now, what Na bi most desperately needed..... was a friend.

She turned to look at the only other person she had seen here, standing behind the kitchen island, mixing soup in a pot, cutting up some greens and putting something into an oven, all simultaneously. She was perfectly efficient, timing her moves just right, smoothly executing her tasks. She looked not too old, perhaps in her mid fifties, crowsfeet aligned by her eyes which were somewhat soft under all that snappy exterior. If Na bi made the right moves, she knew she could break through that hard perosona of hers and make a potential ally. Only problem was, Na bi had no idea how to make friends.

Silently going back to her room, she threw herself on the bed and stared at the grey ceiling. Her whole life, much to the contrary of what most people believed, Na bi was quite the loner. She rarely went to team dinners, never joined them on karaoke nights and barely ever participated in birthdays or other celebrations. She wasn't hostile to people or unfriendly, no; she just didn't have the time and energy to engage in social niceties. She had cordial relationships with her colleagues and neighbours but that was about it. Seokmin was the only exception in her rather isolated life.

Two years ago, when she first joined the hospital, he too was just like everyone else, a mere acquitance. Somehow, over time, he warmed up to her and honestly, rather insistently inserted himself into her life. Thank god for him though. Na bi didn't know what she would do without that crazy guy who somehow always there when she needed him (which wasn't very often), who always tolerated her rather unbothered attitude (which was very often) and who would always look out for her, no questions asked.

Even though Mingyu had asked her not to inform a soul about her mission, she regretted not telling Seokmin about everything. He was probably worried by her lack of response, but hopefully, he just assumed her radio silence to be just one of her usual unsociable moods - she often ignored him over the weekends and holiday season, knowing he would attempt to set her up with one of his many, many friends.

But Na bi wasn't the kind to date either. Dating apps were completely out of question - they demanded way too much time and commitment. Over time, she disliked meeting the people Seokmin or her other colleagues set her up with too; it was just hours and hours of talking leading to nowhere. Can a person really be understood over a meal and a conversation held specifically in order to impress? It didn't make any sense to her.

Rather, she preferred her not-so-regular-but-quite-frequent rendezvous - Flirting with men at the bar, hooking up at the convenience of their cars or homes, and leaving, first thing in the morning, never to see them again. Atleast those encounters were honest in intention and brief with expectations. Seokmin often ate her ear off about how now that she was getting older, maybe it was time to settle down with one person and though she heard him (and partly agreed), she as usual feigned ignorance.

That's why when Mingyu walked into her life, she decided to take the chance. Things with him flowed so smoothly and were so easy going, she thought perhaps finally, she had managed to find someone more permanent. She found herself willingly going on dates, happily having hours of conversation and was pleasantly surprised that they were on the same wavelength about most things. He seemed to understand her; he was willing to go the extra mile whenever she pulled herself back, he was ok with taking a step back when she wasn't ready - it was as though he knew exactly what she needed.

Except he really did know exactly what she needed. He was nothing but a facade, a man tailor made for her after days of observing and studying her, presented in a way they knew she would be interested enough to meet again and again. It worked. Oh it worked wonderfully well for them, because honestly, Na bi did not ever see herself dressing up for a man but..... it wasn't their triumph.

Deep down Na bi knew what was the exact and the real reason she met Mingyu time and again. It was because he was a cop. It was for Changkyun. It was because should anything happen to Changkyun, Mingyu would be one of the more reliable sources to find out from.

Na bi sat up, crossing her legs, just the thought of it making her nauseous. Sure she was attracted to Changkyun, sure she knew he was dangerous but she did not think he would be the one responsible for Ana.... of course, since she found out, she no longer had the same kind of interest in him.

But the moment he appeared before her yesterday, the moment he met her eye, something in her stomach dropped and she knew - the effect he had on her was far from gone. Na bi though, wasn't insensible or unreasonable. She knew what she was here to do and no matter what happened, she was not willing to end up as the prey in this hunt.

So, to begin with, there were 2 things she had to focus on - 1. breaking the ice with that older woman and 2. figuring out this strange place she was holed up in. And with that clarity, Na bi began her mission, scribbling down the details of her discoveries in her new journal every night.

Day 1

I got together a bunch of papers and started drawing out the layout of the house. Whatever I've seen of it at least. I need to map the whole place out, and whatever is around here too - the forest, the beach, find other landmarks, any and all clues that can help identity this location. I shall do it, one step at a time. But I need to be careful. That older woman, who I think is the housekeeper here, tends to walk into my room anytime. Thank god I managed to hide the papers when she came to give me lunch. (Kimchi pasta and orange juice, absolutely delicious). There's a loose floorboard I found by the fireplace. These drawings should be secure there as of now.

But I don't know what to do about the her. When I smile at her, she simply nods and walks away. She's going to be a tough nut to crack. I watched her all afternoon, sitting in the living room with my books. She left from the backdoor at 3 and came back only at 5. I ate dinner with her at the breakfast bar, tteokbokki and orange juice again, not that I'm complaining. I told her to not refer to me as Ms. Baek and to call me Na bi. She said I could call her Mrs. Lee. She didn't speak much after that, just cleaned up everything and disappeared. Its almost 11 at night now, and I don't think I was really successful with anything today but I'm trying. One step at a time.

Oh and Changkyun didn't come home the whole day today.

Day 2

Changkyun did come home today.

I made it a point to wake up earlier than usual and as I got out of the room, I saw him, sitting at the breakfast bar, eating an omelette. But by the time I got down the stairs to approach him, he left. I don't know if he saw me or if he was ignoring me but I keep missing out on opportunities to talk to him.

I think I made a little more progress with Mrs. Lee though. If my eyes didn't betray me, she might have given a small smile when I thanked for coffee and my favourite breakfast, avocado toast and milk. I watched her again today - she has the exact same routine. She served me kimchi rice and orange juice at 12 and then by 3, she disappeared out of the back door. I followed her this time. There's this small garden at the back of the house with all sorts of vegetables and herbs but there was also a path, leading to a cottage. When I looked through the window, it seemed like Mrs. Lee was getting ready to nap. I think she lives there. It makes sense because there was no other room in the house that could belong to her. Which meant that locked room upstairs belonged to someone I don't know about.

Obviously I broke in. Somehow. I couldn't find a hairpin but I managed to grab a few old pens and do the trick. It was nothing like I expected though - it was a plain old bedroom, albeit bigger, brighter and disappointing. I was hoping to find something concrete here, anything at all, not just antique furniture and vintage dresses which oddly looked very similar to the ones I was dressed in when I first got here. I searched every inch of that place, there was truly nothing of value or even a clue hinting who it belonged to. Only Mrs. Lee could answer that question for me.

I wasn't really sure how to bring it up to her, so I just tried to make casual conversation about it using the dresses. I brought them down before dinner, showed it to her and-

Na bi looked up from her diary, the conversation replaying in her head.

"These clothes." She placed them on the kitchen counter. "I never got the chance to thank you for them."

"You don't have to thank me." Mrs. Lee glanced at them, mumbling. "I thought the red one would look nice on you."

"It is beautiful." Na bi sat down, softly running her fingers over the material. "I'm so sorry, it tore....are they yours?"

"Imagine a hag like me in dresses like that." Mrs. Lee scoffed. "It belonged to my mistress."

Na bi felt something sink in the pits of her stomach. "Mistress?"

"She loved dresses, had a huge collection in fact. A perfect one for every occasion." The use of past tense did not slip past Na bi. "A beautiful woman who only made the dresses she wore more beautiful."

"I should probably apologise to her then. Where is she...." Na bi trailed off looking at the woman's eyes become slightly wet.

"She was the sweetest thing alive. I don't think she would have minded. Master on the other hand, I'm afraid he was a little... displeased."

Na bi tugged the edges of the dress nonchalantly. "He must really love her."

"More than anything in the world." She sighed, slowing down her stirring. "That's why he's always hurting...."

Her voice softened as she looked at Na bi, eyes shaking like she spoke more than she should have. This was what Na bi wanted anyways - carefully guarded information being let slip. But she had to take it slow, to not raise any suspicions. And Mrs. Lee didn't seem like she was willing to let anything else slip as silence took over between them again.

-she said it belonged to her Mistress. Whoever she is, or was, either she doesn't live here anymore or she's dead, I don't know which. But it's proved Mingyu wrong. Changkyun cannot possibly be interested in me. Not when he had someone else in his life. Someone he cared enough about to still hold on to her personal belongings. Then why was he looking out for me? What do I mean to him?

Who knows? He could answer my questions, he's the only one who can but yet again, he didn't come home.

Day 3

Today I drew more of the map. I left the house before sunrise, followed the same route I took the time I first ran out of here and yet again, it took me to the beach. I passed almost 58 large trees, ran almost 3km west of the house to reach it. I still don't understand how I can possibly be near the sea. Where on Earth is this place?

I made sure to return in time for breakfast though, but Changkyun was not there today. I had toast and milk again and Mrs. Lee seemed more guarded than usual, perhaps after yesterday's slip up. But she didn't seem as unfriendly, maybe because I squeezed the orange juice for lunch by myself. When she was gone by 3, I knew what I wanted to do today - search through Changkyun's room. So I did just that, except today..... he was inside.

Na bi felt her hands shake as she recalled the encounter.

"Ms. Baek."

Na bi froze, hand on the handle as the voice boomed behind her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She turned around slowly, eyes falling on the not so large room with a really large table in the centre, Changkyun seated behind. 

"I uh...thought I heard you in here." She slowly walked in.

"Really?" He looked at her amused. "I'm known to be quiet as a cat."

Na bi gulped, clearing her throat. "You.... haven't been home in a while."

"Neither have you." He titled his head at her. "I stopped by your room this morning."

Na bi felt her heart hammering away in her chest.

"I....must've been in the shower."

"I didn't hear the water running."

"Oh then," Na bi looked away, at the fireplace, thinking quick. "You probably came when I was in the garden."

"You left the house?"

She stared at the flames harder, hoping not to give herself away. "Why? Am I not allowed to?"

"No." Na bi turned to him surprised as he continued. "There are no restrictions on you here Ms. Baek, you are free to do or go wherever you wish."

"Really? There's a room upstairs though....that you keep locked." She looked at him, trying not to seem too inquisitive, probably horribly failing at it. "Am I not allowed in there?"

"Can locked doors possibly keep you away?"

Na bi blinked at him. Did he know that she...

"That door has been like that for years." He clarified. "Simply locks every time it's closed."

"Oh." Na bi licked her lips, walking closer up to him, the contents of his table getting clearer with each step. "Then what about this room? Mrs. Lee stopped me from entering it a few days back."

He smiled. "Perhaps because entering someone's personal room in their absence is a sign of poor etiquette."

"Of course." Na bi glanced at the papers on his table, holding her breath as she did.

Maps. Hundreds of them. Much like the one stashed safely in her room, the one she was drawing out.

She looked up meeting his eye. "So you're not....hiding anything here?"

Changkyun leaned back, expression unreadable but he shook his head. "Not from you, no."

Why not though?

"What are all these then?" She pointed, stuffing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans so he couldn't see them shake.

"Maps of different areas in Seoul." He spread them out further, allowing her to take a closer look. "This is how I keep my business organised."

"Huh." She nodded, noticing red crosses and black circles scattered all over the papers. "What kind of um business do you-"

She jumped a little, at the sound of a strange static noise, unable to recognise its source.

"What's that sound?"

"My cue. I have to go, there's a meeting..." He got up and Na bi immediately took a few unnecessary steps back as he walked up to her. "Meanwhile, the reason I was looking for you..."

He handed her a familiar, shiny black device that felt cold in her palm.

"Wonho said you dropped it when he picked you up."

Her phone.

Na bi inwardly sighed in relief as she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal. Changkyun walked up to the door, donning a blazer over his trademark black shirt. Na bi followed him out, her mind still focused on the contents on the table. She knew she was far from done with this room.

He returned my phone to me but its as good as not having one. There's a crack, right across the camera lens, rendering any picture I take absolutely unfathomable. And I don't get any signal here, not one bar. I can't contact Mingyu or Seokmin, that phone is as good as a brick.

When Mrs. Lee came back, I helped her with making dinner. I know I'm no cook but I can follow instructions and I think I did a good job of it? She was afterall talking to me sweetly and even gave me an extra helping of her special homemade kimchi. Maybe I'm not far from making a friend here but Chankgyun.... I still can't figure him out.

I still don't get him.

Day 4

I covered the North side today.

It's.... its the same. Almost 5km of trees, trees and more trees and the end of it all, a beach. I'm getting a faint inkling as to where I actually am but..... I don't want to think about it. If what I'm assuming is true, I couldn't be more trapped.

Yet again I didn't see Changkyun for breakfast but I didn't see Mrs. Lee either. She was back in the garden, trying to deal with some weeds and dying tomatoes.

Fate, if its real, must be trying to help me because who knew better about gardening than I did. I think that hour we spent, fixing up those shrubs probably broke the last of the ice between us. Mrs. Lee was smiling more than usual, talking about the plants and all her recipes, and just seemed to have warmed up to me now. So I thought it wouldn't be too wrong to ask her the question.

"Mrs. Lee, I was trying to call a friend yesterday. You see I didn't get the chance to tell anyone I was going to be away, but I wasn't getting any signal? Is there.... is there any place where I can get better cell service or something?"

"Around here? No dear, there's no cell towers for miles." She tugged the weeds. "We don’t need them anyways, no one around here uses phones."

Na bi felt a wave of apprehension wash over her.

"Then... how do you contact people? Like your family?"

"Master is all the family I have." She smiled. "And need."

I think don't know if Mrs.Lee was telling the truth about the phones. But her statement did confirm something else I've been wondering - we're not the only ones, there are others. Others who lived around here and perhaps, they can help me understand more about this place. I just need to find them.

After lunch today, I wasn't able to explore anymore - Mrs. Lee needed help with the garden again. I wasn't able to extract any more information from her either, she was too focused on the task at hand. But over dinner, she did say something that surprised me.

"You really seem to like my kimchi."

Na bi took a break from shoving a huge bite into her mouth and looked up, nodding.

"I like everything you make. I don't get to eat much fresh food at home. I pretty much survive on kimbaps and instant noodles."

Mrs. Lee frowned at her, shaking her head. "You poor thing. Must be tough, having to eat those miserable packaged food."

"I don't really mind it." Na bi confessed. "I actually really like it-"

"Well you're not going to find any of that poison in this house." She crossed her arms. "I don't allow it. It's unhealthy and atrocious. Master is already picky with eating vegetables, imagine adding those preservatives to his system."

Na bi raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't eat vegetables? What a five year old."

"Indeed." Mrs. Lee broke into a fond smile. "You should've seen him when he was actually five. He wouldn't even take a bite of the kimbaps I used to make. Always spat it right out."

The image of his full cheeks as he munched on the kimbap in her home flashed in Na bi's head. I'm not picky.

"Thanks to you, I've been able to get him to eat at least a few vegetables a day. Even though he still insists on having some meat every meal-"

Na bi tried to swallow her bite quickly. "Because of me?"

"Yes you. I've been cooking more vegetarian dishes recently since, well, Master told me you're a vegetarian. And so I can..."

Na bi didn't hear anymore. Not with her mind full of thoughts.

He knows what I eat. He knows what I wear. He knows what I smell like. He knows everything yet I don't know why. Why did he bother to know so much? If like Mingyu said, he is interested in me, why hasn't he made any move, or even conversation?

I can't figure him out. I can't figure him out at all.

Day 5

Today morning I managed to cover the South side. It took considerably longer cause it was much larger, 10km at least, but to no one's surprise, ending at a beach. 3 directions, all ending at a beach, I think what I fear is true..... perhaps tomorrow I will be able to prove it.

But there was something I didn't see elsewhere - a helipad. At least that's what I'm guessing it is. It was just a large clearing in the woods, and by the way the impressions looked in the grass, that seemed like the most probable explanation. Yet another factor supporting my theory....

Also, I found out how they do it. Live without cell towers and phones that is.

Walkie talkies.

I saw Mrs. Lee talk into one over breakfast today. I don't know how I've never noticed it before, this black box like machine sitting in the corner of the kitchen counter. She said we were running out of rice and by the evening, there was a huge sack of it, sitting by the back door. I don't know much about walkie talkies and how they work, but I am aware that both parties need to be in a certain range. That's only further proof that there are others here, people who might be able to help me but also people I've never managed to catch sight of over the many days I've roamed around here. I need to explore the east side tomorrow. That might be the last piece to finish the puzzle of this place.

While Mrs. Lee took up most of my day, trying to teach me some simple recipes, I did manage to slip into Changkyun's room once again after lunch. There were no papers on the table this time, in fact it was completely empty. I tried looking through the drawers, the shelves - they were all empty.

The only other things in the room were a bed, a couch and a wardrobe. I looked through the wardrobe too - it was just a bunch of suits and hoodies that looked a whole lot more comfortable than the clothes kept in my room. Maybe that's why at that moment I decided to strip out of the really uncomfortable blouse I was wearing, into one of the hoodies....

"You really have a mind of your own don't you?"

Na bi knew before turning that Changkyun had just walked out of the bathroom; she had heard the water running. What she didn't expect was that he would be clad in nothing but his towel, hanging low on his waist, little rivets of water streaming down his torso. Na bi could not hide the way her eyes roamed over his body.

She cleared her throat, turning back to the wardrobe. "As should everyone."

As he began walking up to her, she grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt and threw it to him over her shoulder. The muffled sounds told her he had caught them and was slipping them on and it was only when she felt his breath on her neck that she knew he was done.

"You keep forgetting to breathe when you're around me Ms. Baek."

His voice was a soft whisper, making Na bi realise that she had indeed held her breath all this while and allowed herself to exhale. When she turned, she found herself trapped between him and the wardrobe behind her, her eyes flickering to between his lips and eyes. Changkyun raised his eyebrow as he looked pointedly at his grey hoodie which she had donned.

"You really oversold yourself with whole 'whatever you need will be arranged for' statement." She crossed her arms. "The clothes you filled my wardrobe with look like the personal collection of someone who cannot decide between being a victorian widow or a rebelious milkmaid from the alps."

Changkyun laughed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "I knew Wonho didn't know a thing about women's fashion."

Na bi blinked at him. "Wonho bought the clothes?" Changkyun nodded.

"How... how did he know about the... blue?"

"I told him."

"Did you also tell him the scent I use?"

Changkyun nodded but scoffed looking at her expression. "It's a colour and a smell Ms. Baek. I have good memory. You need not feel grateful for the bare minimum."

"Okay then, How did you know I was vegetarian?"

"I guessed? Based on the your eating habits."

"But you were barely with me for a day. How could you know?"

Changkyun grew silent for a minute, looking rather amused.

"Your questions are rather different from what I expected you to ask me Ms. Baek." He leaned closer, as though he was searching her face for something. "You're rather unpredictable."

Na bi wanted to laugh at that. Maybe she would have if Mrs. Lee didn't knock to call them for dinner. As Changkyun left, Na bi winced at the loss of his warmth and his scent around her. No, no, no. She had to snap out of it.

He had dinner with me for the first time today. Mrs. Lee was right, he was indeed picky with his food and his vegetables - he refused to even touch the kimbap. He really had enjoyed the one I made him though. I don't know if he liked my food or dare I say, if he likes me....

I don't think I'll ever know.

Day 6

I was supposed to explore the east side today but I couldn't - Changkyun was home all day.

He was there eating breakfast with me. He was there, playing the piano as I pretended to read through my books. He was there for lunch, and there when Mrs. Lee took her usual siesta. We played chess all afternoon, which he, not surprisingly, ended up winning. I let him win - it was our first game afterall. I wanted to crack his gameplay more than I wanted to defeat him, see how his brain works, figure out how he thinks. He's..... straightforward. He wasn't hiding behind any moves, or playing any mind games. He was simple and upfront. I don't understand him any more than before.

After that I caught him leaving the house so this time I asked him where he was going. He said for a swim and asked if I wanted to join. I probably shouldn't have but....

Na bi followed Changkyun out of the back door of the house, walking the opposite direction of Mrs. Lee's cottage. She hadn't had the chance to explore the east side yet so she took each step behind him carefully, looking around as she moved. When the trees cleared before her and Changkyun moved out of her view, her eyes fell on a water spring, pouring out from behind stacked rocks into a small pool reflecting the blue of the skies and white of the clouds.

Na bi stared at it wordlessly, missing the moment Changkyun stripped out of his shirt and pants and jumped into the water, disappearing under it. Coming back to her senses with the splash of droplets all over her, she looked around in the dead emptiness of the woods.

Changkyun’s head appeared above the water, hand pushing back the dark hair sticking to his face as did the familiar sight of his drenched, sculpted abs. He looked at her, head tilted, eyes questioning.

"I... don't know how to swim." Na bi confessed. The pool didn't look too deep, one definitely didn't need to know how to swim to get in there but Changkyun didn't point  that out as she pulled her pants up to her knees and sat on a rock, legs dangling in the waters.

Instead, he smirked. "Did you offer to come along just to watch me Ms. Baek?"

"Maybe." Na bi answered truthfully, trying not to let her eyes wander anywhere below his neck. Changkyun chuckled, disappearing under the water again, as Na bi relished the feeling of the cool waters around her legs.

He swam around for a while, submerging himself for long periods of time like a child trying to see how long he could hold his breath under water. Sometimes Na bi panicked when she didn't see him come up soon enough, but he always came up - the man could clearly hold his breath for a ridiculously long time.

As the sun began to set, the cool waters started feeling a lot colder, making Na bi pull her feet out, shivering. Watching her Changkyun got out, shaking the water off like a wet dog, making her cover herself, looking away. Grinning like a child, he walked away and to her surprise, began collecting a bunch of sticks and twigs from here and there. In five minutes, he stacked them all and pulled out his lighter from the pocket of the discarded pant and started a fire.

Na bi scooted closer to the flames as he dried himself off beside it and sadly, dressed himself up again. When he sat down across her, poking the sticks, she slowly began questioning him.

"So this is what you do around here?" She rubbed her hands warm. "Play the piano, swim out here, all alone?"

"When I have the time yeah." He replied, nodding. "Which is not often. I'm usually far too busy with my business to find time for such things."

What kind of business?

Strangely, Na bi felt bad for him. He didn't look like he was much older than her which meant he was in his late twenties too. She wondered how it was, living a life so isolated, so alone, so far away, in the shadows. She liked being alone too but his life seemed so.... lonely.

"I can't imagine. I've been here barely a week and I feel like I'm already losing my mind."

"Go out then." He stated like it was the obvious solution. "Some city air should help."

"Wait I..." Na bi tried not to look too shocked. "I can leave this place?"

"Of course Ms. Baek." He glanced at her amused. "You're not my prisoner."

"No I just.... thought it was too dangerous for me out there?"

"It is, but Wonho and my men can accompany you, make sure you're safe when you're out."

Of course, she would still have company, of course she'll still be watched. But she had to get out, she had to meet Mingyu somehow, tell him everything she found out so far.

"And when will I be able to go back home?" She added. "My home."

Changkyun took a deep breath. "Soon. I admit we haven't made much, actually, any progress on finding those who are after you but hopefully....soon."

"Well I can't stay here forever. My suspension ends in less than 2 weeks, I need to be back at work, back at home."

"You may return whenever you wish Ms. Baek. Today, tomorrow or in 2 weeks. I can arrange for your protection wherever you choose to be." His gaze pierced her. "I meant it when I said I'll look out for you."

Why why why Changkyun?

Na bi wanted to ask him, she wanted to ask him so much more but there was something about the silence that fell between them that didn't allow her to talk. She...liked it. She had often craved for a silence this comfortable and warm and to find it here was.....terrifying.

It persisted till the fire finally burnt out, submerging them in the darkness of the evening, dimly lit by the swarms of fireflies. Changkyun finally got up, brushing off the dried twigs and leaves off his pants, as Na bi  struggled to do the same with her foot fast asleep. Laughing at her stumbling movements, he walked up and pulled her onto her feet, her hands flying to find their place against his chest, face inches away from his.

You could put her at gunpoint but it was moments like this that Na bi dreaded more. Moments where she was so physically close to him that her defences, her inhibitions, everything crumbled down, overwhelmed by the desire to just feel him against her, just once.

But then Ana's image flashed in her head. Her lying sprawled on a forest floor much like this, all that blood.... this was sick. This man was a murderer, this man killed her friend, yet she... she couldn't do this. She shouldn't do this.

Before she could separate herself from him, it was Changkyun who pulled away, not meeting her eye.

"The temperature tends to drop fast around here after sunset. We should head back." And with that he walked away, leaving her to follow him, perplexed by his behaviour as always.

My clothes are all here. All that blue miserableness in the closet is gone, Changkyun arranged for my own clothes to be brought from home. I showered for longer than usual today. I don't know, I just felt strangely dirty.

Then I had dinner with him again. Mrs. Lee was the only one who spoke the whole time though. I couldn't find any words to say to him, he didn't seem to have any either. After dinner he informed me that Wonho will take me wherever I want to go tomorrow.... I need to figure out how to meet Mingyu. The map isn't fully done but I need to tell him whatever I know and to give him... 

Na bi looked up from her diary at the gun on the table.

She found it, in the pile of clothes Changkyun had discarded before he jumped into the waters. She'd recognise it anywhere - it was the same one he had on him the night he came to her house. The same one who's bullets implicated her in this mission with the NIH. Perhaps the same one that committed many crimes.

She just needed to get it to Mingyu somehow. She would've given it to him too. If only he didn't let slip the truth. If only Na bi didn't find out what was really going on....

#changkyun series #changkyun smut #changkyun angst #mingyu series #mingyu smut #mingyu angst #monsta x series #monsta x smut #monsta x angst #changkyun #im chankgyun #monsta x changkyun #monsta x #kim mingyu #seventeen Mingyu #mingyu #seventeen series

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK CHAPTER 19: TWILIGHT KING'S REVERIE

there's some real utena type shit happening here i think (special thanks to @orfeoarte for the lettering and also the beta reading!!)

CHAPTER 19 IS DOOONE thank you all for your patience. this time we're diving into the depths of zant's mind again. what's he thinking about so soon before (what may be) his final battle? well, read and find out!

AAAAGGHH I'm sooooo excited to drop this chapter!! I've been looking forward to writing it ever since i started making this fic into a full-length, multi-chapter story!! i really hope you'll enjoy it. thanks again to @bulgariansumo and orfeoarte for giving it the once-over!

CW this chapter: Suicidal ideation, self harm, graphic violence. once again past the three asterisk *** mark the chapter gets erotic undertones, but with high plot relevance, i hope you'll give it a look either way!

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

“If there is anything you desire, then I shall desire it, too.”

So spoke the colossal face before him. Zant stood there, frozen in a gaping stare as this massive, golden specter hovered before him. He had run to this balcony to shout his woes to the skies, losing himself in flagellant grief, in the fragile hope enough beatings would keep his anguish at bay. Perhaps if he cried out long enough, something would answer. Either something that would, by some miracle, save him from his predicament…

Or, more likely, grant him the willpower to fling himself off the balusters.

Yet, when he raised his face, the dreary ombre skies were nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a swirling, black orb blotting out the clouds, droning deeply to chatter his teeth in their sockets. It swallowed him whole.

After bidding him that promise, the sea around him shifted. From its depths, a shadowy hand surfaced to part the waves. It reached out to him, claw outstretched. Large, sharp enough to impale him with a single prod, yet Zant felt not a scrap of fear. He knew all it would do was fulfill its words. The tip of its finger touched his forehead. Souls touched, one so, so grand, dwarfing his, and chained together. Through this tether, a bolt of power crossed, and shook him to his core.

It was euphoric, a pure, blinding bliss as this being of pure magic entered him. He was his savior, his guardian angel, watching over him in his darkest moment and deciding He would help. With every breath, foggy ambrosia filled his lungs and leached into his veins. It clouded his thoughts, dulled his every sense, and smothered it all with a warm, tingling numbness. He had never felt more full, yet emptier all the same. His every nerve coiled in on itself – had he any breath to utter it, this ecstasy would have unlodged a whimper, to echo into this space of all spaces. Whatever being he had just communed with, it was in him and snaked its way into his every inch. One finger twitched, then another, until his hand moved on its own. With tenderness he didn’t know rested within his flesh, his thumb stroked past his, their, cheek, and rid it of its tears.

In this single second, he felt more divinity than he’d ever had, in all his years praying to his lesser gods in the palatial temple. How he wandered the wastelands clutching and clacking beads in search of a solution to their plights. What he worshiped then were mere vestiges compared to this all-encompassing force, little pieces of holiness his forebears dragged with them in tatters when they were condemned to this dying world. That world that had gurgled its last breath in its septic lungs before they’d even entered it, and hacked and coughed it out as they made their home there. 

This Being – Ganon – laughed within him, His manic glee spreading through him like a rot. There was no doubt about it; true, pitch-dark malevolence had made him its host, a being of pure vengeance that tangled with his own as if by fated embrace. But even as his mind darkened, a faint glimmer shone, kindled there by his own hand.

Hope.

More hope than he had ever felt in his life. This was no mere ancestral spirit. Far more, even, than a curse. This was a God. 

Just as he adjusted to this new force, convulsing and embracing himself, true darkness shrouded him again. When the haze cleared, he did not find himself on the balcony. Instead, he was hovering in the air, looking down at a most familiar scene. There stood Ganondorf, heaving in pain against the Master Sword lodged in his chest, facing two beings of Light that antsily waited for him to die. Zant knew they needn’t wait much longer.

Zant blinked, tilting his head curiously. The man below him winced, but did not perish. Watching the dreadful stillness at his feet, he spoke. “Why did you bring me here again? Are you truly so fond of dying?”

He spoke off-script. The illusion broke, the curtains of their stage torn, not drawn. Ganondorf growled, gazing at his clenched fist that bore a faintly glowing mark, until it did not. “This is the moment I first wished to seize my power back from you. This time I will not fail.”

Zant smiled as he watched his flesh-made God raise his hand toward him. “Once, I may have said you would have to wrench it from my cold, dead hands, but even then, you did not manage it. It is time that you learn, Demon King, that this power is mine and mine alone. As is this vessel. And they shall forever be!”

The illusion broke when he descended, landing before the towering man and grasping the grip of the burrowed sword in his hand. A wet giggle escaped him as he tested the blade, watching as it dug deeper into the gaping wound in Ganondorf’s chest. Ganondorf growled, cutting his laughter short with a fist clenching around his throat, but only enabling his amusement. Such violence begged for retaliation! Both hands wrapped eagerly around the grip and pushed. The master sword sunk deeper into Ganondorf effortlessly, earning him a wheeze of pain, and a once-king before him on his knees.

Zant kicked him over, straddling his chest with the sword before him. His fingers trailed up the blade — just as sharp as he’d remembered it, slicing through his fingertips and blending their streaks of blood. Just that little bit of unity could be indulged, he supposed. 

“No wonder the Ganondorf who torments me now remembers me so little. The piece of him that knew of my vengeance has rested right here, with me, all this time,” he giggled, sentimentally holding a hand over his chest. “And now, here you are. Does it vex you?”

He could only laugh at the burning hatred that glared up at him. Hands grasped over his, attempting to pull the sword out that he so playfully kept pinned down into him. The grip would break his fingers awfully soon, but Zant didn’t care. He had to make this perfectly clear. 

“You have passed your torch, old man, and will walk the living world no longer. The only one to control this body now, is me!”

Zant wrenched himself free and grinned toothily as Ganondorf frantically pulled at a sword that would not move. Odd-angled fingers ignored, he grasped his head in both hands, cackling in pleasure and pain, and twisted.

A dream… A memory? Oh, only if it were.

He awoke in a bed that was not his own, but at this point, it may as well have been. Still sheltered from the sun, he lay buried under the covers, with merely the crown of his head poking past the cloudy white, duck-feather comforter. So dreadfully cold it was in the North this time of year… And how warm he lay here now, with steel knees tucked against his bottom and an arm draped lazily around his chest. The dark beneath the blankets kept him in that fluffy, hardly-woken daze, leading him to think with instincts first, and rationality second. He grasped the hand that laid across his stomach, and with his eyelids fluttering back shut, ran the pads of his fingertips along his beloved’s. No longer as cool as they were during the day… Ghirahim’s skin always warmed, bit by bit, whenever he’d join him for a night, only growing their old frigid when pursuing some pastime or other while Zant lay sleeping.

His thumb quested further, stroking across his glossy nails, before finding the tops of his fingers. Each was diligently inspected, rubbing from knuckle to knuckle. He could visualize those hands behind his eyelids just from touch, by now. How delicate and elegant they were, not a callus in sight, even if he bore the brunt of much labor, and tore through so many in bloodshed. He could drift away again like this, lacing their fingers together, and inching back to nestle closer to him. How much time until dawn, he wondered? 

Lips that pressed into his shoulder shook him into a wide-eyed stare, his cheeks growing hot. His private little moment of affectionate touches was not so private after all… Not when he remembered Ghirahim did not sleep and was perfectly aware of his fiddling. 

Ghirahim hummed, voice hushed as he spoke. “Another nightmare?”

A tight, joint-popping stretch of his spine and legs forced a groan from him, settling him back in his arms soon after. “Oh, not at all. I found myself in the loveliest dream,” Zant yawned.

Ghirahim huffed behind him, unconvinced. “You’re certain? You sounded tormented.”

His hand laid over his, Zant peered over his shoulder, smiling contentedly. “How could anything come to haunt me, when I am protected like this?”

This answer pleased him. “Come to me, my lover,” Ghirahim purred, tugging him closer into his embrace. His fingers now pressed firmly into the supple skin of his stomach – surely, how fiercely such a term flushed him did not pass his notice, clearly felt in the arteries of his gut. “Haha! You asked me to call you such, and now, you fluster?”

A whine escaped him, prompting him to burrow further into his pillow. “To hear it fills me with such glee, Ghirahim-ili. I cannot help it.”

Yet his escape did not prove fruitful. Wherever he hid himself, the heat at his back pulled him back into their intimate contact. Zant was captivated, then, by how warm his core felt, how each churn of energy sent a buzz up his spine that made his face heat up all the brighter. Ghirahim seemed not aware of this, but that enigmatic gem, his heart, his brain, his soul, it made a sound. Like a knife being sharpened, dragged against whetstone as a bow and violin – a crystalline hum. Zant needed only to listen to gauge his mood these days… That is, if the demon could stop being so enamored with the sound of his own voice, to let him hear that telltale song. 

Through his musings, Ghirahim held him, cheekily grasping at his breast in the hope of evoking a laugh in them both. Hands that wished to hold, that wished to be held, made part of something greater than himself. 

Were he to linger in them any longer, he was sure to never rise. How lovely, how adored! His heart fluttered to and fro like a songbird caught in a cage, and his body reacted all the same. Besieged by a fit of giggles, Zant kicked his feet and wrestled his way out of his embrace. Once he sprung free from that iron grip, he launched himself across the bed, stanced on all fours as if Ghirahim might pounce him any moment. If his heartbeat, sending the blood racing through his ears, was to be believed, he would. 

For a moment too bewildered to speak, Ghirahim stared at the grinning creature across him. He grit his teeth in a smirk of his own, before hunching down to prowl towards him. Zant darted from his advance, leaving the sword spirit to thud face-first into the sheets behind him. Sanding down his skills for the fun of it, surely! Else he would have caught him!

Ghirahim huffed, meeting his panting and snickering with a pout. “How juvenile. Pray tell, how old are you again?”

He clawed himself forward twice in a crawl, again playfully scurrying away, until the question prompted him to think. How long since their advance..? What day did he die? 8496 turns of the Twilit Hourglass, three-hundred-sixty-five turns of the Sun in this odd world. Side-by-side, how many days apart, would be… 

Zant blinked in their little stand-still, pulling free from his absent gaze. “Ah. Twenty-nine, as of two weeks ago.”

A quizzical expression crossed Ghirahim’s face. Did such a number mean anything to him, he wondered? Would he think him young or old? But he had little time to pick apart what he might be thinking. For soon Ghirahim grew bored of internal queries, and was upon him in a flash, tumbling the both of them back into the pillows. 

After the protesting squeaks were over with, Zant relented. Now happy to be huddled up with him again, Ghirahim questioned him. “Is the passing of another year not typically celebrated among Twili?”

Zant groaned in thought, squinting his eyes shut. Idle hands drummed on the back splayed across him. “It is, but what a pointless affair it would be. Who would I celebrate it with?”

“What about me,” Ghirahim cooed, prodding a finger at his hostage’s cheek.

“Tracing the days back, I’m sure on the day itself you were once again in my quarters, sharing my company. This, I am plenty content with.”

Such an explanation seemingly bored the Sword Spirit to no end, with how it made him sigh and sink further into the blankets. Zant supposed he was always more of the lavish type, and would not be sated by an answer so sappy and mundane. Perhaps he could think of a gift of sorts to neg him for, but for now…

“We have lingered enough. I would much prefer to dress myself before the sun rises any further. After all, Master needs us to accompany him to the desert sooner than later,” he sighed, nudging at the heavy form atop him to hopefully shake him into action a bit. Zant was perturbed by the gaze that caught onto his. For once, Ghirahim was called to duty and met it with reluctance.

Their arrival at Gerudo Desert was one of eerie calm. Ganondorf awaited them by the gates, watching bemusedly how his chamberlains fussed over the supplies necessary for what would only be a short stay. In warping together, they would have to combine their powers. One hand for each lieutenant, he reached out for them to accept in open palms. A rustle, a chime, a blaring hum – all overlapped in a striking chord. In an instant, the Temple was out of sight.

Zant reflexively wheezed when the new scenery came upon him. Oppressive heat, smothering him from all sides. The dark shelter of his helmet only offered some respite from the dry, sweltering air that crept in through his visor slots. How he cursed the possibilities of an ambush, forbidding him from dressing lightly! 

Permitted by Ganondorf’s advance, the pair of lieutenants turned, watching the Gerudo traverse the sands that led to the city gates mere paces away. To once again be in the desert, watching him march to his goal in this sea of gold, evoked a memory of not long ago. But when the world around him looked far, far different.

—

Weightlessly he hovered in this void expanse, knowing not how long, remembering not how to even care for such a thing. Beckoning again beyond the veil, stirring him from the deepest of slumbers, a shimmer of gold plucked at the strings of his soul. The Sorceress again? It couldn’t be. This was its own power, dark and primordial, of which a mere echo once lingered within Cia. He recognized it, he…

The golden light raced past him now, enveloped him like curtains had been drawn. With a ragged gasp, dry, warm air filled his lungs once more. The tips of his fingers, his ears, his cheeks, all felt red hot with the newly returned sensation of pumping blood. He was alive again. 

Before him, there he stood, fulfilling his promise of centuries past. 

Ganondorf, King of Thieves, King of Demons. 

Yet, this was a different man. The thrum of past power confirmed it. Somewhere, the beaten and defeated fury of an older Ganondorf still weakly snarled from the very void he was just ripped from. A realization struck them both at the same time, causing one to smile, and the other to recoil. Where his supposed God had failed to revive him, his descendant did so without persuasion. 

Whether from his weakened legs, or the force before him commanding it so, he fell forward into a kneel. Ganondorf approached but Zant could not muster the strength to raise his head and witness more than his boots. He felt his fingers shake in their sleeves. With the shouting in his mind, he couldn’t possibly bear to look at both of them at once.

“Shadow Lord Zant, Demon Lord Ghirahim. I have released you from the bounds the Sorceress has placed upon you, and with it, freed you from your imprisonment. From this moment forth, you will follow my every command. Your life is in my hands as the Demon King, and I will snuff it out when I see fit.”

Ganondorf paused, scanning the pair before him with burning eyes. This descendant was forceful. He did not arrive with bribes and promises, he demanded subordination within seconds. 

Seemingly satisfied with the lack of protest thus far, he continued. “The Triforce of Power was stolen from me by the Sorceress’ former half. I enlist your military prowess to assist me in this campaign to seize it.”

Something was missing… Zant realized it, as did the man clawing at the back of his eyes. Only then did the Twili dare lift his face some, to study for an additional spark of austerity, or some telling that he was to be beaten more thoroughly into submission. 

Nothing. There was none at all. Ganondorf glared them both down equally.

How very interesting… This Ganondorf remembered him in name and power only, but not the feud that tied him and his predecessor together for all eternity. Did the shock of death rid him of the memory of his betrayal? Such ignorance could only work to his advantage. If this reborn Demon King needed a servant, he could certainly play the part. What did he have to lose? Arisen anew, he couldn’t let this opportunity to have Hyrule at his feet slip through his fingers again. This third chance could be his last.

The man beside him was clearly much less amicable to the idea. Ghirahim, as he was introduced, had not moved a muscle since surfacing from the gate beside him, his features tightened into a scowl. Zant looked on curiously as the pristine white being burst into laughter.

“Perhaps Cia will be desperate enough to beg for your alliance, but I will not. How low the Sorceress has sunken!”

A peculiar energy buzzed forth from this man, lashing out angrily as his hair bristled and his fists clenched. “You dare to bear the title of Demon King? You are but a mere human! In what realm do demons bow to mortal men!?”

Hands threw up in the air, massive pupils narrowed to slits and his teeth bared in aggression. Certainly an animated character. “It is an insult… A disgrace to my Master! I’ll have your head for such a transgression!”

With a snap of his fingers, a rapier was summoned in the Demon’s hand, but before his fingers could fully curl around its grip, Ganondorf burst toward him like lightning. A swift strike of his fist sent Ghirahim tumbling, skidding through the dust. He came to a halt by the Demon King’s hand, who had gripped his throat with golden-clawed fingers. Sword lost in the dust a few feet away, Ghirahim was powerless against the mighty hand of the Master slamming him into the ground. A choked groan rang from his throat with each impact, his struggles in vain. He was pounded once more into the sand, and Ganondorf held him pinned there, leaning over him with a growl. Ghirahim kicked his legs in a show of defiance, until suddenly, he went still. Even beyond the kicked-up dust, Zant could see it. From his left hand, a faint golden glow shone through his gauntlet – empty but waiting, matching the deep black aura that wafted from him like licking flames. 

“I have no use for a peon that will not obey me,” Ganondorf snarled, pulling Ghirahim closer to his face before dropping him to the ground. “I will not warn you again, Blade.”

Zant followed him with his gaze as Ganondorf marched back to his former place. Their eyes met briefly, gold stumbling upon gold, and in an instant, that familiar scowl drilled into his consciousness. The same man, but not quite… Yes, with such a display of power, he’d decided. It was in his best interests to have this Ganondorf trust him. And so, he smiled at him in return, bowing his head in respect of his Master. Ganondorf grunted and continued his march, setting out for the tents that stood in the shade at the edge of the desert. 

“My home has been ravaged by vermin in my absence, and I intend to reclaim it. I expect you to join me in my tent for reconnaissance. Should you refuse, I will not hesitate to crush you along with the rest of the intruders.”

After nodding affirmatively, Zant turned again to where his fellow to-be commander was left, and found him sat up, panting and clutching his chest. He stared out in front of him but his mind was someplace else. Curiously, he approached him, cocking his head. He could only guess that Ghirahim had a similar revelation to himself, but was taking it far less in stride. 

Tentatively, he held out his hand, offering to help him rise. Someone ought to snap him out of it. “You recognized it too, didn’t you? That power.”

Ghirahim blinked, a haze clearing from his deep, large pupils. Before fully meeting his eyes, he had already swatted his offered hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Zant straightened himself, towering above the man sitting before him, and retracted his hand to clasp them behind his back. 

A squint locked Ghirahim in eye contact almost too easily, and somewhat nervously, he stammered again to speak. “I did, but… How..?”

Zant broke the trap of his gaze and looked toward the tent, where Ganondorf had just disappeared into. “The very same curse that brought the Princess and her guard dog back for another round, I assume.”

Ghirahim rose to his feet, joining Zant in staring at the tent. He didn’t speak, still, just glared in deep conflict at the sight before him. It was almost pitiful.

And so, Zant decided to take off and kick his plans into motion. “You can do as you wish, but I am hesitant to make an enemy out of the Demon King. I suppose I will meet you on the battlefield, one way or another.”

Quite a few paces he walked alone, his helmet reassembling itself to spare him from the burning rays of the sun. Now thoroughly concealed, he felt safe grinning when footsteps joined behind him, slowly but surely.

“Zant? What’s keeping you?”

In just that split second, the sword spirit seemed to turn into an entirely different being. The Ghirahim he knew then was all points and edges, eager to drive his endless wit under his skin until he had no choice but to bite back at him. And while this urge to annoy him never left him, he was different, now. There was an undeniable softness to him. Words that once would have left his lips in a sneer now warmly lingered with genuine concern, sweetly sticking to his tongue like honey. 

It was a testament to how blades were not merely used to destroy, but also to mend, to cure. Bit by bit, he’d taught a sword how to care.

When Zant smiled at him in return, picking up after him in a rush, the desert sun sparkled in his deep black pupils. Zant joined his side soon after, relishing how his attention did not leave him even once. 

“The heat must have gotten to my head for a moment there,” he hummed. “We’ve come all the way from the North, after all.”

Counting on being out of earshot of their Master, Ghirahim chuckled, jabbing at the Twili with his elbow. “You can survive martial combat, but the climate gets the better of you? It’s embarrassing to wear your weaknesses on your sleeve like this, Zant.”

Zant scoffed. “Ah, yes. As opposed to wearing them with a target on your chest, of course.”

Were they subtle in their dawdling at any point, Ganondorf surely noticed his servants bickering behind him from that point on. With only a brief pause in his gait, he marched to the Palace. The Demon King was off to settle his final arrangements before bidding his most loyal men farewell, for good.

The evening of Ganondorf’s arrival was as celebratory as it was solemn. The governesses were as pleased to see their King in his full power as they took his arrival as an omen. The final stand was at hand, and the strategy briefing of mere hours earlier conveyed that Gerudo Valley would not come out of this battle unscathed. Any bit of leisure and merrymaking was precious, and as such, the wizened Court was masking themselves with as much cheer as they could muster. Ghirahim and Zant, seated at the end of the table reserved for those of higher military ranking, overlooked the governesses squabbling over opportunities to converse with the man who would change their lives for good. In between filling their cups and chattering amongst one another, on occasion, one of the women would rise, and approach Ganondorf’s seat to give him their blessings. To which the King, of course, took to with great warmth and integrity.

Among them was a woman with an empty stare, who gradually darkened and secluded in her own mind as the night went on. Zant recognized her as the head of foreign trade, who left an impression on him as a boisterous, steadfast woman. None of her usual sparks could be seen as she stood up from her seat and approached Ganondorf, who was caught in conversation with the governess beside him. 

“With the Seven to guide me, this ends today.”

Candlelight reflected off a polished surface not there seconds earlier. Taking shelter behind the backrest of Ganondorf’s chair, the Courtswoman pulled a dagger from her robes and thrust it toward the Demon King. 

It was a mess of bodies. Those who cowered in fear, and those who threw themselves at the assailant to wrestle her off of their King. Among the latter were even elderly women of the Court, whose feeble arms tore like paper under the meticulously sharpened dagger, the King’s retainers, and of course, his very own Ghirahim, who bolted toward her the second he smelled steel.

But before an obsidian blade could run her through, Ganondorf himself clenched his massive hand around the Chancellor’s arm. With a sweep, he flung her over the table, sending her skidding across the floor and into the hall’s central corridor. A streak of blood followed her, the ominous sign of falling upon her own blade. Groaning and heaving, but still fueled by rage, she rose in spite of her injuries. Blade in hand, her fierce drive to kill had not yet ceased.

The commotion all around the mess hall soon tested her resolve. As if melting into a single being, the shrieks and cries of enraged troops dawned upon her like a tidal wave, claws and calloused palms reaching for her in a mob’s desire for violence. 

“Halt,” shouted Ganondorf’s thunderous voice, sharp enough to crack air as if it were a thin sheet of glass. He raised a hand, forcing every single being in that hall to freeze on the spot. “None may approach her. We will hold Chancellor Meherat’s trial right here, and now.”

Those who were injured in the scuffle were promptly escorted from the hall, and a deathly silence befell what was once an infernal atmosphere. Though Ganondorf had forbidden anyone from nearing the accused, there was a shuffled footfall in the servants’ entrance, leading to the courtyard… The preparations for her execution were already underway. 

And what a foolish act it was! With the Triforce under his command, no mortal blade could truly harm Ganondorf. No, not even Zant dared dream of such a hands-on approach, now. The consequences of such a fit of passion were unfolding before him, a lesson of their own.

Those left in the mess hall arranged themselves in cold, courtly fashion. The commanding and governing forces seated in their makeshift magistrate, and the crowd of soldiers, their jury. Ganondorf leered, his eyes scanning the room to command its silence. Gazing at the center of it all, the trial commenced. 

An odd tone of pity stained his rigid voice with mockery. “Now, speak. What has clouded your judgment, Chancellor? Only pure madness could drive a woman of your stature to defy her King.”

“The only madness in this room lies within your own Court, Ganondorf,” the Chancellor snapped, resulting in a scandalized, furious heckling from the crowd behind her. She paid it no mind. “All our people wanted was peace – dignity! And you have befouled the noble name of the Gerudo by aligning yourself with demons. Monsters! Your actions are beyond the retaliation for which we rallied behind you. They are annihilation! There is no salvation in the death you rain upon Hyrule. What use is there to be found in a land we cannot thrive in? Every single one of you is blinded by vengeance! I will stand for it no longer.”

Ganondorf straightened in his seat, solemn, yet unimpressed. His countenance was calm, but the racket from the crowd surely could only stem from their King’s inner rage. “Then I take it there were no conspirators?”

“None that had to persuade me, Demon. My sisters are innocent. But mark my words – With every settlement you scorch, every monster you set free on your homeland, our people’s trust in you wanes. The streets of Gerudo City are ripe with whispers of your cruelty. There will be more like me! If I must die to set this example, then I shall face the Heroines with a smile!”

Meherat was manic, burning with conviction, even as the loss of blood rid her of the strength in her legs. Her eyes desperately sought support, or at least recognition in the eyes of the Court before her. Whether she found any, Zant could not discern from this angle.

Ganondorf sighed, crossing his hands before him on the table. His tusks bared, a flash of aggression amidst his air of grave stoicism. “It is a pity, Chancellor. I hoped to grant you a swift death.”

It was thus – Chancellor Meherat was to be put to death. Her bridges burnt, the love of her sisters lost, and the sound of her name condemned. A rich life suddenly thrown away in an assassination attempt that would never have worked, forged as it was in the blinding darkness of despair and twisted justice. All for the sake of peace. Peace. Peace. Peace! What hideous neglect, what decay, and what fetid blood had been spilled for that wretched word! Oh, how she had almost pinpointed the wrongs in this selfish King’s leadership, but as many before her, concluded so terribly misguidedly. A conclusion once shared by a woman of equal beauty, equal love in her heart, and equally bright, amber hair. 

Zant was snapped out of his train of thought by the splinters that jabbed into the underside of his nails. Fresh grooves tainted the dining table at his hands. His eyes tracing the pale wood he’d uncovered, he decided he refused to sit idle, and took the seat of Magistrate.

“If I may, King Dragmire.”

All eyes vested on him in an instant. He ignored the dark scowl already brooding in the shadow of Ganondorf’s bushy eyebrows. “Why not simply… Send her in exile? If it is peace, or dignity, as she says, that she desires, I gladly invite her to seek it with our enemy. Perhaps then she will fully realize how our brutality serves to shield Gerudo against that which the Hyruleans would happily inflict.”

Ganondorf clicked his tongue, but a smirk crooked the corner of his lips even still. “Your offer is as absurd as it is intriguing. I will not risk sending a traitor that threatens my army for the indulgence of a satisfying punishment.”

“I beseech you to consider,” Zant stated, his fingers interlacing on the table before him. “How many of our commanders have been captured, and when has this ever hampered us? All this crucial information they have doubtlessly forced from their throats, and yet, the Triforce is still secured in your palm, My Liege. There is nothing she can tell them that will harm you now, not when Hyrule Castle is so close to falling at your feet.”

Ganondorf narrowed his eyes. Whether he was genuinely considering it, or merely playing along to placate him, was difficult to tell. It kept him talking either way, so Zant didn’t quite care. The Gerudo continued picking apart his plan, perhaps to catch him in a fumble. “Who is to say she will not become a willing collaborator, rather than their prisoner?”

“We have sent spies before, Master, and nearly every single one of them has had their head mounted on a pike. Hyrule will consider her no different, surely.”

Ganondorf scoffed in laughter, “Very well. Guards! Seize the Chancellor. You are to escort her to the desert and ensure she does not return,” he demanded, his hand outstretched in the final verdict, emphasized with a clenched fist. His attention turned to the court member to his left. “Furthermore. Grand Mistress Kotoji, her name is shunned from this day forth. See to the eradication of her records from administrative documents. We will appoint her successor at dawn.”

The cogs in the machine started turning in an instant. Armed and shrouded Gerudo marched up to drag away the sentenced Chancellor, whose angered cries for the Court to join her cause splattered against the walls of every room she would traverse. The crowd was tense, her claims of more traitors running amok and the possibility that her enervated speech would hatch more of them, doubtlessly sowing suspicion. Surely, Zant’s suggested verdict, and the baffling acceptance of such a bloodless sentence, undoubtedly had a similar discordant effect.

The consequences of which soon beckoned him. As the table returned to a semblance of calm, Ganondorf summoned him with a snag of his eyes and a wave of his hand.

“You are walking a very fine line, Shadow Lord,” Ganondorf growled at him, sheltered by the uproar of the dining hall. “This battlefield is not yours to play games in. High treason, and you set her free? I will send men in her pursuit before sundown.”

“There is no need to worry, Master,” Zant smiled, bowing in submission to have his whispers easily heard. “On her own, without supplies, the desert will claim her before making it even a quarter of the way. Besides, to butcher their once-beloved Sister before their very eyes will give us an ill will from your remaining Court. Certainly, you know this too, My Liege, or you would not have accepted my terms.”

Ganondorf furrowed his brows at him, before leaning back in his seat, contemplating the hall before him in deep scrutiny.

His every breath was a test; Zant knew very well that Ganondorf suspected him. Did he not, he never would have sent the two of them here. Zant was peering into his open grave and awaited the firm-handed push that sent him down there with a grin. Not a shred of his reasoning just now had been a lie, but the plan itself was audacious – essentially an offer to send out a counter-spy scot-free. And yet, Ganondorf agreed with it. What did he have to lose, at this point? Very likely, he would do no worse. 

This Ganondorf was powerful and charismatic. He tore down keeps with his bare hands, wrapped countless court officials around his finger. His own Ganondorf had been lonely and bound himself to him thus – this One was less stubborn, in that way. But in that strength lay a fatal flaw: he was cocky. In taking them to this damned place, to protect a mission that could only fail, surely he thought he was rid of those thorns in his sides.

It was all too merciful. No, he was not soft, he was naive. Clearly, Ganondorf saw neither of them as a threat big enough to dispose of on short notice. So, before he could depart, what else could he do to burrow himself deeper in his ire? What punishments would they evoke? Reduce the number of his troops? Bait out an ambush? Would he see him poisoned, or cursed? Master, what could I possibly do to you, for you to slay me, right here, and now?

Zant would never get his answer. The adrenaline now worn off, Ganondorf had noticed a minor flesh wound by his upper arm and sought to have it treated. Just in case the blade had been poisoned. Bit by bit, the mess hall drained of people, and at some point, Zant had wandered out with some other crowd of them. The metallic clanking of his soles just barely made it past the ringing in his ears. 

Oh, indeed. Ganondorf needn’t worry. Not about Meherat, at least.

As he’d predicted, there she ran. So far away from the city, the gibbous moon and sea of stars shone vibrantly above, joining hands to light the way of this condemned runaway. Three hours since her banishment, and the sands already took their toll on her. Trudging through silky sands filled one’s legs with lead, he knew this intimately by now. Yet, she was making decently good time. Of course, Ganondorf hadn’t listened to his final call and sent an executioner’s party after her the minute his wound was flushed out. To no avail, however. The Chancellor was clever and well-informed, so much so that she’d swerved out of sight of the Demon King’s outposts that scattered sparsely throughout the deeper sand wastes. 

But not out of his. 

With no more rock outcroppings to hide behind, Zant could only shelter in the skies, a black smudge hovering against prismatic blue. But hours in the dark had made her eye too keen. She looked behind her once, twice, just to check, before opening her mouth in a soundless scream and breaking out in what she hoped to be a sprint.

He would not let his Master’s troops take this from him. Wind soared through his helmet, sand whipped up around him, and before he’d known, that panicked face was mere inches from his own, his fingers wrapped tightly around her throat.

“You are a kind woman, Chancellor Meherat – Too good, to survive in our midst. But that is precisely where our predicament lies. Hyrule would listen to you, for good people like you are exploitable, even if the chances of your rescue are slim…” Zant hissed between the two of them, looming over her while squeezing ever-tighter. “Forgive me, forgive me…”

Under the fierce grip of his hands, the Gerudo struggled, clawing at his arms and kicking at his gut with every ounce of might she still had. Before long, she at last grew limp and dropped to the floor, now free of him.

He recalled another being just like her, whose misplaced kindness in the end spelled doom for her people. And though his goals aligned with this one, he could not afford her getting in his way. So swiftly he struck her, his scimitar driving between her ribs, simultaneous mercy and execution.

“May the sands reclaim you, Chancellor,” he muttered in idle prayer, before kneeling down to hide a piece of parchment among her robes. 

He stood there, watching as the desert winds gently buried her, the light of the stars above brought him clarity. Now that he beheld her beyond the fog of his mind, her hair wasn’t as orange as he thought it to be. It was really more of a carmine.

Zant sat at his triptych mirror, begrudgingly accepting the assistance of the morning sun as he applied the black lines to his lower eyelids. His Dagger lingered about him as if he had any input on the matter, but soon found some way to fuss over him nonetheless. Fingers threaded through his hair, scratching pleasantly past the grown-out fuzz at the back of his head.

“I think we ought to preen you a little before we head to battle again, Zant,” Ghirahim hummed thoughtfully.

Finishing up his one eye, Zant puckered his lips, looking back at him through the mirror with a bit of a frown. “Already? Is it so drastic?”

“Your shave is growing out again. Just a touch-up, is all.”

And yet, he couldn’t help but indulge him. His eyes darted between his reflection and that of Ghirahim’s in the mirror, before he leaned back to resume accessorizing his other eyelid with a smirk. “Hmmm… Without Yuga to safeguard me, will I be alright, I wonder…”

“Hah! You doubt my skills, now? Some nerve you have,” Ghirahim sneered.

A dip of his brush in the bottle of pigment. “I wouldn’t dare. Yuga simply is a bit more amicable to my wishes, is all.”

“Only because he can’t stand the pout you give him when you’re uppity. Is this about those odd bangs you insist on growing out? Never did I know why you keep those,” was the response, emphasized by the grasping of his longer locks, which fell through his parted fingers like flowing water.

“... Well, ah,” Zant hesitated. Was such a subject appropriate? If it was, would it anger him? How forward it would be. In any other circumstance mere ethnographic fact, but with the bond they shared, carrying such implications! But perhaps the truth would settle the matter. 

He placed his brush down and rested his hands in his lap in a reserved gesture, avoiding his gaze. “In my people’s customs, that is where I will receive my braid, if I am to be wed.”

Ghirahim perked up at his words, his face subtly tugging at its sculpted features. He quickly retracted his hands to fold them at his chest. Picking at the edges of his gloves, he seemed conflicted as he considered his next words. “Right. Such matters will be of concern to nobility, once the war settles, of course.”

Zant turned to him now, gauging his expression in full. A worry lingered there, of neither wanting to impose nor be imposed upon. Did Ghirahim assume himself to be excluded from potential marriage candidates? To which degree did this trouble him?

Yet this troubled state joined hands with its twin, leaching into Zant’s mind. Though his own wishes on the matter were not quite aligned, to wed another than him could prove more politically efficient, down the line. He could never bear it, Zant decided, to degrade the first to profess his love for him to the ranks of a mere concubine.

So he banished the thought from both their minds, pulling Ghirahim into his embrace. For a moment, Ghirahim flinched, startled that the action could serve as a confession. These fears were quickly cast away when Zant craned his head up to grin broadly at him.

“How you fret over mortal matters! Ghirahim-ili, the red on your cheeks may fool me into thinking you might be of the same flesh and blood as I,” he teased, resting his chin against his chest.

The flush of his cheeks and ear only grew stronger. “If you so intend to mock me, you would do better to do so after fixing yourself. Your cosmetics are completely asymmetrical!”

Zant laughed, freeing him from his grip and turning back to his mirror to resume his daily grooming. “Alright,” he chimed, holding the brush to his cheek with care. “You ought to make yourself scarce either way, Yima Dinifen. My chamberlain will arrive with my breakfast any moment now.”

With just one knock at the door, a jingling of chimes announced a departure behind him, and the white shade in his mirror erased its presence.

And so, their days resumed. After Ganondorf returned to his post in the Temple, the pair were left to their own devices to prepare for the Hyruleans to take the bait. And take it they did, for mere days after the Demon King visited the Palace, the first scouts were sighted scurrying about the desert. Undoubtedly to catch a glimpse of their developing formations! 

Those glimpses would be allowed. The first days were ones of deception, of placing troops haphazardly in a feint, only to slaughter every last vanguard that would come looking from thenceforth. Zant’s hand trailed the map – they would have to route cages for their beasts to each corner of the field. That way, they could adequately trap their foes in the center of the valley, and whittle away at their composures.

So deep in thought was he, that he had not noticed his co-lieutenant joining him in their strategy room, laying a hand on his elbow. “Off in your own little world again? You mustn’t forget to relay your schemes to me, Zant.”

His mind struggled a moment, forcing itself through the barricade of his focus to direct his attention to the one beside him, instead. Yet when he looked upon him, with a gaze so tender yet hiding tantalizing conflict behind a shroud of yearning, that reluctance faded in an instant.

“All in due time, Ghirahim-ili,” he murmured, laying his hand over his. “What do you require from me, to approach me in such solitude?”

To be addressed suchly took Ghirahim aback for a moment. Ah, he knew this look. These were the characteristic signs of a very specific mood of his; where his mind was troubled, but he hoped to assuage it through physical affection. To correct his course elsewhere, where he needn’t think or discuss his woes. 

With their lives treading on such a fine line, Zant wasn’t interested in such avoidant behavior. Ghirahim was snagged on by the question a little too easily.

“With our Master’s true coronation so close on the horizon, Zant, I’ve been occupied with far more thoughts than are becoming of me. You’ve experienced the same, I'm certain.”

“Oh, when do I ever not sit and worry,” Zant giggled. He was tempted to press a kiss to his cheek but decided not to interrupt him.

“As you say,” Ghirahim laughed at his quip. “Among these thoughts were that of my future, but moreso of our past, and what it will come to mean. It’s childish, but I was reminded of the first words of love I gave to you. I thought then to have deceived you in giving you that promise, but now I know it is not so.”

Taking advantage of the loose occupation of his hands, Ghirahim guided his arm, making room for himself in-between, and stepped into his embrace. 

“This love, as you have described it, long I have assumed it as being entirely alien to me. Yet, with every minute I spend with you, Zant, my doubts about this long-held belief grow ever larger. I cannot ignore them now, because the contrary could not be more clear. The way you love, Zant, aligns with my own with every passing day. As does my love grow to resemble yours,” he began to wax, fondly amused by the red tinge he awakened in the Twili’s face. “And I find it perplexing, for us to be connected this way, for in being made of flesh and blood, you and I could not be more different.”

Ghirahim paused, taking a moment to capture his hand and behold their contact. Observing thoughtfully. “What makes us different, mortals and I, is that I know my purpose. The second I was forged, I knew what my existence meant for me, and I delighted in it. Mortal men- humans, I believe, you are listless,” he emphasized, now lacing their fingers. His expression darkened, losing its shine to a sullen face. “Fickle. Because there simply is no purpose but to live. Your myriad of choices blinds you, burdens you, whereas I have none, and I adore the way I am supposed to be. I thought I would never understand that restless sort of existence. But now I do. Master will not wield me.”

To Zant’s mortification, yet soul-stirring delight, Ghirahim grasped his hand tighter and placed it on his chest. In that moment of silence, where both of them held a breath, there was that song again. It chimed and pulsed so strongly he could feel it in the pads of his fingers. Those saccharine shocks resonated through his arm, pressing kisses to every nerve and sinew it tore past, and in its crescendo delivered its fiercest affection to his heart. It was a call, a plea for a matching pulse, saying far more than Ghirahim could ever dare to. Now, guarded as they were amidst the glittering shards of Zant’s mind, he would never have to.

Ghirahim winced as those fingers indulgently dug deeper into the skin of his chest, but soon grew to relish in it. “I cannot promise you my entire self, Zant. The thought alone could shatter me. A piece, however, I can afford.”

With a flourish of his hand, his velvet cape scattered into a glittering whirlwind of diamonds, warm like embers as they brushed by Zant’s skin. As his garment disappeared, Ghirahim leaned back, resting more and more of his weight in his arms, and baring more and more of his most vulnerable places to him. His lean neck, the underside of his chin, and more prominently so, the diamond keyhole at his chest. 

His breast heaved, taking a breath that never reached any true lungs, then dipped back down in a shudder. Zant felt his own chest tighten, his heart pounding to his ribs, as Ghirahim spoke his offer. 

“Reach within me, Twilight King. Take part of me, as you have taken a part of our Master. It is yours.”

***

Zant swallowed. He felt the pulse of his core behind his chest, concentrating at its center. With a jolt of Ghirahim’s body, that ivory surface cracked, revealing at last that silver gem, his hand curled around its facets. Anticipation tightened their bodies, for this contact alone, as profound as it was, would only grow more intense. To breach inside would require magic.

A deep inhale, wind brushing past a dry throat, expanded Zant’s chest. Such a feat could not be done without hurting him. To plunge his hand within him, even if done with utmost gentleness and intimacy, would not leave him unscathed. Months ago now, he’d picked inside the labyrinth of his core, but only ever with a proxy of himself. No, this was much coarser work. He would have to use his magic to pry him open and force his hand through the jagged crevice. To wrench free whatever he offered him.

Such a violent act… And Ghirahim trusted him to do it. He wanted him to. No, within his eyes, he saw. Ghirahim would be heartbroken if he didn’t. If he declined this offer, he’d bear the gift prepared for him like a lodged arrow until it festered out from him.

Summoning every inch of will in his body into this one hand, he prepared his incision. The magic such an act required made his peripheral vision turn pink and the sight in his heat pits red-hot and useless. Ghirahim winced when that barrier keeping him – him, his essence – safe from the outside world began to crumble. Yet it did not crack, it simply faded beneath his hand. Zant gasped in awe as his hand dipped beneath this permeable edge, and its disappearance bore to him a sight untold.

Crimson. Not sterile silver but a fiery red. What an astute metaphor it was! Beyond that cold, icy surface, to hide something so burning and true! Within him, a gem of cycling colors tucked carefully into a burning, molten cavity. It was black – no, red, or perhaps a golden, changing every second under the candlelight and the lively fire of his own being. A garnet, a ruby, a brilliant red diamond. He could only liken him, for doubtlessly, he was one of a kind.

“Ghirahim. You’re beautiful.” 

He reached inside, and it was warm. His hand sunk in effortlessly, circling his wrist with a bright white light. By the time his senses figured out whether that inside his core was an icy cold or searing hot, Ghirahim had tipped back, only barely caught by the arm hooked around his waist. Warm pinpricks tickled his skin, filling his hand with static at every twitch and curl of his fingers. Any sensible instinct that would tell him to recoil from the heat was smothered in an instant, snuffed out by the soft groans from Ghirahim that teased him for so much more. His fingers bumped into something. Leather-bound, and long, and… It fit in his hand perfectly.

It could only be a sword. How could anything else rest within his heart?

“Ghirahim,” he whimpered, “you must be certain of this. Once I pull this, you cannot take it back.”

The scabbard in his arms laughed almost belligerently as if annoyed for being addressed. Yet the big, black pupils that met his eyes were fond. “I know.”

Gritting his teeth, overtaken simultaneously by feeling and the burning of his skin, Zant pulled. He keened, for despite the blade being offered to him, it would not be unsheathed without a test of mettle. The very sword began to pull at him – not his flesh, but at his soul, draining him of his magic. It was then that Zant realized that Ghirahim did not trap him, or any of the sorts. The weapon was simply not finished. 

He needed his help.

His magic were like antennae, poking and coiling around the abstract shape of the sword. With every drop of energy that poured from him, he felt it sculpt into being beneath his touch. Double-edged, they decided, but with curvature. Corners and edges to hook rival swords and rip them from lesser hands. A weapon that favored brutality over elegance, but would prove to be both in capable hands. Hands that were now worthy of such a blade, molded into a swordsman by the very forge they stuck within.

Both men cried out in exertion with the final pull at the sword. Ghirahim arched as its pommel surfaced from him, followed by the grip, the crossguard. White-hot and glowing, the blade came free from his chest with a single draw. 

But before he could set his eyes upon it, overcome by his intimacy, Zant pulled his limp body closer and pressed a kiss to his jaw. A piece of him, in his hand, freely gifted, and smithed by their joint efforts. Here he now held his most prized possession. A stream of incoherent Twilit and Hylian bubbled forth from him, singing his praises about his beloved, about their bond. It was time to witness what they made together.

Zant held it before him, watching its prismatic white darken into a deep, all-consuming black, So dark was it that its surface hardly shined, save for its sharpened edges, for little light could leave it once touching it. Interrupting this deep dark was a pattern of glowing cyan, bleeding out from a magenta gem that graced its crossguard. A legendary artifact was made today, fit for the palatial treasury.

The Demon Scimitar.

Ghirahim turned his head to look at his shaking grip and let out a faint laugh. “It is a two-handed blade, you oaf.”

Delighted to hear him speak, Zant turned to his weakened lover, but frowned at his suggestion. “I do not want to drop you.”

“I’m right in your hand.”

Yet, he compromised. Leaning him onto his shoulder, he pulled him back upright. Just as when they lay together, Ghirahim was warm when he pressed his back to his chest. His heart was open, bleeding molten metal into itself. Such a precious thing must be handled carefully. Zant reached forward with both hands now to behold his gift, the sword spirit in his embrace holding himself upright by leaning his arms on his. His legs slumped, but his gloved hands laid gently over the ones grasping at the hilt.

Zant blinked, a smothered sob wobbling his lip, unable to take his eyes off their creation. “Ghirahim, it’s…”

“Beautiful? Breathtaking? The most perfect craftsmanship you’ve ever laid your eyes upon? Of course it is. It’s a piece of me, after all,” Ghirahim waxed, his voice tongue-in-cheek where it would normally be completely serious.

“Yes, Ghirahim, but not so simply,” Zant laughed, peering at the blade past the tender slope of Ghirahim’s neck. “It’s beautiful because it’s us.”

Tears ran down his cheeks. No one had ever done anything like this for him, nor would they ever, for Ghirahim was the only one who could. How he entered this land with vengeance and bitterness in his heart! Now, here he stood, holding the one he never expected to care for. After such years of loneliness, to be then coaxed into comfort, affection, and declarations as mates… How could he do anything but fall in love?

The sounds of his whimpers and the tears dripping on his shoulder drew Ghirahim’s attention. A gloved hand stroked Zant’s jaw, as Ghirahim planted a kiss on his cheek. “As easily moved as ever, aren’t you?”

Zant could only swallow, wheeze out a laugh. Between his hiccups, he took his one hand off the grip. Shaking out this arm, he lowered his sleeve, and bared his wrist.

Ghirahim’s amusement faded instantly. His voice left him in a snap. “What are you doing?”

“Should anyone else be the first to taint this new-forged blade, I would carry my envy for them with me to whatever wretched afterlife awaits me,” Zant spoke coldly, but a maddened spark tugged at his features. “The first blood to feed this sword must be mine.”

Shaking hands were stilled by a perverse drive for this vow, to carve into himself in a clean slice that honored such a blade. Its edge, sharpened so meticulously it shone silver, cut through his skin as if merely lingering in the air. Were it not for the sting of friction, and the dark blood pooling out from him, he almost didn’t notice being cut. A sharp gasp, sucked in through bared teeth, tore through them simultaneously as he stained their masterpiece red. Sated by the cold sweat in his neck, and the comforting, downy feeling that lulled his mind into silence, Zant smiled. Grasping the hilt in both hands again, he held it skyward before them, swelling with pride over the visceral union now proclaimed.

Two pairs of eyes stared at the fresh blood coursing down the sword’s pristine edge, as though the world around it had ceased to exist. There was only them, their embrace, and the pieces of them each had ripped out the other, in their joint hands. Crimson rolled down, staining grey fingers and white gloves alike. Zant sharply inhaled through his nose, but Ghirahim stayed deathly silent. Yet his back grew warmer, hotter, scorching pressed against his chest, and that song from his core returned. By no means a symphony, it screeched in one unanimous tone, his mind set on but one thing. 

In an instant, the blade was dispelled – shared, but Ghirahim’s body, first and foremost – and with it took its gift of blood. Swirling, churning, for as long as it could hold, to leave his trace inside the essence of Ghirahim’s self in near-permanence. It was a memento, a shred to attain immortality, to remain long after his flesh has rotten and his bones turned to dust.

His hands now free of a sword, but within his arms still holding another, Zant was frozen in place. A fierce grip broke him from his self-petrification and yanked him down by the collar. Lips crashed against his, clacking teeth and poking stray strands of hair into his eyes. But for all its aggression, to the Sword Spirit, no show of love could be more earnest. He drew his eyelids to a close and locked him in a reciprocated embrace, only to deprive this dark, stuffy room from any more of their affection. Shadows crept up on them from every corner of the room, hurrying to their master’s command. Shrouded in this black, the rustling of this magic enveloped them, to finally leave the strategy room empty.

#zant #ghirahim #ghirazant #ganondorf #tftk #tloz #hyrule warriors #bearwrites #beararts

[i05wook]

lay your head on my shoulder - sung hanbin

pairing: best friend! Sung Hanbin x gn! reader

genre: fluff, angst, comfort, childhood best friend, non idol au

warnings: crying, Hanbin picks reader up, stress, anxiety, reader is the same age as Hanbin. 

wc: 803

author’s notes: I just found this drafted up in my notes from two years ago!! I decided to edit it further and write it for the one and only Sung Hanbin!! 

It was finally a Saturday evening, which could only mean one thing; it was time for your weekly sleepover with Hanbin. The weekly sleepover was something that had begun not long after you guys had turned five, with your parents being friends you and Hanbin were destined to become best friends. 

You’d been stressed out by the upcoming university exams so a sleepover with Hanbin was something much needed (even though you had one the week before). Sleepovers usually just consisted of destressing from the whole week, and updating each other on anything new in your lives all while cuddling together on either of your beds. Since the age of five, the pair of you were used to sharing a bed at these sleepovers and it was no different now, 17 years later. 

Every week, you would hang out with Hanbin’s sister as well, baking delicious sweet treats, before you and Hanbin headed off to his room to enjoy them and your delicious takeaway that you picked up on the way to his house. Hours passed with the two of you cuddling and watching kdramas. 

Having had a day full of classes and assignments, Hanbin was exhausted to say the least. In fact he was so exhausted, he quite literally fell asleep within the first ten minutes of the latest series you were watching together. It was almost midnight so it was understandable, however even after laying in the dark for what seemed like an eternity, you were still laying wide awake. 

You rolled over to check the time on your phone which lay on the bedside table. The clock read that it was around three in the morning. You quietly and slowly shuffled out of the bed and headed down stairs, hoping to make a warm mug of cocoa to coax yourself into sleeping whilst watching whatever random show was on at this time on a low volume. 

For what felt like only a half hour you sat on Hanbin’s couch in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket that you had found on the back of the couch. The mug of warm cocoa lukewarm but almost gone, however sleep was still avoiding your very soul. You were focused on the kids show that had just started on the television that when you felt a hand gently rest on your shoulder, it startled your poor soul. You turned behind you to see the figure who rested their hand on you - it was Hanbin with an adorable sleepy smile gracing his natural lightly blushed face. 

As soon as you turned around to face him, his smile dropped and a look of worry replaced it. He rushed from the back of the couch to crouch in front of you. “Hey bubs, what's wrong? Why are you crying?” He asked, the worried tone evident in his voice. You hadn’t even noticed you had been crying until he mentioned it, but now you could feel just how dried out your eyes were and how stiff your face felt. You looked past his crouched figure to the time displayed on the microwave, which read 06:13. From your estimations, that meant you had been crying for around three hours. 

With the peachy skies becoming more prominent as the minutes passed, the look of pure exhaustion and dejection also became more prominent to Hanbin. Both of you had an unspoken agreement that if the other was sad or tired, you were to give them a hug and transfer any good vibes and positive energies to the other through such physical contact.

Hanbin immediately wrapped you tighter in the blanket, and his arms before picking you up in the bundle you were already in and carrying you up to his room. He placed you gently down on the bed, telling you to stay out for the next five minutes while he disappeared. 

After the five minutes passed, Hanbin’s hands came from behind the door first, each holding a mug of presumably hot cocoa. He placed one in your hands before walking around to the other side of the bed and placing his on the table before settling in next to you. He shuffled closer to you and lay your head on his shoulder whilst you drank your cocoa. There was something about his caring presence and the warm cocoa, that you began to fall asleep, mug still in hand. As soon as he noticed, he removed the cup from your grasp and gently slid you both down the bed, you head now laying on his chest as he turned his bedside lamp off and tucked the blanket around you as best as he could with one arm. 

The steady beat of his heart lulled you into a sleep where you finally felt safe away from all your anxieties.

status: open 

@bambisgirl @enhacolor @acaiasahi @duolingofanaccount @slytherinshua @redm4ri @enluv @jaelaxies

#zerobaseone #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone x reader #reader x zerobaseone #sung hanbin x reader #reader x sung hanbin #sung hanbin #zb1 x reader #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zb1 hanbin #hanbin fluff #hanbin comfort #hanbin angst

[liknws]

[ 002 ] "i hope."

⎯⎯ PAIRING: han jisung x reader/oc ⎯⎯ TAGS: rockstar!3racha plus jeongin, non!idol au, lovers to exes to enemies, one tour bus instead of one bed trope, subtweeting but in songs dropped during concerts, childhood friends to lovers ⎯⎯ RATING: 18+, mature ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: mild angst, i don't think there's anything else ⎯⎯ WORD COUNT: 4.9K (4970)

⎯⎯ SUMMARY: it’s been three years since the break up, three years since leaving the band you helped start, three years since you’ve even talked about your ex. not only have you been able to avoid talking about him, but you’ve been able to avoid him all together. until that same band you helped start decides to change labels and not a single person warned you that your safe place was about to be invaded by three men you’d do anything to avoid.

⎯⎯ A/N: added some twitter screenshots for the fun of it. also there's some cringe writing about singing so you've been warned about that, i'm sorry! this is probably my favorite chapter of the fic so far and it was incredibly fun to write. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged!

[ masterlist ]

You’re leaving the fifth city since the tour kicked off just two months ago, the two bands quickly becoming accustomed to life on the road with each other. To say that it was perfect would be a lie, each new day bringing a special kind of drama and spice to the day to day of touring. Last night there had been a tense argument over the temperature of the bus, the night before there had been some interesting threats made over a card game.

You didn’t often join in the bonding of the two touring bands, sitting near the edge of their circles so that it may appear you were participating but if asked any question about what had gone on in the last twenty or so minutes, you’d flunk the test. Your mind had been anywhere but the present for days, swimming in your own dark thoughts and memories. Being around the three that you once called family brings a lot of emotions to the surface you long thought buried and unreachable.

Everytime Changbin laughed you found yourself giggling quietly. He’d always been able to bring you out of whatever dark slump you’d been in, always the one to brighten the dark skies in your life. With Chan around again you felt a little more at ease, his presence a natural comfort and safe space for you. Any time you felt at war with the world, his arms would open for you to fall into and fight away the darkness.

Jisung brought so much up that you didn’t know what to do with it all. His laugh brought a smile to your face but then an ache in your chest. His sleepy smiles made you want to coo at him, pull him close and play with his hair like you used to. There are words that sit at the tip of your tongue that want to spill out but you swallow them back every time. Like now, with his tongue caught between teeth and eyebrows scrunched in concentration. The urge to reach over and take his hand, to smooth out those lines on his face, to comfort from whatever thought plague his mind, grows only stronger every night spent on the bus together.

Luckily it’s easy to pass off your distance as being unfriendly, uncaring. You were often alone on the bus, your shared bedroom becoming your palace of solitude and the others just left you be. No one forced you to participate, no one begged you to join in their card games or movies in the front of the bus. If your bandmates wanted to be with you, they came to you in the back of the bus. An unspoken line had been drawn at the doorway, the four outsiders never attempted to come into your space.

Unless you invited them in. It started with Jeongin, he wasn’t in the middle of any of it. You didn’t resent him for taking your place in the band, you were proud of him for getting it. One day you had seen him half hanging from his bunk with a book and asked him if he wanted to come read with you in your room, since you’re sure the bed in there was much better for relaxing and it’s quieter from the chaos out front.

That had started it. He would just silently look at you from wherever he was sitting on the bus and raise an eyebrow at you. You’d nod silently and within minutes, both of you are doing different things while stretched out on the bed.

Tonight is one such night. After one particularly long final show at the venue, both you and Jeongin had silently agreed to fall into the bedroom to just lay in the quiet and relax the ache from your bones. Between the bone deep exhaustion from the show and the lull of the road under the bus’s tires, you two fell asleep quickly.

Chan found you two half cuddled on top of the bed with legs a tangled mess and bodies angled away from each other, still in your clothes from the performance with makeup on your faces. He hasn’t the heart to wake you or the youngest so he lets you sleep, coming to the front of the bus and quietly getting everyone to ushered to bed. He doesn’t miss the look in Jisung’s eyes when told that Jeongin is sleeping back there with you already.

Sometime in the night when Chan gets up to check on everyone, he sees that you two have been tucked in, each under your favorite blankets and shoes lined up next to the door neatly. Chan isn’t sure who had taken care of you two, but he’s got a good guess.

The next morning is a late wake up for you; the only thing for the day is arriving in the next city and some radio interview that afternoon. You and Jeongin are perhaps the last ones to wake and stumble to the living room space, rubbing sleep from your eyes and pushing bed messed hair from your face. A cup of coffee is handed to you, your thanks mumbled at them with eyes still closed. You stand with a hip leaned against one of the counters until you’re more awake to open your eyes.

The others are mingled together, quietly talking to each other as they plan the day ahead of them. You catch a few things but mostly tune it out, sipping instead on the coffee (made perfectly you notice) and just grunting if anyone attempts to speak with you. When you finally decide to open your eyes and look around you notice that most everyone is intermingled, showing that the weeks on the road have bonded the two bands. Only you remain on the outside, walls so fortified against the others that you’re starting to wonder if it’s a cage you’ve trapped yourself in.

“We’re a couple hours away from our next stop. Once we get to the hotel and get checked in, it’s showers for everyone and back in the lobby within the hour.” Lily has appeared with a planning book in hand, pen tucked behind her ear. “Slight change of plans. We’re doing a live audience taping.” She flips a few pages and reads to confirm the details. “It’s going to play tonight and again in the morning as a promotion for the show since this station is the main sponsor for this venue.”

“How big is the audience?” Chan asks, looking between Lily and the others, confirming that his question is the one that everyone else seems to have. You nod, wondering just how big this thing is going to be today.”

“Less than 100 tickets.”

“Can we set up a meet and greet after the taping? Or open to fan questions?” This time Felix has the question. You can’t help but smile behind your mug, looking at him fondly. You adore that he wants to turn every small event into something like this for the fans, trying to make this about them too. “Maybe a panel instead of just a radio interview? Or both?”

“Let me call the producers and see what they think. I’ll let you know by the time we’re at the hotel, okay?” Lily has her own look of fondness, giving him the biggest smile she’s able to. You make a mental note to talk to her about that later but look instead at the others. None really seem too uncomfortable with the idea. “Unless anyone objects?”

“I think a meet and greet and panel sounds like a great idea. A fan led interview portion would be perfect,” Minho agrees with a nod. Seungmin and Hyunjin hum their agreement. She looks up at you for any objection and you just shrug, not really having an issue one way or the other with the plan. “If you guys are cool with it.” Minho shoots a look over at the other band who nod their agreement.

“Cool, let me make the call and I will update you all.” With a quick smile she’s headed back to the driver’s cab of the bus to make the calls, seemingly since it’s so much quieter up there instead of surrounded by the musicians in the bus.

“Movie?” Changbin is quick to suggest, holding up the remote to the streaming TV. Everyone seems to collectively agree, settling into comfortable places to see. You choose the far side of the couch, half curled into the arm as you lean on it for support to cradle your still steaming mug. You don’t even care that Jisung is the one that sits next to you as the movie starts.

・❥・

The interview has been going great, the station loved the idea of making it a panel and interview half led by the fans. They offered for a longer recording time as well to accommodate the idea. Everyone agreed without question.

The two bands are sitting in a line, facing the small audience but half turned to see the radio hosts. Each member holds their own microphone and you’ve already broken up one “lightsaber” fight between Jeongin and Hyunjin as one had red and the other blue, respectively. They ended up having to be separated and by doing so, the seating shuffle had you sitting with Felix on one side and Jisung on the other.

“If you guys are still up for it, why don’t we take a few more fan questions,” one of the radio hosts suggests, turning toward the audience and reaching for the wireless mic to pass off.

One girl stands, she wears one of 3RACHA’s older shirts, you realize. One of the designs from the touring festival. The sight makes your mouth go dry and shift in your seat. Eyes look toward Jisung to see if he noticed and by the way he’s refusing to look at you, you take that as he noticed.

The sight of that design brings a lot of memories up, a lot that you wish you could forget. That you hoped because of your addiction and struggles wouldn’t have survived that night but instead seemed to cling tighter the more you wanted it gone. That festival had been the turning point of your relationship, when everything shattered. You announced your departure from 3RACHA within a week of returning from the tour.

“My question is for 3RACHA.” A beat to confirm that she’s allowed to do that. “What’s it like to work with Red again after all these years?”

Okay, a pretty tame question. One you had expected in fact, though from the radio hosts and not the fan.

“It’s been pretty amazing to see them again, yeah. Really not just Red, but working with all of Ultra Violet has been great. I hope we get more opportunities like this in the future to work with the band.” The tension in your shoulders eases as Chan answers.

“Yeah, like Chan said: It’s been really cool seeing them and catching up. I’m super proud of what they’ve been doing and all the music they’ve been putting out there. It’s really amazing stuff, you know?” Changbin jumps in before the topic moves on, grinning.

“Hey! Stop with the flattery, they’re ours now. Finders Keepers,” Minho protests from his seat, half standing to point accusingly at Chan and Changbin. This elicits more laughter from everyone.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lino. It’s okay.” You laugh, leaning forward to look at him. “Now sit down before you hurt yourself.” He tsks at you but sits anyway, giving a faux grumble and pout before looking back out at the audience. The next few questions are easy ones, asking about later tour plans and if any surprises await.

What you aren’t prepared for is the next question that comes up. “I’m sure that touring together brings up a lot of old memories and emotions. There’s been speculation for years that everything between Jisung and Red was faked for publicity or sales. Can you guys confirm that was the case?”

You’re not aware of the words leaving your mouth until you feel Felix’s hand on your arm. “Nothing was fake, not a single bit of that was a stunt or for somebody. It was for us, just Jisung and myself. We were best friends who fell in love, it felt like the natural course of things. We were together before we ever made it to the music scene– Fuck, I have the cringe high school and graduation photos to prove it. We just kept everything private for a long time because we didn’t- and still don’t- owe anyone anything about the relationship. Past, present, or future.”

Don’t look at him, you tell yourself as you settle back in your chair. Rotating your arm so your palm is up, Felix takes the silent invitation and threads his fingers through yours with a squeeze. His presence is a comfort, letting yourself focus more on the feeling of his hand in yours instead of the anger that wants to boil over.

“So then something happened that made you leave the band. Was that before or after the break up?” Not missing the opportunity, one of the radio hosts takes the chance to continue the topic and goes with it. You’re about to ask for the subject to be dropped but Jisung speaks up next to you.

“I think Red will agree with me here when I say we’d rather not share private information about what may or may not have happened. That’s between us.” His voice is calm and level. Risking a glance at him, you see that his face is pretty impassive. You mouth a simple thank you to him before turning away.

“Who wants to talk about boring stuff like that when we have cool tour stuff to talk about?” Ever the savior and quickly becoming your favorite, Jeongin is fast in interjecting to change the topic of discussion. He winks at you when you look at him.

“I will say we have a couple new songs we’re debuting this weekend,” Chan teases with a chuckle.

“That’s right, you all have multiple shows this weekend right?” The other host quickly moves with the hints, letting the discussion of your relationship fall to the wayside. You release a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, shoulders falling back down. With your head turned to face the hosts, you don’t notice that Jisung looks at you with that worry crease between his brow and teeth chewing his bottom lip.

“Yep! We’ll be doing three shows here this weekend.” Felix is excited, nearly hitting himself with his mic with how fast he raised it to speak. You’re laughing, realizing right away what he’d just given away as Minho reaches over and slaps at his arm lightly. “Oops.”

“Three? I thought it was two. Friday and Saturday night.”

“Since Felix can’t keep a secret,” Seungmin is the one to speak up. “We’re doing a secret show Sunday night.” Hyunjin interjects with how it’s not really all that secret anymore, earning light chuckles. “We’ll announce when and where one hour before doors open on our Twitter.”

“So is this just an Ultra Violet show or will 3RACHA be joining in?” There’s a prying tone to the host’s question but you expected that the second the information was slipped. At least it was quick to change the attention from you individually.

“You’ll have to follow our Twitter to find out,” Jisung offers with a shrug.

・❥・

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, if maybe a little awkward but to credit everyone else they weren’t making a focus of it. The tension doesn’t lift from your shoulders until the microphones are handed back to the audio team and the goodbyes are exchanged with the radio hosts.

A few minutes to yourself before you go meet your fans in the small meet and greet. A few minutes to compose yourself and get the shaking to leave your hands. Quietly you slip from the group and find yourself a darker corridor to be alone in. Alone and in the quiet, you allow yourself to have a small breakdown. You lean against the cinderblock wall and slide down until you’re sitting with your back pressed against the cold wall, the chill of it bringing some peace.

Peace can only last so long, you think as the sound of approaching footsteps starts echoing around the darkness. It’s not so dark that you can’t tell that it's someone familiar and you assume that Seungmin has come to find you.

“I’m fine, Minnie. I just needed a quick breather.” You speak loud enough that he could hear you as far away as he is. The footsteps don’t stop and you lean forward to see who it is. The sight of Jisung coming closer and then crouching in front of you makes you stop breathing just a second.

“Sorry,” he whispers, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Not ‘Minnie’.” He’s just inside of your reach, if you stretched your arm just a little bit you could take his hand in yours. You don’t. You shove your hand between your thighs as if caging them so they can’t reach for him.

“Sorry,” you whisper your apology. Anything above a whisper feels too loud, like it might shatter whatever small comfort this moment offers. Fighting against the urge to take one of his hands still, you dig your nails into the well-worn denim on your leg. You note the twitch in his own hand, hanging relaxed from where his forearms are braced on his knees as he’s crouched down to your level.

“I just—” He starts and stops, shrugging. The words remain in the space, unsaid. You wonder if he’s going to say what you think, what you won’t allow yourself to hope for. To your surprise, he does. “I wanted to check on you after that. You didn't seem like yourself.”

“Listen I just—” Now it’s your turn to stop with a shake of your head. “Nevermind. Thanks for saying what you did.”

He gives a humorless laugh and even in the darkness you can tell that his smile is a little forced. Nails dig in harder on your thigh in response, like that’s the last bit of self control you might have.

“Don’t thank me. I just assumed you wanted to keep things private like always.”

“Yeah, yeah. I do.” You take a deep breath. “It isn’t anyone’s business but ours.” You look back at him, not even really realizing you had let your eyes wander away. Looking now you see that same torn look in his eyes that you’re almost positive mirrors in your own. The weight of choice sits heavy in your gut.

He stands, extending a hand out to you to help you up. Against your better judgment, you take it with a whispered thanks. His hand is warm, it feels familiar and just perfect in yours. Fingers interlock together just as you two had done so many countless times before and it feels like home standing there with him, your linked hands between you two.

“I’m happy you’re speaking to me now.” His joy is too bright, almost a sun that could burn every bad thought away from you right now. You can’t let him, you can’t let the warm familiarity of his touch make you forget why you two are like this now.

“I’m not, but I will acknowledge that what you did during the interview was a nice thing.”

“I wasn’t just being nice. I guess I had hoped that showing you we’re on the same page that we could at least talk. I guess I assumed so I'm sorry.”

Every ounce of your willpower is put behind the effort of taking your hand out of his. Not because he’s holding so tightly but because you really don’t want to let go at all. “Once this tour is done and over, we won’t have anything more to do with each other. Just like it was before. I can’t— I don’t want to be your friend.”

“You were my best friend. You’re saying we can’t go back to that one day?” You don’t miss the pain in his eyes, the way his lips are pushed further into a pout. You have to go, you have to get away before something is said that you can’t take back. Before you break down the small shred of self-respect you’ve managed to build back after him is shattered.

You brush past him, intending to head toward the service exit of the venue that you’d originally come through. You just need space away from him, to get a clear thought that isn’t all consumed with his perfect pouted lips or the way his hand touch lights every single nerve ending you thought might have died with the relationship.

A hand on your arm stops you, pulling you lightly back into him. The shift in momentum throws you off balance and you fall back into his chest as his arms wrap around your waist.

“Please, jagiya.” His voice is so soft and you want to give in to his plea. It would be too easy to fall back into that with him, to unearth the buried feelings and let it consume you as it had before. “Tell me why we can’t be like that again.”

Every word sends a crack through the foundation, shakes the walls, rumbles the once solid ground under your feet. You turn in his arms, hands coming up to his chest and so gently pushing yourself out of his hold.

“I can’t be your friend when I’m still in love with you.” Somehow saying the words aloud didn’t lift any weight off your shoulders as you wanted, it only brought a burning pain to your chest and a thickness to your throat you knew meant you were going to cry.

“I’m still in love with you!” His pleas are soft, just as his touch. Reaching for you, hand on your cheek as his thumb brushes away a tear or two that flood over your lashes. “Why can’t we accept that and work on that? Figure out the rest as we go?”

You have to swallow back the tears in order to talk. It takes you a minute and he doesn’t rush you. “Because as much as I still love you, I hate you. You hurt me and you broke us. You broke my trust in you in a way that can’t be fixed. I can’t ever trust you again, no matter how much I still love you.”

“Jagiya,” he pleads again. “Let me prove it to you.”

“Don’t- don’t call me that. I can’t, just respect that. Understand what I’m telling you and leave me alone.” One last longing look before you remove his hand from your cheek and step out of his reach. You walk back a step or two before you have the strength to turn away from him, heading back to the cars.

・❥・

Just like every other show, 3RACHA is the first to perform. The order had been agreed on by a coin toss and then again by rock-paper-scissors. Their setlist remains roughly the same each night, a few changes here or there to keep it from being too similar to every other performance.

At first you think that it’s a fluke, that the song choice is just you reading too into things. Friday night is a bit chaotic and you’re on edge from the radio interview being aired again that morning. So there’s no way that Jisung is playing that song just for you. This one isn’t the one you two had written together but the words call back to your relationship, they could be applied in a way of him apologizing and trying to show you the love you two have is real.

But no, you convince yourself that you’re wrong. And by the time you make it on stage for your performance with Ultra Violet, the song is forgotten and your focus goes to the show.

But there’s no convincing yourself of the same thing the next night. Your heart stops when he looks at you, knowing you’re standing just off the side of the stage in the dark wings. And just like when he announced your relationship to the world by using a Taylor Swift song, he uses another to show you he was serious. That he meant it, that he wants to try again.

The words echo through you well past your performance and follow you into bed that night.

I never thought we'd have a last kiss I never imagined we'd end like this Your name, forever the name on my lips

・❥・

The crowd is bigger than you could have hoped for, knowing that there was only an hour for people to get in the door before the show started. Even then, they piled into the bar and screamed along with every lyric. These are the kinds of shows you love, the ones that remind you of where you started and that your success is because of this kind of love from your fans.

“Thank you so much guys for coming out!” Seungmin takes the lead, leaning into his mic to talk to the crowd of fans. They scream back in response to him. “It has been great being here tonight, truly we can’t do this without you guys.” Cliche but it’s true and you’re a smiling dork next to him nodding along.

“We have just a few songs left before we’re out of here.” You’re the one addressing them now, wiggling your eyebrows as you look out across the packed bar. “I hope you guys don’t mind but we’ve got a new song for you tonight.” You’d discussed this with your band last night, playing this song and spilling a few secrets at the same time. “I actually wrote this one and it’s for someone special, so I really hope you guys like it.”

You can already see it, the way that one line sends ripples of speculation and questions through the crowd. Already there are phone cameras pointed at the stage, that much you expected. You’d hoped for it. You know that once you start down this path there won’t be a way back. You will have to see your way through this choice.

The song is a bit softer than what you’ve been playing so far tonight, the melody and tempo slower. It’s a big difference but you’re hopeful that the crowd will at least be receptive, though in the end you don’t really care about their opinion. You just want to speak your side of the story now.

The song starts slower, just your voice and the rhythmic strumming of Felix’s guitar. The first verse plays out a lot of memories for you of those early years, of those nights driving from one city to another in order to spend time with him. Memories of playlist shared and swapped, of songs written for or about each other that you once treasured.

I, I hope she makes you smile The way you made me smile on the other end of a phone In the middle of a highway driving alone Oh baby I, I hope you hear a song That makes you sing along and gets you thinking about her Then the last several miles turn into a blur, yeah

The chorus is where Seungmin joins in on keyboard and Hyunjin sets a simple tempo on the drums. Minho’s bass notes flow through, tying everything together as you lean into the words a little more. You let the anger and rawness of these last few nights fuel your vocals as the leading notes of your guitar rift kick up the intensity of the chorus.

I hope you both feel the sparks by the end of the drive I hope you know she's the one by the end of the night I hope you never ever felt more free Tell your friends that you're so happy I hope she comes along and wrecks every one of your plans I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her hand I hope she's wilder than your wildest dreams She's everything you're ever gonna need And then I hope she cheats, like you did on me

You see it then, the dawning realization that this song isn’t a happy farewell to a relationship, that you’re not on friendly terms with whomever might be the subject of the song. As far as anyone knows, you have only ever dated one person (which remains the truth) and so this song could only be about him. You see it then, more phones rise from the crowd to capture the bitter lyrics and pent up anger as you flow to the next verse and the chorus repeats the words echoed by your broken heart.

You dare one glance at the wings of the stage, where you know he typically likes to hang out when you’re performing. Your eyes lock on his for the last chorus, the final nail to the coffin of any hope that this song may not be about him. You don’t look away from him until the last nights of the song fall off. The silence is only for a moment but when the cheers start, you turn back toward the crowd and cast away the last image of him. Of his anger, his pain, and heartbreak all laid out at his feet because of you.

You stomp down any guilt you might feel as the final song of the night opens with a beating from the drums behind you.

#skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz writing #skz imagine #skz x you #jisung x y/n #han jisung x y/n #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #jisung x you #han jisung x you #han jisung angst #jisung angst #jisung fic

[fiveloml]

the umbrella academy x reader. “ i love you. “ [ gender neutral reader. ]

─ ✧ the hargreeves' different love languages.

─ ✧ HELP thank you all for blowing up all my fics so far u guys r so cool

@ ─ luther hargreeves ☂︎ number 1.

the night was dark, thunder boomed through the skies as you and LUTHER held each other in bed. admittedly ─ with all the time he spent on the moon, luther grew to fear the sound of thunder. it was so loud compared to the years of silence he had on the moon.

you gently put your hand on luthers chest, feeling his speeding heartbeat slow down under your caring touch. you give him a smile, in which he weakly returned as his arms wrapped around you. holding you tight almost like if he let go, you'd disappear.

luther loved to hold you, more than anything.

@ ─ diego hargreeves ☂︎ number 2.

DIEGO always offered to do whatever you were doing, whether big or small he was always there to lend a helping hand. many would say that his love language was acts of service but he really only viewed it as helping his partner.

“y/n! here, i'll carry it for you.“ diego grunts, taking the boxes from your hands as you give him a smile. “thanks diego.“ you say while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

@ ─ allison hargreeves ☂︎ number 3.

“you're doing great, hun.“ ALLISON grins, helping allison train as it was also training for you and your endurance. allison didn't hold back, so the fact you were managing this well was impressive.

when training was over, allison placed a kiss on your forhead and gave you a side hug. “you get stronger every day, i'm so proud of you.“ she praises you, a proud smile on her face when she realized you were flustered yet again.

@ ─ klaus hargreeves ☂︎ number 4.

KLAUS always appreciated any gifts, some would think theyre in a relationship just for gifts.. but they've always appreciated the smallest things yet meant everything to klaus. “you got me my favorite smoothie?“ they sniffle, and you look at them with a confused but amused smile.

they gave you a quick peck on the lips before happily sipping away at their favorite drink, smiling widely because it was with you that klaus was the happiest.

@ ─ five hargreeves ☂︎ number 5.

“i care for my siblings, but getting to spend time with you when they're around is impossible.“ FIVE grumbles, letting you play with his hair as he rested on your lap. “i know, but on the bright side.. altleast we can spend quality time alone.“ you smiled, ruffling his hair slightly as he blew away some that got in his face.

“yeah.. and thats all that matters.“ five smiled slightly, being alone for so many years of his life made five enjoy quality time with you.

@ ─ ben hargreeves ☂︎ number 6. [ if he were alive ]

BEN liked to hold your hand, his was always intertwined with yours and usually in the pocket of his jacket. he always loved feeling the warmth of your hand or even when it was cold, no matter what he would hold them.

and if you felt happy every time he did, it was always nice always having ben with you.

@ ─ viktor hargreeves ☂︎ number 7.

“i got you.. a gift. i wasn't sure what you would've wanted so i got every single one i knew you liked..“ VIKTOR says rather quietly, looking down at the ground as you admired all the flowers and chocolates he got you.

you looked back at him and the assortments of gifts, mouth agape as you felt that your small present felt inferior to what viktor had gotten you for valentines.

you handed him your small memory book with a bunch of your favorite pictures with you and him, he smiled as he flipped through it and gave you a tight hug. “i dont need a big and extravagant gift.. you and your cute little ideas are all that matters.“ he chuckles, littering your face with kisses.

#the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy x you #tua x you #ben hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #viktor hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #004 SITUATION UPDATE

[Statement taken from Agent Witwicky on the 23rd of September 2010 regarding the situation with [Redacted] and the Autobot presence on Earth. Secondary statement taken from [Redacted] shortly after their awakening also included.]

══════════════════

For any listeners, I will say this simply. The reason for the six year gap in further statements and transcripts is because... [Redacted] was caught by the Autobots shortly after their statement on Holoforms. [Redacted] was meant to only be on a short walk around a secure area, but they deviated from the planned route we had cleared for them. We do not know what they were trying to do, but we believe that they were possibly attempting to observe the Autobots from a distance. What little camera footage we gathered from [Redacted] showed them rushing toward where the Autobots were reported to be looking for energon.

Considering how terrified they are of the Autobots, this choice made no sense to us. But whatever [Redacted] was trying to do, they seemed to be taking notes when the Autobot known as Bumblebee snuck up on them. Bumblebee made some sort of sound that our systems could not pick up, and within moment [Redacted] was surrounded by the Autobots at the dig site. There was some sort of discussion in what we assume was their native language before the one called Bulkhead proceeded to punch [Redacted] hard enough to knock them to the floor. Further footage was grainy, but when the Autobots finally left, [Redacted] was all but a crushed mess on the ground.

Our agents were deployed to collect what was left, but miraculously, [Redacted] still seemed to be alive. Whatever power source keeps Cybertronians operational was still blazing. And so while higher command was not exactly the most thrilled with the idea, [Redacted] was brought in for repairs. I wasn't there for all of it, but from what I gather, our scientists and engineers both had a field day and hated every waking moment of trying to put [Redacted] back together. Thankfully for everyone, [Redacted] seemed to be in some sort of sleep while they were being repaired. It took years to get them back into shape, and all the while we kept the Autobots occupied as best as we could. We took [Redacted]'s advice and were careful about what information we allowed the Autobots to have. They are currently under the assumption that we can destroy them with nukes. It seems to have kept them from acting out.

However they were reported constantly watching the stars and searching for things on the surface. We struggled to keep track of them, at least until two things happened.

Firstly, [Redacted] showed signs of waking up from whatever coma they were in. They started moving around and booting online around the time a new alien aircraft appeared in the skies. We couldn't trace it and there were no Autobot symbols. But the Autobots were quick to inform us that the ship belonged to the Decepticons, their mortal enemies. They seemed far too excited for their own good at the prospect of fighting these other aliens. We opted to keep our sights on the ship as much as possible while the Autobots began a frantic search. It was around this time that [Redacted] finally came online enough to speak coherently, at which point we immediately questioned them about the situation. Their response was highly concerning, just like everything else they have ever told us.

I will play a recording of their statement here.

[-Statement playback begins-

That is the Decepticon warship. Sorry, my processors are pounding like a glitch right now, but yeah, Prime wasn't lying. That's definitely Megatron's ship. Why did you think the Autobots were here in the first place? Did you think they turned up for a vacation? No, they came here because this is where the Decepticons are.

How did you not pick it up on your radar? Well the Nemesis has a cloaker. All Cybertronian ships do. You didn't notice the Autobots until they came to you right? Well think about it this way. If the Decepticons can now be picked up on your radar, it means they don't care about being seen. That in turn means that they have a purpose, a mission. They have been hanging around your planet as long if not longer than the Autobots have, likely waiting for the right moment to make their move.

I don't claim to know their plans, but now that they are up and moving, you can bet that Megatron will show up soon enough. That's when slag is going to get real. So far the Autobots have laid low and been pretty docile right? At least I assume they have since you are all still alive and your capitol isn't burning. Well unfortunately for you organics, things just went from bad to worse. Expect my kin's war to begin ravaging your world as well. Hopefully their lack of numbers will keep it somewhat contained, but honestly at this point all I can do is give you context for what is going on and hope you can use it to your benefit.

The Decepticons are likely here to retrieve something or other. There were thousands of objects deployed during the war to keep them safe. Killing the Autobots is just a bonus. As for the Autobots? I can't claim to know, but I bet they will pull the same scrap. The two factions are notorious for being competitive. Just... try to keep civilians out of the way as they try to wage their war.

We are a dying race, and this is exactly why. When one of the factions get what they want, then you can really start worrying again. For now, they will be too focused on turning each other into slag to care much about you.... or me.

-Statement playback ends-]

[Redacted] did not elaborate on what allowed them to survive very nearly being killed. They also did not tell us WHY the Autobots tried to kill them, but we have more important things to deal with now. The Decepticons are active and we do not have nearly enough information due to [Redacted]'s extended coma. We are going to need to work quick to catch up on all we missed and get as much information as we can from our suspicious ally before they get killed for good this time.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

Further statements will be added to this catalogue as soon as possible. The Autobots have been observed moving and I am sure it will not be long before we need [Redacted]'s knowledge again.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #the grim dark archives #decepticons #autobots #team prime #statement recording #[redacted] #agent witwicky #mystery #rewrite of canon #grimdark #ah yes #here comes canon #I needed a reason for [redacted] to make live commentary on crap going down as the show progresses #I swear imma get into the good stuff soon #yall are going to LOVE the dark garbage I have planned for different parts of Cybertron #I mean canon was already dark #but I can make it WORSE #if anyone has subjects for [redacted] to comment on #by all means throw them my way

[deartouya]

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS — HAWKS

no matter how rough the patrol, keigo always knows he has people who love him to greet him at home. i.e. you and your son greeting keigo when he comes home from patrol.

★ pairing: hawks x afab!reader (biological child, they/them used)

★ word count: 1.4k

★ content: fluff, kid fic, established relationship, children (oc son kaito, around 3-4 years old), food/eating mention, use of petnames (dove/ie, birdie, angel), a nauseating amount of fluff.

i saw a panel about hawks coming home to an empty apartment and it made me sad ;-; so i impulse wrote this. have this soft bird dad in an attempt to make everyone love keigo and doubles as me fighting for my hawks moot right <3

It’s been raining periodically all day — all week actually. Heavy clouds and dark skies shaped miserable conditions for patrol. Conditions made worse by how uneventful they are, filled with petty criminals and runaway pets. Keigo wastes nearly his entire lunch perched on top of an office building glaring at a pair of pigeons who’d tucked themselves in the of a patio; dry and warm.

Keigo’s always despised the rain. Water soaking his wings, weighing them down, curling the ends and matting the down of them. His hatred for the weather only grew when he knew you and Kaito were at home, swaddled in the warmth of your apartment and working through the lingerings of a cold.

He’d sent you a text a little after your own lunch, a pitiful picture of him far too close up hiding behind a Miruko billboard. His hair wet and clinging to his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

You gave him very little sympathy. You'd answered with a photo of you and Kaito in the kitchen wearing matching fluffy robes and holding mugs of hot chocolate.

He keeps his collar up against his neck, burrowing his face into the fluff of it. It smells like you, detergent and perfume clinging to the fabric from when he’d tucked it over your shoulders the day before.

Keigo finds himself watching the clock the closer his patrol’s end becomes, using the awning of a coffee shop as an umbrella. It’s odd, he thinks, how quickly he melted into his — domesticity. It happened slowly, without him even realizing it had until you were already moving in. Until he’d started counting the minutes until he was home again.

When six finally does hit, Keigo’s fighting off a smile, shoving his phone back into the damp pockets of his jacket, and taking off for your apartment.

He used to check-in at the agency first before returning home. He'd finish up whatever paperwork was created throughout his shift and utilise the oversized showers which were perpetually empty. Now, he always found himself rushing to get back — even if it meant earlier hours to do the paperwork from the day before.

So it’s also expected of him. The ease with which he accepted you — your change, love. He’s spent years longing for something a little simpler, softer, kinder. Keigo’s never been someone to take things slowly and he loved no differently.

The apartment — one you’d helped him pick — is quiet when he pushes the door open, peeling off his overcoat and heavy boots, “I'm home!”

He barely has both shoes tucked under the entry table when he hears laughing, small and light. Your answer comes as he rounds into the living room, “welcome back!”

The couch is gone. Or it’s covered at least. Obscured by large throw blankets propped over the dining room chairs and spilling over with pillows and soft-looking throws. The TV’s on too, playing a manta ray documentary and bracketed by patterned cushions.

Kaito’s golden eyes, softened echoes of Keigo’s, round in excitement and he nearly trips over a sea-turtle printed blanket in his haste to get to him, “daddy!”

Keigo makes an exaggerated sound, a huffed little oof, when Kaito collides with him and his tiny arms tangle around his legs. His pudgy cheek smushes into Keigo’s thigh and his fists curl into the fabric of his pants.

“Kaito!” Keigo echoes the boys’ excitement, smoothing his bangs from his forehead as Kaito giggles. He chases his hand and the little plumage of red on his back ruffles.

Both of their attention shifts when you finally detangle yourself from the couch, moving to cup the softness of Keigo’s cheeks with warm palms. Your thumbs brush over the bones before warm lips connect with his forehead. He huffs a soft laugh when you continue the kisses, dotting them over the freckles coating bridge of his nose, the divots of his dimples, the apples of his cheeks.

“Aw, did’ya miss me?”

“Mhm, ‘course I did,” you answer, combing through his bangs as he ducks to Kaito, “always do.”

Your affection is repeated when Keigo finally pries Kaito from his leg, hoisting the boy into his arms and settling him on his hip. Kaito’s grin broadens, nuzzling his cheek against Keigo’s and pressing a messy kiss on his brow bone.

“Saw the fight on tv, birdie,” your voice is quiet — reflectively, like any louder it’ll shatter the intimate little bubble, the warmth — as you trace his features with your eyes. No injuries.

Keigo leans in to knock his forehead against yours softly before he grins at you, “did I look cool?”

“Aww, of course you did!” His eyes narrow, your tone playful as you run your fingers along Kaito’s ribs, “rigghhhtt after you got your butt handed to you.” Kaito giggles softly, nestling into the crook of Keigo’s arm to escape your fingers.

“You wound me, dove — what, did you two spend the whole time celebrating my pain?” His free hand fists over the fabric covering his heart when you hum and Kaito lets out a happy ‘yep!’ “I can’t believe you two!”

“But you looked so cool!”

It’s immediate, the way Keigo’s entire being brightens. His eyes narrow in a smile and wings puff up behind him as he nuzzles his cheek against Kaito’s, turning to you with a faux accusing glare, “at least one of you loves me.”

A soft blurb from the stove pulls you away from them, knocking your forehead affectionately against Keigo’s this time before moving to lower the heat and continue your previous stirring.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you hum, feeling a soft cheek squish into the side of your neck and a chin hook over the other side, Keigo’s free arm winding around your waist.

“Ooo, you’re an angel, dovie,” Keigo’s arm tightens around you, lips brushing your temple, “what’d ya make?”

“Chicken noodle,” you reply cheerily, turning to wind your arms around his waist. “Kaito and I just got over that cold, we should make sure we’re getting all our fluids, isn’t that right?” Kaito ruffles at your cooing, leaning in to tap the point of his nose against your own.

“Mmm, sounds amazing, angel,” he presses a soft kiss to the round of your cheek, “I didn’t eat lunch — I’m starving.”

“Y’know just because I forget to pack you something doesn’t mean you get to just skip eating,” your chastising falls on deaf ears as he watches you finish off the soup, ladling it into tall mugs. “You have to take care of yourself, Kei.”

“Awww, c’mon — you take care of me plenty! I was totally fine. Drank some coffee and everything.”

He quiets at your glare, jutting out his lip when Kaito laughs, “ooo, you’re in trouble!”

You move into the living room to eat, all three of you nestled in the plush nest you’d helped Kaito make, mugs of soup warm between your palms as you watch the ending of another documentary.

Kaito falls asleep first, bundled up on one end of the sectional snoring softly — a habit picked up from Keigo.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” Your fingers find the red and gold bead bracelet around his wrist, fraying and poorly strung together courtesy Kaito, “it looked rough.”

You’re propped up against the arm of the couch now, both of Keigo’s wings sprawled over you and dragging against the carpet. He huffs, propping his chin against your chest, “aww, you know I can’t get taken out that easily.”

His voice is playful but you know he means it. He always does. So you smooth a hand through his curls. “You better,” pinning him with a teasing glare, “it’s not too late to get a divorce.”

Keigo laughs, wiping his smile into your shoulder and humming contentedly when your fingers thread through his hair. Your other hand smooths down his back, brushing through the down at the base of his left-wing. It flutters minutely underneath your touch and he presses himself closer.

“Like you’d ever want rid of me,” his tease is undermined by the tone, cooed and full of adoration. You can’t help the smile, shuffling down the couch so your lips can connect with his. It's tender, slow and you hope he knows that you meant it, your worry for his health. The way he responds, enthusiastic and through a grin, tells you he does.

Keigo’s ear settles over your heart, arms wrapped around you and fingers rubbing soothing circles into your hip bones. His wings tuck fully around you, overwhelming himself with you — the gentle puffs of your breath, the beat of your heart, the rising of your chest. This is nice, he thinks. Slowing down, being content.

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