#' have we met before' the note i put on the google doc on that line good lord

[ghost-proofbaby]

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.” She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.”  “I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.”  He wants… the charcoal?

summary: aruna begins to doubt just how skilled she truly is with her daggers, and astarion proves himself useful his first night in camp by offering an act of selfless aid. but not before criticizing her map making skills, of course.

wc: 3.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, use of daggers (but not for violence), astarion gets a little flirty, and more gameplay recounting (specifically one of the first camp scenes you can trigger with astarion)

a/n: take a shot every time i make astarion say "oh, dear" like a little shit in this fic. also, i promise at some point, this fic will stop being such a play by play of the game lol

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“You’re Astarion?” 

Aruna swears she’s going to be sick as she stares at the elf with wide eyes. It’s all too much – the leftover adrenaline from having a blade held to her throat, those red eyes boring into her soul, the swirling pressure that squeezes down on her lungs tightly as the realization settles deep inside her bones. 

This is Astarion. 

“I- Yes?” he questions, entirely on guard as his eyes narrow. He’s quick to recover, and all his hesitation is masked behind a certain air of confidence she can see right through, “As I was saying, I was in Baldur’s Gate… when those… those awful beasts…” he loses his focus repeatedly before finally huffing out a sigh, “I’m sorry, just- Have we met before?”

She doesn’t even know how to explain herself or her outburst. She hadn’t confided in Gale or Shadowheart regarding her letter, and hadn't mentioned Astarion in the last two days. The entire spectacle looks odd to every single one of them; Shadowheart is watching her far more carefully than normal, Gale’s face is twisted up with all that awful curiosity, and Astarion is just… Well, he’s simply plain confused.

He doesn’t recognize her. 

She woke up without any memories, not even so much as her own name, with him being one of the only clues to her past self, and he doesn’t even know her. 

What sick game is the Universe playing on me?

“Do you two know each other?” Gale asks when Aruna doesn’t answer Astarion, but it only earns him a scoff from the pale one. 

“Thank you, for repeating the obvious question I just asked…” Astarion trails off, eyeing the wizard, waiting for proper introduction. 

It takes him a few moments to recognize that Astarion is waiting to learn his name before he jumps to life, “Oh! My apologies. I’m Gale, and this is Shadowheart. And that is Aruna – although, I do promise you, she’s usually far less mute.” 

He doesn’t fucking know me. I have a letter in my pack right now, heavier than any looted armor, instructing me to save him – and he doesn’t even know me.

“Ah, I see,” Astarion’s voice is surprisingly low, nearly musical in cadence as he hums and turns to look at her properly again. There’s still concern behind his eyes, still searching her for some sort of explanation. “Well, I certainly don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” 

He’s asking something more than just all that he’s voicing. She can pick up on that much; she just doesn’t know what else he really wants from her. 

She can’t simply casually say, “Oh, I have no idea. I actually have no memory of my life before all of this. But, hey, fret not! I actually have a letter with your name on it – a letter telling me to save you, even. Small world, eh?”

Or maybe she could. Far more odd situations have arisen in the last forty eight hours. 

“I don’t think we have,” she says slowly, being sure to enunciate each word with cautious care. They feel wrong, heavy on her tongue as though she’s telling a dire lie. 

But was she the one lying, or was Astarion? If that letter of hers truly was referring to him, he must know her. 

Is it possible he held his blade to her throat because he knows her?

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he flashes a charming smile, and she realizes just how disarming he is capable of being. If she weren’t so on guard at the moment, honed in entirely on him for every subtle change, she wouldn’t notice it was an act, “What do you know about these wretched things inside our heads?” 

The rest of the conversation, Aruna only has one goal in mind: Astarion will be joining them in her travels, no matter the cost. She matches his act with one of her own, flourishing with her own set of honeyed words in an effort to garner the barest hint of trust from him. And it proves to not be overly difficult; it’s as though they share the goal as something common between them, because the moment her offer of him joining the small group leaves her mouth, he’s eager to agree. Almost too eager. 

All strange circumstances aside regarding Aruna, it’s still a valid response. They have better chances of survival if they face it in numbers. 

And so Astarion joins them. Brimming with flamboyant movements and an extravagant smile that she notices stays half-closed, he offers to bring up the rear of the group just as Aruna announces the need to go back to camp. 

“Resting again? So soon?” Shadowheart’s face twists as if she doesn’t notice the quickly setting sun, “We haven’t even found a healer yet. Or at least found a lead for one in the area-”

“We can find one tomorrow,” Aruna interrupts, turning to face her small group of rag tags. She can’t stand it – the hope shining in each of their faces, the undeserving faith that lies behind their eyes after just two days. Astarion is the only one resembling something she can stomach, and mostly because he looks entirely bored with the current argument, “I need to update our map and we really should try and put more effort into the camp before we pick up any more…” she trails off, and Astarion finally looks at her, half-smirking as though daring her for an insult. Something fires up inside of her – as though it’s a game, as though they both know she doesn’t mean it when she finishes the thought with a sarcastic quip of, “Strays.”

“Oh, darling,” he puts a hand to his chest, taking a few steps around Shadowheart to be closer to her. When he leans forward, it’s as though he’s sharing a secret with just Aruna, “If you wanted me to purr for you, all you had to do was ask.” 

It’s not a secret, though. Everyone else hears. Gale takes a sharp breath in, and Shadowheart only huffs in disamusement. 

And Aruna has to bite back everything inside of her to not react, to not give him any satisfaction. It’s as though he sees right through her, as if the laugh she had swallowed down had escaped nonetheless, to grace only his ears. 

Neither of their shields are working very well against one another. Their souls already seem to know one another, staring across the vast caverns between them, a whisper of I know you echoing in both sets of ears. 

She doesn’t stand a chance, and she’s hardly known him for a few hours. 

—

Camp is quiet. 

Shadowheart is brooding, Gale is humming to himself as he lays out a rug that no doubt came from his damned bag of holding to claim his corner of the camp, and Astarion has taken to sitting near the fire pit. All lost in their own worlds, all completely silent as Aruna gathers what she needs to complete at least one of the tasks she’d insisted needed to be taken care of. 

The map. She needs to attempt to update it, add to the sad squiggles and lines to indicate that area they explored today. Even if they never return to that beach, she wants to know that it’s there. It exists. 

Charcoal pencils that they had looted from a chest amongst the wreckage days prior are lined up on the stone bench, the surface almost too high for her to comfortably utilize it as a table when she sits on the ground before it. But she’s stubborn, and it’s the best she can do in their current situation, so she makes it perform as a table. 

She’s just started to ponder if she should retrieve one of her daggers to sharpen the sticks of charcoal when Astarion notices. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding more accusatory than curious as she unsheathes a knife, already fisting a pencil. 

“Sharpening my pencils,” she murmurs, mentally pleading with her shaking hands to steady as she brings the edge of the blade a few centimeters from the tip of the art tool, angling it so that she can begin to shave it down to a precise point, “I’m updating the map.”

“You have a map?”

She sighs, finally lowering the dagger and charcoal. Her hands won’t stop shaking, and Astarion really isn’t helping. 

“Yes, we have a map,” she nods to the piece of paper on the stone before her. Astarion wastes no time in getting up from where he had sat on one of the bedrolls rounding a fallen tree log so that he could take a seat on what was meant to serve as her table tonight, not his bench. 

He looks down at her sorry excuse for a drawing of a forest, the center being camp.  

“Oh, dear. Well…” he leans in closer, squinting at a grouping of dots that were meant to symbolize the beach where she had woken up, “You certainly weren’t an artist before all of this, were you?” 

“Excuse me?” 

He glances up at her through his lashes, lifting a brow as if he was pointing out the obvious, “Don’t get me wrong. The idea of a map is an excellent one, I’ll give you that, but this…. This leaves something to be desired.”

She doesn’t know why she’s taking offense. She knows her art skills are shit. She knows the map is pitiful. 

“It’s not complete yet.”

“Clearly.”

“We just needed some way to keep track of our surroundings.”

“I agree.”

“It doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be so much nicer to look at if it was more attractive?” he tsks at her.

She hates it. She hates that his criticism, his disapproval, gets under her skin so easily. 

She picks her dagger back up and brings it back to that piece of charcoal in her left hand, more determined than before, “If you hate my rendition so much, make one for yourself. I’m sure you could do a far superior job, right?”

Snap. 

Her hands were still shaking when she struck against the soft black chunk in her hands. The angle had been off, the amount of pressure she was applying was too much. She had been distracted by him and now, she was suddenly holding a broken piece of charcoal rather than a nicely sharpened one. 

They both stare down at the mess she’s created across her palms and weapon for a few seconds, deathly silent. She’s trying to not throw an absolute fit, quickly reaching her breaking point; he’s trying to bite down all his laughter, almost feeling sorry for her. 

“Oh, dear.” 

An echo of his earlier words, this time choked up behind his silent amusement. Slightly more exaggerated, far more taunting than they had originally been. 

“Don’t,” she quietly insists, eyes flickering up to already find mischief burning in his, “Don’t you dare. I-”

“You have wielded those daggers before, haven’t you?” 

She opens her mouth, prepared to bite back with an of course I have, when it hits her that she’s actually not entirely sure. 

Have I? 

She had wielded them in the fight against the brains, hadn’t she? And she’d been able to use them quite well, albeit the fight was against a couple of brains on legs, and she had a powerful wizard and strategic cleric on her side. 

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.”

She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.” 

“I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.” 

He wants… the charcoal? 

She doesn’t give herself any more time to question it, grabbing for the two remaining pencils and handing them over before she can even guess what his end goal here is. 

That thing inside of her is still whispering, pleading for her to trust him. She doesn’t understand why – she can’t comprehend how he’s the mysterious Astarion she’s meant to save, or how she could possibly know him without him knowing her. None of it makes a lick of sense, and yet, she’s still handing him the charcoal he requests and not even voicing a single concern outloud. 

He unsheathes his own dagger quickly. His hands don’t shake as hers had. The angle of his blade is precise and his stroke is quick as in mere seconds, he’s taken the chunky stick and shaved it down to a point.

He’s sharpening them. For her, presumably. 

“How did you…” she whispers in questioning as he holds out the newly sharpened charcoal, the one he had yet to turn into a point still resting beside his thigh. Curls of ashen black litter the ground around the two of them. 

“Skilled hands, darling,” the nickname strikes embers inside of her, kindling of flames ready to be fanned into a wildfire if he so pleased, “And some of us know how to use our daggers.” 

She plucks it from his fingers, holding it up to examine the delicate point in the dying light of the day. 

Perfect. She wasn’t about to admit it to him, but his handiship was perfect.

“This is the part where any one with common manners might say thank you,” he muses, condescending as ever as he picks up the second stick and begins to twirl it, marking his knuckles in the faintest grey. 

Against her better judgment, her eyes find his as she all but whispers, “Thank you.” 

It’s more sincere than she had meant. And she can’t understand it herself, but it feels like she’s thanking him for far more than just the charcoal. That quiet voice inside of her teems, preening as she continues to look him in his eyes. Those waves of deja vu are beckoning at her shore again, but this time, she’s almost fearful to dip her toes back in. It had hurt badly enough when their tadpoles connected – she doesn’t know what would happen if she succumbed to that feeling of knowing him, recognizing this scene from what feels like another life. 

What had he done for her in past lives that warranted thanking him so sincerely? What whispers of forgotten memories between them warranted the firm instruction of saving him? 

As she pulls herself away from the useless pondering, she takes note of Astarion’s reaction. He very clearly hadn’t expected her to actually thank him. The shock ripples across his features, he leans back as though she might have smacked him with her genuine words. For just a moment, hard garnet softens and she’s once more reminded of friendship. She could be friends with him; she could be friends with all of them, but especially him. 

Just as she’s leaning into the idea, he’s clearly running from it.

“So, we’re resting here for the night?” he asks in faux nonchalance, effectively changing the subject, “Officially turning in?” 

I could be your friend, but only if you let me in, it seems. 

She’s not blind. She knows pressing the topic any further would probably end badly for the two of them. “Yes. And if all goes to plan, this will be our permanent camp. For however long our journey requires, of course.” 

He’s quiet as he focuses his attention back on the charcoal pencil he had been fiddling with, and with quick movements, he takes to whittling it down just as he had the first one. This time, however, he’s slower. As though he’s begging for the action to fill the awkward silence so he won’t have to. 

“Why do you ask?” This, she decides, she can press on. She can push him on this topic, “Never slept in the woods before?” 

She doesn’t know why she expects him to keep up a callous act. Expects to be met with resistance and a snarky attitude. But no such thing is on display as he swipes at the charcoal one final time with his blade before he looks up at her, and he’s still softened. Churning ever so faintly, like the calmest of oceans. She knows there’s dangerous depths beyond, a certain darkness she only sees the shadow of behind the look he gives her, but the surface appears so inviting for the time being. Cool, refreshing, reflecting speckles of moonlight in his eyes. 

“It’s all a little... New to me, I admit,” his voice is something softer than usual. Soft, soft, soft. Why does she recognize that softness inside of him so easily? She picks up the brief shrug of his shoulders before he continues, offering her more than she could have asked for, “The night usually means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is, uh…. A little novel.” 

She’s completely bewitched through the explanation. Drinking in every movement, the way he speaks with his hands, the fluctuations in his tone. He dives back into that usual charming voice when he mentions the taverns – his tone brims with youth as his face softens and he says his final three words. The lift of his brows, the nerves of the small smile he pushes forward; she clings to every bit of it, in a damning effort to piece together who exactly the man in front of her was. 

He’s pretty. If she’s learned nothing else, it’s that he’s pretty. The kind of pretty that would ruin her if she wasn’t more careful. 

The kind of pretty that might have already ruined her, if that mysterious letter was any sort of clue. 

“You should try,” she doesn’t know why she’s whispering, but she is. Mostly everyone has retreated to their own spaces, their own bedrolls. They’re the only two left within the vicinity of the fire dying out in the middle of the camp, “Rest, I mean. We’ll need it for whatever tomorrow may bring.” 

He’s quick to shake his head, holding out that second pencil to her finally. It’s as well carved as the first one, perfect for the purpose she had for them, “Oh, no. I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through, to process this.”

As she takes the pencil, adding it beside the first on the stone, she knows there's a catch yet to be revealed in his words. “Are you sure? I don’t mind taking the first watch.” 

It had been an unspoken agreement – there would always be someone awake, keeping safe eyes on the camp as others rested. 

“I’m positive. Actually, I insist that you rest. I’ll keep watch instead.” 

She shouldn’t trust him. She shouldn’t so willingly put her faith in some random pale elf to keep her safe in her sleep. 

And yet, she does. 

Her logical thinking and her instinctive reactions don’t align. They never seem to do so thus far in her journey, especially with him. It’s more than just the letter reminding her to save him; there’s a twisting in his gut, a burning in the back of her mind, as if she’s known him far longer than the day has been. As if their time together transgresses far beyond the mere hours they’ve been acquainted. She trusts him ardently – to a dangerous level. She can recognize it, but she can do nothing about it. The feeling surely can’t be mutual. Her gut is surely leading her wrong. 

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for it.” 

There are those two little words again, slipping off her tongue with an earnesty that rattles them both to their cores. At least this time, she hardly looks him in his eyes as she says it. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he covers up any shock with theatrics, offering a small bow to her, “Sweet dreams.” 

Her dreams are anything but sweet that night. But they do distract her just enough that she never notices the shadow strangely similar to his stature, sneaking out the edges of camp, slinking off into the woods without a sound.

[roetrolls]

(woagh! we did it again!! it's a collab between me and Chase @sasster! Look, there's a google doc!)

Appraisal

Emarra is still drunk on attention when he returns to his trailer, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill of a crowd. He expects Sylvie will follow him here soon enough, his little sprite always so eager for his praise after a successful show. 

He’s already imagining what he’ll say to her, turning the words over in his mind as he busies himself removing his jacket and pushes past the beaded curtains into his home.

“Yumeno.”

He freezes. Now there’s a voice that will kill a mood.

Ever the performer. Emarra is quick to reel himself in, shocked expression melting into a smile tight enough to rival Faithful.

“General.”

An unscheduled visit from the Marauder rarely spells good news, but retiring for the morning to find the man waiting in your home? That’s a level of horror all its own. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Zerkev has already made himself comfortable–if such a word can even be used to describe such a straight-laced troll–in the seat by the window, gaze hard and stern. 

“Sit.”

It is always cumbersome dealing with fuchsias that feel they can just walk into his home and tell him what to do. Resentment leaves a sick taste in the back of his mouth as he takes a seat opposite to the general.

“There’s no chance that what you’re here to talk about could have been a text message, I’m guessing.”

Zerkev’s expression tightens, not one for jokes on a good day, let alone on one where he is already beyond the threshold of having patience for the man.

“Why have you not found Mallum yet?”

Well, of course that’s what this is about. What else would The Marauder be making home visits for? There are so many ways Emarra can answer that question too, and they all flash in his mind one after the other.

Chiefly, he has been busy with his circus, and also it isn’t his job to play Pravus line babysitter.

Neither of these answers, however, would be met with the most pleasant of responses, so he swallows them down with the taste of resentment that now coats his throat.

“He’s in the company of professionals. You know that.”

“I was under the impression that you were a professional, Yumeno.”

“Gracious and the Roatus kid can’t find him either,” by the grace of God, he manages to swallow the indignance that tries so hard to claw its way out. “It’s going to take me some more time.”

“More time?”

Something snaps behind the general’s eye, perhaps his last thread of patience, something that somehow does not influence the rest of his expression.

Instead, Zerkev sits there stone-faced.

“Just a little patience, I’ll find him.”

“Mm,” comes the muted response. The seadweller stares a moment longer, gaze boring into Emarra with a scrutiny so intense he has to suppress the urge to shift in his seat. “Would you say you’ve been distracted from this task?”

Emarra all but scoffs at the accusation. Was he expected to put his entire life on hold until the kid was found? That’s a ridiculous idea, even for someone as work-focused as the Marauder.

“No,” he answers shortly, stopping himself before anything more insulting can tumble from his mouth.

Zerkev raises an eyebrow. “That so? I’d say otherwise, personally.”

He reaches into the jacket of his uniform to withdraw a phone. It’s almost comical how out of place the thing seems in his hand, but Emarra is in no mood for humor.

After a few seconds, Zerkev brandishes the screen, playing a short, looping clip of a shadow unfurling along someone’s wall. 

The Ringleader feels a brief twinge of satisfaction as he makes note of the tiger-shaped nightlight by the bed, one corner of his mouth twitching as if to smile.

Then he squares his jaw, lifting a blank gaze back to his uninvited guest.

“What am I meant to be looking at here?”

The general cocks his head. “You tell me.”

“It’s a recording on your phone, why would I have that information?”

With a nod, Zerkev pockets the device once more and leans forward on his knees, fingers laced together. He pauses a moment, expression deceptively placid, before answering. 

“I know you’ve more sense than to lie to my face.”

The statement, simple as it is, is easy to identify as a thinly veiled threat. Emarra, having worked with the general long enough to detect that threat a mile away, leans back into his chair as if trying to put some more distance between himself and the fuchsia. It takes some effort to conceal the panic working hard to bubble up through his chest, but he manages even then to keep his gaze level.

”Then you should know that I am not lying, to your face or otherwise.”

Zerkev purses his lips, and though his expression does not shift to betray him, he does possess the uncanny ability of letting his disappointment and irritation poison the atmosphere of the room without such dramatic shifts. 

The Ringleader very briefly finds his thoughts drifting back to the other’s missing son. Yeah, I’d run away too if this guy raised and was looking for me, no question. Poor thing must’ve had an intolerable adolescence.

Locked in a terrible staring contest with his boss, Emarra then takes the opportunity to sift through a mental list of his choice in extracurricular activities up to this point. He risks being skinned alive if he admits how lax he has actually been about finding Mallum in the many perigees that have passed between now and his being given the assignment.

He risks a fate worse than that if he so much as breathes word about harassing that damn runaway of his own in the meantime.

Zerkev clears his throat, the time limit on his second chance at honesty clearly reaching its end.

“Are you telling me that you think every time something goes bump in the day that it will have something to do with me? Come on. Be real, Zerkev. I have a life, you know.”

A disappointed click of the tongue is his only response. Is he really tsk-ing him right now? Beneath his indignation, an invisible fist constricts around Emarra’s lungs, abated only slightly by the thin shred of hope that spawns in him as the seadweller rises to his feet.

Did that actually work?

Zerkev fiddles with his cufflink and hefts a weary sigh, staring ahead of himself as if lost in thought.

“Yumeno?”

For fuck’s sake, would he just go already? “Yes?”

Without warning, the Marauder’s hand shoots out to grasp Emarra by the hair, yanking him from his chair by the scalp. The motion wrenches a pitiful yelp from his lips, palms grasping at his assailant’s wrist in an effort to relieve the pain.

“I thought I told you not to lie to me, son.”

His voice, perfectly level, belies no hint of anger. He might as well be asking about the weather for all his tone suggests.

“Zerkev–” 

The grip on his hair, already ironclad, grows tighter. 

“General Pravus, sir,” Emarra corrects himself breathlessly, a nervous chuckle catching in his throat. It would be unwise to double down he thinks, but… Ah, screw it. He’s a carnie at heart. Honesty has never been his virtue. “I have a show to run. You really think I’m wasting my precious time on pointless games?”

Zerkev regards him carefully, lips pressed into a line. The silence hangs over them like lead, suffocating enough to prompt another anxious plea from the clown.

“You know how Maelia treats me! Why would I go looking for trouble under his nose?”

“Hm.” The general blinks slowly, fingers still wound tightly in the purpleblood’s hair. “I suppose you wouldn’t, would you?”

Emarra nods the best he can with his head practically glued to the man’s hand, eyes blown wide. “Exactly! I–”

“Yumeno.”

“Sir?” He swallows, choking down his pride with some hope of warding off the venom that lurks behind that stony expression.

“Did I tell you that was Drakon’s hive?”

Emarra’s stomach drops like a stone, the panic he’s been working so hard to suppress now lurching to the surface, plain as day on his face. Zerkev’s expression is unflinching, much like the tight and fearsome grip he maintains on the Ringleader’s hair. 

A reply is hard to come by under that icy glare, but eventually the clown manages to find his voice.

“Wh-Why else would you be so upset?” he stammers, choking on his own desperation. “Everyone knows how you get about your privacy.”

The way Zerkev’s lip twitches, it’s clear that was not the answer he wanted.

“My livin’ with Drakon is public knowledge now, is it?” His tone, low before, turns downright dangerous. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ripped Emarra’s hair right out of his scalp.

Past the edges of his own hubris, the purpleblood can see that he is being given one final chance to come clean. As much as he hates the man, he can’t deny that the Marauder’s patience is astounding. Any other fish would have flown off the handle ages ago.

He swallows, fingers still clasped around the general’s assaulting wrist, and selects his next words with care.

“I made a mistake,” he says slowly, heart lodged in his throat.

“A mistake?” Zerkev echoes incredulously, almost amused at his audacity.

“A poor choice.”

“I’ll say. Unless you wanna tell me spyin’ on my home was a necessary part of the process?”

“I… I was just messing with the kid,” Emarra finally admits, voice small.

“Instead of lookin’ for mine.”

“Both! I was doing both! You couldn’t have expected me to drop my entire life for you!”

Zerkev exhales slowly, something between a growl and a sigh. It’s all the warning Emarra gets before the general throws his arm to fling him face-first into the wall, the ache in his scalp quickly replaced by a new searing pain and the scent of blood in his nose. He loses his footing in the toss and crumples to the floor in a heap, hissing quietly.

Before he has the chance to catch his bearings, the Ringleader feels a cold-toed boot upon his neck.

“I’d say I’m a reasonable man, Yumeno, wouldn’t you?” He grinds his shoe into the base of Emarra’s skull before easing up, not waiting for an answer. “So here’s what I think sounds reasonable.”

Still somewhat dazed, he can only grimace in response as Zerkev grabs him by the collar and hoists him to his feet to slam his back against the wall.

“You’re gonna get one warning. Keep that greasy nose out of my business. Leave my mate and his family alone. And find my goddamned son. Are we understood?”

Emarra squares his jaw and nods.

“Are we understood?”

His teeth are as good as dust with how hard he grits them. “Yes, sir.”

Zerkev regards him carefully, eyes flitting across his face as he, perhaps, tries to gauge the man’s sincerity. Emarra can’t help but bristle. Can’t he let him go already? What more does he fucking want?

The general frowns, evidently displeased by whatever attitude he can still detect on his underling’s face. The clown prickles under his scrutiny, for once facing down a type of attention he would sooner escape. Then, all at once, that attention is drawn elsewhere, to the small voice that sounds beyond the room’s beaded entrance. 

“Emarra!”

Though Zerkev doesn’t release the purpleblood’s collar, his grip loosens considerably, just in time for Sylvie’s innocent, four-eyed face to push its way into the scene. Those eyes become saucers when they land on the Marauder, the woman’s delicate features overtaken by fear.

“General Pravus,” she squeaks, gaze darting between him and her ringmaster.

Zerkev nods in greeting, venom all but evaporated, and Emarra thanks the Messiahs for his sprite’s timely arrival.

“I-I, um…” She shoots him another anxious glance, hand unconsciously drifting toward her own nose as she spies the blood leaking from his. “I didn’t know you would have… company.”

“I was just leavin’,” the general answers, though he makes no move to do so.

Another silence descends on the trailer, with Zerkev’s pensive gaze now settled squarely on the mutant. Emarra can practically see the gears turning in his head, and he only wishes it could come as a surprise when the man opens his mouth again.

“I just got one more thing to square away ‘fore I go. Miss Selari, hon, would you mind steppin’ outside a minute? Won’t be long.”

Sylvie hesitates, again looking to the clown. With an agitated grimace, he sighs and gives her a nod. The sooner they can get this over with, the better.

His approval eases her enough to acquiesce, and soon enough she is padding back out on light and silent feet, the gentle rattle of beads all that announces her departure. The moment that faint click subsides, Zerkev’s attention is back on Emarra.

“She’s sweeter than you deserve.”

The Ringleader balks at him, the tameness of the insult somehow a bigger slap than his previous scathing reprimands. He doesn’t care what the bastard thinks of him, obviously, but it’s not the type of comment he expects during this kind of performance review.

“How long’s it been now? That you’ve had her?”

“This is what you’re hanging around to talk about?”

Evidently, the question was rhetorical, as Emarra’s non-answer glances ineffectually off the general’s chest. He finally releases him and steps away, at least, allowing the clown some room to breathe while he prepares to prattle on.

“Mallum’s always been a bright kid, you know. Wicked bright. Bit more self control and he’d be unstoppable.”

“Uh-huh,” the purpleblood responds, his irritation palpable.

“He had a hard time with schoolfeeding. Lacked discipline, always got distracted with other things. Ain’t his fault– We’re a species built on base impulse. Same reason we don’t rear our own young.”

What the fuck is he even talking about right now?

“Most trolls lack the ability to self-regulate. We found with Mallum… It sometimes helped to remove the distractions for him. He hated me for it, ‘course, but it did him good in the end.”

“I’ll remember that next time I decide to become a lusus,” Emarra deadpans, wiping the blood from his nose.

Zerkev locks eyes with him, placid expression once again turning grave.

“Yumeno. The next time you force me out here to remind you of your job, I’m taking Miss Selari back with me.”

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Timeline: Batman

google doc / ao3

This is my best attempt at a post-crisis timeline based on age-- specifically Bruce’s age every time he adopted and/or met one of his children. 

List of events:

Bruce’s parents die

Bruce becomes Batman

Dick’s parents die

Dick becomes Robin

Jason becomes Robin and is adopted

Jason dies

Tim becomes Robin

Cass appears

Dick is adopted

Tim is adopted

Cass is adopted

Damian becomes Robin

I’ll be citing my work by issue and panel. This isn’t my most organized work, and I don’t know how well tumblr will let me translate it, so I do recommend the google doc. I imagine the image quality here won’t be great. 

Notes:

This is a post-crisis timeline (1986-2011). I’ll be referencing a few pre-crisis panels, but I won’t be touching the New 52 or anything after it. That’s a different game of ball with its own, extremely bad, timeline.

Crisis on Infinite Earths is a 1985-1986 series that rebooted the DC timeline and altered some backstories, including Jason’s. Pre-crisis, his backstory was almost identical to Dick’s. Post-crisis, he changed to the “steal the wheels off the Batmobile” origin. Anything written before 1986 is a weak source for my purposes. 

My original question centered around Bruce’s age through the process of meeting and acquiring his children. In this timeline, those children are (1) Dick Grayson, (2) Jason Todd, (3) Cassandra Cain, (4) Tim Drake, and (5) Damian Wayne. I was envisioning an interview where the kids explain their family timeline to outsiders. I did not anticipate the project taking this long. 

We’re talking about 72 years of content here, which means decades of contradiction, conflation, and rewrites. I’m pretty satisfied with my work product, but please understand that there are no perfect answers. I’m going to cite my sources, and I’ll do my best to explain why I chose those sources specifically, but it’s pretty likely that for every panel I pull, there will be others with different numbers. We’re all going to have to live with that. 

Event timeline

*I’m defining Jason’s age by the time elapsed since his birth, but you could make an argument for using time he has been alive, which is, of course, different. That’s why the parentheses are there. 

Age differences

As Robin

----------

Bruce’s parents die

Pretty consistently, Bruce is written as eight years old the night his parents died. 

Detective Comics #0 (1994)

This is a zero issue where Bruce thinks back on his origin story. It was written long after Crisis on Infinite Earths (1986), and I tend to give a lot of weight to ages written in summaries of past plot lines, my reasoning being that it’s easier to be consistent in one issue than it is to be consistent through a month to month story. 

Bruce first appeared as an adult in Detective Comics #27 (1939), and the Waynes were already dead at that point, so flashbacks are the only available material anyway. 

Gotham Knights #6 (2000)

The text is Hugo Strange talking about Bruce, and the image is Tim and Dick playing at Wayne Enterprises. 

I’ll take a second here to note that I did find at least one alternate age for Bruce— in Superman/Batman Secret Files & Origins (2003), Bruce was 10 when his parents died. I’m disregarding that in favor of the stronger 8 year old timeline, especially in light of Batman #404 (1987).

Batman #404 is the beginning of Batman: Year One, which was explicitly written to clarify the Batman timeline post-crisis, and it’s the basis of most of my calculations for Bruce and Dick’s ages.

----------

Bruce becomes Batman

According to Year One, Bruce was 26 years old when he became Batman. I’m using his age at his parents’ deaths, his age when he returned to Gotham, and his 18 year timeline.

Batman #404 puts Bruce at age 25 when he returned to Gotham in January. 

Batman #404 (1987)

Bruce gives his dramatic, “Yes, Father, I will become a bat,” line in March. In the same scene, he says that it has been 18 years since his parents’ deaths. Knowing that they died when Bruce was eight, that puts Bruce at 26 years old the day he became Batman, which makes sense considering Bruce’s birthday is usually set at February 19th. 

He was 25 in January, turned 26 in February, and became Batman at 26, 18 years after his parents’ death. 

Batman #404 (1987)

Post-crisis, DC built timelines off the “Year” model. Year One is Batman’s beginning, and events after that are measured by how far away they are from the year Bruce became Batman. I’ll be using the Year model for Dick’s life events next. 

----------

Dick’s parents die

The Graysons died in Year Two. Using the Year Model, Dick was 12 when his parents died, and Bruce was 37. 

Year timelines appear a fair amount, especially in issues titled “Secret Files & Origins.” I pulled this bit from Batman Secret Files & Origins (1997) because it was the easiest to screenshot. 

Batman Secret Files & Origins (1997)

Year Two would place Bruce at 27 years old. I’m calculating Dick’s age backwards, based on him being 13 years old during Year Three. 

Batman Secret Files & Origins (1997) 

----------

Dick becomes Robin

Dick became Robin in Year Three, when he was 13 years old and Bruce was 28. I’m using two different issues to calculate the number. 

Batman #441 (1989)

Batman #441 is from Tim’s introduction story. It takes place “months” after Jason’s death. We’ll get to that part. In Batman #441, Tim asked Dick to be Robin again in order to help Bruce, who was visibly unstable after Jason’s death. Dick says that he can’t go back to being Robin, just like he can’t go back to being 13 years old. The strong implication there is that Dick became Robin at 13, which corresponds to Dick’s statements in Batman #416 (1988). 

In Batman #416, Dick as Nightwing returns to confront Bruce about Jason becoming Robin. He says that he was Robin for six years, and he stopped being Robin at 19.

Batman #416 (1988)

If Dick stopped being Robin at 19, after 6 years, that would put him at 13 when he debuted as Robin, the same number from Batman #441 (1989).

Dick was 13 during Year Three, so 12 during Year Two, the year his parents died. Those numbers answer the first bit of my original question. I wanted to know how old Dick and Bruce were when Dick became his child. It’s a bit more of a complicated question for Dick, since he was originally Bruce’s ward, then adopted as an adult. 

Based on the timeline so far, Dick became Bruce’s ward at 12 years old, while Bruce was 27.  

----------

Jason becomes Robin and is adopted

As previously discussed (see Notes), Jason’s timeline is complicated by Crisis on Infinite Earths (1985-1986). Pre-crisis, Jason first appeared in Batman #336 (1983) as a former circus acrobat very similar to Dick.

Jason’s origin story reboots at Batman #408 (1987), which describes the switch-off between Dick and Jason. I’m building a lot of my timeline off of that issue. At the beginning, Dick gets shot by the Joker, and as Bruce carries him away, the media ask if Robin is dead. Dick isn’t dead, but back at the manor, Bruce decides to retire Robin as a role, based on the idea that crimefighting is too dangerous for a child. 

Batman #408 (1987)

This version is more or less from Bruce’s point of view, but there’s a contrasting version from Dick’s point of view later, in Batman #416 (1987). That one has a significantly different tone, and I already cited it once (page 13) because Dick talks about his age and the amount of time he was Robin.  

Batman #408 (1987)

The second part of the issue takes place “weeks” later. Bruce goes to Crime Alley to mourn his parents on the anniversary of their death. He comes back to find that somebody stole the wheels off the Batmobile. The somebody was Jason, and by the end of Batman #409 (1987), Bruce is calling Jason “Robin.”

Batman #408 (1987) seems to divide Dick’s departure and Jason’s introduction by only “weeks,” in the post-crisis reboot. Dick’s version of the story in Batman #416 (1987) is much less charitable to Bruce— instead of ending on a panel of Bruce smiling, it shows the aftermath of Dick in tears as Bruce walks away. Dick goes on to describe leaving the house, going to college for a semester, then dropping out. According to Dick, Bruce didn’t even say goodbye. 

Batman #416 (1987)

I don’t think the stories are contradictory; they’re just different experiences of the same events, separated by only eight issues. Dick tells us that he was 19 when he left Wayne Manor, and Bruce chooses his new Robin “weeks” later. 

As a summary, we know that Bruce’s parents died when he was eight, and that 18 years passed before he became Batman at 26. One year later, Dick’s parents died while Bruce was 27. One year after that, Dick became Robin at the age of 13. From those facts, Bruce is 15 years older than Dick. 

All of my calculations of Bruce’s age are based off of the age gap between him and Dick. Dick was 19 when Jason became Robin, so we know that at that time, Bruce was 34. We also know that at that time, Jason was 12. 

I can’t show a source for that number because it appears on the letter page of Batman #408 (1987), Jason’s introduction.

Even after a significant amount of investigation, I can’t find a copy of the letter page, but it’s cited by enough secondary sources for me to be comfortable using it. That issue is specifically written to show Jason’s origin, so it makes sense that it would contain Jason’s age at inception, even if the number wasn’t in the actual exposition. 

From Jason being 12, we can establish a seven-year age gap between Jason and Dick, who was 19 at the time. Now we know Bruce, Dick, and Jason’s ages, and the age differences between them.

Back to my original question— when did Bruce acquire Jason? We know that Bruce was 34 when Jason became his ward, and Jason was 12. The next question, however, is when did Bruce adopt Jason? On this one, I’m making an educated guess. 

Again we have to differentiate between pre-crisis and post-crisis timelines. Pre-crisis, there’s a full storyline about the fact that Bruce did not adopt Jason, although not for lack of trying. In Batman #374 (1984), the Child Welfare Bureau investigates Bruce when it notices that Bruce has not adopted Jason— and is not even, in fact, his legal guardian. 

Batman #374 (1984)

The rest of the storyline is about Jason’s custody. A villain named Natalia Knight (Nocturna) adopts Jason in an attempt to get Bruce to marry her in order to become Jason’s father. In the court scene in Batman #377 (1984), Bruce says that he filed to adopt Jason sometime beforehand, although it’s unclear to me whether he means he filed between those issues or the CWB documents were incomplete.

Natalia does adopt Jason in Batman #378 (1984), and he briefly lives with her before returning to Wayne Manor in Batman #381 (1985), directly before the reboot. 

I’m including all of that for two reasons: first, I do think it’s important to clarify both this version and the post-crisis version I’m about to address. Second, I spent years under the impression that Bruce adopted Jason pre-crisis because of one, well-known scene. 

Batman #377 (1984)

Batman #378 (1984)

Batman #381 (1985)

Donna Troy gets married in Tales of the Teen Titans #50 (1985). At the wedding, Bruce and Dick have a conversation about Jason and about their own relationship. A few of those panels get spread around because they contain what I would consider a defining moment between Dick and Bruce. 

I’m certainly not complaining about the amount of times I’ve seen the wedding conversation, but I think that, in regards to Jason, seeing just those panels has created a misconception.

Tales of the Teen Titans #50 (1985)

Without context, it looks, at least to me, like Dick is saying that Bruce has adopted Jason pre-crisis, which isn’t true. This issue takes place between the Natalia adoption in Batman #378 (1984) and Jason’s return to the manor in Batman #381 (1985), and the panels directly before the exchange make that clear. I just didn’t see those panels until I looked through the whole issue for this project. 

I’m reasonably certain that in the past, I publicly cited this issue as evidence of Jason’s adoption, and I was wrong about that. [Note: As it turns out, I was only partially wrong. See section Correction.]

Tales of the Teen Titans #50 (1985)

As we see, the wedding conversation is in the context of the Natalia adoption. With that cleared up, and with the pre-crisis timeline filled out, let’s move to post-crisis. 

In my brief read-through of Batman #404-427 (1987-1988), I didn’t find any direct references to Jason’s status. Those issues begin at the reboot and end at Jason’s death. However, Dick and Jason’s statements after the fact do tell us that post-crisis, Bruce did adopt Jason. 

In Batman #436 (1989), Dick returns to the manor in the direct aftermath of Jason’s death, and while he is there, he sees that Bruce removed any trace of Jason from the house. There aren’t any trophies in the Batcave, and there aren’t any pictures of Jason on the nightstand displaying Bruce’s family photos. 

Dick says that Jason was Bruce’s son.

Batman #436 (1989)

I think it’s fair to ask whether Dick is being literal here, because even if Bruce hadn’t legally adopted Jason, it would still be more than appropriate to call them father and son. I’m not going to place my opinion solely on this kind of statement, even if it does appear pretty regularly from 1988 to the end of the timeline.

Green Arrow/Black Canary #4 (2007)

We get a more definite answer later, during Tim’s first appearance. In Tim’s origin story, he deduces Batman and Robin’s secret identities after he sees footage of Robin doing a type of flip that only the Flying Graysons could do. Tim was at the circus the night Dick’s parents died, so he saw Dick do the flip there, then saw Dick become an orphan. 

Because Tim knew that Dick was the first Robin, he correctly identified Bruce as Batman and Jason as the second Robin. He tells Dick all of this in Batman #441 (1989).

Batman #441 (1989)

Tim does specifically use the word “adopts” here, and that’s good enough for me. The last part is guesswork— I don’t know for certain how old Jason and Bruce were when the adoption took place, but I’m electing to say Jason was 12, the same age as he was when he became Robin. 

I picked that number both out of convenience and because Tim seems to be putting Jason’s adoption and the second Robin’s appearance at around the same time. With that in mind, I think that Jason was 12 years old both when he became Robin and when Bruce adopted him. Using the age gap we already established, that would put Bruce at age 34. 

Circling back to my original question, Dick became Bruce’s ward when Dick was 12 and Bruce was 27. Jason became Bruce’s ward, then adoptive son when Jason was 12 and Bruce was 34. 

At this point in the timeline, Bruce is 34 with one former ward and one adopted son. 

----------

Correction 

A few days after I wrote my section about Jason’s appearance and adoption, I realized that I was missing a panel citation in my discussion of Jason’s death. The panel is from New Titan #55 (1989), and you’ll see me cite it when I talk about Jason’s death certificate. 

New Titans #55 (1989) is the issue where Dick, who is with the Teen Titans,  finds out about Jason’s death. While I was combing through the issue for the panels I wanted, I reread a scene I had completely forgotten about. Dick goes back to the manor to speak to Bruce, and it doesn’t go well.

New Titans #55 (1989)

I have three comments here. First, I do think this scene is inconsistent with the simultaneous story in the Batman title. In this version, Dick and Bruce have a very aggressive confrontation, but in Batman #436 (1989), Dick appears to be returning to the manor for the first time since Jason died, and there isn’t any reference to a prior fight. 

Putting that aside, Bruce does explicitly say that he adopted Jason, and that’s more, stronger verification of a post-crisis adoption. Lastly, it’s pretty clear that Bruce and Dick are talking about the wedding scene. 

I already explained that the wedding scene is pre-crisis, and in the original text, that conversation is about Bruce wanting to, but not being able to, adopt Jason. New Titans #55 (1989) carries the wedding scene into post-crisis canon, changing the language in the process. In this version, Bruce has adopted Jason. 

I was still wrong about the wedding scene because in the past, I used it as evidence of a pre-crisis adoption. It isn’t pre-crisis evidence, but it is, in a roundabout way, evidence of the post-crisis adoption. I wanted to clear that up before I move on to Jason’s death. 

----------

Jason dies

Jason’s death is by far the shakiest point on my timeline, but I’ve chosen to put him at 15 the day he died in Batman #427 (1988). 

I think it’s safe to say that Jason was either 14 or 15 when he died, and my basic conclusion is that running numbers doesn’t give me a definite answer. There’s a cop-out option based on an extraordinarily poor source, and I’m taking the cop-out. 

The general consensus seems to be that Jason was 15 at his death, citation to Jason’s death certificate. Jason’s death certificate appears in two different places, and I think most folks conflate the two. 

To my knowledge, the only copy of Jason’s death certificate in full appears in The Batman Files (2011), where it does list Jason’s age as 15. 

The Batman Files (2011)

Now there is a partial copy in Batman Annual #25 (2006), which I would argue is a very reliable reference when it comes to Jason. That issue is part of the Under the Red Hood story, the one where Jason returns to Gotham for the first time after his resurrection. In fact, the specific annual issue has a timeline for Jason’s events counting forward from his death. 

Here’s the problem: the issue doesn’t say his age at death. The partial copy of his death certificate looks like this. 

Batman Annual #25 (2006) 

I think that when most folks remember a death certificate, they think of this one, the one from a very important issue, instead of The Batman Files (2011) which, as noted, is a very bad source. 

I have three issues with The Batman Files (2011): the format, the publishing date, and the other information on the certificate. First, The Batman Files (2011) isn’t a comic book at all. It’s a commemorative book published in collaboration with DC in 2011. Now I don’t think that fact completely removes the book as a source, but it certainly damages its value as one. 

My problem with that date, 2011, is that it’s the year the New 52 premiered. I called it a commemorative book because it’s meant to be a look back at a fully complete timeline, a kind of “this is us saying goodbye” product. The date and format alone make me hesitant to cite the certificate, but on top of that, the certificate is inconsistent with prior canon. 

I am intimately familiar with retcons and conflicting numbers in the DC timeline. I made a point at the beginning of this paper to tell you that although this is my best attempt to make a cohesive timeline, assuming that I can carve out a cohesive timeline is fundamentally flawed. 

I’m not saying that a single contradictory number is enough to make me disregard a source. I am saying that in this particular conversation about an already suspect source, I’m going to take inconsistency into account. 

In New Titans #55 (1989), the issue from Corrections, Dick finds out about Jason’s death because a team member notices Jason’s status is set at “unknown.” Dick uses Bruce’s passcode to access restricted information, and he and the Titans see that Jason’s real status is “deceased.” 

The death certificate in The Batman Files (2011) marks Jason’s height at 4’6 and his age at 15. In contrast, Dick’s scene puts Jason at 5’4, and its only reference to Jason’s age is a very relatable question from Donna. “How old was he, anyway?”

New Titans #55 (1989)

There’s a substantial difference between the two heights, and I think it’s also worth noting that for a 15 year old American male, 4’6 is in the 0.1 height percentile. In the past, I and many others have tried to justify that height along the lines of Jason being malnourished or similarly afflicted. Personally, I liked the parallel between this height for Jason and Damian’s height at his own death in 2013, and I know I’ve talked about that in the past.

I’m not criticizing anyone for using the 4’6 number, but I do think the unlikelihood of a 15 year old that size is worth bringing up. 

In summary, The Batman Files (2011) is so bad of a source that I’m only willing to use it as a last resort. Unfortunately, it’s time for a last resort. 

I mentioned a timeline in Batman Annual #25 (2006) that counts forward from Jason’s death. I’m not going to use image cites here because they’re just isolated text boxes labeled either “six months later” or “one year later.”

Using that timeline, we know that Jason’s resurrection took place six months after his death. He spent one year in a coma, then one year on the street, then one year with the League of Assassins. Finally, he spent a nebulous time training before he returned to Gotham. 

We know that Jason was gone for a minimum of three and a half years, then whatever time “training” includes. Personally, I’m applying my best attempt at comic logic to say he was missing for somewhere between three and four years. 

To understand the next bit, I need to point out that from Jason’s death on, I’m going to be using Tim’s age to track time in the same way I’ve been using Dick’s so far. 

As a reminder, I know what age Bruce was when Dick became Robin (28), and I know Dick’s age at the same point (13), so I know there’s a 15 year age difference. As I track Dick’s age through the timeline, I add 15 to get Bruce’s. 

In the same way, I know what age Dick was when Jason became Robin (19), and I know Jason’s age at the same point (12), so I know there’s a 7 year age difference. I can use that number ongoing. 

I know that Tim was 13 when he made his first appearance as Robin, and I’ll get into that in the next section. After that, I’m placing Dick, Tim, and Cass’s adoptions based on Tim’s age. 

To do that, I need to know how much older Dick is than Tim, and I can only get that by knowing Jason’s age at his death, sort of. 

How long was Jason Robin? If I had that information, I could establish Jason’s age by counting up from 12, the age when he became Robin, then establish Tim’s age from there.  

I can’t really answer that question. There is a panel from Batman #436 where Dick, apparently in his first time at the manor since Jason’s death says the following. 

Batman #436 (1989)

My instinctual interpretation is it’s been two years since he stopped being Robin at 19, making Dick 21 and Jason 14. In my opinion, that’s straightforward plain language, but it seems like I’m in the minority on that one, and most folks read it as Dick saying it’s been two years since he was last at the manor. We know from Batman #416 (1988) that Dick’s last visit to the manor was 18 months after Dick left home. 

Batman #136 (1988)

I think the most honest thing to say is that Jason was Robin for an indeterminate amount of time that was somewhere between two and three years. I don’t know which number is closer. I also, if you remember, think that Jason was gone from Gotham for somewhere between three and four years, but I don’t know where in that range the real number is. 

Here’s why absolutely nothing I’ve said in the past seven pages matters: I need to build my timeline based on the age gap between Jason and Tim. 

I don’t know how old Tim was when Jason died. 

I know how old Tim was at his first appearance as Robin, and that’s a different number. 

We’ll finish this conversation in a moment.

----------

Tim becomes Robin

We begin, thankfully, with a straightforward fact. Tim’s first storyline spans Batman #440-442 (1989). The arc is called A Lonely Place of Dying, and we already talked about it. Tim, having watched Batman and Robin from the shadows for years, comes forwards in the aftermath of Jason’s death in an attempt to convince Dick to become Robin for a second time.

Batman #441 (1989)

We know that Tim was 13 years old at the time, but I do need to clarify exactly what time that was— an indeterminate amount of time after Jason’s death. 

The word that pops up a couple of time in Tim’s first arc is “months,” from Tim and Two-Face. How many months? Who’s to say. 

Batman #442 (1989)

So, from the top. We know that Bruce was eight when his parents died, 26 when he became Batman, 27 when he met Dick, 28 when Dick became Robin, and 34 when he met Jason.

Dick was 12 when he met Bruce, 13 when he became Robin, 19 when he left home and Jason became Robin. 

Jason was 12 when he became Robin.

Bruce is 15 years older than Dick. Bruce is 22 years older than Jason. 

Dick is 7 years older than Jason.

How long was Jason Robin? Unknown, but somewhere between two and three years. At that point, he died. “Months” after that, Tim was 13. 

Here, we need to acknowledge that Jason could have been either 14 or 15 at his death, and at the same time, Tim was either 12 or 13. We need to know how far they are apart to calculate Tim’s age in relation to Jason, Dick, and Bruce— ongoing, we will always know exactly how old Tim is, so (if we know how far apart Jason and Tim are) we will always know Bruce, Dick, and Jason’s age from there. 

How much older than Tim is Jason? Somewhere between one and three years, I guess, but I can’t really go beyond a well-researched guess. In my opinion, there isn’t a straightforward answer for this one.

Having presented my facts, here is my conclusion. Jason was 15 when he died. At the same time, Tim was 13. They are two years apart. 

Why? To begin, I’m more comfortable using the number we already have for Tim, 13, than I am dropping him to 12 on the mere possibility that he could have been 12. 

Second, even though The Batman Files (2011) is a terrible source, it does at least sort of indicate that the official DC position is a Jason who was 15 years old at his death. 

Third, visually speaking, Jason looks closer to 15 than 14 at his death. Is that good evidence? No, absolutely not. Comic book art is definitionally variable, but I am going to pull a few panels for you to look over. 

Batman #427 (1988)

Finally, I feel that Jason and Tim are, in later works, treated as if they are different ages. I’m not going to go into much detail on that one because it is purely a personal reaction, but I would refer to Teen Titans #29 (2005) as an example. That issue has Jason and Tim’s first meeting, after Jason comes to the tower specifically to attack Tim. 

Teen Titans #27 (2005)

Another well-known issue to check out is Teen Titans #47 (2007).

My basic position is that there are so many ways, all uncertain, to slice Jason and Tim’s ages that I can take my pick. I chose the ones that most closely mirror later canon, fall most squarely into the possible range, and feel the most intuitively right. 

They also have the benefit of simplicity, which was very much a factor. 

Don’t agree with me? Fair enough. I think I’ve given you enough information to make an educated judgment, and I’ve also gone ahead and made a timeline in the alternative. In this one, Jason was 14 at death, and he and Tim are only one year apart. 

----------

In the Alternative

----------

Cass appears

Having progressed beyond Jason and Tim’s age gap, we reenter simple canon. I hope you’re as pleased as I am. 

Cass was 17 years old at her first appearance, which we can establish easily based on two different issues. Cass first appears in Batman #567 (1999), during an arc called No Man’s Land. At the time, she is working for Barbara Gordon in the aftermath of an earthquake that destroyed most of Gotham. We learn Cass’s backstory through that issue. 

Cass’s biological father is David Cain, a villain, who raised Cass in isolation, never exposing her to a verbal language or allowing any kind of socialization. By comic book logic, her upbringing gave her a near-superhuman ability to understand and anticipate physical actions, as those actions are her only form of communication. 

Cain trained her as a child assassin, then took her to her first kill. Cass murdered a man and experienced, through his body language, the pain he felt at his death. Immediately afterward, she ran away from her father.

Batgirl #62 (2005)

We know that Cass was eight years old when she killed and ran. We also know that her first appearance in Gotham was nine years after she ran, thanks to Barbara Gordon’s file. 

Batgirl #1 (2000)

Simple enough. She was 17. How old was everybody else? We find out from Tim’s timeline. 

This next bit will come up a few times. We know that Tim was 15 from at least 1993 to 2003, established by three different issues. We know from Detective Comics #668 (1993) that Tim was 15 during Knightquest, the arc where Jean-Paul Valley was briefly Batman. Barbara tells us in 2002 that Tim is still 15, and Tim turns 16 on-panel in 2003. 

In Knightquest, Tim gets his driver’s license early, at age 15, because Jack Drake is in a wheelchair. I suppose the wording here is ambiguous on a technicality, but I don’t think there’s any significant argument against Tim being 15; if he was only 14, the language would be different.  

Detective Comics #668 (1993)

Next, in Batgirl #24 (2002), Barbara says she’s “sending a 15 year old” as she reaches for Tim’s com line.

Batgirl #24 (2002)

We could stop here for Cassandra’s appearance, since that happened in 1999, between the 1993 issue and the 2002 reference. For completion’s sake, however, let’s note that Robin #116 (2003) is about Tim’s 16th birthday. He forgets about it, so his step-mother throws a surprise party. 

Robin #116 (2003)

Okay, so Tim was 15 when Cass appeared at age 17. That puts Bruce at 39, Dick at 24, and Jason at 17 if you’re counting by years elapsed since his birth. 

Bruce met his daughter when he was 39 and she was 17, in reference to my original question. Cass is 22 years younger than Bruce, seven years younger than Dick, the same age as Jason, and two years older than Tim. 

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Dick is adopted

This one, having already established Tim’s timeline, is very simple. Dick was adopted in Gotham Knights #17 (2001).

Gotham Knights #17 (2001)

Again, Tim was 15 from 1993 to 2003, and 2001 falls within that range. Tim was 15, which makes Dick 24 and Bruce 39. 

At this point in the timeline, Bruce, a 39 year old, has two adopted children, one of whom is deceased as far as Bruce is concerned. His adopted children are (17) and 24. He has already met two of his future children, Cass and Tim. 

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This is PART ONE. I’ll reblog Part Two onto this post when I wake up, which should be around the same time this posts. 

[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #3 (request)

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

SPOILER WARNING: Don't read if you haven't finished Step 3!

Your insides bubbled with excitement as the car neared the cabin nestled deeply in the forest. The fresh blanket of snow was nearly blinding in the bright morning sun. You looked over to your driver, Cove, who wore a focused scowl.

Cove: We made it. I can’t believe we made it.

Y/N: Isn’t it gorgeous? There is so much SNOW.

Cove smiled at you with apprehension. This trip was a special one for many reasons. You were both freshly 19, so it was your first holiday together as independent adults. On that note, it was also your first holiday away from your families. You felt more down about that than Cove did. His main gripe was the snow, and it was unmistakable in his expression. Cove parked the car in the designated snowless space. You both stepped out, Cove with a little less enthusiasm than you did.

Cove: Snow, snow, and more snow.

The cabin was glowing and decked out in beautiful Christmas decorations. An intermingling of garland and lights hung across the roof. More garland and Christmas baubles framed the frosted windows. Oversized candy canes lined the pathway up to the porch. The wreath on the front door was massive. It hung proudly with a cute snowman proclaiming “Let it Snow!”

Cove: The owners didn’t hold back out here. It’s impressive.

Mesmerized, you could only nod. The online advertisement described the cabin as a pre-decorated Christmas escape. The images you showed Cove online were spectacular, but they did not do justice to the real thing.

Not wanting to stand outside any longer, Cove moved to the trunk and began unloading the luggage. Cove first extracted a suitcase that he claimed was not filled entirely with gifts for you. Your gift for Cove lived safely in your own suitcase, already wrapped and ready to go. He then removed both of your clothing-packed suitcases. You were proud of your ability to convince Cove to bring winter-appropriate clothing to this trip.

You helped Cove drag the luggage to the front door. The host messaged you the entrance code before your arrival. You punched it into the keypad which stood in place of a normal keyhole. 1-2-2-5. Clever.

You paused for dramatic effect, then slowly opened the door to reveal the inside. It looked like a Christmas bomb went off, in the best way possible. You squealed and bounded inside first, leaving Cove to the luggage.

The cabin was small and cozy. The kitchen and living area were open to each other. There was no bedroom, only a pull-out couch that sat comfortably in front of a fireplace. The only other doors in the cabin were for the bathroom and a storage closet.

The Christmas tree drew in your eyes first. You stepped closer to inspect it and inhale the sweet evergreen scent. The tree skirt was wide and inviting to colorful wrapped boxes. Cranberry and popcorn strands wrapped the tree from bottom to top. An assortment of ornaments littered the branches. You peered into one of the big red baubles and smiled at your distorted reflection. Finally, you tilted your head upwards to take in the tree topper— a stunning golden star.

You spun around excitedly to appreciate the rest of the decorations. There wasn’t a corner or window without winter greenery. Festive cushions sat on either side of the couch. Stockings hung by the chimney with care. A miniature village of joyful folk lived on a console table by the entrance. You turned to face Cove, who had just finished lugging everything inside by himself. He shut the door and smiled at you, happy that you were already having a magical time.

Y/N: I’m sorry, Cove. I got a little carried away with—

You halted your own sentence. Your gaze drew upward to the ceiling above Cove. A mistletoe hung delicately in the doorway. Cove followed your sight, twisting his head for a better view. You strode towards him before he could speak. You stared at him intently and wiggled one of your eyebrows. He met your gaze again, already blushing intensely.

Cove: It’s one of those...

His sentence trailed off as you stepped even closer and hushed him.

Y/N: Just kiss me, you big, beautiful dumbass.

Cove gulped hard. He gently took your face in his cold hands. You hoped the heat from your blushing face would warm them. He bent towards you as you stood on your toes to meet the kiss. Your lips danced together sweetly. You parted after a moment and stared into each other's eyes. Cove’s ocean blue eyes glistened and crinkled with the wide smile that spread across his face. You dove into a hug, wrapping your arms around his tall frame. He returned the hug enthusiastically.

Cove: Let’s get everything unpacked and unwind. I need to get that fireplace lit as soon as possible.

You agreed and helped Cove locate a suitable location for the luggage. He paused with his gift-laden suitcase in hand. Face lost in thought, Cove's grip tightened on the suitcase.

Y/N: Everything okay, Cove?

Cove: Today is Christmas Eve.

Y/N: That it is.

Cove: Presents go under the tree on Christmas Eve.

You chuckled at his observations, but allowed him to continue speaking. He brushed it off casually.

Cove: I want this to be special, Y/N. If I put the gifts under the tree now you’ll see them and start wondering what’s inside.

The concern in his tone was apparent. It was just like Cove to worry so deeply about something most people wouldn’t think about. You pondered for a moment.

Y/N: Wait for me to fall asleep tonight, then sneak them under the tree like the real Santa Claus.

Cove laughed at the implication of a “real” Santa Claus. You were glad to see his mood lighten. He hesitated, then set the suitcase behind the others, careful to conceal it. Perhaps in an attempt to block you from using your x-ray vision to see through the luggage. You thought it was ridiculous, but in the sweetest way. Satisfied with the arrangement, Cove slapped his hands against his legs.

Cove: Well, now what? What Christmas activities does Y/N have planned today?

Y/N: Let me just pull out my Christmas to-do list.

You spoke sarcastically with a twinkle in your eyes. Cove rolled his eyes lightheartedly and wandered to the fireplace. While he fiddled with it you sank heavily into the couch. With an enthused “Aha!” from Cove, the fireplace roared to life. It crackled pleasantly.

Cove turned around to smile at you sweetly. He patted the ground next to him. You got up and settled in next to Cove. He wrapped his arm around you and drew you in closer. You immediately appreciated the warmth from both Cove and the fireplace. You leaned on his shoulder.

You spent the rest of the morning watching Christmas movies and munching on candy canes. For lunch, you and Cove made macaroni and cheese. You both welcomed the gooey warmth of the meal.

Imbued with energy from lunch, you leapt from your seat and proclaimed.

Y/N: We have to go outside and enjoy the snow before the sun goes down.

Cove made a sour face and spoke quietly without looking up from his now empty bowl.

Cove: Enjoy, yeah…

You sighed and clenched your jaw, restraining yourself. You knew Cove would be difficult regarding the snow, but hoped the special occasion would nudge him along.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll go outside myself.

Cove’s head immediately snapped up and he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes. He didn’t expect you to so easily give up on convincing him. You maintained an unimpressed expression while he spoke.

Cove: No, Y/N. I’ll come with you. You know I love spending time with you no matter what.

Your expression cracked with a hint of a smile, but you regained control.

Y/N: You’re going to hate it. Don’t bother.

You weren’t sure why you were being so stubborn with this. Cove was willing to compromise, but you still felt annoyed that his initial reaction put a damper on your mood. You shut your eyes tightly, now irritated by your own childishness.

Cove stood up and firmly gripped your shoulders. He waited for you to look at him. You met his gaze and stuck out your bottom lip in a small pout.

Cove: Let’s go build a snowman. It’ll be like building a sandcastle.

You sighed, but couldn’t resist his comforting voice and adoring eyes.

Y/N: I’m going to have to bundle you in layers. Gloves, a hat, maybe even a scarf.

Cove cringed at each word that escaped your lips. He nodded anyway. You both put on more winter gear in preparation for the snow activities. You held open the door for Cove, who hesitantly stepped outside.

Cove: This is way worse than the ice skating rink.

Y/N: You don’t say?

You loved teasing Cove for his blunt and often obvious statements, but he knew you adored him for it. He scoffed and stuck his tongue out at you.

Y/N: Careful with that, might get stuck on a pole.

Cove retreated his tongue and blushed lightly. You gently poked his tummy then grabbed his hand to lead him into the snow. You chose a wide open space away from the cabin for your snowman’s home. You started shoveling snow into a pile. Cove stood reluctantly nearby. You didn’t want to push him, but hoped he would join in the building.

To your surprise, it was only a moment before Cove dug his gloved hands into the snow. He smiled at you shakily while adding to your growing pile of snow. You went back and forth between adding snow and rounding the pile into a snowman base. Cove’s big hands proved useful in this endeavor. With the base done, you moved onto the head.

Y/N: We have to make the head smaller than the body.

Cove: How small? Do you want to give him a shrunken head?

You cackled at the thought, but shook your head.

Y/N: I think he deserves a normal sized head.

Between the two of you, the snowman’s head slowly grew. You stepped back to assess the size.

Y/N: I think that’s perfect. What do you think, Cove?

Cove stepped back as well and tilted his head. He spoke matter-of-factly.

Cove: Looks like a snowman.

Y/N: Not yet, he needs a face and arms.

You scoured the ground around you for twigs, leaves, and rocks. Cove did the same.

Cove: If only we had seashells. That would bring it all together.

With your findings combined, you got to work on designing the snowman. His face came together in a wide smile made of various pebbles. Leaves stuck to the top of his head represented the hair. Two sticks on either side of his body became the arms. Cove found several small pinecones to pin on his front like an array of buttons. Finally, the nose. You didn’t have a carrot on hand, so you opted for another one of Cove’s pointier pinecones.

Once again, you stepped back with Cove to admire your work. You wrapped your arm around him in a side hug, he returned the gesture with an arm around your shoulder.

Y/N: He’s beautiful.

You pretended to dramatically wipe a tear from your eye.

Cove: We should name him.

You agreed, and began to ponder names that would fit the snowman. After much deliberation, you settled on Sandy, as a memento of the inspiration for his existence.

Y/N: Sandy the Snowman, it really is perfect.

Cove: Next time we’re at the beach we should build a sandman and name him Snowy.

Cove waggled his eyebrows at you, hoping for a reaction to his hilarious joke. You couldn’t contain the grin that emerged from within. You were suddenly overcome by a wave of affection for Cove. His dorky jokes, the way he looked at you, his willingness to put his own comfort aside for your sake. You wanted nothing more than to push him down into the snow and ravage him. Knowing better, you instead decided to grab his hand again and lead him back indoors.

Cove followed with a small gasp at your sudden insistence. Once inside, you leaned Cove against the door and pressed your lips into his. You were desperate for his warmth. He returned the kiss passionately, running his fingers through your hair. You broke away from Cove, satisfied with your second mistle-toe kiss. Cove stood bewildered, disappointed by losing the warmth of your lips. You winked at him, never tiring of teasing your flustered fiancé.

You spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other’s company. You played board games, sang Christmas songs, and drank hot chocolate. As the evening emerged, a light snowfall began outside. You gazed out the window, hypnotized by the dancing snowflakes. Your eyes began to droop, and you felt the weight of the day pulling you down. You yawned and turned to Cove, who was already turning the couch into a bed. He must have sensed your weariness.

Cove threw some blankets and pillows into the bed and you dove right into the inviting warmth. He joined you and extended his arm to make his chest available to your sleepy head. You nuzzled in and closed your eyes, ready to drift away…

You stirred awake at the feeling of the mattress shifting. Your eyes fluttered open and tried to adjust to the darkness. Cove was climbing back into bed. It was completely dark outside, you judged it must have been a few hours after you fell asleep. Still half asleep, you muttered quietly to Cove.

Y/N: Santa, baby…

You couldn’t see his expression through the darkness, instead you heard a small chuckle. You held your arms out limply, hoping for a Cove cuddle. He took you in his arms and kissed the top of your head. You continued feebly, in a sleepy sing-song voice.

Y/N: So hurry down the chimney tonight…

Cove chuckled again and stroked your cheek gently.

Cove: I love you so much.

That was the last thing you heard before falling back into a deep slumber. Several hours later, the morning sun woke you. Cove was sleeping peacefully next to you, likely exhausted from playing Santa Claus last night. You turned over and rested your body on his chest. You peppered his face in tiny kisses until he awoke. His eyes eased open, a smile already growing across his face.

Y/N: Merry Christmas, Cove.

Cove: Merry Christmas, Y/N.

Unable to contain your excitement, you leapt out of bed, leaving Cove to fully wake himself up. You ran to your suitcase and recovered the small wrapped gift you got for Cove. You decided to place it beneath the already populated tree. Your jaw dropped seeing how many gifts Cove got you. You placed the gift down carefully and went to check on Cove.

Y/N: Please tell me you’re ready to open gifts.

Cove: I’m ready, but you have to open yours first.

You didn’t argue, you wanted to save your gift to Cove for last anyway. He joined you by the tree and sat cross-legged across from you.

Y/N: Where should I start? Is there any order to this madness?

Cove thought for a moment, then pulled out one of the presents. Shiny reindeer-imprinted paper covered the box. He held it out to you.

Cove: Definitely start with this one.

Impressed that he seemed to remember what was in each box, you took the gift with a smile. You tore open the paper and uncovered the joy within: an adorable stuffed dolphin. Your eyes lit up as you hugged the little guy. You thanked Cove, who immediately bestowed you with another carefully selected box. You giggled and repeated the process. The rest of the boxes contained: a book from your favorite series, tickets to an upcoming play, rare foreign candy, colorful seashells, and a beautiful ocean-themed puzzle.

You felt overwhelmed by the thought that Cove put into each gift. You struggled to find words besides “thank you.” However, Cove wasn’t done. He handed you a final box.

Cove: One more.

You unwrapped this one carefully, a mix of anticipation and nerves stirring within. Inside was a small album titled “Our Life.” You carefully lifted it out of the box and flipped through the pages. Each page was designed to represent a point in your lives together, from childhood all the way to this past summer. There were pictures, funny quotes, tickets from various events, and doodles. Cove even included the piece of paper from your infamous hang-man game.

You were already tearing up before you noticed a smaller box within the original box. With shaking hands and a pounding heart, you opened it.

Inside the box was a simple ring with an engraved wave design. You couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears that erupted from your eyes. Your emotions surged and your mind was spinning. Without speaking, you grabbed the present you put under the tree and offered it to Cove. He was visibly confused, even a bit concerned.

Cove: Y/N, is everything okay?

You spoke through tears.

Y/N: Just open it.

Cove silently complied. His fingers carefully removed the red and white pinstriped paper. He looked at you nervously before looking into the box. His eyes widened and glistened.

Cove: A ring…

You laughed shakily and scooted closer to Cove, still holding your own small box. He looked up at you, tears streaming down his red cheeks.

Y/N: We’re already engaged, but still got rings for each other. And look at how emotional we are about it!

Cove: I thought it would be nice to make it official with a real engagement ring.

You nodded in agreement, pleased that you were both on the same page.

Y/N: Let’s put them on each other.

You exchanged rings with Cove. He held your still shaking hand and carefully slipped the ring onto your finger. You did the same, relieved that the ring was a perfect fit on his finger.

You let out a massive sigh, it felt as if you had been holding your breath for ages. Cove was admiring the ring on his finger, his ocean eyes still glimmering with tears.

Cove: It feels as magical as it did the first time on the poppy hill.

You looked at him adoringly, unable to contain the crashing ocean of love you felt inside.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. For putting in so much effort for me. All the time. But especially this Christmas. I know holidays aren’t your thing, especially not winter ones…

Rambling nervously, you felt like Cove in that moment. He invited you to sit on his lap with a simple pat. You settled in and waited. He cradled you close and spoke quietly but confidently.

Cove: You are my thing. You’re the best gift I could ask for. You make braving holidays and snow worth it. I can’t imagine how this day could get any better.

Cove was right. The morning was still fresh, and you were already swimming in bliss. You sniffled, feeling lucky to have him and looking forward to living your life with the man you love. Christmas Day would hold a special place in your hearts for the rest of your lives.

[fockfjdkfncnfn]

Quite the ride | Luke Hemmings smut

summary: it’s a normal day and you didn’t have much plans except for dropping off some overdue books at the library. on the way, you decide to stop by at a cafe and you meet Luke there for the first time. you hit it off really well and on a cute date with him to a carnival and then things escalate.

warnings: unprotected sex, sex on the first date, oral uhmmm yeaaaa

requested: YES!! this is my first request from one of my friends i’ve just made here on tumblr! <3 their @ is @lukeshemmo. they write too so go check their stuff out!

word count: 3125

A/N: hiii!! thank y’all so much for 36 notes on my first smut!!!! i was really shocked to see so many people had read it and liked and tevloghed and stuff so thank you so much and i hope you enjoy this one <3 remember, requests are open to feel free to leave some!

ps. the book/cafe names i used in this are random ones that i just found in google lolol okay enjoy!

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It was a chilly winter morning and you were woken up by the sounds of your bed creaking as you were rolling over. You fluttered your eyes open and looked out the window to see the frost on the corners of your windows and the slightest bit of sunlight shining through the tree branches outside. “So cold” you whispered to yourself as you reached your arm out from under your warm blanket to grab your phone. as you took the charger out from your phone, you saw the screen light up, showing a reminder you had set for yourself the night before so that you could see it first thing in the morning. “Return books to the library,” it said. annoyed, you groaned and set your phone down beside you. You secretly wanted to stay in bed all day because of how chilly it was, but you knew that if you didn’t take the books back today you’d have to pay for it. 

With that thought in mind, you sat up and stretched your arms above your head and planted your feet on your cold hardwood floors, and made your way into the kitchen. You wanted to have a quick and simple breakfast since you weren’t feeling too hungry, so you settled on a bowl of cereal. 

you grabbed out a white bowl and poured your cereal and milk into it, thinking about what else you could do for the rest of the day after returning the books. You sat down at your kitchen island and started to eat. as you were eating, you scrolled through Instagram on your phone and an ad caught your attention. 

“Groundup cafe! grand opening happening today downtown! Come visit and enjoy some fresh, deliciously made coffee”

“That sounds interesting,” you thought to yourself as you ate another spoonful of cereal. You did some more research to see where the cafe was located and noticed that it was only a couple of minutes away from the library you were going to. “Maybe I’ll go after'' you thought to yourself as you finished the last of your cereal and put the bowl in the sink. 

You made your way into the bathroom and took a quick shower and brushed your teeth. You wrapped your hair up in a towel and one around your body then walked out to go to your closet. “Hmm what should I wear?’ You thought to yourself. Outside it was lightly snowing, so you decided that layering up would be a good idea. You decided to wear some cream white corduroy jeans, a black turtleneck and a short black puffer jacket with some high top docs. For makeup, you didn’t wanna go too heavy since it was a cold snowy day, so you just did some foundation and mascara. To finish the look off, you dipped your ring finger into a pot of tinted pink lip balm and spread it across your lips to give them some life, and used the residue left on your finger to spread on your cheeks to bring some color back into your face. You dried your hair and curled it, put on some earrings and you headed out the door with a tote bag that had the books in it. 

Since the cafe was on the way to the library, you decided to stop by there first and maybe get a drink since your hands were numb from the cold wind.

When you arrived, you put your hand out to grab the cold copper door handle and pushed it to make your way in. 

You were greeted with the smell of coffee and the sound of people talking amongst themselves, not to mention the noticeable temperature change in the atmosphere which was comforting. You went up to the counter and looked up to see what drinks they had on the menu. Your thoughts were interrupted when the barista started talking to you. 

“Hi! What can I get ya?” They said with a cheery smile on their face. 

You shifted your eyes slightly down to meet theirs and as you opened your mouth to respond, you suddenly got pushed, and then you felt hot coffee run down the arm of your jacket. “Fuck” you said with an annoyed tone. as you tried to use your other arm to wipe the coffee off of yourself,  You looked up to see who had rudely bumped into you, but your rage quickly melted away when you were met with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes. 

“I am so sorry,” he says with a sense of urgency in his voice. “I didn’t mean to, the person behind me was in a rush so I tried to move out the way and I accidentally bumped into you, let me go get some napkins for you and I'll buy you your drink,” he said as he quickly turned to get some napkins. 

as he was walking away, you couldn’t help but notice his beautiful golden curls and also how tall he was which was one of your biggest turn-ons. confused at what had just happened, you quickly turn to the barista and say “I’ll just have a peppermint mocha please” with a soft smile and you sit down at the nearest table. 

You see him walk towards you, drink and napkins in hand and a look of remorse on his face.

“I am so sorry for what happened back there,” he says as he gently places the drink in front of you and hands you the napkins. “Are you okay?” He asks 

“Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you” you say as you take the napkins from his hands and try to wipe the already dried coffee off of your sleeve. 

For a second it got a bit awkward because he was just standing there, but he gave you a little smile and glanced over to your bag which was open, putting on display the books you had in there. 

“Is that the east of Eden??” He says as his face lights up with excitement 

“Yea!!” You respond smiling and looking up at him. 

He quickly sits down at the empty chair across from you and you both start talking about the book. He asks questions like “what's your favorite chapter?”, “who’s your favorite character?”, “do you like the ending?” And before you could even catch each other's names, you both noticed that the cafe which was full when you first arrived was now empty, the only other people occupying the space being the workers cleaning up the machines and floors. 

“Woah, I didn’t even realize we had been talking for so long!” You say as you glance down at your phone to see the time. 

“Yeah me too” says with a soft laugh.

“What was your name by the way?” He says, looking at you with his bright blue eyes 

“Oh, its y/n” you say with a smile 

“Well, I'm Luke,” he says, playfully offering a hand out to you for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, beautiful”

After those words fell from his lips, you could feel butterflies swarming your stomach and blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say giggling, taking his hand, and shaking it. 

His grip was strong but caring. You knew that it was crazy to feel such a strong connection to a person you had met only a couple of hours ago but when the workers informed you both that they were closing, you just didn’t want to leave. 

As you grabbed your bag and now empty coffee cup he stood up and asked,

“What are you doing tonight?’ 

It was like he read your mind and felt the connection too 

“Nothing” you quickly blurt out

“There's this carnival happening tonight just across town, would you maybe want to go?” He said hesitantly with a shaky voice 

“I'd love to!” you say, smiling up at him. 

You both walk out of the cafe and he leads you to his car. As you were approaching his it, you saw the library that you needed to go to. The whole reason why you left your house in the first place, but this was much more important, you thought to yourself. 

You hopped in his car and he drove the both of you to the carnival. It was dark now, still cold but not as windy and it wasn’t snowing anymore. You saw bright flashing neon lights, children running around with their families, and young couples going on their first dates. “what the hell am I doing,” you thought to yourself for a brief second. When he hopped out of the car, you watched as he made his way around to your side to open the door for you. As he did, you took the few seconds you had to yourself to process what was happening. You planned to go to the library today, met some random stranger who spilled coffee on you and now you’re going on a kinda date with him to this random carnival. “But how could I turn this down?” you thought to yourself “he’s my ideal type. I mean, he’s tall, handsome, has the most hair, we talked non stop for like four hours, it's hard to find a connection like that with anyo-'' your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. 

“The carnival awaits” he says holding the door for you and offering you a hand to help you get out

“Thank you,” you say giggling, taking his hand, and stepping out of the car. 

The whole night was filled with laughter and youth as you both chaotically ran around the carnival like little kids and going on ride after ride. The connection between the two of you became stronger despite how little time you really had spent with each other. Everything was starting to quiet down and you both decided to finish the night off by going on the Ferris wheel. While waiting in the line, Luke turned to you and rest his hand on your shoulder 

“I'll be back, I'm just gonna.. go to the bathroom” he said in a suspicious tone, a grin displayed on his face. 

You didn’t think much of it and just waited in line till he got back. You had your hands behind your back, rocking back and forth from heel to toe smiling out of pure joy. You hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. 

When it was finally your turn to go on this Ferris wheel, Luke just got back in time and you both hopped in and looked at the sky as it started moving, bringing you both closer to the stars.

“I had a really great night tonight,” Luke says with a soft smile. 

“Me too” you say, returning the gratitude. 

You felt the butterflies emerge again as the ride stopped. you were now both at the top of the Ferris wheel and looking into each other's eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks with a soft and gentle tone 

Without any thought, you leaned in to connect your lips to his and as they did, you felt sparks going off in your heart. your hands gently cupped his jaw as his hands gently wrapped around your waist. as you break away from the kiss, you both look at each other for a second and giggle. 

“This is crazy” you say giggling, still cupping his face 

“I know,” he says laughing. He looks down and away for a second and his eyes shoot back up at you.

 “Would you possibly wanna come to my place?” He asks, looking at you with the eyes of a puppy 

“Sure” you say softly, smiling.

The Ferris wheel eventually started moving again and you slowly felt the grass under your feet again. He helps you out and instead of letting your hand go, he keeps it there, and your fingers intertwine. 

“Wait, before we go,” he says. “I have a surprise for you” 

Confused, you look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “A surprise?’ You say. 

He unties his fingers from yours and reaches around his back and pulls out a rose. 

“For you” he says 

You look at him, mouth slightly open realizing that when he was going to the “bathroom” he was really going to go buy you a rose. You stood there saying nothing because of how sweet this gesture was. He playfully turns around to see the flashing colourful lights. 

“The lights are interesting than this flower?” He says jokingly 

you laugh. “No!! I just, this is so sweet” you say. “Thank you” you say quietly as you take the rose from him.

“Of course y/n'' he says. You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue. It just sounded right. 

When you finally leave the carnival and make it to his house, he opens the door and moves aside so that you can walk in first. His house felt warm and welcoming, despite the fact that you had never been there before. 

“This is my home!” He says smiling as he shuts the door behind him. 

“It's beautiful” you say in admiration, looking around. 

“Not as much as you” he says as he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips crashed onto yours and your hands wandered around his broad back. As you were making out, he picked you up so that your legs were wrapped around him and you giggled into the kiss as he carried you to his bedroom. Once he was there, he set you down gently onto his bed, using his arms to support you on the way down, and kissed your forehead once you had landed. 

“Is it okay if I take your shirt off?” He asked with a soft and loving voice 

“Of course” you say smiling, knowing what was about the unfold 

He started kissing your neck and making his way down to your breasts and you quickly unhooked your bra and tossed it to the side. He wrapped his lips around your left nipple while his hand cupped the other. You let out a small whimper at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple. You felt his other hands move from your waist slowly down to your core, stopping just above your pussy as if to ask for permission. He looked down to see where his hand was and looked back up at you. you nodded, letting him know that this was something that you were okay with. 

He moved down so that his face was now in-between your legs and he unbuttoned your pants. You bucked your hips to help him pull them down along with your underwear, leaving you now completely exposed. 

“God you’re so beautiful” he whispered before diving in to eat you out

Your breath hitched as you felt his lips wrap around your clit and his tongue swirl around, making you become even wetter for him. 

“Ugh, right there” you moaned out as you tangled your fingers through his hair and moved your hips to match his movements. He moaned into you, making you feel the vibrations. 

He inserted a finger into you making you squirm in pleasure. 

“Fuck” you say as he pumps in and out of you. 

“I'm close” you say as you throw your head back onto the sheets. 

After he hears that, he stops, and before you can complain, he crashes his lips onto yours, forcing you to taste yourself. He moaned as he rubbed his bulge against your body. 

“You're such a tease,” you say with a grin as he breaks away from the kiss. 

he giggles and quickly takes off his shirt, along with his jeans and boxers exposing his length that was extremely hard. 

“Need a little help with that?” You say as you stand up and go on your tippy-toes to kiss him. You loved how tall he was compared to you. you watch as he sits down on the bed and you situate yourself between his legs and get on your knees. You lick a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip and he lets out a moan which makes you want him so bad. 

“Fuck it, just get on top of me” he says, lust-filled in his eyes as he looks at you with a hungry expression. 

You’re quick to follow his orders and stand up and get on the bed, your knees now on either side of his body. 

you lower yourself onto his length and you both moan out in pleasure. You start rocking back and forth feeling him inside of you. 

“Fuck y/n yes, don’t stop” Luke moans as he grabs your hips to help you move with him.

“Holy fuck” you moan out as you continue to move your hips faster. You start to lean forward, placing your hands on his chest and he bucks his hips up and down to pump into you. 

“Oh my god Luke” you moan shakily as he roughly thrusts into you, getting the perfect angle to hit your g spot. 

“Rub your clit for me baby” he moans and you do as you're told. 

The feeling starts to become overwhelming and you could feel your walls tightening around him. you felt your high coming and you knew that you were close. 

“I'm close Luke” you moan out breathlessly as you continue to rub your clit and feel Lukes long and thick length pump in and out of you. 

“Just hold on a little longer” he moaned out as he started to thrust into you even faster. 

He moved his hands from your hips to your back and flipped you over and pounded into you 

“Fuck Luke” you moaned with each thrust. He loved hearing his name fall from your lips.

“I can’t hold on much longer” you barely manage to say as you were trying not to cum before him 

“Cum with me beautiful”

That's all it took for you to let go. You moaned out his name, making it echo in the room. He came with you moaning out in pleasure and satisfaction. He sloppily thrust into you so that you could both ride out your highs and then flopped down next to you. 

Once you caught your breath, you turned to see his beautiful face and you reached your hand out to move a curl out of his face so that you could get a better view. 

“Out of all the rides we went on today, you were the best” you say giggling into his neck 

“It definitely was quite the ride” he says as he wrapped you in his arms.

[moon-lixie]

Change or stay the same - Han Jisung

word count: 4.791k

song: Punching Bag -Wallice

warnings: none, even though there's a bit of angst if you squint your eyes.

Yellow washed over the white walls of the room, soon enough soaking the bed sheets that draped over his body. The morning was eager to greet him, light poking at his eyelids to speed up the process of waking him.

A groan slipped his rosy lips before he moved to nuzzle his face on the fluffy material of the sky colored pillow. He dreaded mornings the most; one of the hardest tasks of the day was trying to rip himself away from his sheets.

His lids grew heavy after a couple minutes, sleep tugging on his arms begging him to drift away and into oblivion. Humming in satisfaction his mind was about to shut down when a loud ringing noise filled the room, it was Changbin’s special ringtone.

“Shit,” he murmured groggily before stretching his arm enough to reach the nightstand without having to move away from his pillow.

Putting the phone right beside his ear the first thing he heard was an oh so sweet Where the fuck are you, Jisung? It’s eight already. Which was soon followed by a string of profanities leaving his own lips, almost seemingly pushing him to move frantically across his room.

“I’ll be there in ten.” Was the last and first thing he said to his friend before hanging up and throwing his phone to his bed.

There was no time for him to take a shower; it’s not like he was planning to take one but he sometimes liked to pretend that he would. He barely brushed his teeth, changed into the first things that popped out of his closet and groaned at his empty refrigerator before finding himself running through the crowded streets.

He wasn’t particularly stressed despite his palms growing clammy at the idea of having to come up with a good excuse for his tardiness; to a certain degree he loved running like a maniac in that big city that seemed to have too many places for him to discover despite having been living there for years now.

A light giggle escaped his lips as he turned around a corner, now meters away from arriving at his destination. Despite his empty stomach and lack of morning coffee, he seemed to have too much energy to spare.

It felt like nothing could stop him until he couldn’t move his feet anymore, the world stopped before his eyes and breath left his lungs. He swore he had seen a familiar face but it had soon disappeared between the crowd; still, just one glimpse of said person had his heart coming to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Filled Jisung’s ears before he blinked back to reality; it was his friend of similar height, head popping out of the entrance door he should’ve crossed earlier.

Quickly shaking his head as he dismissed the question thrown at him, he entered the building and apologized to the older man throwing a curious glance at him.

The ride on the elevator was filled with silence, allowing his head to be filled with questions and worries that now had nothing to do with the task at hand but rather the person he believed to have seen.

Silence finally dissipated when he entered the studio to face a more or less exasperated Chan, he was sometimes too serious when it came to work but Jisung totally understood, one of them had to have the tiniest bit of seriousness or it could turn to chaos.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

“You overslept, we know. Let’s just get to work.” Changbin interrupted before patting his shoulder reassuringly.

A sheepish smile covered his lips before his fingers reached towards the bag that he was supposed to be wearing, the one that had his laptop in it. There went another fuck because he knew he was forgetting something as he left his apartment but was quick to shrug off the thought.

“It’s okay, you can just log in here.” Chan was quick to say without even having to spare him a glance to know what was the problem. He was grateful to have friends who seemed to balance out his clumsiness perfectly fine.

Taking a chair and moving closer to the desk he grabbed the mouse and started clicking away. Second later the monitor eagerly asked him for the password of his email where he happened to have his lyrics noted down. Yes, he used google docs, so what?

He gulped down at the thought of what he was about to type; his password never seemed to represent a problem until today. It was the name of someone he had last seen years ago, five to be exact. He just never saw the need to change it, not when he could type it with his eyes closed or in his sleep; it had been the same since he was in high school and until today he hadn’t minded that it stayed like that.

“Dude, we need to work so hurry up.” That’s right, he needed to hurry and snap out of it. it wasn’t such a big deal, he just needed to type every letter of your name in the specific order he knew by heart and pretend that it hadn't been you on the street just now.

And so he did, typing it as quickly as any other day, pressing enter and getting access to everything he needed along with a million memories stored as videos and pictures.

He cleared his throat before getting to work, he didn’t have the guts to revive his high school days in front of his friends; perhaps not brave enough to revive them at all despite the place or people around him.

Once the three of them were certain that the sun outside was slowly flooding the city with small orange and pink tinges, they exited the building that guarded their creative mess. Each walking their own way, not before throwing one last threat at the youngest in hopes that tomorrow he’d open his eyes at the right hour. Laughing lightly Jisung nodded and walked away, eager to return home.

His landlord had a white cat with some brown spots that somehow added to its cuteness; just like any other day he pet it before quickly scurrying to the elevator and finally walking past three doors before finding himself in front of his apartment door.

When he found himself inside, the first thing he did was take a shower, one that this time he had actually been intending to take. Later sitting on his bed, towel still tousling his hair in attempts to dry it, his laptop found its way to his lap.

His fingers didn’t hesitate much before clicking on the right places that took him to those videos and pictures that brought him joy every single time. Biting on his bottom lip he finally allowed the towel to rest on his shoulder and pressed play.

The video revealed his freckled friend whose laugh could light up the whole world, he did something silly as usual before Seungmin popped up a little far away. In the middle of a park, they found themselves atop lush grass that welcomed their feet happily as they fooled around.

After some time filming the two boys the camera moved towards some swings where you sat, expression all too dull for the situation that you were in. That was it, the video cut there and the memories would finish at that moment if he didn’t clearly remember what happened next.

He had stopped recording, closing the small screen of the video camera before walking towards you, a worried expression taking hold of his features. Once close enough he sat on the swing next to yours, feet kicking the soil softly.

“I don’t want to leave this place,” you had mumbled by his side, catching him off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you thought about what will happen to us when we go to college. It’s months away and I’m terrified of leaving.” A heavy sigh escaped your lips, pupils moving to catch his gaze.

Next time you opened your mouth, the tone with which you spoke was way quieter as if you were scared of saying such things. “I wish I could stay here forever, with you guys, just being silly and worrying about nothing.”

Reaching his hand to grab yours he ended up intertwining his fingers with yours before sighing and smiling sweetly. “Nothing is going to change, we’ll keep being together. Trust in me, we’ll make it through.”

You had smiled brightly after he spoke, blindly believing in his words that ended up not becoming true. Soon after everyone parted away to college the distance had done its job at making communication difficult, a text a day turned into one every week, quickly it had been one a month and then nothing but each other’s contacts saved on your phones.

Living kilometers away everyone kept moving on with their lives not really knowing much about each other. The only thing that he now was aware of was about his own story, how he had met Chan and Changbin in college and their common interest and ambition had brought them to work together in what they loved.

Quickly closing his laptop and leaving it on his night stand he plopped himself down on his face. Seconds after reaching for his phone and looking for your contact.

His breath hitched once it appeared on his screen, all too familiar but quite foreign by now. He had stopped himself from calling you many times; when he was sober he convinced himself that you wouldn’t want to talk to him after he lied to you that one evening, when drunk he decided that you deserved better than a Jisung that made no sense and slurred all his words.

Nevertheless, he always thought of you like how one thinks about their first love that never happened, because that was the case. Your reckless mixed with your amazing sense of responsibility —that he had always admired— still haunted him at night along with your melodious laugh.

Finally deciding that it was now or never he pressed on your contact and pressed his phone to his ear, dying slowly at every loud beep that separated him from your voice. Without notice the line went silent for a moment before a strange voice spoke a soft hello?, it wasn’t you.

“Is y/n there?”

“No, I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong number.”

He thanked the stranger, trying not to sound utterly disappointed before hanging up and throwing his phone towards his pillow and sighing in defeat. It had never occurred to him that you could’ve changed your number in the past five years but it made sense.

It wasn’t the end of the world, he could later call Felix and ask him for your number —because Jisung was certain he would have it— but that could be left for when he ate something and felt less nervous.

Walking to his kitchen it suddenly popped in his mind, his refrigerator was empty and that meant no food he could simply stuff in his mouth. He cursed for the nth time that day.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go buy something to eat and then get some groceries on the weekend,” he said to no one in particular before getting dressed again and going out to wander around the city until he found a place that sold something edible, that would suffice.

On one particular street where he had to wait for the traffic light to change his heart came to a stop because this time he didn't see you but rather heard your voice calling his name, and upon turning around there you were, just like he remembered.

A hello meant to escape his lips but it got stuck on his throat when you smiled at him warmly; he loved you as much as that eighteen year old him that would do anything for you.

Without thinking much he hugged you tightly; you were quick to return his hug, convincing him that it would be the biggest mistake in the world to pull away soon. People walked past the both of you, some huffing in annoyance as you were in fact obstructing the street but for all that he cared everyone could go and fuck themselves.

When he finally broke away the hug some words came tumbling down of his mouth before he got the chance to think about them, “I was going to grab something to eat, want to come with me?”

The words surely took you by surprise as confusion plastered in your face for a second, but you nevertheless accepted his offer.

“So...what are you doing here?” he asked as both crossed the street, Jisung no longer wandering without a destination.

“I live here.” He threw you a confused look that couldn’t mean anything more than a since when? that seemed to amuse you greatly as you laughed for a second before answering. “I moved not far from here three months ago, for work.”

Nodding lightly he kept walking, silence moving at a fast pace to catch up with your moving figures on the street, but it was futile as you spoke up once again.

“It’s silly but— ”

“It’s not,” he retorted before an unknown force tugged at the corners of his lips with force, refusing to let his smile falter.

“—I had been wondering when we would end up stumbling with each other.”

Those simple words made his heart beat at a faster pace, aggressively thumping against his chest. After all this time you still had his existence present in your mind, not seeming to forget how he always talked about moving here once he was old enough when he was just a child.

“Well, I’m glad that we finally did.” A coward, that’s how he should call himself from now on as the words refused to slip past his lips. He should tell you that he had tried to call you, that he had also been wanting to see you, but he couldn’t.

Jisung had decided to bring you to a small dinner that was not only cheap but delicious; he smiled way too widely once you asked for the same you used to have and you questioned him with your eyes when he asked for coffee, he used to not be able to stand the bitter taste.

Hours passed as you both caught up with each other, apparently you still spoke often with Felix —which he already suspected all along— and had only recently decided to move out from the apartment you still shared with your college roommates, ending up in that lovely city by chance.

His eyes scanned every single centimetre of yours, the small dimple that formed on your right cheek everytime you chewed, the way your faint and discreet lip gloss had turned into a more lively lip tint, the ever so faint eye bags under your eyes that seemed to distinguish people your age.

“God, then Felix fell to that fountain, right?”

He snickered loudly before nodding in affirmation. “He had to walk all the way home completely soaked. He wouldn't stop complaining.”

The laugh that escaped your throat seemed almost nostalgic; it had been quite a while.

When you both crossed the door on your way out the only light covering the streets were those of the streetlights and some cars stuck in traffic. He offered to walk you back home and you immediately nodded in approval of his proposition.

In the blink of an eye he had turned to the high school Jisung that would walk slightly behind you, secretly wanting to reach out for your hand and intertwined his fingers without you, but not even now did he have the courage.

The walk seemed to be awfully short, perhaps because he didn’t want to leave you yet. You got your keys out and stood in front of your door but still facing him as if waiting for something.

“You changed your number.” Was the first thing he could think of saying to what you sighed awkwardly and answered him a quick I did.

“I would love to get something to eat with you again or just talk for a while. So I was wondering if I could have your number.” His eyes closed mid sentence, feeling embarrassed about his sound lack of ability to say something that wasn’t awkward.

Thankfully you seemed to want to spare him some suffering, quickly asking for his phone so you could add your contact, sneakingly adding a cheesy heart after your name. And when you were about to close the door you turned around and asked one last thing, “How did you know? You know, that I changed my number.”

He didn’t like the implications of that question, almost as if you were implying that it would be impossible to know if he hadn't tried to contact you, which you seemed to believe he hadn’t tried to do so all this time.

“I called you and someone else answered.” You nodded softly at his words, a feeling that he couldn’t quite comprehend pooling in your eyes before closing the door.

Yes, he should’ve called you sooner, should have texted Felix asking for your new number a million years before but he never thought of it despite always thinking of you. He had gotten so caught up with every present day that he had forgotten what he was leaving behind; but now you were part of his present and he was determined to keep you there.

It didn’t feel like he was on a cloud as he made his way back home, it rather felt somewhat heavy as he thought back on the last look in your eyes. If he could then he would run back to your door and wouldn’t leave until a smile hung on your lips, but he was scared of overstepping his boundaries.

His bed felt less comfortable than usual but that was usual on the navy nights that lyrics haunted his mind. And so he found himself on his usual spot on the floor of his room, guitar lazily placed on his lap, laptop sitting on the floor making him have to slouch himself to properly type down what he wanted.

At one point he fell asleep, not caring about the hard wooden floor under his back or the cold air nipping at his skin. Until he moved, guitar complaining about the position it had been placed at. His eyes snapped open and he quickly reached his hands around the floor until they found his phone.

One long yawn and then his eyes were being met with an almost perfect 05:59 that quickly turned to 06:00. He still had a solid hour and a half of sleep but he still found his feet colliding with the pavement of the street, later reaching a coffee shop near the studio.

He exited the place with the ring of a bell and an iced americano seeping cold into the warm skin of his hand. A pleased smile grazed his lips upon the first sip, he was now more ready than ever to start his day.

Not long after his friends were exaggeratedly gasping in surprise behind his back upon reaching the studio and finding the younger there. He clicked away shamelessly, never daring to feel embarrassed in front of them, not when it came to music and his sometimes peculiar lyrics.

“A love song?” Chan snorted while peeking over his shoulder, only causing a light blush to spread across his cheeks. He only shrugged it off before continuing his work.

Hours passed and as the sun reached its peak his fingers found their way to his phone screen, clicking on your contact and quickly typing a short message before he started overthinking his way to never speaking to you again. Only then noticing the heart that you had placed beside your name; it made his heart do a flip

He typed a quick and simple question, asking if you were free at seven; soon after you replied with a lovely yes that made him giddy. His expression must have radically changed because Changbin felt free to question him and try to take a peek of his screen.

“Hyung!” Jisung said annoyed while scooting away a couple of centimetres, his friend just giggled in content and left him alone.

Taking into account that his apartment was a mess he quickly convinced you to hang out at yours to what you even ended up offering to make dinner for both of you with a sweet If you get the ingredients then I’ll be happy to cook.

So as soon as he had the chance he shouted farewell to his friends as he hurried to his apartment to get ready and buy the things you had asked him too, feeling all too happy and young. It’s not like he was old but everytime he thought about you now he felt like a child, back at 15 or even worse, younger, not knowing what to do except stare at your messages with complete infatuation.

His knuckles hesitated before colliding with your beige door twice, quickly and with enough force to make his presence known to you who opened with a tender smile barely reaching your eyes.

When he entered he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to linger around every small detail that the place held. The grey cushion went delightfully well with the subtle tones of yellow and cerulean, those matching with some accents you had added on the walls.

Only then he noticed that just as your number changed you could’ve too, he knew all about the you who had survived school by his side but almost nothing about the person who lived on that tidy apartment that smelt faintly of vanilla.

He turned around to find the image of you moving freely in the kitchen way too endearing to look away. Your hands got everything he had brought out of the bag and your back greeted him with a sense of familiarity he could get used to.

A second later you turned around, a playful smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there?”

Jisung chuckled before throwing a small apology to the air, walking to your side and not forgetting to push his hips to meet yours. Grabbing some vegetables he moved to the sink to wash them, that was one of his specialties in the kitchen.

You hummed along at a non existent song while he dried his hand on the kitchen towel, watching you cook without major effort. Out of nowhere your eyes travelled to his, making him freeze on his spot for a second.

“I missed you,” you said with ease, showing him that those words weren’t as hard to pronounce as he had been thinking since he hugged you on the street.

He was about to answer, finally allowing himself to take the proper time to express how happy he felt about your presence when you turned around and walked a couple steps towards him, gaze saddening ever so slightly. “Why didn’t you call me in all this time?”

“Well...” He sighed loudly, contemplating the option with which he could respond. I was scared? Well sure, he was but that wasn’t really the reason. I forgot? More like it but it definitely sounded rude enough to gain the wrong reaction from you. I love you? No, that wasn’t the answer to this question in particular, but it sure was an answer he would have to say at one point.

At the silence that installed in the kitchen you sighed before speaking. “When we first started getting distanced I was really discouraged, but every single time I feared we wouldn’t talk again I remembered something you told me once. God, maybe you don’t even remember.” Jisung’s gaze softened once again, of course he knew, how could he forget how he lied to you. “You said ‘Trust in me, we’ll make it through’, even now it brings me such peace to think back at the certainty with which you said that.”

You walked towards the couch, sitting and patting the cushion beside yours to urge him to do the same.

“Those words healed me during the hardships that I went through, they gave me hope that no matter how much time passed we still remained the same, all of us.” You sighed loudly and looked at the floor. “But still, I couldn’t help wondering why? Were you too busy? Not interested enough? Had you forgotten about me? And at some point I blamed you until I realized that I could’ve texted you too, or perhaps called you. But I was so caught up in being scared that I never made a move, and without realizing the years had passed by.”

After a short pause you moved your eyes to meet his again, filled with melancholy. “So, I didn't call you because I was too much of a coward and I accept it.” Jisung chuckled lightly, earning a small laugh from you as well. “So why didn’t you?”

He sighed once again before leaning back on the couch, to which you followed seconds later, resting your head on the back of the couch while looking at him with an intense gaze.

“Did you know that your name was my email password when we were in high school?” he began; you immediately shook your head to deny knowing. “It still is. I hadn’t seen you in five years and still your name keeps being my password. I typed it every time I got a new phone, when I forgot my laptop and had to log in elsewhere, all the time, your name.”

He stole a glance at your face and smiled widely before looking at the ceiling, white and with the smallest crack on one corner of the room. “There wasn’t a second that I didn’t think of you and not a moment in which I didn’t have the intention of calling you.

There were times in which I was way too caught up in my life and what I had in front of my eyes but that wasn’t enough excuse. Just like you said, one day I realized that it had been too long and I felt too guilty to do it. I had promised you we wouldn’t drift away and then there I was, months of not exchanging a single word with you and an incredible amount of guilt tying my hands to my back.”

“I lied to you and then convinced myself that I had no right to face you after,” Jisung finally said, embarrassment creeping up to his cheeks at how his statement sounded out loud.

“But you didn’t lie to me, at least not entirely,” you quickly retorted, earning a quick snort from him.

“Well damn, thank you so much. Now I feel way better.”

Rolling your eyes and hitting his arm lightly, you continued, “You said we would make it through and here we are; being away from each other wasn’t the end of the world. We, well, I was too childish back then to think that our relationship changing a little would be the end of the world.

We were kilometres apart, of course our relationships would change but in the end it didn’t change that much. I mean, look at us. You just revealed an embarrassing secret that will cost you your email.”

He threw you a warning look before you giggled. “After all this time we can still talk freely, it’s just a matter of catching up where we left off and going back to our old rhythm.”

A matter of catching up and going back to our old rhythm. The first part had put his calm at ease, the second one not so much. He didn’t want to go back exactly to what you had; you had just said it yourself relationships change and he wanted this one to do so as well.

He reached his hand to grab yours, finally intertwining his fingers freely with yours after years of hesitation. Throwing you one last look he just muttered, “Or change.”

“Or change...” you repeated after him, adding with mischief something else, “like your password should if you don’t want me lurking around your email.”

“God, you have such a way of ruining things" You snorted and he sighed in defeat. You were still a dork and that would never change, like his password; remaining the same that he loved.

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: First chapter is here! Compared to the previous stories from the AU, this might have very long chapters, like more than 10 pages in google docs long. But anyway, tag list is open, and yeah. Enjoy the first of a rollercoaster of emotions.

This whole first chapter also, is me giving brief backstories of what happened before/backstories of many characters here. Basic plot is mine, characters are not. This is all for fun/entertainment/emotional anguish. 

Masterlist

Chapter 1

When one is at their breaking point, everything begins to change.  The lines between right and wrong are blurred, and one’s moral compass begins to spin into oblivion. 

9:00 p.m. 

Laughter filled the almost empty space of Viva Polo, having closed for the night except for a table occupied by Lee Mirae, Park Chanyeol, and Kwon Hyuk. The rest of the tables had already been overturned, marking the end of another day at work, at least for Chanyeol. The three of them had a tradition of meeting up every week, something they started doing after the previous adventures they had. 

The three of them were mutants, and to their knowledge, they were the last surviving members of the group that saved the country, if not the world during the Seoul attack. A year after that, the three of them found each other again, reuniting to save the country once again from an evil cult bent on achieving utopia through taking control of its citizens. Two adventures that had major consequences on the three of them, and events that they will forever remember. 

Two of them, Mirae and Hyuk, were classified as omega-level or level 5 mutants, with powers that were impossible to surpass by any other mutant thus far. Mirae was not only gifted in a mastery of hand-to-hand combat, both armed and unarmed, but she had the gift of manipulating potential energy into kinetic energy. She could turn virtually any object into an explosive and if channeled to an extreme extent, was able to level a skyscraper. 

With her abilities came the secondary gift of a healing factor that made her almost immortal and slowed down her aging immensely. Because of her ability to manipulate energy, she was also able to generate static that resulted in a very strong psychic block that was only made stronger by another omega-level mutant, Jang Ino. From the adventures she had on her own and even after the Utopian cult, another ability manifested itself in her; taking souls and trapping them into objects, usually her deck of cards. 

Meanwhile, Kwon Hyuk, a well-known music producer and songwriter, was a level 5 telekinetic and could move anything with his mind. His psychic abilities also gave him the gift of producing shields that were almost impenetrable. 

 In their adventure into the Utopian cult, Hyuk developed his telepathic abilities, which he used to extract memories or read into memories of others. Hyuk was nearly captured by the goons from the Utopian cult when they met again, and has since tried to use his powers as discreetly as possible with some difficulty. 

Hyuk didn’t formally join Mirae and Chanyeol until the later days of the Seoul attack, having laid low, undiscovered by Ino who was at the time, serving his father Professor Inhwan Jang. Hyuk had openly used his powers in front of the group during a time when Mirae and one of her other colleagues, a telekinetic named Luhan, were affected by the goblin king’s inducement of traumatic memories that caused their powers to manifest for the first time. 

It was there that Hyuk realized that he could do so much more with his mutant gifts, rather than use them solely for trivial purposes.

Hyuk had a cousin, the singer Lee Midam, who was under his entertainment agency, in the 10-member group called Silver. Midam was, like him, a psychic, but of a different kind. Midam was a psychic that could make the worst fears or strongest desires of another person come to life before them. Midam also had the ability to sense when a person will die in the near future. 

Park Chanyeol was a level 4 pyrokinetic, also known as an alpha-level mutant. He created and manipulated fire in all its aspects, from turning into a fire being to being able to put out and set fire onto virtually anything. In his fire form, he was granted the ability to fly and heal and even out of his fire form, Chanyeol could withstand extreme heat. 

He worked with Mirae in the Center for Paranormal Research upon his discovery by Ino, leaving his work in his mother’s Italian restaurant behind to find purpose for his abilities. For some time after the Seoul attack, Chanyeol thought he was the only one left, until he was seen by another survivor, their tech guy Choi Junhong, looking over the remains of what used to be the Center, the epicenter of the entire attack. 

From the adventures they had, the three of them still managed to continue with their lives. Hyuk stayed in his agency to work on music, Chanyeol helped around his parents’ restaurant and live club, while Mirae ran the music store that she took ownership in after the passing of her adoptive parents. Hyuk and Chanyeol also helped other mutants like them, Mirae’s old colleagues from her days as an assassin under a sanitarium, practice controlling their powers. 

With the way the events of the past years shaped them, their lives would forever be intertwined and they knew it. Even with the disagreements that occurred in the final days of the Seoul attack, with the three of them being the only survivors from that group that acted, they were like family to each other. 

“One of these days, we’ll go on a mission, do something, just the three of us again,” Chanyeol said fondly, finishing the last slice of pizza from his place. 

“Even if we don’t go on something like that, we should still do something, just the three of us,” Mirae repeated with a grin. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, someone needs to watch your back this time, you nearly got your powers taken away,” Hyuk pointed out, taking a sip of his iced tea. 

The last adventure Mirae went on involved a demon and their followers, the one responsible for a long-running conspiracy that went behind the glitz and glamour of the country’s entertainment industry. Mirae was outmatched and captured, her powers being used to channel the summoning of the demon Ose. It left her boyfriend Yunho and her half-brother San, along with her old colleagues including immortal mutant billionaire Kang Yeosang, to be the ones to save her and the world. 

Mirae shook her head. “It was only one time. Just one. But I’m starting to think I’m losing my touch, to be honest,” She looked down at her now-empty plate. 

“I wouldn’t think of it that way if I were you,” Hyuk patted her shoulder. “You still have your powers, don’t you? Didn’t Junhong say your powers only got stronger after that? You’re practically invincible.” 

“Says the person who is also practically invincible,” Mirae grinned. 

“But I don’t heal like you do. Chanyeol doesn’t even heal like you unless he sets himself on fire.” 

“Can you stop talking about injuries now? I think we’ll be late for that training session both of you promised the guys,” Mirae nudged the telekinetic. 

Chanyeol got up at the mention of the training session. All of their plates floating in mid-air, the cutlery and glasses sorting themselves out, as Hyuk followed the taller male into the kitchen, making sure nothing dropped. Mirae smiled to herself as she removed the tablecloth and the napkins. 

The boys at the safehouse would be waiting for them, San and Yunho included. Choi San was her half-brother, and had almost the same abilities as her, including her healing factor and a mastery of martial arts. Unlike Mirae, who channeled her powers mainly through her extendable staff, San channeled his into a harpoon gun. 

San’s powers first manifested in his high school years, as a result of the constant pressure placed on him by their father, who wanted him to pursue a career he himself wanted. Upon learning how to control his abilities better, San ran away from home, eventually learning the skills he knew to become a paid hitman. San also witnessed Mirae getting taken away to be interned at the sanitarium, and he looked everywhere for her.

Jeong Yunho was Mirae’s boyfriend. Yunho was also like her, skilled in hand-to-hand combat, both unarmed and armed. Yunho was also a mutant, an immortal mutant who possessed the ability to teleport, but could only do so in dark places. 

Yunho’s powers manifested when he was killed in Morocco during what would be Mirae’s final mission before she was discharged. Her memories of him were seemingly erased in the final electroshock therapy session used to alter her recollection of missions. They only found each other again when Mirae was being targeted by the Kang crime family, descendants of Yeosang who held a disdain for mutants. 

Hyuk returned from the kitchen. “What’s that smile about?” He asked. 

“Nothing, nothing, I just realized how it’s been a while since we did something like this together,” Mirae replied. 

“Lee Mirae, you’re getting sappy.” 

“Did I lie?” She laughed. 

“No, but that’s weird of you,” Hyuk laughed as well. “I mean you are right. I’ve been busy practically managing the group, Chanyeol’s busy here, we’re just busy living our lives.” 

“My point stands that we’ve never done anything together in a while, unless those goblins come up again and try to kill us,” Mirae joked. 

“Hopefully not,” Said the psychic, the table in front of them turning itself over on top of another table. “Even with the way things ended back then, I’m glad the three of us found each other.” 

The kitchen doors opened and Chanyeol returned, wiping his hands, with his backpack in tow. “Whose car are we using?” He asked. 

Without another word, the three of them extended their fists. Both Mirae and Chanyeol had scissors, while Hyuk’s hand remained curled into a fist. “Guess it’s yours then, Mr. Psychic,” Mirae grinned. 

“Be glad I stopped for gas before coming here,” He gave them a look as they left the restaurant. 

~ 

The car pulled up in front of a brick-walled building that had a vending machine. It was the entrance to the safehouse that now became the headquarters of everything mutant-related. It was also where Mirae’s old colleagues were now staying, with the exception of two; Jung Wooyoung and Park Seonghwa. 

The three of them got out, sensing the slight change in the air as they approached the machine. They knew there was a sort of cloaking over the spot that shielded anyone from seeing that the vending machine moved to the side to reveal a secret passage. Chanyeol, Mirae, and Hyuk entered the dark passageway and stopped at the red door at the very end. 

The safehouse was similarly modeled to the recreation room in the Center for Paranormal Research, with a couch and beanbags surrounding a flat-screen television and several game consoles. There was a sleeping quarters and a shower area and a kitchen that was only stocked with instant food. Ino and Junhong’s labs and offices were in the two other doors in the kitchen area that had a small dining table where they would at least take turns in eating. 

This time, the safehouse had since expanded thanks to Ino’s ability to manipulate matter. Junhong’s lab was much bigger, more beds were added to the sleeping quarters, and there was a small training room that Junhong fortified. A shelf was behind the television, showing all the weapons carried by the group of men who now resided in the place; a rapier, a set of nunchaku, and a few axes and shurikens. Those belonged to three people: Kim Hongjoong, Choi Jongho, and Song Mingi. 

All of them were trained assassins, skilled in hand-to-hand combat both unarmed and armed. While Mirae and Yunho were no longer part of the group, the remaining members were turned into personal guards of the Kang crime family and underwent several experiments to turn them into super soldiers. All of them were impervious to pain and were a lot more agile in their movements. 

It was those experiments that triggered the mutant gene in each of them, their own mutant abilities manifesting around the same time. Hongjoong possessed superhuman speed and could be as fast as the speed of light that also enabled him to heal if wounded. Seonghwa was a telekinetic, whose powers also made itself known if his eyes and fingertips glowed green. Mingi, like Chanyeol, was also a pyrokinetic, but unlike Chanyeol, could only manipulate flames that already exist. 

Wooyoung on the other hand, possessed the ability to turn into a shadow being. His shadow form allowed him to be intangible, as well as give him superhuman strength and a healing factor. But along with his shadow form, Wooyoung developed a kind of extrasensory perception, where he could see past and future events from a person or an object, or even a name. 

Jongho had the painful ability to manipulate his bone structure, and his arms and legs would produce a sharp spike that could pierce anything. 

They immediately noticed that a few other weapons were shelved, as they were likely in the labs or in the training room; a set of sai, katanas, a bow and a quiver full of arrows, and the harpoon gun. Everyone was indeed present. 

“Hello?” Hyuk called out as they closed the door behind them. 

“We’re here!” Chanyeol called out as well. 

“Yunho? San?” Mirae spoke, looking around the empty living room. 

Suddenly materializing in front of them was Ino. “Good! You’re all here! The rest of them are in the training rooms, but can you wait a little bit? There’s something I’m finishing and I hope the three of you can test it out for me,” He said. 

Jang Ino was a prime example of a true omega-level mutant, with abilities so powerful he was almost like a god. Ino had the gift of manipulating matter, inter-dimensional teleportation, telekinesis, telepathy, duplication with sentient clones, intangibility, precognition as well as the ability to see everything as it happened. Ino’s abilities manifested much later than the rest of them despite not being much older than Chanyeol, Hyuk, and Mirae, and thus had more difficulty trying to control each of his abilities. 

“Really? What is it?” Mirae asked as Chanyeol put down his backpack while she put down her staff. 

Ino looked excited. “Another training room, or…?” 

“Another Danger Room,” Hyuk nodded. “Can it not turn into a vortex manipulator again?” 

“I can’t promise that, but it’s as safe as ever, right? Just like old times,” Ino was beaming. “Ah, well, you might as well see it for yourself. I’ll call the rest of them,” and he disappeared. 

“Are we supposed to wait for them here?” Chanyeol glanced at them, and they shrugged. 

A commotion erupted from the door that was Junhong’s lab, making them turn around. “For a telekinetic, you could’ve aimed better! You could’ve killed me!” Hongjoong appeared, shooting Seonghwa a look. 

“You sped away in time! You knew it wasn’t going to reach you anyway!” Seonghwa argued back. 

“Well I wasn’t able to, not when Mingi keeps playing with that lighter of his! It’s like having to pass by a dragon each time I’m next to him.” 

“So your situation is actually my fault, is that what you’re saying?” Mingi spoke, looking at them incredulously. “I was practicing my pyrokinesis the way Chanyeol hyung showed me, right, San?”

“Stop including me!” said the male who had a visible white streak in his hair similar to Mirae’s. 

“This was a department store-bought shirt and Jongho just had to ruin it!” Wooyoung shrieked, pointing to the tears in his sleeve. 

“Welcome to my world, Wooyoung! Live with it!” Jongho shot back.

“At least I don’t have spikes coming out of my sleeves and pants!”

Chanyeol and Mirae exchanged looks. Hyuk stifled a laugh. “Kind of reminds you how much we bickered back then, huh? I bet those guys would’ve loved to see a repeat of this,” He chuckled. 

“Nothing seems to have changed after all,” Mirae laughed, their reactions making the group stop in their tracks. “We just had dinner,” She explained. “I see training’s been going well?” 

“Not so much when the rest of them bicker more than San and I do,” out of the group came Yunho, who immediately swept her up in a hug then exchanged high fives with Hyuk and Chanyeol as he pulled away. 

The taller form of Junhong appeared from the crowd as well, with scorch marks on his lab coat and a hole in his clipboard. Ino had materialized again as well. “So, the Danger Room, Junhong?” Hyuk asked. 

“Yes, yes, the Danger Room,” Junhong led them to the pair of doors on the other side of the space. He pushed the button, the doors opening up to reveal a dark room covered in what looked like steel tiles. There was a panel of buttons near the doors from the inside and on one side of the room, was a booth. “Ta-da!” He announced, looking over at the three of them, while the rest looked amazed. 

“A little shift in elements here and there, I was able to expand this entire space of ours, make it a little more familiar, don’t you think?” Ino smiled. 

Mirae approached the panel of buttons near the side. “Ice fortress, dystopia, post-apocalypse, zombie invasion, alien invasion, gladiator arena,” She read out. Mirae turned to the next set of buttons and looked over at Junhong. “Why is my name at the top of this panel? Am I a level of difficulty?” She asked, looking puzzled. 

“The highest,” Ino spoke. “But that level’s reserved for the three of you, not that these guys can’t do it, but the three of you are more experienced.” 

“San and Yunho are just as experienced, if you ask me,” Mirae pointed out with a shrug, choosing not to argue any more. 

“Yes, but they’ve never been through the same missions as you and Chanyeol did back at the Center, remember?” Ino reminded her. “The creatures at the museum, the goblin warriors at the train station, and their throne room, and the jewelry store at night?” 

“I remember the jewelry store one,” Hyuk said, glancing at her. “We were coming from dinner when the store exploded. It was the time I found out Mirae was a mutant.” 

Mirae smiled at her friend’s recollection. “Yeah, you came from that singing competition too.” 

Chanyeol grinned. “The train station, I remember that well. Everyone hated us when they saw what was happening in broad daylight. Junmyeon got hot coffee thrown at him...” He looked down the more he remembered. 

Ino noticed Wooyoung squinting at him, the rest of them looking fascinated by their brief trip down memory lane. “Well, I thought I’d show the rest of them how the three of you would do things in these simulations. Hyuk, I know you joined us late at the time, but you still know a thing or two on how to handle non-human entities, right?” He said. 

“Oh yeah, I was with you all at the Esteholm,” Hyuk smiled. Sensing everyone else’s confused expressions, he chuckled. “It’s a hidden marketplace for non-humans, goblins, witches, warlocks, ogres…” 

“You mean those things were actually here all this time?! On this planet?!” Mingi gaped at him and they nodded. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll have a lot of time to talk about that later, but let’s have the three of you take this new Danger Room for a test run?” Ino suggested. “The rest of you follow Junhong into the booth, we’ll all watch from there.” 

“What are we taking on?” Mirae asked. 

Hyuk approached the panels. “What about…” He stopped when he read the mode at the bottom. “Evil villain mansion? What kind of mode is that?” He laughed. 

Chanyeol and Mirae laughed as well. Mirae glanced at the booth, giving a thumbs up to Yunho and San, who looked excited as did the rest of them. “It’s exactly what it is. The mansion of the bad guy,” Junhong said from the booth. 

“Alright then, put up the difficulty rate to my name, I guess,” Mirae said. 

“That’s what I had in mind. Initializing evil villain mansion, Lee Mirae difficulty,” Junhong announced. 

Hyuk backed away, until he was back to back with Chanyeol and Mirae. They heard tiles shifting and a swirling of colors all around them, bringing in a strong gust of wind. Mirae took out her staff from her jacket pocket and extended it. After a few moments, the swirling was disappearing, and they found themselves in what was the ballroom of a large, abandoned house that had some bits of modern technology on the locks of the doors and the windows. 

“Okay, so this is the evil villain mansion,” Chanyeol mumbled as they took in their surroundings. “Where’s the evil villain, then?” 

Mirae took a step forward, seeing two metal circles near the large fireplace. There was a seven-pointed star engraved on one circle, a hexagon that had the shape of a keyhole in the middle engraved on the other. The circles began to turn, until it slowly went up to reveal coffin-shaped tubes. 

“This is oddly specific,” She muttered. 

Hyuk and Chanyeol stared at the tubes as well. The closer they looked, they saw bodies, blackened and as if they had been mummified. “This is very specific,” Chanyeol nodded, feeling a chill down his spine as they approached the tubes. 

Back at the booth, the rest of them stared at what was happening. “Can they see us?” Jongho asked curiously. 

“I don’t think they can, can they?” Hongjoong glanced at Junhong, who was looking at the panels of controls. “But the surroundings look so real.” 

“I know I should be used to this, but this is something I’ve never seen before…” San was staring at the tubes that were opening up in front of the three. 

“Me neither, and I thought I’ve seen everything,” Yunho nodded. 

From the side of the room, Wooyoung could suddenly see flashes of scenes in his head. He looked back at what was happening, seeing Hyuk, Mirae, and Chanyeol nearly destroy the surroundings they were in as humanoid demons with large talons began to attack them. The flashes kept coming. He could see people he hadn’t seen before having been inside the very booth they were in. Yet, Wooyoung wasn’t sure if this had already happened or it was about to happen. He stayed watching the simulation that Mirae, Hyuk, and Chanyeol were in. 

~ 

“Kind of familiar, isn’t it? The train station,” Mirae’s eyes and fingertips were glowing as she sent shockwaves towards the two demons, but to no avail. Instead, the demons clapped their hands, sending similar shockwaves towards her. “They’re parrots.” 

“What do you mean parrots?” Chanyeol had transformed into his fire form, dodging the attacks that were coming towards him. 

“They’re copying everything we do,” Mirae spun her staff a few times before hitting the demon, only to be sent back by the other, who had turned into a fiery figure as well. 

“Can they copy this?” Hyuk waved his hand, sending the two demons in mid-air. His eyes widened when the figure also raised their claws at him, lifting him up and off the floor. “This is impossible-” He crashed into the wall, moving away when some of the decor fell down. 

“Looks like Junhong had his work cut out for him,” Chanyeol tried to burn down the doors of the room until the surroundings changed into what looked like a massive dock full of zeppelins and tables full of volatile chemicals in test tubes and beakers. “Yeah, now I can see why Mirae turned into a level of difficulty.” 

“Let’s try not to touch anything, or interact with anything on those tables,” Mirae looked around on alert. 

They heard a blast from all the way on the other side of the room. “Looks like they found us,” Hyuk said, trying to move the zeppelins as carefully as possible towards the source of the blasts. 

“Those might explode if you let them get blasted,” Chanyeol called out at the telekinetic. 

“Would you rather we get out of here with those? We don’t even know what to use these for” Hyuk pointed out, still trying to move the airships as the blasts grew louder, the impact exploding the tables closest to it. “At least they get blasted and we don’t-” 

Boom. 

There was a blast on their side of the dock, sending the three of them to the floor, as bits of shrapnel and the chemicals on the tables exploded. A large cloud of smoke enveloped them, soon revealing that they were no longer at the dock. They were back in the Danger Room, or at least what was left of the Danger Room.

Mirae opened her eyes, feeling considerably beaten as she looked around, surprised at what she was seeing. Her clothes were scorched, her staff was gone, and from the gust of wind that hit her, she realized what happened. 

The safehouse seemed to have exploded. 

Mirae looked around for a sign of Chanyeol and Hyuk. Was she still in the simulation? “Mirae! Mirae! Mirae! Are you alright?” She turned around, seeing Junhong, Yunho, and Hongjoong run up to her. “The machines overloaded when I was about to take you three out of there,” The tech guy explained. 

She nodded, a feeling of dread suddenly overcoming her as she looked around the area. “Chanyeol? Hyuk?” She called out, kicking away a few bits and pieces of the rubble that surrounded them. “Chanyeol-” She stopped, feeling her heart sink. 

Chanyeol was lying on the floor, a puddle of blood near his head, and bits of shrapnel having hit his sides. Mirae looked around for a sign of the telekinetic, only to realize that he was also lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. A piece of shrapnel hit his head.

“Chanyeol, Hyuk,” Mirae bent down, moving the rubble away from her best friends. She refused to believe it, refused to think that what happened really happened. “Chanyeol, Hyuk,” She took one of the sharp rocks and cut open her wrist, pouring some of the blood into where Chanyeol was hit. “Come on, both of you, this isn’t funny,” She saw that they weren’t moving while her wrist had already healed. 

Junhong bent down to check Hyuk’s pulse, only for his expression to fall when he realized there was none. “Mirae,” He tried to say. 

“No, I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t believe you,” Mirae shook her head profusely, crawling up to Hyuk. Tears were already falling from her eyes as the reality was hitting her bit by bit. “No, no, this can’t happen, not here, not now, no,” She patted his face, but no response. “No, Hyuk, no, don’t, please-” A sob escaped her as she held his body. “Hyuk, no, no, no, no, no,” She sobbed, reaching out to hold Chanyeol’s hand that was going cold. “No, please no, Chanyeol, Hyuk, you two can stop it now, please…” 

“Mirae,” Junhong said again. 

Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged looks, hearing the rest of their colleagues including San appear, all of them had traces of the smoke from the explosion on them. 

“No!” Mirae shook her head again, until she broke down. They were gone. Her best friends. Gone.

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes- Did I decide I was gonna write a fic at 2:00 AM? Yes yes I did... anyways I don’t have an archive account yet but I wanted to get it out there.... um here is chapter one of my space AU, because I absolutely fell in love with the AU.

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Ohh also challenge if you wanna do it, fill in the Title! And another one... if you were an alien what question would you ask a human other than basic questions, like name and age.

Also suggestions are always appreciated! And if you wanna support my main blog it is kadoodle.. also I have no updating schedule so I will when I want to.

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Warnings: Cussing, mentions of tight spaces and characters being trapped, mentions of corpses, and needles.

——————

“Humans are [Insert text here]”

Chapter 1: Idiots kidnap the wrong kid..

Honestly, life hasn't been bad. His needs were met, most of the time, and he had a.. place to sleep…

Yeah no life wasn’t great.

Tommy was easily, barely, avoiding Social Services. Sleeping on benches and occasionally grass. He got whatever wasn’t wanted and had an official bag for the first time. He had some spare clothes, and no money. The authorities stopped looking for him after a while and the only main challenge was getting essentials.

No one would miss him. No one would look for him. Therefore he was the perfect target among many others. The only thing setting him apart was his sheer ability to survive, not a want, like many of the others, it was a fact he would survive. Not that his captors knew that of course.

Alternative: Tommy gets kidnapped by aliens and sbi rescues him.

——————

He woke up in a cage.

Not a cell or a room, a fucking cage.

There were a few others in various cages around the room. All of which were either dead or close to it. Most of the ones still alive had been there for months, possibly years. No one knew of course.

The smell of rotting bodies stenched the place with a coppery coating. The room wasn’t large but not quite small. It was dull grey with layers of grime settling on the floor and cages. The room was long and skinny, lined with cages against either wall in a zig zag format. The only light was coming from the small door window, which happened to be positioned right in front of Tommy. It glowed a faint yellow and was blurry, not allowing Tommy to see into the hall.

Shadows would occasionally pass by the window. None ever stopped at it. Causing the ever growing hunger to grow more. Once one had stopped at the door, not for more than a second, before it screeched. It was inhuman and sounded like a hurt hawk from one of those nature documentaries. Tommy shoved his hands onto his ears and waited for it to stop. The thing chuckled, not like a human, but something close to it.

——————

Tommy waited for what seemed like hours before something happened. The door opened, sliding into the ceiling. A weird looking creature stepped in. It looked like it had a porcelain mask over its face with a painted smiley face. There were no ears or hair, instead just more porcelain, which formed a spear which sat on shadows. The thing was wearing a lime green hoodie and black leather pants that seemingly faded into the creature's legs. The knees bent inwards causing it to look awfully awkward as it crouched near Tommy’s cage. The hands were long and lanky with no real palm. The creature also had a tail that looked close to how Tommy pictured a devil's tail to look. This was the first time in ages Tommy was glad to be behind bars.

The thing pointed at itself and said,

“Dream.”

In the most heavily accented English Tommy had ever heard. That didn’t matter as much of the fact that the seemingly painted smile moved with the words.

“Come.”

The creature unlocked the cage and half dragged Tommy out of the cage into what Tommy presumed to be the lab. He noticed a window. The only thing for miles was stars. He was in space. He had been kidnapped by Aliens. Fuck.

——————

Humans were a heavily avoided species. The things were what kids would expect to come out of their closet. They were feared, and for good reason.

The first ship to find Earth was ecstatic. Finding another intelligent species in what would’ve been deemed as a planetary desert was a scientific breakthrough. Causing the entirety of the media to go insane for a couple of years.. That was until the first ship ventured onto the planet. It was immediately shot down. The entire crew was killed and the entirety of the ship was destroyed in a matter of minutes. The ISF (Intergalactic Safety Force) deemed it as a no flight zone and claimed to punish anyone in the desert. Even so poachers smuggled humans and within days had their ship crashed.

The only ones allowed to take humans were scientists, who were specialized in taking care of difficult species. They were allowed to test on said species and do whatever they wanted, in the name of science of course. Most people didn’t care how they treated them and were really only interested in what could kill them.

Which is where Wilbur came in. He was a toxicologist, a scientist studying poisons, he also dealt with various potions and other chemical mixes. This knowledge is what gained his entry to the Dream Team Ship.

He had been testing on around nine different humans for the past six months on the celestial calendar. This time Dream, his boss and the captain, brought in a juvenile human. He was skinny and lanky. Clearly had been starving before being taken. He felt bad before shaking off his pity.

“V74 and V83. Make sure he can communicate beforehand.” Dream promptly stated before leaving the kid in the room.

Wilbur tried not to think about his terrified face, before he clipped on the translator. Usually it is worn on the back of the head, since humans brains are vastly different than most species, it is clipped to the left side of the head.

The translator looks like a simple device when in reality it took dozens of celestial years to perfect it. It’s a small silver disk that ingrains into the part of the brain that controls communicating. After the body gets used to the device it can translate any language into one you understand instantly.

It took a couple more years for the translator to incorporate the estimated 7,000 languages spoken on Earth. For a planet that has been isolated it has a more complex and diverse set of cultures and languages, than Pellucidian has had in centuries. To say Wilbur was jealous, wouldn’t be far from the truth. Not that he studied cultures for a living. It was something that always interested him.

He put the device on the kid’s head and grimaced at the pain that was on the kid’s face. He quickly dried up the blood and mixed a solution that would ease the pain. It was clear and tasted like water, which is the only way they got humans to take the pain reduction.

The kid relaxed for a spilt second before tending at the unfamiliar setting.

“Where am I?” He snapped, causing Wilbur to jump back a bit, before collecting himself and standing up.

“The Dream Team craft’s labatory.” The kid’s face flashed with panic for a split second, “You have two testings scheduled for today. It will go quickly.”

“Will it be painful?” The kid asked. As standard for testing, Wilbur ignored the question and measured the substances. He quickly cleaned the puncture spot before giving him the needle.

The kid winced in pain. Wilbur swiftly led him to the testing chair. It had restraints that moved with the patient's body, which prevented bruising while keeping them in place. Wilbur clicked them on and sat at the desk located to the left of the kid.

“What did you inject into me?” The kid asked clearly trying to fight off the anesthetic.

“A dosage of Lidocaine, which is an anesthetic for your species. It’s only to numb pain that may come with the solutions we will be using today.” The kid’s face flashed with a deeper panic than before, causing Wilbur to tense. “We won’t start yet, since we have a list of questions to go through before we begin.” Wilbur lied. He hated testing people, especially kids. Dream of course didn’t care, like the rest of the Dreamon species. It made him sick. That was when he made a split second decision. Hoping he could get a distress signal out, without alerting the other crew members. He was gonna get the kid off the ship, at the next stop of course. Which was in three celestial hours.

The kid scoffed, clearly not believing the lie. He paused a moment thinking over his options before he smirked,“Fine. Ask me what you want bitch-boy!” Wilbur gasped, clearly not anticipating the insult.

——————

Chapter 1 End

1406 words

——————

End notes: Why the hell does google docs make it so hard to copy and paste??

Also I had to do some intense googling for this... I hope you enjoyed!

(Also also this is my first ever fanfic... please give feedback and reblog!!)

Minor mistakes are forgiven... don’t expect me to be perfect... I am dyslexic.

——————

Tommy: ....

Wilbur: ....

*intense starring*

Wilbur POV: I am kidnapping it.

——————

Chapter 2:

[itsactuallycorrine]

tagged by @bgonemydear--thanks, Brit! 

How many works do you have on AO3?

37!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

266,653

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

10 (grouping Star Trek, Star Trek: TOS, and Star Trek: TOS movies into 1). From most works to least:

The 100

Community

The Mindy Project

Agents of SHIELD

From Dusk till Dawn: the series

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Star Trek: The Original Series

Veep

Will & Grace

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone (or, Clarke is a Punk Rocker) (t100, Bellarke)

somehow the beauty will find you (t100, Bellarke)

counting down the hours (t100, Bellarke)

the truth was built to bend (t100, Bellarke)

hope's a burden (or it sets you free) (t100, Bellarke)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I didn’t used to, but as I start writing for smaller or more inactive fandoms, I do like to reply. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

The first 2 stories of my series the stars came falling on our heads (t100, Bellarke) both end on a very angsty note. I think part one more than part two, but just by a bit. (They also didn’t age. great since they were written pre-s3)

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write true crossovers, but in terms of fusion my Crazy Ex-Girlfriend-inspired Community fic The Situation's a Lot More Nuanced Than That was very fun to write (even if it did take me literal years to finish & post chapter 3.)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not out & out hate, but very recently I got a comment along the lines of “This was good but I would’ve done it differently,” and it was the first time I ever received any comment of that kind on a fic in over a decade of writing & posting.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Very, very rarely--I only have 1 on AO3 rated E. I’m much more comfortable with either a fade to black or a short, not-too-explicit sex scene

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! I’ve had someone post a fic of mine on Wattpad as their own (although I think that was from FFN, not AO3) and a year or two ago, someone stole one of my t100 fics, changed the names, and reposted it as a Game of Thrones fic. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve had someone start translating one of my fics, but I think they only got two chapters in before they gave up. I don’t even remember which one it was, but it was definitely one of my t100 fics.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

My favorite to write is Jeff/Annie from Community--I always go through periods where I don’t think about them at all, but if I rewatch the show or read something, I always fall back into writing them. (There’s more than one reason my otp tag for them is “something always brings me back to you”.) 

My favorite to read depends on my mood. I’m still in my Garashir (DS9) period right now--which is also a lot of fun to write. I’ve got a few WIPs simmering for them still.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have so many WIPs that I just open up in google docs, read, and then get angry that they haven’t been finished. 

I have 2 I don’t think I ever will get to, no matter how badly I want them, both for MacDennis (IASIP):

does it slip away slow (so you never even notice it’s happening): (title from Merrily We Roll Along) angsty-ish fic starting out in season 14, going back through time, and ending when they meet in high school. I have it completely outlined but every time I go to write it, my brain refuses to cooperate.

Untitled fic where Mac & Dennis argue and Dennis says something along the lines of wishing he’d never met Mac, and then he gets to see what it would be like and how his not being friends with Mac would change things.

What are your writing strengths?

I would hope characterization. That’s definitely where I personally feel strongest, and I put a lot of thought into the characters’ mindsets and personalities. My second would be dialogue.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition! As much as I hate reading dialogue-only, it’s everything in between that I have a hard time with. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It would have to be very necessary and I’d have to have it vetted at least once by a native speaker of that language, for sure. I avoid it where I can.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

....... iCarly. LISTEN...! (I have no excuse; I was 25 at the time.)

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I Thought I Could Fly Alone (I Can't Even Get Off the Ground) (gen Frankie-centric fic, Community) by a very wide margin. I love Frankie and I love her dynamic with every member of the study group, and this is one that came to me so effortlessly and turned out so well.

I’ll no-pressure tag @crazyassmurdererwall @bellakitse @peglegsjones @bufordtannen @celerylapel @shadesalvarez and anyone else who wants to do it

[dindjarin-mandalorian]

A Soft Place to Land (The Mandalorian - Din Djarin x OC) - Chapter Twenty-Five

Author’s Note: Links to my Masterlist and AO3 can be found at the top of my blog or in the pinned post. :)

This fic begins several years before the events of Season One of The Mandalorian take place, but it’s now caught up to events of the first season. At this point in the story, Din and Lira have known each other for about thirteen years, and this chapter takes place during the events of Chapter 8 of the show. There will be a few lines of dialogue from the episodes where the events line up.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, near-death experiences, dangerous situations, SO MUCH ANGST. (Let me know if I’ve missed anything and I’ll edit the warnings!)

Tagged: @nova646  @arduadastra​​ @jynrumbly​ @jesfreedark (If you would like to be added to my tagged list, you can now add yourself to my google docs tag list form, leave a comment here, or message me!)

Also, I need to give a shout out to my beta reader for her help with this chapter. @phantomviola I’ve already told you how much I appreciated your help with this chapter, but now I’m telling everyone else. lol This chapter would never have reached its full potential without your help, and I’m SO grateful you’re my beta!!!! 💗💗💗

-

Lira followed Cara and Greef through the sewers, the Child in her arms, as the tears continued to flow freely down her face. She didn’t even try to stem them. She knew it was pointless. Knew that, even if she tried to stop crying, it would be impossible, that her tears would flow until she died. She couldn’t imagine ever not crying now that Din was gone.

She choked on another sob at the thought. Every step she took was a battle against her heart. All she wanted to do was hand the Child to Cara, turn around, and run back to Din’s side. She knew what it would mean for herself if she went back to him, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered without him.

The Child cooed softly, and Lira squeezed her eyes shut. She had to remember the little one, had to remember that that’s why she was leaving Din behind. She had to protect the little one. She’d promised Din that she would, and even if she had to sacrifice her life to keep that promise, she would.

But that didn’t make her steps any easier. It didn’t make it any easier to leave Din behind. Leaving him was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. How could she leave behind the man she loved? It seemed unnatural to her, to walk through these sewers behind Cara and Greef, knowing that Din was dying somewhere behind them.

The thought that she would never see him again flashed through her mind, but that couldn’t be true. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life without ever seeing him again, without ever hearing his voice, without ever feeling his touch.

Another sob escaped her and she fell to her knees holding the little one close. The pain of her burned arm was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

“Din,” she cried, unable to stand, unable to stop her tears.

Someone knelt next to her. “Lira,” said Cara, “you have to get up. We have to get the kid out of here.”

“I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“You can. You have to or the kid won’t stand a chance. Those Troopers will be on us any minute. We have to go.”

She felt an arm wrap around her, trying to gently tug her to her feet, then heard Greef’s voice. “Come on, Lira, get up. We’ve got to get the kid out of here. It’s what Mando wanted.”

She nodded, though she couldn’t talk through her tears. She knew he was right, knew she was putting them all in danger with her weakness, but she didn’t know if she could go on.

Greef lifted her to her feet, then placed a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she met his eyes before he spoke. “I know it hurts, Lira. I’m sorry we had to leave him, but you’re alive and the kid’s alive, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way. Mando didn’t sacrifice himself just for you to give up.”

Lira’s tears began to fall even harder and she couldn’t speak, but she nodded once more.

“Good, let’s go,” Greef said, nudging her forward until she was walking again.

She knew Greef was right, that Din would not have wanted her to give up, and that was the only thing that gave her strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other as she followed Cara and Greef through the dark and damp sewers.

While they continued to walk, her last moments with Din came back to her. The last thing he’d said to her, possibly the last word he ever said, was cyar’ika. He’d called her cyar’ika, and she’d told him she loved him. Why had she waited until he was dying to tell him she loved him? When she’d loved him for years and had thousands of opportunities, why did she wait until it was too late to tell him?

And the worst part of it was that she didn’t think he’d even been able to hear her say the words. The fact that he would die without knowing she loved him was almost enough to make her fall to her knees again, but she kept on her feet, determined to keep her last promise to him.

She would keep her last promise to him even though he’d broken two promises to her in the last hour. He’d promised to stay safe, and he’d promised he wouldn’t leave her side, and he’d broken both of them. Why couldn’t he have stayed safe? Why couldn’t it have been me?

Lira sobbed again, but kept walking as she snuggled the Child closer to herself for comfort.

She had to stop letting her thoughts dwell on Din or she’d never have the strength to keep going. She needed to focus on the Child’s future and not on what she was leaving behind in the burned and broken cantina. The memory of the cantina made her realize that she’d both found and lost Din there. It was where she’d first met him, but now she would only ever be able to think of it as the place where she lost him forever.

She shook her head. Her one and only point of focus needed to be keeping the little one safe. There would be time for her to fall apart later. She’d made a promise to Din and she was going to keep that promise even if she died doing it. Nothing else mattered to her now.

They walked a little farther until they heard a muffled explosion behind them, then footsteps approaching, and all three whipped around to look back the way they’d just come. Lira clutched the Child tighter with one arm, and reached down for her blaster with her free hand.

She wasn’t sure how well she could aim and fire at Troopers while holding the Child, and she hoped that there wouldn’t be so many that Greef and Cara wouldn’t be able to handle them.

She held her breath as the footsteps drew nearer, then let it out in a rush that was half laugh, half sob when she saw IG-11 and Din round the corner. At first she thought she was hallucinating, until she heard Cara mutter, “Dank farrik, I don’t believe it.”

Din was leaning heavily on IG-11 for support, but he was alive, and Lira had never been so happy to see that familiar Beskar armor. She handed the Child to Cara as Din and IG-11 approached them, then ran to close the distance between them.

Din watched as Lira ran to him as he slowly walked through the tunnel with IG-11. He wanted nothing more than to run to meet her, to take her in his arms and hold her forever, but he could barely put one foot in front of the other as it was. When she reached him, she didn’t hesitate, wrapping her arms around his neck as though she’d never let him go. Tears streamed down her face and Din enveloped her in his arms, holding her as tight as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his body at the movement.

Tears filled his own eyes as she continued to sob, her whole body shaking beneath his arms.

“You’re okay, Lira,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Lira pulled back enough to look up at him, sliding her hands down his arms, and laughed softly through her tears, shaking her head slightly. “I’m not crying for myself.”

“Then what -?”

“You were dying. I thought you were dead, Din! And now you’re here. You’re alive.”

Another sob escaped her and she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in the soft material between his armor and helmet as she continued to cry.

Stars, she was so relieved that he was alive. She’d never been more grateful about anything in her life as she’d been when she’d seen Din round the corner of the tunnel with IG-11. She’d thought she’d lost him forever, and for him to walk back into her life, slightly worse for wear, but alive? It was more than she deserved.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her words muffled in the material of his cape.

“Yeah.”

She leaned back to look up at him again. “Are you sure?”

She couldn’t shake the image of him lying on the ground, dying, as she’d walked away from him in the burning cantina.

“I’ll be okay, Lira.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the guilt she was feeling rushing over her. “I’m so sorry I left you.”

“Don’t, Lira -”

“I shouldn’t have left you! I should have done something to help you, there had to be something, but I just left you.” Her tears started to fall faster, and she could barely get her next words out. “I left you, Din.”

She began to sob again, and Din pulled her tight against himself.

“Lira, it’s okay. I made you leave, there was nothing you could have done for me, and I wanted you safe.”

“But -”

“No, Lira, stop.” He moved his hands to her upper arms and pulled her away just enough so he could be sure she was looking at his visor and listening to what he was telling her. “You have to stop thinking like that. You did what I told you to do. You did what you had to do to protect the kid.”

“I know, but -”

“Lira.”

She bit her lip at his tone, knowing he was right, that she hadn’t had much choice in the moment, that she’d done what she had to do. But she still hated it.

“I didn’t want to leave you, Din,” she whispered, embracing him again.

“I know, Lira. I didn’t want you to leave, either, but I wanted you out of harm’s way.”

Cara’s voice interrupted their reunion. “Come on, you two, let’s get out of here!”

Lira stepped back and moved to Din’s side, slipping an arm around his waist and squeezing him gently, flashing him a small smile through her tears. “You can lean on me.”

“Thank you.”

He draped his arm around her shoulders as they started to walk again.

She didn’t like how weak his voice still sounded, but he was upright, which was more than she’d ever expected to see again, even if he was leaning on her more heavily than he normally would. “What happened after we left? I thought - I thought I’d lost you.”

Her voice was shaky and Din wished he could reassure her. He wished they had time for him to comfort her properly.

“The droid used bacta spray on my injury. I’ll be fine.”

The memory of his helmet being removed in front of IG-11 hit him again and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He was grateful to be alive, of course, but he’d never removed his helmet in front of anyone since swearing the Creed, and even though IG-11 was right about being a droid and not a living thing, Din knew it was a loophole, and one he wasn’t completely sure about. Part of him wanted to take that knowledge to the grave, but the other half wanted to spill all of his secrets to Lira. He wanted her to know, he felt like she deserved to know, as strange as that was, but he didn’t know if he’d have the courage to admit it.

He knew she wouldn’t judge him, knew she wouldn’t immediately track down a Mandalorian and tell them that he had removed his helmet in front of a droid, but it was still overwhelming to think about the fact that it had happened at all, droid or not. He also knew now wasn’t the time to have that particular conversation. He’d figure it out later. Right now he needed to focus on getting them all to safety.

Lira still hadn’t managed to stop her tears, but she knew she couldn’t fall apart yet. She’d come so close to losing him, and she could hardly wrap her head around the fact that he was walking next to her now.

She tried to stifle another quiet sob, but failed, and Din squeezed her shoulder gently, repeating, “I’ll be fine.”

The realization that she’d almost lost him completely and then had him miraculously returned to her almost made her collapse with relief, but the solid feeling of him beneath her arm wrapped around his waist, and the heavy weight of him across her shoulders gave her the strength to keep walking next to him.

She squeezed his side gently. “I still can’t believe you’re here. I thought - I thought I’d never see again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! I’m just so relieved.” She wiped her tears away with her free hand. “I don’t know if I could have gone on without you.”

“You would have found a way.”

“But I didn’t want to.”

He glanced down at her. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go on without you, either.”

Her tears spilled over again. “Din, I -”

She was interrupted by Greef calling over his shoulder. “Mando! Do you know which way to go?” he asked Din.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t know these tunnels. I’ve only entered from the bazaar.”

“Well, if we get the smell of sulfur, and we follow it, it’ll lead us up to the plains where the river flows.”

“And the Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.”

“Then let’s keep looking,” huffed Greef.

Din turned back to Lira. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing. We can talk about it later.”

Din searched her face for a moment, then said quietly, “I know.”

She looked up at him. “You know what?”

“Ugh,” Cara groaned, interrupting them once more. “This place is a maze.”

Din squeezed Lira’s shoulder again. “Nothing. You’re right, we can talk later.” He took a steadying breath, then added, “I can stand now. I’ll try to find tracks.”

He took his weight off Lira’s shoulders, and she was relieved to see that he seemed a little steadier on his feet than he had when he’d first appeared with IG-11. She wasn’t sure what he’d meant by saying he knew. He knew what? Surely he didn’t mean... Her eyes widened slightly at the realization that perhaps he had heard her in the cantina. The cantina had been burning, it had been chaos, he had been dying, she’d whispered. Surely he wouldn’t have been able to hear her say she loved him.

She stared at the back of his helmet for a few seconds while he searched for tracks.

Oh, stars, he knew.

She continued to watch him as he searched the area, and she knew that had anyone bothered to look at her, they would surely question why her face was so red. She wanted to melt through the ground. He knew. He knew she loved him. She couldn’t process everything she was feeling. Relief and terror and lightness and embarrassment. And while she knew that there hadn’t been time for him to say anything about it, part of her was terrified that the reason he hadn’t said it back yet was because he didn’t feel the same. She knew it was ridiculous, knew that there hadn’t been time, that he’d been busy not dying, that he was still trying to get them all out alive, but still, there was a tiny grain of doubt in her mind that he hadn’t said it because he didn’t want to.

She shook her head at the ridiculous thought. Whether he did or not, it made no difference at the moment. They had bigger concerns than who loved whom.

She returned her focus to her surroundings and was unsurprised when she realized Din had been successful in his search. She wished they could have a few minutes alone because she needed to talk to him now more than ever, but knew that wouldn’t happen until they were safe, and who knew what else they’d have to go through before that happened? She could only hope that they’d all manage to stay safe, to stay alive.

The Child reached for her and she took him back from Cara, trying to push her thoughts and fears to the back of her mind, before following Din down another tunnel.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the secret Mandalorian covert, but utter silence was not part of it. The farther they walked, the more she expected to hear signs of life, but there was nothing but the sound of their own footsteps.

They took another turn and Din led them into a room where he stopped short. Lira moved next to him and covered her mouth with her hand when she realized what had stopped him.

There, in the middle of the room, was a pile of Mandalorian armor.

Din turned off the light on his visor as though he didn’t want to have to look at the sight before them any longer. Lira couldn’t blame him. He moved closer and knelt before the armor for a moment, then picked up one of the helmets to examine it.

Cara slowly approached him and spoke quietly. “We should go.”

“You go. Take the ship, get Lira and the kid to safety. I can’t leave it this way.” He turned to Greef, his voice suddenly sharper. “Did you know about this? Is this the work of your bounty hunters?”

“No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries, not zealots.”

Din got to his feet and strode toward Greef. The pain in his voice brought Lira to tears again. “Did you do this?”

Greef took a step back from Din, but didn’t answer.

“Did you?” Din yelled.

“No!” Greef finally shouted.

Another voice echoed through the room, a woman’s voice, and Lira spun around to see who was speaking. “It was not his fault.”

Another Mandalorian entered the room, and Din backed away from Greef.

“Who’s this?” Cara muttered, and Lira shrugged her shoulders.

“The Armorer,” Din replied quietly.

Lira had never heard Din mention anyone called the Armorer before, and she wasn’t sure exactly what that title meant. She didn’t have much experience with Mandalorians, besides the one she was currently standing next to, and she wasn’t sure what to expect from the new arrival. She wasn’t scared, not quite, but the sight of the pile of empty Mandalorian armor was still fresh in her mind, and she had no way of knowing if this Armorer had anything to do with that or not.

“We revealed ourselves,” The Armorer said, pulling Lira from her thoughts. “We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted.”

She came to a halt in front of them, and Din asked, “Did any survive?”

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world.”

Din was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Come with us.”

“No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

She left the room without speaking again, and Din followed her. Lira and Cara shared a confused glance, then followed him out, Greef bringing up the rear. The room they entered held a forge and little else, and they watched as the Armorer began to place pieces of broken Mandalorian armor into the forge, melting them down, clearing up the reason for her title.

Finally, she spoke again. “Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

Din nodded at Lira, and she walked closer to the Armorer to show her the Child, though she kept him securely nestled in her arms.

“This is the one,” Din told her.

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?”

“Yes. The one that saved me, as well.”

“From the mudhorn?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause as the Armorer seemed to scrutinize the Child. “It looks helpless.”

The Child cooed softly, and Lira gave him a comforting squeeze.

“It is injured,” Din said, “but it is not helpless.”

As the Armorer spoke of Mandalore and of a group of sorcerers called Jedi, Lira tried to pay attention to her words, but she kept flashing back to the sight of Din lying amidst the burning rubble of the cantina. She blinked back tears and tried to focus on the conversation between the two Mandalorians again.

“It’s an enemy?” Din asked.

Lira’s brows creased and she held the little one closer, wondering just how much Din trusted this Armorer.

“No,” the Armorer answered. “Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.”

“What is it?”

“It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care.”

“You wish me to train this thing?”

Lira shared Din’s confusion. The little one was far too young to be trained. He was a baby. Well, sure, he was older than she was and clearly held some power, but still, he was a baby. Training him sounded dangerous. She never wanted him to be in a situation where he would need to use training. After the day they’d had, all she wanted was to get Din and the little one back on the Razor Crest, fly them to a remote planet no one had ever heard of, and keep them safe.

She didn’t want to think about training or fighting or dying. She’d had enough of that for the day. She’d had enough for a lifetime.

And Cara had clearly had enough of standing around and talking. “These tunnels will be filled with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan.”

The Armorer spoke immediately. “If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats.”

Greef nodded. “I think we should go.”

Lira took a step closer to Din. “What do you think?”

“I’m staying,” he answered. “I need to help her, and I need to heal.”

Lira lifted her chin. “Then I’m staying, too. I’m not leaving you again.”

“No,” the Armorer interrupted, her attention on Lira as she considered her. “You must go. Both of you. A foundling is in your care.” She turned to Din before continuing, “By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.”

The Child cooed as Din stared at him nestled in Lira’s arms. Father. The word echoed around Din’s head. This was not what he’d expected to happen when he’d first accepted the bounty tracker on that fateful day. He didn’t know how to be a father, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be a father. He was a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter, and he didn’t know how he could reconcile those two things with being a father.

“This is the way,” the Armorer added. “You have earned your signet.”

The Armorer moved next to Din and began to weld something onto his pauldron, and Lira took a step back to protect the Child from the flying sparks as he reached out tiny hands to try to catch them.

Din’s thoughts were still swirling. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t raise a child on his own. His attention was drawn to Lira as she spoke softly to the Child, cradling him close, and the realization that he wasn’t alone hit him with the force of a mudhorn.

He stared at her, swallowing hard at the implication. He knew Lira had said she loved him, though he still questioned whether he’d only imagined it, but he didn’t know if she would want to raise a child with him. Or, at least, to raise one until he managed to reunite the little one with his own kind. He knew she’d been willing to help him up to now, but he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to step away after this. She hadn’t signed up for raising a child when she’d agreed to help him, and part of him worried that he would lose her now.

“You are a clan of two,” declared the Armorer, interrupting his thoughts as she stepped back to reveal the mudhorn signet on his pauldron.

Din stared at his pauldron for a moment, his thoughts still a mess. A clan of two. He turned his attention to the little one, smiling slightly behind his helmet at the sight of Lira holding him protectively against her chest. When he woke up that morning, he hadn’t expected that he would earn his signet that very day, and he definitely hadn’t expected to be joined - to be bonded - with the Child in a clan.

He looked from the Child to Lira, swallowing once again. He was glad to have the Armorer’s affirmation, glad to officially have a clan, but he didn’t like that Lira had been left out of it. He knew the Armorer didn’t know what Lira meant to him, that she had no way of knowing that he would give up life itself if that’s what it took to protect Lira. They didn’t have time for him to explain all of that to the Armorer now, though, and it didn’t matter anyway. As soon as he got an opportunity, once they’d talked, once he’d told her that he loved her, he was going to make sure Lira knew she was part of his clan, too.

He looked back down at the mudhorn signet on his pauldron. He still didn’t know if he was ready to be a father, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect the Child, and that, he thought, was something a father would do. He turned back to the Armorer and nodded at her. “Thank you. I will wear this with honor.”

Before the Armorer could reply, an explosion echoed from a nearby tunnel, and they heard the sound of marching footsteps.

After the Armorer ordered IG-11 to stand guard in the outer hallway, she turned back to Din. “Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

“When I was a boy, yes.”

“Then this will make you complete.”

She held up a jet pack, and Din stared at it in silence for a moment before speaking. “Thank you.”

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.”

“I understand.”

Blasters fired nearby and Cara drew her weapon as they all turned to the entrance of the room. Lira released a shaky breath when IG-11 entered alone.

“You are protected,” the droid informed them.

The Armorer turned her attention back to Din. “More will come. You must go.”

“Come with us,” Din repeated.

“My place is here.” She nodded in the direction of a box in the corner. “Restock your munitions.”

Din nodded and moved to the corner to do as she said, while she handed the jetpack to IG-11 and gave him more orders.

Lira watched Din go through the box of ammo for a moment, then moved to his side. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

She gave him a small smile, though her tears threatened to spill over again. “I know I’ve already told you this, but you really don’t know how happy I was to see you walk around that corner with IG-11.”

“Probably not as happy as I was to see you.”

Her grin grew a little wider, and she laughed softly. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.”

Din knew they needed to hurry, knew that the Troopers could arrive at any moment, but he took a few seconds to gaze at Lira’s face. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to see her again, much less talk to her, and though he already had her face memorized, he couldn’t get enough of her. He was desperate to tell her the truth now, that he loved her more than he thought possible, but he didn’t want to say it in front of the others.

Lira smiled up at him, and though she still looked exhausted and terrified, he could see the slight hint of a mischievous smirk. “So, you’re a dad now, huh?”

He tilted his head. “Looks like it. For now, at least.”

“That’s unexpected.”

“It is.”

Her smile softened and she lowered her voice even more. “For what it’s worth,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly, “I think you’ll make a wonderful father.”

Din’s stomach flipped and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were in mortal peril. He didn’t know what to say, which didn’t actually surprise him since he was often lost for words when Lira was involved. “Thank you,” he managed, swallowing again as her smile grew at his less-than-eloquent response.

“You’re welcome.”

Cara’s voice echoed around the small chamber. “Come on, you two! We don’t have time for this.”

Din knew she was right, but he was loath to leave the small moment of peace he’d found with Lira. He sighed and placed a hand on Lira’s back, then quietly said, “Let’s go,” ushering her gently to the door where Cara, Greef, and IG-11 were waiting for them.

They made their way down the tunnel that the Armorer had indicated until they reached the lava river. There was a boat docked on the edge with a ferry droid perched in the back, but the droid was unresponsive.

Din sighed. “The ferry droid is fried.”

Greef joined him at the edge of the lava river, and Lira watched as they discussed possible plans to solve the problem of the inoperative boat. She had nothing to contribute, so instead she hummed a soft lullaby to the little one. She meant to comfort him, but realized with surprise that he was the one comforting her instead. She gave him a small smile and kissed the top of his head before turning her attention back to Din and Greef’s attempts.

Din and Greef tried to push the boat away from the shore, but it didn’t move, and she winced when Din kicked the edge of it and yelled in frustration. He grabbed a long pole that was leaning nearby, trying to get some leverage with it, but it proved even less effective than pushing the boat.

Cara stepped forward as Din tossed the pole aside. “You guys mind getting out of the way?”

She fired her heavy blaster at the boat, which finally pushed away from the shore.

“Watch your feet, it’s molten lava,” IG-11 warned them as they approached.

Cara rolled her eyes at Lira before climbing into the boat. “No kidding.”

Lira managed a small laugh, and watched as Din and Greef climbed aboard. She carefully handed the Child to Cara, then took Din’s outstretched hand to steady herself as she boarded the ferry.

The boat began to drift slowly down the lava river, and Cara handed the Child back to Lira, who moved closer to Din’s side once the little one was in her arms. She was still terrified, but the terror lessened slightly when she was standing close to him.

There was a beeping noise behind them and the ferry droid suddenly whirred to life. It beeped a few more times until IG-11 stepped forward. “I believe he is asking where we would like to go.”

“Down river,” Greef informed it. “To the lava flat.”

The droid chirped assent and began to push them a little faster down the lava river. They traveled for several minutes in silence, until Greef shouted, “That’s it! We’re free!”

He pointed to the entrance ahead where daylight was visible, but Din shook his head. Lira heard his visor scanning, and then Din’s quiet sigh.

“No, we’re not.” He turned back to the group. “Stormtroopers are flanking the mouth of the tunnel. Looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

Cara turned to the ferry droid, ordering it to stop, but it ignored her and continued to happily chirp as it pushed the boat downriver. She fired her blaster at it, which stopped the chirping, but not the boat’s slow cruise down the river.

“We’re still moving,” announced Greef.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” muttered Lira.

Cara sighed. “Looks like we fight.”

Din shook his head. “There are too many.”

“Well, then what do you suggest? ‘Cause I can’t surrender.”

Lira looked to Din. “There’s got to be something we can do.”

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” interrupted IG-11. “This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape.”

Lira narrowed her eyes at the droid. “And just how do you plan to do that?”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal,” added Din. “You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective.”

Lira shook her head. “No,” she said in a hushed whisper.

“If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

Din stared at IG-11. “What are you talking about?”

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.” He handed the jetpack to Din. “I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the Child.”

“Wait, you can’t self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the Child. That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right?”

“That is correct.”

“Good. Now, grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

“Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The Child will be lost.”

Lira looked between Din and IG-11 as she clutched the Child tighter. She was afraid the droid was right, but she refused to believe it, not when Din was so determined.

“Sadly,” IG-11 continued, “there is no scenario where the Child is saved, in which I survive.”

Din had never had any love for droids, but he couldn’t deny that this droid had saved his life. The only reason he was still standing, still breathing, was because IG-11 had saved him. He couldn’t let the droid sacrifice himself to save him yet again. There had to be some other way.

Din’s voice grew quiet again. “Listen, you’re not going anywhere. We need you. Let’s just come up with a -”

“Please tell me the Child will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

“But you’ll be destroyed.”

“And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

Din looked down, and Lira took a step closer to him, her tears threatening to fall again. The Child babbled softly and reached out a hand to rest it on Din’s arm.

“No,” Din repeated. “We need you.”

“There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

“I’m not... sad.”

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice.”

Lira knew IG-11 was right and she wasn’t a nurse droid. The sadness in Din’s voice was obvious, and it was breaking her heart.

IG-11 stepped closer to her and ran one of his metallic fingers gently down the Child’s ear before he turned and stepped out of the boat into the lava river.

Lira rested a hand gently on Din’s back as they watched IG-11 walk through the lava toward the entrance of the cave. The Child babbled a little louder, reaching for Din again, and Din took him from Lira before turning back to watch the droid’s progress.

When IG-11 reached the opening of the tunnel, there was a brief, quiet pause, and Din grasped for hope that maybe he’d been wrong, maybe there were no enemies at the mouth of the tunnel, maybe IG-11 wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself after all.

Suddenly, IG-11’s self-destruct protocol activated and the explosion rocked through the entrance. Lira turned her head to hide her face in Din’s arm, not wanting to see the destruction of the droid who had already saved Din’s life once that day and who had chosen to sacrifice himself for the Child.

Din released a quiet, shaky breath as he watched the smoke clear. He knew there was nothing to be done for IG-11 now, knew he couldn’t change it, knew IG-11 had been a droid with a duty and nothing more, but he couldn’t hold back the tear that slid down his face. He was thankful for the helmet, thankful that no one else would know about his moment of weakness.

He glanced down when he felt Lira gently squeeze his arm. She wasn’t looking at him, though, her attention on the mouth of the tunnel, but he could still see the tears in her own eyes.

“We’re going to get through this, Lira,” he said quietly enough that no one else could hear him.

She glanced up at him and gave him a small nod, though she couldn’t manage a smile.

When they neared the entrance, Din passed the Child back to her and drew his blaster, but as they moved into the sunlight, there were no living Stormtroopers to be seen.

There was a brief moment of calm before it was broken by the sound of a TIE fighter flying overhead.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara yelled.

Then chaos erupted.

Lira knelt in the boat, settling the little one under cover as best she could as Din, Cara, and Greef fired at Gideon’s TIE fighter. She positioned herself to block the Child as much as possible, then removed her blaster from its holster and joined the fray.

The TIE fighter flew overhead once more, but its laser fire missed them. It retreated behind the mountains, and Cara swore. “Our blasters are useless against him.”

Greef turned to Lira. “Hey, let’s make the baby do the magic hand thing. Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing!”

Lira rolled her eyes as the Child smiled and waved at Greef. “I really don’t know what you expected.”

Greef huffed. “Well, I’m out of ideas.”

“I’m not,” said Din.

The TIE fighter flew back into view as Din picked up the jetpack and attached it to his back.

“Din, no!” Lira shouted, grabbing his arm. “The Armorer said you had to heal first and that it wouldn’t work for you until you got to know it!”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“There’s got to be some other way.”

“There’s not.”

“It’s too dangerous!”

“This is the way.”

“Din, don’t be an idiot!”

The TIE fighter flew overhead again, and Din blasted straight up into the air to distract Moff Gideon, his arm sliding right through Lira’s fingers.

“Why is he so stubborn?” Lira raised her blaster again as she joined Cara in firing at the TIE fighter, her heart in her throat.

She watched in horror as Din shot the whipcord from his vambrace at the TIE fighter to attach himself to it, and was then pulled along behind the ship. They stopped firing in fear of hitting Din instead of the ship.

Lira didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. Din had managed to get to the TIE fighter and was firing into the top of it, but Moff Gideon rolled the ship, rocking it back and forth to dislodge Din. She’d already thought she’d lost him once that day, and she didn’t think she would survive it a second time.

She gasped as he ejected himself from the ship, plummeting to the ground. The ship exploded seconds later, the wreckage hurtling through the air and landing with a crash in the distance. She searched the skies, desperately trying to find Din in the thick smoke.

When she finally spotted him, she felt her knees go weak as she realized he was still falling far too fast, but at the last minute, his jetpack roared back to life and he was able to slow his descent. As soon as he was on the ground, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him and holding him close.

“Are you okay?” she sobbed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assured her, though his voice was still weak and his breathing was heavier than normal.

She leaned back enough so she could see his visor, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Din Djarin.”

“I promise.”

She leaned into him again, holding him as close as she could, though it wasn’t nearly close enough for her.

Din wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, wanting to get her back to the Razor Crest as soon as possible. He wasn’t sure how long his adrenaline would last, how long he’d be able to stay on his feet, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without talking to her.

“That was impressive, Mando!” shouted Greef. “Very impressive!”

Lira pulled out of Din’s embrace and turned to see Greef and Cara standing behind her.

Cara flashed her a knowing smirk as she passed the Child to her, but Lira no longer cared about Cara’s teasing. She was just grateful that Din was alive. She snuggled the little one closer as she listened to Din, Cara, and Greef discuss the future of Nevarro.

She was too tired to join in the conversation, longing only to get Din and the little one back to the Razor Crest. The Child wiggled in her arms, and she set him down, smiling as she watched him waddle to Din and wrap his arm around his leg.

Lira’s attention was drawn back to the conversation by Greef calling her name. “What about you, Lira? What do you say to returning to intel-gathering for me? There would be a nice raise in it for you.”

Lira smiled, but shook her head. “No, I think I need to stick with this Mandalorian for a while longer if he’s going to be taking care of a baby. He’ll need all the help he can get.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll always have a place for you.”

Lira’s smile grew a little brighter. “Thanks, Greef.”

Greef nodded and reached out a hand to pet the little one’s ear. While he and Din were distracted by the Child, Lira gently grabbed Cara’s arm and pulled her a few steps away.

“I guess this is goodbye for now,” she said. “I’m going to miss you, Cara.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “What have I told you about getting sappy on me?”

“Well, I am going to miss you. I wish I had something to give you to remember me by.”

Cara laughed. “I’m not likely to forget you.”

Lira wrapped her arms around Cara, squeezing tight. It took a moment, but Cara finally returned the hug, and Lira beamed. When she pulled back, she kept her hands on Cara’s arms for a moment as she tried not to cry again.

“Don’t you dare cry!”

Lira laughed. “Fine, I won’t.” She wiped her eyes and took a step back. “I’ll see you around, Carasynthia.”

Cara grinned. “Yes, you will. And don’t ever call me Carasynthia again.”

“No promises!”

Lira rejoined Din and Greef, surprising Greef by giving him a hug, too. “Thanks,” she whispered. “For giving me a chance all those years ago.”

Greef laughed softly as he pulled away from her. “You know, I never will forget that day a stranger from some made-up place called Earth, someone everybody said was insane, came into the cantina raving about a planet she’d just visited with pink skies -”

“Purple.”

“-purple skies! I thought you were absolutely crazy.”

“And yet you hired me anyway.”

“Hey, I knew only someone as crazy as you seemed to be would go for what I was proposing.”

Smirking, Lira asked, “Do you still think I’m crazy?”

Greef looked to Din, who was now standing a few feet away with Cara, watching the Child waddle around. “Running around the galaxy with a Mandalorian and a child of unknown species who may or may not be sorcerer enemies? Oh yeah, I still think you’re crazy.”

Lira grinned. “A good kind of crazy, though, right?”

Greef chuckled. “Definitely a good kind of crazy.” His smile dimmed a little. “I really will miss you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You be careful out there.”

“I will.”

She gave him one last hug, then joined Din and the Child, smiling at the two of them. “Ready to go?” she asked Din.

“Yes.”

With a last wave at Cara and Greef, they turned and started walking in the direction of the Razor Crest, only making it a few feet before Din asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay?”

“I’m sure.”

“You could have a stable life here. It’s safe on Nevarro now.”

“I don’t want to stay. I want to come with you.” She paused. “Unless you don’t want me to -”

“I want you to come,” Din interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

“Then I’m coming.”

“Okay.”

She heard the smile in his voice and grinned as she nudged his side with her elbow. “Okay.”

Din’s relief was palpable as Lira told him she wanted to come with him. He’d been afraid she would have had enough adventure for a lifetime, that she would be ready to go back to Nevarro and her regular life and forget all about him.

But then he’d remembered her words as he’d been dying. She’d said she loved him. Sure, she might have only said it because she’d thought he was dying, maybe she hadn’t meant anything else by it, but he knew Lira, and he knew she wouldn’t have said something like that lightly, even if he had been dying.

He was desperate to get back to the Razor Crest, and walking was taking far too long. “It would be faster if we used the jetpack.”

Lira turned her head to raise a brow at him. “And just how do you propose we all travel with your one jet pack?”

“I can carry you and you can carry the kid.”

Lira laughed. “I am not letting you carry me while you’re using that jetpack, Din Djarin. At least, not until you’ve actually done what the Armorer said.”

Din grinned behind his helmet. “Fine, but it would be a lot faster.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would be faster, until we slammed into the ground.”

“No faith in my abilities, huh?”

“I have a lot of faith in your abilities. It’s just the jetpack I don’t trust.”

Din laughed softly. “That’s fair.”

As relieved as she was that they’d survived the day, something was still bothering her. “Din?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we should have checked to be sure Gideon was dead?”

“No one could have survived that crash.”

“But are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

She bit her lip as she looked behind her. “Just pretty sure?”

“He’s dead, Lira. Let’s not worry about him now. We’re all safe and we’re almost home.”

He could see the Razor Crest in the distance, and he didn’t even realize what he’d said until Lira echoed him.

“Home,” she said with a smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Din’s face burned beneath the helmet at his slip up, but he realized it was true. He’d never considered anywhere home since his parents had died. The Razor Crest had been the closest thing he’d known to a home, but it had just been a ship, just shelter.

Lira had made it into home for him, and now she was choosing, once again, to join him. She’d had a choice all those months earlier when he’d called her and asked for her help, and she’d had another choice a few minutes before.

And she’d chosen him both times.

Even after everything he’d put her through in the last few months, all of the dangerous situations, all of the times when she could have died, she still chose him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side, grinning at the blush spreading across her face. “I’m glad you’re coming with me, Lira.”

She smiled up at him and Din knew he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “Me, too,” she said softly. “Me, too.”

[rupertgayesarchive]

hey jenn...

so tell me about your plot planning process

oh chi i hate this question so much askfjajfakds

okay okay so i had to think about this because?? i don't do a lot of this consciously. have any of y'all looked at writing advice stuff and tried to make it work for you?? i keep trying and idk... i really tried to be the type of writer with like, outlines and bullet points, and usually i might have notes of some sort somewhere... it's all very much a 'trust the process' um. process. so here's stuff i do? in some semblance of order, but more like for your reading benefit than how it might actually happen.

first of all - i start with a concept (that fucks, obviously). considering the current spn fic i'm writing and the last longfic i wrote (marvel fandom) were both borne of that age old 'i read all the fics with this trope so now i have to write my own', i guess that's a pattern?

second, once i have the beginnings of like, a Thing I Want To Read Badly Enough That I Will Bite The Bullet And Write It Myself, how can i write it, considering like, who i am? for heard from your mother, a spn character getting sent back in time to fix things isn't a totally unique plot, but i am someone who 1. has not actually watched that much spn and 2. really enjoys the early seasons. so pretty quickly i started to think along the lines of 'writing a time travel fix it would require an in-depth knowledge of canon that i don't have past like, s3'. then my brain starts spinning off in all these other directions which leads to -

plot, i guess? by the time i put out the first chapter of heard from your mother i knew how cas got sent back in time, kinda sorta what would happen, and a rough idea of the ending, but no real sign posts. i think the main other thing i knew was that dean and cas end up together before the end of the fic, but even then, i didn't really know how. i also thought it would be a fun idea to give cas a cellphone that sends him anonymous messages as another draw/guide to the story. since pre-pilot was mostly focused on dean and cas meeting and getting together, a lot of energy was focused in trying to get them to be in the same place at the same time, bond, and eventually become an item. which also means -

what stories happen within the story? in any of my longer fics, there's usually an A/B plot going, which can shift and morph and intertwine as the story goes on. In heard from your mother, the A plot is probably dean and cas getting together, up until s1 starts, in which case it's the 'find dad' s1 plot, and the B plot throughout the fic is 'cas needs to figure out what he is and how he got where he is now'. there are shorter c plots (like offscreen stuff that happens with jess, bobby, pamela, etc.) but they're shorter lived.

another thing plot-wise that i don't consciously think of too much but is still important is payoff. these can be big or small, but this fic is SO goddamn long that it's good to idk, give the readers *something*. early in s0, this was dean and cas meeting up again after doing their own thing, like, yay! fun treat! good times! or another clue to what cas is (aka the RIBS chapter). some fun reveal, like seeing an old character pop up again, or maybe another emotional moment, like the resolution of the scarecrow episode rewrite, where dean finally comes out to sam. these are all moments that i personally really enjoyed writing, and if you're in this fic for the long haul, i imagine you're reading and going 'omg, finally!' or 'whoa, cool' - just something to make you pick your head up after however many words.

when i actually sit down to write a chapter, i kind of know where i want things to end up? like a lot of s0 was making sure certain characters met each other, s1 was more or less the same as the canon s1 with more focus on how the characters have grown/changed, and everything else is made up on the spot. like the hunts in s0 were made by me thinking: 'oh this monster got mentioned in an early season of spn, dean probably hunted that before. let's find a town for it to take place in, and maybe write it in a way that highlights one of his character flaws' very much an early monster of the week type of fic - creature story with an aesop somewhere inside that prompts dean (and usually cas) to confront something about themselves and hopefully push themselves closer together. we see this in the chapters dealing with the gillepsie family and the crocotta, probably the most obviously? i try not to beat anyone over the head with it. heard from your mother has a writing style that is sort of like 'here it is, you make sense of what people are thinking/feeling bc i'm not narrating that' which is very spn and male coded of me i think.

if i ever get stuck on how to approach something, i usually will put the fic down and listen to music or read something else, or i just talk out the ideas i have (to a lot of people on tumblr actually! thank you!!) a lot of my writing is latent and i just kind of let it happen. there are definitely deliberate choices for some things i do in this fic (i mentioned this with a previous ask about putting stuff in the plot that could help the characters from being backed into a corner later on), but heard from your mother is still something that to me is like 'this is a fun little story, watch me type away at my google doc and see what happens!'. like i take it seriously, i want people to enjoy it, but i want to enjoy writing it just as much.

i guess my writing is just: find what you want to read, figure out how you could write it taking into account your personal hangups, get it started, know kind of where you want to end up, and have fun figuring out the stuff in between (and leave some breadcrumbs in the middle there so if you end up way off base and you're already putting out chapters you can write your way out of it).

[princess-self-shipping]

White Lily Is Dark Enchantress Masterpost

Fuck it, I caved, I'm bout to go off

Mostly cause I adore this theory, have since world 8 and I started going "what-"

This is gonna be a long rant/tangent, so I'm putting this under a read more with a word count once I'm done. Enjoy!

First off, the White Lily is DE theory came to be for me at the end of world 8. Why? Because of one simple, teeeeeny tiny cutscene.

This right here. Now I won't be presenting this as solid proof the theory is correct as Lily is very much confirmed to have been an illusion of Enchantress's own design. However, this Lily being an illusion used to lure the party here to free DE means a couple a things

1) We can't take her word as gospel

and 2) We never met the real White Lily

So any previous assumptions we've had about her through this illusions behavior can go right out the window. The only things we can assume are accurate towards White Lily's behavior are the memories cause by familiar objects granting us access to her memories in worlds 7 and 8, and the brief flashback we see in world 10.

Now I know there is one EXTREMELY common debater that says that White Lily cannot be DE, and that's the intro cutscene. However, we all seem to be forgetting two things about it.

I will post it here so we can all look at it as well.

1) It is presented as part of a STORY, A LEGEND, and those can often exaggerate history to make the victors seem glorious and paint them in much different lights than who they might actually be. We cannot look at this and confirm this is accurate (especially given how it said that the main heroes vanished, which, given the existence of Dark Choco, Princess, and Tiger Lily, we can confirm isn't true at all)

2) White Lily only speaks twice in the battle cutscene that is often used to prove she's there. Twice. And is never responded to, or asked directly about anything. And with the sudden revelation that Vanilla is in fact a healer and not a support like some may have assumed, Lily could have easily not been there.

Next, we have a few lines of confirmation from DE herself. I would like to clarify a possible argument that could be made, as it was one I had with myself before I reached a certain cutscene in chapter 10: Wasn't DE made on the night of the witches?

Well, with the appearance of chapter ten, we have our answer: Yes and no.

DE existed before she took on her current name. She wasn't made that same night and went rogue, she witnessed what happened and it changed her forever.

And here's a quote from the lady herself. It's very on the nose wouldn't you agree?

White Lily Cookie is no more... given her wording, it's very obvious she would be referring to herself and not one of the heroes.

She also makes note of the lies of the past. Unreliable narrator has already been a tool used throughout this story, and DE is flat out acknowledging it here. The past and how history tells it cannot always be trusted.

Next, allow me to talk about imagery. Specifically, how White Lily always seemed to be the odd one out.

Here for instance. Her mural has her back turned, while the others face front holding their weapons

And here again, in the intro cutscene. She has no kingdom, no crown, no place to rule. She is once again the odd one out.

Even in the illusion that Poison Mushroom gives Vanilla, she is the only one hanging upside down

Lily is constantly portrayed as the odd one out in amazingly subtle ways. It only makes sense, as she's not really supposed to belong. She's the one who "turned her back" on the group so to speak, and any visual depiction shows that.

Next

We have this lovely interaction between herself and Vanilla

We find that DE and Vanilla know each other, and once had a secret garden

And we only know one other cookie who for certain shared a secret garden with Vanilla: White Lily Cookie.

Enchantress didn't even bother to deny this fact either. And given her supposed animosity towards Vanilla, she very likely would have told him off immediately if he was mistaken or lying. Especially given her pre-established desire to rid history of its lies

Next, we have our echo Lily's history

Of lies. This one will break Tumblr's post limit, so instead I will be posting a google docs link with all the evidence there to keep it nice and tidy.

Lily being DE isn't as farfetched as it may seem

There is plenty of evidence to suggest as much, and we can't trust White Lily at her word as she was A) A fragment of the past, and B) A liar, at least part of the time

So there you have it. My master post of why DE and White Lily are the same person

Feel free to debate me or give me access to more evidence of this that I may have forgotten to include <3

[final-girl96]

Hate That I Love

Wattpad. Google Doc Taglist

Daryl Dixon x Grimes!OC

Slow Burn Relastionship

Warnings: language, violence, abuse, sexual content, little bit of depression, anxiety

Chapter 40

I had woke up from a loud clap of thunder. I noticed I was laying on something and looked down. Nope, I was laying to someone. That someone being Daryl. The doors were rattling and I heard the growls of walkers.

"Daryl," I said shaking him.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"Get up. There walkers at the doors. The storms blowing the doors open!" I said and stood up.

Daryl jumped up and we ran over to the doors. We put both hands on the doors and tried to keep them shut. Everyone else waking up and coming over to help.

After the storm settled and we didn't hear the walkers anymore we all went back to sleep.

Later in the morning Maggie and Sasha came back with a man. Said his name was Aaron and he was a community. He told Rick he had photos him his bag. Said he had been following us for days and thinks we would make great additions to the group.

Rick of not trusting anything he said had us go out where the vehicles were and check around to check that it wasn't an ambush. Once we saw he was telling the truth we argued about going to the community or not.

Rick didn't want to go. He didn't trust the man. But in the end, we did end up going. We met up with Eric who was Aaron's boyfriend. He had twisted his ankle running from walkers. We were in some old buildings.

We were waiting for Rick, Glenn, Michonne, and Aaron to come to meet us. I knelt in front of Eric and looked over his ankle. "It's just sprained. Just need to keep off of it for a while," I told him as I bandaged it up.

"Are you a nurse?" He asked.

"No. I'm a doctor," I told him. "Dr. Nikyla Grimes."

The next morning we headed towards the community called Alexandria. Pulling up to tall walls and a gate. We walked in and Aaron leads us to Deanna the leader's place.

The place was untouched. It looked completely normal like the world never ended. People were living like dead people were walking around eating people.

We stopped in front of the house and Aaron explained that Deanna would want to talk to us all separately. Rick had gone first. When he came out he told me it was my turn.

I walked into the house and a living area. "Please sit," I heard a woman say and looked over to see a woman sitting on the couch.

I sat in a chair in front of her. I hope you don't mind me filming this," she said and I shook my head.

"Please state your name," she said.

"Nikyla Grimes," I said.

"Do you relate to Rick?" She asked.

"He's my brother," I said.

"So, Nikyla, what did you do before all this?"

"I was in medical school. I was in my residency," I said.

"Wow. You're so young and you were a resident already?" She said

"I graduated high school when I was 16. Skipped three grades," I said.

"Wow, so your the doctor for the group?"

"Yes,"

"Were you in a particular field?" She asked.

No, I was kinda just helping in the emergency department," I said.

"Well, we do have a doctor here. He's a surgeon. Maybe you can work with him in the infirmary," she said.

Yeah, I guess. I can go now?" I asked.

"Of course. Could you send Daryl in please," she said and I walked out of the house and down the steps.

'Daryl, you're up," I told him.

After everyone did we were lead to two big houses. We check them both put but decided to all stay in the biggest one together still not trusting this place. I walked upstairs and into a bedroom. There was a large queen-sized bed and a walk-in closet that had clothes in it. I went through the clothes.

I found a pair of jeans and a tank that looked like would fit me and I head into the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

I turned the shower on expected only cold water but I figure I check. Once the water started heating my mood changed from crappy to happy.

I stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over me and wash all the dirt, blood, and grime off of my body and out of my hair. After I was finished washing I got out and wrapped the fluffy towel around me. I stood at the sink and brushed my teeth and my hair before getting dressed and walking outside.

Daryl was sitting on the porch with the opossum he killed. He was gutting it. "You gotta do that now?" I asked.

He turned and looked at me "pfft," he huffed.

"What?" I asked.

"So what, your trust this place?" He said.

"Daryl, I wanted to be clean. Just because I got a shower does not mean I trust this place. But we need to give it a chance. It's better than being out there," I told him.

Later that night we all gathered pillows and blankets and slept in the living room. Deanna came over to see how we were settling in. She wanted Rick and Michonne to be constables. She hasn't figured out what job would be good for Daryl yet. She walked over to me and stood in front of me.

"Nikyla I wanted to give you these," she said handing me a white lab coat and stethoscope.

"Thanks I have my stethoscope though so I won't need that," I said taking the coat.

The next more I got dressed and put the lab coat on and grabbed my stethoscope. And went outside to head to the infirmary. I saw Daryl on the porch cleaning his crossbow. "I hose you down!" I heard Carol yell as she walked down the street.

"You look ridiculous!" He yelled back.

"You ever going to shower?" I asked him.

He looked up and scuffed. "What now?" I asked.

"Now that you're back to being in the white coat you think you're better than the rest of us?" He said.

"Excuse me? What the hell is up your ass? I did nothing to you. And I sure the hell don't think I'm better than anyone!" I yelled.

"Whatever," he said.

I scuffed and walked down the steps "Yeah, whatever is right, Dixon. Take a fucking shower!" I yelled and walked towards the infirmary.

Authors Note: If anything in the warning bothers you please do not read. I do not own The Walking Dead or it characters. I only own my characters that I make up. Something's may be out of order I'm going to try and follow the time line but It might change a little with the new character added. It starts in season 1 I like to start from the beginning. Please like, reblog, and comment if you like the story it really helps me get motivated to continue and helps me know what you'd like to see. And please if you like to read this as you feel free to do so. I understand some people my rather read as themselves I know I do sometimes. Thanking you for reading! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Taglist: If you'd like to be (un) tagged please let me know on the comments and click on the link to my Google Doc and you can add or unadd your name.

@fanfictionsilove @phoenixblack89

@tired-of-waitingx-blog @theonlyone-meeeee

@cathwritestragediesnotsins

@million-dollar-milkshake

@lokilover-39 @twdeadfanfic

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@badthing123 @felicisimor @rosey1981 @bunnymother93 @danalandfair

[taylorroger-s]

heartsick.

a/n my first (kinda) deaky fic!! IT’S A LOVE TRIANGLE LADS!!! i just kinda needed to write this? it has been a work in progress since february and i haven’t found the push to finish it until recently when i looked through my google docs and started finishing some wips. this is wild as hell man. kinda sad i cut it off right before THAT japan trip tho… part two anyone??

masterlist here! 

people who asked to be tagged: @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​​ @johndeaconsgf​ @cowparsleys​

warnings : angst, curse words, some partying, briefest suggestion of infidelity, the whole shebang. 9.1k words baby

enjoy :)

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john had always loved your smile. the way your eyes crinkled at the edges and your dimples showed. the hint of white teeth behind your plush lips. he would walk heaven and earth just to make you happy. 

now you were smiling that beautiful smile, but it wasn’t for him. it was for your newly minted fiancé. 

you had met john the first day of secondary school. you were placed in the same french class, seated diagonal to him. the first time you heard his voice was about an hour into the lesson when the teacher said something you couldn’t remember, and deaky muttered a dirty comment. you snorted out of laughter, drawing his attention. when your eyes met his, john knew he was a goner. 

from that day onward, the two of you were ingrained in each other’s lives. from birthdays to holidays, sickness and health, he was there for you as you were for him. it took it an almost ridiculous amount of time for him to realize his feelings for you.

the kicker was that he couldn’t tell if you felt the same. you were almost inhumanly hard to read, with a devilish grin and sharp wit. you treated most with the same cool attitude, same suave confidence that drove him insane. it didn’t help that you were also devastatingly attractive. 

every time you showed interest in him his heart would race and cheeks flush, stumbling over his words to find a response somehow as witty as you. you were unafraid of eye contact, able to make deaky crazy with just a smirk and eyebrow raise. 

for years, john had convinced himself that you were harboring feelings for him just as he was for you. it might have been true, you were always quite affectionate towards him and particular, giving you an unproportional amount of attention when around other people. but sometimes that would flip, and you would ignore him all together for hours. that didn’t stop him from twisting each bit of witty banter into a sign that you were in to him. only you knew your true feelings, but that didn’t stop deaky from speculating. from what he could tell, you were also horribly oblivious and most likely didn’t have a single inkling of his feelings. 

despite this, your friendship was still good and sincere. john could put away his feelings to keep that alive, tiptoeing around the idea of being something more.

through either a strain of luck or misfortune you ended up going to the same university, growing even closer through shared classes and drunken nights. by then, deaky’s feelings had only intensified, while yours stayed a closely guarded secret. who knows? maybe you did have feelings for him. you sure as hell wouldn’t admit anything, and neither would john. so the two of you stayed in that limbo for ages. 

until john joined queen. your world and, by association, his flipped upside down because of a certain blond haired drummer. 

his first official queen gig. july 2nd, 1971. it was a college gig in surrey, and the first time deaky introduced you to his bandmates. he had joined the band in february of that year, but hadn’t let you meet his new bandmates quite yet. when the day finally came, you dressed up much more than you would for a typical rock concert. when you rolled up to deaky’s flat, john swore that his jaw hit the floor. 

distressed leather jacket and tight black skinny jeans, with a low cut, patterned tank top. you wore high heeled, stained white combat books and silver stud earrings. your smoked out eyeliner just added to your addicting mystique, as did your blood red lipstick. compared to you, deaky looked like a broke college student, which he was. you looked even more like a rockstar than he did. john could barely believe his luck when you ran up and gave him a big hug, confessing how excited you were for him. it assured deaky that you were still his.

right?

you chatted excitedly during the ride about one of your various passions while he stayed quiet. it wasn’t like he was bored, quite the opposite actually. deaky could listen to you talk for hours and hours. he adored the way your voice changed pitch as you got more excited, the way you acted out your thoughts animatedly with your hands, and that goddamn smile you would offer him after pausing for breath. your eyes would show that rare glimmer of emotion. and it was all for him. 

once you reached the venue, john was having second thoughts. he didn’t want to share you with everyone, which he was embarrassed to admit. he knew that the magnetic nature of his bandmates would draw you away from him, which was almost debilitatingly terrifying. he wouldn’t be able to stand growing apart from you. so he devised a small scheme to hold off the inevitable. 

“hey y/n? how about you stay out here. i can meet you backstage after. i think it would be better to experience it from the crowd.” your face fell slightly. you were excited to be part of the behind the scenes experience of a rock band, it was one of the few things you had yet to do. but you understood his concern. it made your heart flutter just a bit. you gave him a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek before going off to find some alcohol.

he breathed a sigh of relief as he watched you weave your way in between the crowd. he still had you to himself, even if it was just until the end of the gig. shoving down his feelings, deaky made his way to the backstage space where his bandmates were lounging around, going through their pre-show rituals. 

roger was sitting on a drum case, a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips. his thin fingers tapped away on his thighs, cycling through the drum patterns he had memorized. brian sipped from a half empty beer bottle, eyes trained on the ceiling. freddie was hunched over a mirror, fluffing his hair with a frown on his face. 

freddie turned to john, looking at his outfit with lips twisted in a look of disapproval. freddie was dressed quite extravagantly, while deaky had opted for a simple t-shirt and jeans.

“dear god deaky, what are you wearing?” john frowned, looking down at his outfit and then back up to freddie.

“uhh, clothes?”

“oh no, that won’t do.” he shook his shoulder length curls, waving a black nailed hand at deaky’s gig attire. 

“please tell me why it won’t.”

“it’s so… plain. we’re queen for god’s sake! we have to look the part!” freddie waved his hands dramatically, showing off his tight leather jumpsuit, one leg in white and the other in black. his dark eyes were lined with smoky eyeliner, making his strong features pop even more. deaky just had his hair brushed, wearing a ‘the who’ shirt and bell bottoms. 

john had to admit, he looked quite plain compared to the rest of the band. brian was wearing a sequined black top with batwing sleeves, and tight leather trousers. roger opted for an open floral blazer, with zebra stripe patterned trousers for no discernible reason. john looked more like a concert goer than a rockstar. but he wasn’t about to back down. 

“i’m alright with the plain then.”

“one day… i will change your mind, mark my words.” freddie said with a mischievous grin. john just rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. though he had only been a part of the group for a few months, they already felt like brothers to him. 

deaky walked over to his bass, resting it on his lap. he absentmindedly plucked away to a random beat, letting the music cycle through him and calm him down. his eyes fluttered shut. he fell back on a memory to soothe his nerves. he thought of you, sitting with your head on his shoulder as he strummed softly on his bass. he could almost feel your hair tickling his cheek as you shifted to sit up and look at him. 

“that’s beautiful.” you had said, toying with the ends of deaky’s long hair. your chin was rested on his shoulder, nose just barely touching his jawline. 

“think it has potential.” your closeness drowned out any rational thought he could scrape up, but each brush of your skin against his brought him back to earth. you were a drug that sent him reeling with his head in the clouds, heart pounding at every sly look and smile. he was far, far gone for you.

“that’s some grade a bullshit john.” you pulled his hand from the bass and laced your fingers with his, tracing small circles on the back of his palm. that was his favorite memory of you. you were so relaxed and peaceful, which made him feel the same. it was always the last thing he thought of before he ever had to confront a crowd. 

“you alright deaks?” roger asked, pulling john back from his memory into the gritty reality of the cramped backstage in that tiny pub. he nodded, taking off the strap of the bass and resting it against the arm of his chair. roger offered him his cigarette and deaky gave him a gracious smile, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out through his mouth and nose. after a couple more puffs, they got the signal that it was time. john took one last pull before stubbing the cigarette out and picking up his bass. here goes nothing. 

the small main room was packed, people standing shoulder to shoulder to watch them play. it was flat out electrifying. they cheered raucously as brian strummed the opening note of liar, freddie joining with vocals not long after. john scrunched his eyebrows in concentration during his solo, skilled fingers rapidly plucking away at the four strings of his bass guitar. after his part ended, he looked up, searching the crowd for you. 

after just a moment, he caught a glimpse of you near the center of the crowd, dancing and singing along wildly. your face almost immediately brightened when you caught him watching, and you shot him a bright smile with some enthusiastic thumbs up. it made john’s heart swell, and he returned your smile. soon freddie’s iconic line “mama i’m gonna be your slave” and deaky rushed to his side to sing the “all day long” line.

every time he sang, he locked eyes with you, which gave him just enough confidence to sing in front of the crowd, especially since he had always considered himself a bad singer. you had always vehemently disagreed, saying that you absolutely loved john’s singing voice, but he couldn’t really tell if you were humoring him or not. for the record, you weren’t.

but only one song later, when john had nothing to play, he looked back at you, hoping to see you smile one more time. but you weren’t focused on him. you were focused on the drummer right behind him. deaky whipped his head around, stomach twisting when he saw the look in roger’s eyes. one that he had seen during practices whenever he would bring along a groupie. a lustful, dangerous look now aimed entirely at you from across the cramped stage, you being barely close enough for roger to see you with full clarity (he had atrocious eyesight). and you seemed to be returning his coy smile, even grinning and breaking his gaze when roger gave you a cheeky wink. john was so busy looking between the two of you that he almost missed his cue. this was going to be a long evening. 

the rest of the show passed in a blur, one filled with sly glances and flirtatious gestures from across the room. but they weren’t for john, on the contrary. they were all for roger, who you were basically eye-fucking from the crowd. and he was certainly enjoying it. deaky was decidedly not. he could feel the regret pooling in his gut. you were just too irresistible to deny, and when you begged to go to his first gig, he couldn’t say no. 

but now you were completely enamored by that blond casanova, one of john’s closest friends. that was when he knew that it was the beginning of the end. he could feel you slipping through his fingers. and it was absolutely terrifying. you had been by his side for so long, that a world without you next to him was unfathomable. 

after the show, you came straight to deaky, almost jumping into his arms. he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, placing a hand on the back of your head to hold you close. that was the same position you had been in after your highschool boyfriend broke your heart, or when your grandma died. deaky had held you close and let you weep into his jacket, whispering soothing words. 

“deaks! you did so amazing!” you pulled back a little, placing a hand on his cheek. he melted into your touch, consciously aware of the goofy grin he must be sporting. you had such an intoxicating effect on him. 

“i’m very proud of you, don’t you forget it.” your thumb slowly moved back and forth across the skin of his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in your wake. john pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your back. he wanted to drink in that moment for as long as possible. but he felt you start to back up, and he knew exactly why. because over his shoulder came a cloud of cigarette smoke and expensive shampoo fragrance, and john let you go, even though it felt like you were being ripped away instead. 

roger clapped john on the back, startling him. deaky looked over his shoulder and saw roger looking you up and down with a dangerous look in his eyes. he glanced between the two of you for a few moments, heart rate steadily increasing as time went on. 

“you must be y/n, i’m roger, the drummer.” he took your hand, raised it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your palm. you were frozen in shock for a moment before responding. 

“nice to meet you roger.”

“so you’re not a myth?”

“what’s that’s supposed to mean hm?”

“well, john always talks about you like you are some sort of goddess. we didn’t believe him for a long while, but now that you’re standing here? he certainly wasn’t exaggerating.” roger looked you up and down, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. you smiled, genuinely smiled at his words. john had never seen you so instantly smitten. roger had you, you of all people, in the palm of his hand. 

“well aren’t you a flatterer.” you gave him a sly smile, giving roger a quick once over and a cocky eyebrow raise. deaky felt his heart crack just a little more. the two of you were so charismatic and confident that it was almost unfair. two people that bewitching should be forbidden from flirting with each other, in john’s opinion. 

“only with gorgeous women.” john’s stomach flipped and churned, and he felt lightheaded. seeing you so clearly enamored with his best friend sent deaky reeling. he and roger had always had a special connection being the two youngest members of queen. they were extremely close, and roger was john’s best friend second only to you. john couldn’t imagine having both you and roger separate from him. it would break his heart.

while deaky was silently spiraling, roger had taken a step closer to you, nudging john just a little bit further away. as if he was no longer inhabiting his body, john took another step back, though every cell in his body was screaming to take you by the hand and head to his flat for one of your impromptu movie nights. but it was too late, even though john had yet to accept it. 

after a few more minutes of lip bites and silver-tongued words, freddie waltzed over, announced there was an after party at the nearby pub, and pulled john to his side for the walk, leaving you next to roger. the door swung open as the small posse walked out, high on post-show adrenaline. john was standing in front of you, harnessing all of his willpower that wasn’t swept away by the cool summer night to not look over his shoulder, because he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. 

from what he could hear over freddie’s rapid story about some debaucherous party in his uni days, you and roger were pulling each other in ever so slightly as the seconds passed. every time he heard your airy laughter deaky could practically see the gorgeous smile that would adorn your features, the way your eyes would crinkle at the edges as the conversation drew on. 

soon enough, they reached the pub, all primed and ready to get drunk in celebration of their first queen gig together. that would surely take the edge off of john’s steadily growing headache at roger and yours closeness. when he turned around, what he saw made him want to down at least three tequila shots to purge it from his mind.

you were bundled up in roger’s plush fur coat, despite the mild temperature. his arm was slung dangerously low across your back, nimble fingers tracing circles along your hip bone as you strode through the pub’s creaky wooden doors. you were laughing at something he said, a painted nail trailing down his chest. it was almost like no one was in the room. 

what really hurt deaky’s heart was your myriad of traditions the two of you shared on every night out ever since his eighteenth birthday, that you had decided to ignore. one shot of cheap tequila, then a gin and tonic for the both of you. but while john was walking toward you with two shot glasses in hand, you were leaning into roger heavily while he whispered something in your ear, a glass of whiskey and a cigarette in one of his hands, the other on your thigh. 

before you could see the hurt in his eyes, john turned, downed the shots, and walked towards the dance floor, determined to forget your awe-struck eyes as you looked up at roger. and it was just his luck that the song playing was “how deep is your love” one of your’s and deaky’s favorite songs to dance together. yet by some cruel twist of fate, he was alone, shuffling to the beat while stealing brief glances at you whenever possible.

two gin and tonics later, he had nearly forgotten about you and roger just across the bar as he bobbed his head to the music, sipping his drink every now and then. he was so distracted by the music that he barely noticed a tug on his long wavy hair, a habit you had picked up to draw his attention since he was a good few inches taller than you. it was clear to see you were a little tipsy by how heavily you were leaning against the bar, one hand gripping deaky’s bicep. 

“deaks, i’m gonna head. it was a long night, and i really need some… rest. but i can’t tell you enough how proud i am of you okay? you are an amazing best friend and i am so happy for you. good night johnny-boy.” your words were a little too airy for his liking, and as he bid you goodbye, he could see why. 

wrapped in rogers fur coat, you smiled as the drummer whispered something in your ear. john nearly dropped his drink, but instead stood back and stared as you left the bar under roger's spell. he could feel you slipping away, into the embrace of his best friend and bandmate. 

that was the beginning of the end.

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“whatcha thinkin bout deaks?”

“huh?” john mumbled, eyes closed as your fingers slipped in between his wavy hair, forming a long braid against his back. he always loved when you played with his hair. it calmed him down immensely, which was desperately needed. he had tried to ignore that you were at queen’s recording sessions more often than not, cooly ignoring him- or at least in john’s mind - in favor of watching roger. 

he could only hold on to the sick, twisted hope that you would see roger’s youthful promiscuity and let him go, sending things back to how it was before. but john was kidding himself. it felt like he had been from the start. 

“you seem a little… distracted,” you mused, resting your head on his shoulder as your gaze shifted to the quiet tv program inching by on your beat up box telly. there was a stillness in the air, sharp and cool, sticking to your skin. 

“‘m busy, that’s all. band is getting more popular, starting ideas for an album,” he murmured after a minute or two, placing his head against yours as an olive branch to break the alien tension surrounding the room. john couldn’t get the image of you in roger’s coat from his eyes, a smile he knew so well etched on your lips. 

“that’s amazing john. i am not kidding when i say queen might be the greatest band ever conceived.” he just laughed, nudging your shoulder playfully. the same old pattern reborn once more. 

“even more than the bee gees? marvin gaye?”

“okay, maybe not gaye,”

“you wound me, love.” you just smiled, slowly untangling yourself from the pile of blankets, tip-toeing over to the record player tucked in your bookshelf. john shifted to watch as you flipped through the impressive vinyl collection filling the empty shelves. you quickly turned once the needle was gently placed on your chosen song, holding out a hand to deaky with an eyebrow raised. after a few seconds, the song started playing, and john matched your soft smile.

listen baby, ain’t no mountain high

ain’t no valley low, ain’t no river wide enough baby

he pulled you gently into his arms, with one hand in the center of your back, the other gripping yours so tightly as if he was holding on for dear life. you either didn’t notice his desperate hold or declined to mention it. you just kept on whispering the words, slowly swaying back and forth to the relaxed beginning of the song. 

‘cause baby there ain’t no mountain high enough

ain’t no valley low enough 

john drew back, twirling you along with the rising tempo. your smile only grew, growing more goofy as your dancing continued. he could barely register the music, focused solely on the feel of your warm hand against his, the sweet scent you carried everywhere you went. you giggled at his dance moves, mirroring the exaggerated slow dance 

ain’t no river wide enough

to keep me from getting to you babe

without warning, john dipped you, fingers intertwined. a beat passed as he simply looked at you, eyes scanning your face hungrily as if he would never see you again. you were so close, his warm breath tickled your cheek. your heart skipped a beat, and he could only hold tight as the song spiraled to its end. you cleared your throat and flicked your gaze from him to the record player. getting the hint, he slowly, deliberately lifted you back up onto steady feet. 

deaky watched as you hurried to the record player. he could feel his stomach drop to his feet at your quick change in posture. did he make a mistake? did he overstep his boundaries? with each hypothetical his doubt and anxiety rose, rooted to one spot, incapable of moving while your back was turned. you cleared your throat, head lifting with you still facing the records. 

“you should…”

“yeah, see you later then?”

“goodnight johnny-boy”

“goodnight” 

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deaky was on his knees in the crowded backstage, various screws and wires around him as his deft fingers worked on adjusting his amp, making sure that everything was just right for the last show of their very first american tour. there were supposed to be more, but brian contracted hepatitis so the tour was cut short. 

may eleventh, 1974, just under three years after john’s first queen gig, and your first time meeting the band. meeting roger. things had continued as he had expected. you at every gig, on rogers arm whenever free, often disappearing and returned some time later looking noticeably disheveled. time had made the pain less sharp, but the ache was still there. the ache for you to be by his side instead of roger’s. 

john missed being close to you. they were across the atlantic ocean, muscling through long rehearsals and, as the evening before played out, two gigs in one day. in his distraction, a sharp edge scraped his thumb, drawing a thin line of blood that glistened under the lights. he muttered a soft curse, considering wiping the blood on his pants before hearing freddie’s voice in his head. “go change deaky, we can’t have you drawing too much attention!” john smiled to himself at the thought, winding his way through the faceless crew, searching for the dressing room. once he reached the door and reached for the handle, a noise came from the door that caused him to draw back his hand as if the handle was a thousand degrees. 

it was a name. roger’s name. high and giggly, and certainly not in your voice. deaky wanted to throw up. he knew it. roger was like a brother to him but he couldn’t shake the wave of anger that coursed through his veins. john expected this to happen, though he knew it was wrong- so very wrong- to think the worst of his bandmate. your tear stained face filled his mind’s eye, bringing with it crippling waves of guilt. he didn’t want to get involved, it was your business. but goddammit john wanted you to see the truth.

his internal debate was cut short when you rounded the corner, absolutely stopping any brain activity in its tracks. you weren’t supposed to be there. they were in new york for god sakes, and you weren’t supposed to be there. his internal monologue snapped back into action, keenly aware of the activities most likely occurring behind that closed door. 

“deaks!!! i’ve missed you! how has america been?” john barely registered the action as you threw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. every muscle in his body was tense with anger, guilt, sadness, that squishy feeling your presence always brought him. you loosened your grip after noticing his lack of reciprocation, but john quickly moved to pull you close, burying his face in your hair. 

“missed you too love.” you drew back, bright smile on your face. but your focus was clearly no longer on john, eyes scanning the hallway behind him for a certain someone. a certain someone who deaky suspected wasn’t being as faithful as you. 

“hey where’s rog?”

“he’s uhh… look, love, i think he might be with someone else right now. through that door. i’m so sorry. i’m here for you.” he had to force the words out. they scorched his tongue and hung in the air like thick, harsh smog. his heart dropped as your eyes widened, hands coming up to cover your mouth. some sick part of john was almost joyful at the prospect of your relationship with roger ending. you would certainly come to him for comfort, you would hang out more, and then his highschool fantasy would finally play out.

right?

“are you… but… john…” the way your voice wavered hammered a crack in his heart. a sharp stinging picked at his guilty cheer, slowly dragging him down to earth. this wasn’t anything to be excited about. 

“i’m so sorry love.” deaky stepped forward, arms open to embrace you, but your hand went up to stop him. your other hand was clutched tight to your chest. it was dead silent in your small section of the corridor, save for your irregular breaths and deaky’s heavy ones. your gaze was focused on the crack at the bottom of the door, breath hitching as your bright eyes followed another shadow. there weren't many words he could discern through the dressing room door, but that uncertainty only made the doubt worse. what could have caused the sudden quiet?

“don’t. i need to see him. right. now.” your spine straightened and you held your chin high. though you still sounded shaky, john could tell that your temper was about to boil over. 

“alright, i’m right here if you need me. that menace doesn’t know what you can do.” he watched your expression as you took a shuddering breath, slowly lifting your eyes from the floor. tears clung to the corners of your lashes, stubbornly refusing to fall. deaky reached out a tentative hand, and you waited a moment before taking it. your shoulders relaxed as his fingers intertwined with yours, and john felt his heart swell just a little. maybe there was hope for him yet. 

“thank you john, i mean it. you are the only thing i can depend on, apparently.” your weary tone made his hand squeeze tighter. deaky brought your clasped hands up and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. the soft smile that appeared on your lips gave him another boost. you were strong enough to not be broken by roger, and even if you were hurt, john would be there to hold you. with another deep breath, you reached for the door knob and pushed the door open, ready to see what john had been anticipating. 

both of you were wrong. 

freddie fucking mercury stood in front of a sitting roger, eye pencil in hand. they were both laughing, freddie clearly mocking some critic or interviewer he encountered. freddie stepped back, taking hold of roger’s chin as he admired his handiwork.

“gorgeous rog, our dear y/n won’t be able to keep her eyes off you.” freddie had a mischievous smirk, everything clicking together as john surveyed the scene. roger’s eyes widened, and he turned towards the doorway where you stood. the fear drained from your eyes and was replaced with anger. anger reserved specifically for john. you dropped his hand, curling it into a fist by your side. 

“love! what are you doing here?” roger immediately hopped off his stool, racing to sweep you off your feet with an excited squeak from you. he held you in the air for a moment before placing you back down, making sure to pepper your skin with feather light kisses while he waited for an answer. 

“freddie flew me out here for the rest of the tour…”

“something wrong love?” roger asked, genuine concern in his soft voice. deaky’s guilt was mounting by the second, manifesting as a dense weight collecting in the pit of his stomach. oh lord. he really messed up now. the look of seething contempt on your face was enough to make his entire world crumble. 

he fucked up. he really, truly fucked up. john's growing fixation on yours and roger's relationship was driving you farther away. in that moment, he felt something break. your trust. 

"nope, just waiting for a fascinating discussion with our dear john here. i love you little drummer boy." roger grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. he seemed over the moon just to have you by his side, gazing at you with a childlike wonder. and john selfishly doubted that devotion. though an outsider would shrug off this fumble and move on, the dynamic that formed since you had met roger wrote this severance in stone. 

roger wasn’t oblivious as john assumed when it came to your relationship with deaky. he noticed that john was in love with you, even if you couldn’t see it. so once the drummer picked up on your scorching glare, and john’s palpable guilt, his heart broke as well. there was no need for him to say the words. roger wasn’t mad, just disappointed that deaky would think so low of him. 

“mind if i listen in on this fascinating discussion my love?” 

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you decidedly avoided john until the gig began, and roger followed suit. deaky was wracked with guilt, stumbling through the show. his fingers slipped across the strings without much reason, causing fred to occasionally shoot a glance to get him back on track. the drums seemed a bit… louder than usual, aggressively perfect timing contrasting with john’s fumbling performance. the crowd didn’t seem to mind, but the band members were far from alright. 

after the show, things weren’t much better. brian tried to catch deaky on their way off, presumably to give him an earful about their “god awful performance john, good lord” but he slammed the door to the bathroom shut and locked it before he had to face anymore reckoning. freddie was the next to demand an answer, taking the slightly more conservative route of screaming “pull that shit again or so help me god of rock and roll, i will break every…” and so on. 

you didn’t bless john with your presence, but your absence spoke wonders. roger didn’t show up in front of the bathroom door either. once deaky crept out a vague amount of time later, the boys were far from calm, but there was no longer a threat of being burnt alive from their anger. the energy in the dressing room was horribly tense. brian and freddie seemed clueless to the reason for roger’s anger, both just focused on the show. 

“wanna give us an explanation deaky?” brian muttered, leaning against a wall where multiple mirrors stood. john could see himself reflected in one of the smudged surfaces, brown eyes dark with a storm of emotions. roger was reflected in another, sitting with his elbows on his knees on a beat up couch. his face was a stony mask; completely unreadable. 

“well uh… roger and,” john attempted to explain, but couldn’t seem to grasp the right words. each time he reached for something cohesive, it slipped through his fingers and he was left at square one. while deaky struggled with his words, freddie was getting impatient. 

“i cannot deal with this sober. you two stay here and work out your fucking problems. better now than tomorrow morning. we’ll be at that bar across the street.” freddie declared, grabbing brian by the arm and pulling him out the door to mumbled protest. freddie silenced him with a loud hush sound, pushing brian out the door and slamming it behind him. 

“so uh…” john started off, still not able to look roger in the eyes. instead, he focused on the reflection, dingy fluorescents shiny on roger’s dirty blond hair. but he didn’t seem angry. his body language spoke more of defeat and disheartenment. somehow, that hurt worse than your harsh words. 

“look, i’m not mad. just disappointed that you think i would ever do that to her. i know she’s your best friend, but i love her and i would never hurt her like that,” roger was so sincere, locking eyes with john through the mirror. disappointment was certainly a word to describe the look in his eyes, along with sadness and just a hint of guilt. roger was guilty because as a younger student, there was a bit of infidelity present, and there was some weight to john’s concern. but he had grown, and he really loved you. 

“i know, and i’m so sorry. you’re also one of my best friends, and i just got ahead of myself because…” john ran a hand through his long hair, gearing up for a confession of what he had known for years, but never had the strength to say out loud. 

“you love her too. i know. i can’t and won’t try to change your mind, because i get it. and yeah, i haven’t known her nearly as long as you, but i love her so much,” roger’s voice cracked at the end, sending a similar crack through john’s heart. roger leaned back on the couch, a distinctly sad smile on his face. this was really all deaky had ever wanted for you. someone who loved you unconditionally, and just wanted you to be happy. someone who would never hurt you. john desperately wanted to be that person for you. but that ship might have sailed. 

“yeah… i- i do. but now i think she wants nothing to do with me.” now it was john’s turn to break. losing you would hurt him irreparably, but maybe it would be the best for you. he wanted you to be happy more than anything. however, john’s selfish side yearned to tether you to him and never let go. 

“just give her time, i’ll talk to her. you still are her best friend, she’ll forgive you.” roger felt weird to be comforting john when he was the one hurt. and it really hurt. because one: you were hurting, two: john, one of his best friends, caused it, and three: said best friend though he was capable of cheating so blatantly in such a serious relationship. roger watched deaky in the mirror as the moment stretched on, mind buzzing with all the events of the day. 

“time… i think she still might be mad at me for breaking her calculator when we were seventeen, what if she never forgives me? because oh boy, she loves you, and i don’t know if she could let this all go…” john began to pace, messing with his hair even more. his gaze was unfocused, eyes sweeping back and forth across the room as he tried to gather his thoughts into some cohesive train. 

“well, i forgive you. this tour won’t get any easier if we are at each other’s throats.” john nearly slumped to the ground in relief. he wouldn’t be able to stand losing two friends. roger got up from the couch, walking over to deaky. without hesitation, he folded him into a hug, clapping john on the back. conversation over, friend forgiven, and now you were the only uncertainty in deaky’s life. 

“now come on, let’s go find y/n and head to the bar. after today’s gig, i need a strong drink or two.” roger sounded relieved and ready to move on from the days events, and john was all for it. but he knew that you would be in no mood to see him, and that would definitely put a damper on the evening. truthfully? he wanted to sleep. sleep, and forget the entire day preferably. 

“you go on ahead, i don’t think she wants to see me right now.” john muttered, roger’s hand on his shoulder after stepping back.

“alright, take care deaks.”

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true to deaky’s word, you were not quick to forgive. it took six months for a major step towards healing took place at their “night at the rainbow” shows in late november, where roger infamously trashed his drumset on stage.

you had decided to accompany them for the uk and american legs of the sheer heart attack tour, so there had been a handful of shows you were present during where deaky was soundly ignored. he did an alright job of ignoring you, no matter how much it pained him. he had adopted freddie’s flair for the dramatic clothing wise by that point. roger was always ready to go all out, and you were almost always up for helping him get ready. john had walked in on you two in compromising positions multiple times, which definitely didn’t help your frosty attitude towards deaky.

but at the rainbow theater those nights, something was off between you and roger. from what he could hear, there was some wild misunderstanding before the first show, resulting in a major shouting match while the rest of the band waited outside the dressing room. some time later, you stormed out, leaving roger alone inside. freddie glared at john aggressively until he got the message to follow you and fix his mistakes.

deaky found you right in the wings of the stage, sitting on a spare amplifier while the roadies were doing a soundcheck. your shoulders were slumped forward, eyes trained on the dust streaked stage while chaos whirled around you. the sad eye of the storm. 

“i know you’re there johnny-boy. and no, i don’t want to talk.” his heart unconsciously skipped a beat when you used his nickname, before plummeting back to earth from the gravity of the situation. you sounded more hurt than angry, and as to why deaky didn’t know. but he had waited so long for a chance at reconciliation, and this was the best chance he had gotten in ages. he wasn’t about to let it slip by.

“that’s alright. i’ll wait.” john took a seat on a box just a few feet behind you, crossing one leg over the other while he waited. he knew you long enough to understand that you would immediately clam up when interrogated. so he waited, letting you relax into his presence. after five straight minutes of silence, you finally spoke.

“he can be so stupid sometimes. all i wanted was to know how long he would be gone tonight, and he just snapped. i know you guys are under a lot of stress, but he was the one who asked me to come. i just want to spend time with him.” you sounded so defeated, but john couldn’t be more excited that you finally decided to really talk with him. 

“yeah, he can be a real arse.” you chuckled to yourself at his response, lifting your eyes from the floor to focus more on the stage lights and various instruments being towed around. 

“you could say that again. but… he really loves you. i’m sure you’ll be alright.” deaky had to force the words out, no matter how deeply he knew them to be true. he still was crazy about you, and jealousy ripped through his body when you mentioned roger.

“thanks for listening john. i know things have been a little… iffy between us. maybe a lot iffy. and don’t take this as forgiveness. but i miss my best friend. i am not ready to let your mistrust go just yet, but consider this… progress.” john’s heart swelled at your… well… acceptance of his mistake. 

“i’ll take anything at this point.” you laughed lightly at his words, going quiet again right after. the moment was over. progress was certainly made, but the conversation just made john miss you more. that evening, roger trashed his drum set, fuming as he walked offstage when the show was done. you were there waiting for him and the two of you made up. the next day, things were essentially back to the way before the rainbow theater. but you would actually talk to john now. you would laugh at his jokes, tease him; progress.

things weren’t truly, totally, alright between the two of you until the very last show of the american leg, right before they went on stage. after the show, things were a little up in the air. 

but before, everything became perfectly mended. john was getting ready in the dressing room, in the back of a venue in seattle he did not know the name of. the rest of the boys were there, goofing off as usual. brian was taking photos of roger posing with ridiculous faces, occasionally calling out directions for how he should look. roger was just laughing, fluffing his hair in front of a tall standing mirror.

john sat on a low sofa pushed against one of the cracked brick walls, you sitting on the other side. there was a tense silence in your side of the room, both you and john doing anything to ignore each other’s presence. they were heading to japan the next day, which means you were heading back home to the uk, and the boys weren’t going to be back until may. 

john fell back to his pre-performance memory of you and him. without even knowing it, his gaze shifted to you. just as beautiful as ever. he could almost feel the soft brush of your hair against his cheek, the comforting weight of your hand in his. your whispered words from that day prickled his skin, sending a brief shiver down his spine.

“something you need from me, john?” you caught john staring at you with a wistful look in his eye, breaking his gaze almost immediately after making eye contact. you focused instead on the soft curls of his brown hair until he responded.

“just… antsy i guess.” john wouldn’t look at you once caught, glancing down to his fidgeting hands, freddie preening in front of the mirror, brian fiddling with his camera. he wanted to avoid a potential blowout, no matter how nice it felt to casually talk with you. 

“you’re gonna do great. you always do great johnny.” he still couldn’t face you, but the sincerity of your words eased his spirit. no matter how much time passed without speaking, you would always find each other. and deaky was pretty sure he had found you once more. 

“well i have my best friends here, i can’t in good conscience give less than my best.” john spoke as casually as possible, gathering the courage to finally look you in the eye. what he saw almost made him melt. you were looking at him with a soft smile that made his world right itself and revolve around you. 

“you’re a good man deaky. and i forgive you. truthfully, i’m sorry as well.” a beat passed before you scooted closer to him, tension slowly building in the shrinking space between you. it was broken by you surging forward and wrapping your arms around john’s neck, inhaling his scent with deep, calming breaths. he fell stiff for a moment before embracing you back, almost shedding a tear as he tightened his grip little by little. the room fell away and it was just you and deaky. 

“never apologize to me, love. i’m just glad to have you back.” john whispered breathily against your neck, closing his eyes for one long moment before he felt you soften your hold and pull back, stolen from the moment by roger taking a seat on your other side. he couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment of rejection, but the feel of you in his arms chased away the worries he might have clung to before the show began.

“so you two have finally made up?” roger said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you leaned into him, resting a hand on his chest through the open vest he wore. the peaceful, dopey grin john had fell just a tad, but for the moment, just for a moment, he was content. 

“i think we have, my love.” you responded lazily, pressing a kiss to the underside of roger’s jaw. that was john’s que to leave. he playfully ruffle your hair just like he once did to you as a teen, then reluctantly got up, walking over to where freddie fussed over his leather jumpsuit and shimmering wristlet. 

after just a few minutes of having freddie fuss over john’s appearance, the band was called to the stage. you followed them to the door, giving roger a deep kiss and the rest of the band tight hugs. you whispered faintly in deaky’s ear before pulling away, to which he responded by just squeezing you tighter. he heard roger cough, and slowly released his grip around your waist. 

“i’m very proud of you, don’t you forget it.” you smiled after john released you, somehow feeling bold enough to place a hand on his cheek. for a second, a river of unspoken words flowed from him to you, deflected smoothly by your emotional walls. john sighed, taking your wrist between his calloused fingers. he squeezed your hand, then let it fall to your side.                                              

“never. i’ll see you soon.” he waved on his way out the door, sneaking one look over his shoulder just before turning the corner and being rewarded with roger kissing you in one last goodbye. splendid. 

that show might have been the jewel in the crown of sheer heart attack’s american tour. john and roger were shockingly in sync, brian’s solos sounded better than ever, and freddie’s voice was clearer than it had been in weeks. they hit their groove, and the crowd could feel it too. their undeniable energy just raised the band’s spirits, and their last songs were met with cheers for an encore. after jailhouse rock, the second to last song, john was poised to start playing “god save the queen” until brian caught his eye and mouthed an agressive “NO.” note taken, but john shot him a questioning glance. with a huff, brian strode over to deaky, taking him by the upper arm and pulling him to the far side of the stage.

“what the fuck brian?” john angrily whispered, yanking his arm back once they were on the other side of roger’s drum kit. speaking of roger, he was standing by freddie in the center of the stage. you were standing clear across on the other side of the stage, mouthing a similar “what the fuck?” towards john, who just shrugged and looked confused. he was very, very confused. 

“just shut up. you might want to hold on to something.” brian mumbled, clutching his red special a little tighter. deaky was about to bite back until freddie cut him off. 

“before we go lovies, roger has a little something to say. so pretty boy, the stage is yours.” freddie spoke plainly, a teasing lilt to his words. he wriggled his eyebrows at roger, who simply swiped the microphone and stuck his tongue out at the singer. freddie retaliated by blowing a kiss and prancing over to where john and brian stood.

“fred, what the-”

“oh just be quiet and listen. our boy has a lot on his mind.” freddie cooed, still not dropping his playful tone. john was understandably agitated, while brian just stood to the side with the smallest of smiles on his lips. something was going on. just before john was able to demand clarification, roger piped up and handed john an answer on a golden platter. 

“hey lads, so you know me, of course. who doesn’t?” roger joked with the crowd, sending a ripple of laughter throughout the ranks of their adoring fans. john was slow to catch on, still glaring at freddie and brian at equal intervals. both astutely ignored him, smiling at roger speaking downstage.

“but i’d like to introduce you to someone very special to me. y/n, can you come one out here?” uh oh. it all clicked for john. he knew what was happening, he knew what roger was going to ask. he knew what your answer would be. john knew that he was extremely close to running offstage and throwing up. but life had other plans, and life’s name was roger. he surged on, smile brighter than the sun as you slowly stepped onto the stage. 

“this is y/n, my gorgeous, intelligent girlfriend,” roger spoke to the crowd, before turning his attention to a highly confused you. a wall of glass rose up between john and you; he could only stand by as roger got down on one knee in front of their cheering fans, all going ballistic at the prospect of what was happening to their idol, right before their eyes.

“honey, dearest, angel, my love. i was such a mess when we met. university student, head full of dreams and too much shampoo. but john brought you to his very first show with us and from then on, i knew it was over for me,” roger talked directly to you, the room falling away until everyone could only watch one of the most important moments of your life. your hands went up to cover your mouth, tears visible in the corners of your eyes. roger seemed a little worse for wear as well, blinking rapidly to keep tears from falling. john wanted to wake up from this terrible nightmare, but there was no stopping what was already in motion.

“you are the light in my life, my rock, and i don’t know how i survived that long without you. i am so ridiculously, embarrassingly in love with you y/n. and there is no one i would rather share my future with,” roger reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, blue velvet box. with one smooth motion, he flicked it open, letting the burning stage lights glint off of simple diamond ring. your happy tears finally spilled over, and roger’s soft smile brightened as he spoke his final words. 

“so, would you please accept this ring and, oh, i don’t know… marry me?” you nodded rapidly before he even finished talking. roger started to stand, but you ran into his arms, sinking to the ground with your arms desperately wrapped around each other. the microphone rolled away from the happy couple, squealing with feedback before a roadie came and swooped it up. 

john could barely stand as he watched you hold out a shaking hand to roger. he slid the elegant ring onto your finger, smiling all the way. you pulled him in for a deep kiss, nearly toppling roger over with your excitement. once you pulled back from him, john was nearly in tears himself. he had a tragically perfect view of your tearstained face. and there sat the biggest and brightest smile in the room, one john would march heaven and earth to see. 

except that moment. he wanted to give into every selfish desire and break your heart so you would never want to see roger ever again. but he couldn’t. he just couldn’t. john loved you way too much to ruin your moment. roger’s proposal was something his good heart refused to ruin. but that smile.

that goddamn smile.

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first “deaky” fic (team deaks or team rog??) so yeah. hope y’all enjoyed. i actually liked writing from the boy’s perspectives. lmk if you’re down for a part two ;))))

[ezerkenegdc]

     the theme for a one year anniversary is paper,  and if i were capable, i would send every one of you a handwritten note thanking you for giving me such an opportunity to be here.   i came into this fandom late and in love with an idea that i did not know if anyone would care to hear.  yet, so many of you were welcoming and willing to interact with hannah.  many of you loved her as if she were you own.   these things have filled me heart with joy and have allowed me to grow in ways that i could not have predicted.  thank you,  thank you,  thank you.  since i cannot send these notes physically, peek below the cut for the virtual letters: 

those nearest and dearest to my heart:

@mlotov :  gabey babey we’ve been as thick as thieves for a year now and i have enjoyed every moment together.  we have run through so many fandoms together ( even the deadest of them ) and not once did it not feel like some grand adventure.  your mind and creativity amazes me and i am left pondering the vastness of it.  i know that someday you will be a published author and people will be lining up around the block just to share the same air as you.  please,  never let anyone dull your shine!

@strnza :  my wife!  my life!  i actually followed you on my very first blog on tumblr,  oh some five years ago,  but i did not speak to you over there for some crazy reason.  but like all things that are meant to be,  we came back together after three years apart and now i feel you truly are the yellow heart emoji of my life.  you are such a warm and compassionate being decked out in scrunchies and sweaters.  i love it for you,  i love it for the world.  you’re going to do some amazing things in college.  i just know it. 

@sanctemony /  @surgikill :  oh fox.  i know i have said this a thousand times,  but you really do amaze me.   the level that you write at,  the skill you posses,  and the world you build around your characters is phenomenal.   you can take a one line thread and expanded such a small thing into a six paragraph filled with intrigue and drama that has me on the edge of my seat.  i never know what to expect next,  and i never know just what your characters will do and i believe that is testament to you and your writing capabilities. 

@iscariotsdeputy :  sam !  you are such a gift to our community.  staci was not given enough time in my opinion,  but from the small amount we did get you have created something that ubi could not even dream of.  you have created an entire character that feels so real.  like someone you would know!  a neighbor,  that guy you sat next to at the coffee shop,  or the person you quasi know though social media.   ubi wishes they could be you. 

@mslangermann :  taylor,  the unsung hero of the school and of dead fandoms.  you put everything into your characters and it really does show.  i honestly have no idea how you managed to fit everything you are doing into your schedule and still have time to be such an incredible friend and writer.  i am amazed by you day in and day out.  you are also so understanding and kind that i really could not ask for a better friend.  you have been such a comfort to me!!  thank you again and again and again and again. 

@suresaint :  charlie!   once upon a time when i was active i believe we talked nearly every day about anything and everything.  we were both kind of starting with our careers and full of hope for the future and look at us now!!!  you’re so close to achieving your goals!!!  i am so proud of you and the work that you have put in to achieving your greatness!  as for zelda,  thank you for making her and bringing her to hope county and having her gift the people with such beauty and corny jokes.  the place sure would be a duller place without the two of you in it. 

@survivedempathy  :  howdy neighbor!   the world sure does work in mysterious ways.  we found each other through a government conspiracy theory ( weird how nobody has talked about those explosions since . . . ) and i am so thankful that we did!  you are so funny,  insightful,  and thoughtful.  not to mention crazy talented.  i can even begin to talk about that or i would need an entire google doc to do so.. . i hope that as the world continues to turn in ways we cannot predict that you continue to find happiness in all that you do, jay!

@prophesyr   /   @massieh  :   gaining the courage to speak to you was the best decision i have made on this blog.  i was not sure how hannah would be received considering you were already so established in your canon and had taken it further than ubi could ever dream of going.  and i truly had nothing to worry about because you were so welcoming and so considerate that i could not dream of doing this blog without you.  i hope that you know that you will always have my support in all that you do.  thank you for sharing with us not only joseph,  but your book characters as well.  i cannot wait to see where you take them even still.  the world is yours truly. 

@talewoven  :   there are endless amounts of things that i could say about you,  kore.  you are one of the sweetest and most caring people that I have ever met.  the random messages you send ooze love that my cup runeth over and i drown in such affections.  i hope you know that you are the sun and we are blessed to be able to know you! also a shameless plug here:  @korecommissions made the psd for this image and it is absolutely perfect for my peachy girl. 

@griefwoven  :  i did not know a single thing about outlast and yet you still welcomed me with open arms.  you have made tumblr an enjoyable place to be with your humor,  charm,  and creativity.    you are an easy person to like, ash!  so easy that it feels like we have been friends since birth and that is a rare talent to have.  i know that all of these things combined will surely take you far in life.  i hope that wherever these places are,  i hope you know you carry my love with you as you go.  

those that would have received a letter as well,  had i not run out of stamps:

      @apostleled     /     @blesscdbliss     /      @bugdown      /      @cultfought     /     @dovesung     /     @devotioninked     /     @driftingrose     /     @edens-rook     /     @fvith     /     @handsigned     /     @letcm     /     @lykanblood     /      @memoirstold     /     @neonglowed     /     @objctive     /     @only-we      /     @pagnmin      /    @peacefulapostle     /     @tzdkh     /     @velvetipped     /     

   each of you have impacted my blog and my experience on tumblr in some positive way and i want to say thank you once again.  all of your characters are beautiful and so well written that i am constantly amazed with the depths that they have.  all of you are such amazing writers full of creativity and fresh ideas that the world has never seen before.  thank you for taking the time to write and sharing them.  it is not always easy to do so,  but with friends like these,  there is nothing to fear.   you all deserve a thousand dollars and someone to gently kiss your forehead and tuck you into bed.  you deserve to have a happy surprise,  an unexpected friendly visitor,  a little luck to get you through the day and a pinch more to get you through the hard parts.  i will always support you and love you and want all good things for you.   

[gyeomork]

Connections

(jackson wang x reader) 

genre: fluff, light smut, college au

warnings: sexual content, mild cursing

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i don’t capitalize my letters in this so if that bothers you, i’m sorry :( also italicized words mean they’re speaking english. also i lol don’t know what im talking about with all that “reading people” shit i just took a wyld guess but i hope you enjoy anyway ^3^

i enter my first class of the year, psychology 3. i take a seat, not really paying attention to who i sat next to. i take my laptop out of my backpack, place it on the table, flip it open and get ready to take notes. it was a new school year and i was not about to slack anymore. sophomore year was a complete shit show and i could not afford that this year, literally. i was skipping class like it was an olympic sport but guess what? tuition still had to be paid. i open up google docs and title the new document ‘19/8/19 notes, assignments & hw ’. the professor begins to speak and my full attention is now on her.

an hour passes and the class was wrapping up. “ok class the homework is for you all to make a powerpoint presentation on the person sitting next to you. you must analyze them as a person, describe their character traits and so on and so forth. think of it as an ice breaker activity and a way to make a new friend. more instructions will be posted online. i count 24 of you so i expect 24 emails on friday 23/8/19. presentations will be the following monday, if there are any questions feel free to email me. class dismissed.” i close my laptop and reach for my bag when i hear a deep familiar voice next to me say “hey! how’s it going?” i look to my right and see jackson, jackson wang. god not again. this man was handsome to say the very very least and a heart throb. i should know because i had him in psych 2 last year. we would almost always end up having to do a project together and almost always turn it in 2 minutes before it was due. it’s not like we were the best of friends and every time we met up we didn’t do work, it was just that we never really did meet up. every time he would text and ask i would be too scared to be in the same place as him because of how intimidated he made me feel. when we did meet up it was the night before so i absolutely had to go, for the sake of his grade. we wouldn’t talk much but when we did he was, for the most part, really nice. “hi.. jackson. it’s going.. good” i say quietly. “oh, that’s good. well if you’re free right now we could go get coffee to jumpstart this little project” god he had the cutest smile on his face. “oh yeah sure just let me get packed up” i said trying to avoid his gaze like the black plague.

after to fumbling with my belongings under the immense pressure his eyes were putting me under, we were finally able to leave. on the walk to the cafe, jackson sparks up conversation. “so, y/n, last year we never really talked much and i was a little let down because you actually seemed really cool. so i’m glad i get to do this project with you. i wanna get to know you” he looks over to me and grins widely. i return a small smile back. “where are you from?” he asked sounding genuinely curious. “the states” i mentally curse at myself for giving such a short, dry answer but he hums anyway. “i’m from china but i came here for a change, you know” “yup” i curse at myself again. a small silence passes, extra emphasis on small. “since you’re from the states do you-“ “speak english? yes” we both chuckle and god he was adorable. “oh cool so we could have our own semi-secret language” i give him a ‘you’re ridiculous’ look and we chuckle again. “so did you teach yourself english or did you go to an international school?” finally! i’m making semi-decent conversation. “international but i did do some studying on my own. so what about you? how did you learn hangul?” “ i loved watching and still do love watching dramas so one day i just got really annoyed with having to read the subtitles and just started teaching myself. i never really expected myself to get proficient at it, it just happened. then i thought i should put some use to it more than just dramas so i came here” wow the way i just rambled on just then. “ so how do you like it here?” he continues with the questions. “at first it was kind of hard to get used to because i went from using english every day and using hangul sometimes to using hangul every day and english sometimes” jackson nods in understanding. “ and then there are slang words that you need to learn and sayings and really understand the culture” he adds on. “ yes! exactly” regret of being so intimidated of him last year now fills me. he’s so easy to talk to. ugh am i stupid?

we reach the cafe and he opens the door for me “let me get that for you” “kam-sa-hap-nee-da!” i said in the most american accent i could do and he lets out an actual laugh that ascends me to the heavens. we both join the medium sized line. “you can just tell me what you want so you can go have a seat and i’ll bring it to you” this man is an angel. “iced americano, venti sized please and thank you” i say with a close-mouthed smile. “coming right up” he reciprocates the same smile. i make my way to a small booth in the corner by the window. i take out a small notepad and jot down things i’ve noticed about jackson. eventually, i get lost in thinking about how sweet he is and how easy he is to talk to and how his laugh is opposite of his deep voice and how his smile makes him look like a baby and then how he turns all hot again and oh my god i have a crush on jackson. like a cue, jackson comes and sets his and my coffee down and takes a seat across from me “thank you so much” “no problem” we both take a sip in unison. “analyzing me already?” he asks grabbing my notepad. all i had written was ‘really good energy’. really y/n? what the hell is that supposed to mean? he makes a ‘not bad’ face and sets my notepad back in front of me. i keep sipping and look out the window. “ok, ok” i could see him trying to hold in a snicker in the corner of my eye. i whip my neck to look and him and ask swiftly “what? why ‘ok ok’? what?”. “hm? nothing” he replies, still trying to hold in that laugh. “wah~ making fun of me already. at least i have something written down” he raises his eyebrows at me. “i have plenty of stuff written down in my head” “oh really?” i say in disbelief. “yes!” “ok. then prove it” i sit back and cross my arms. “just in the last 10 minutes, the things i’ve noticed ok. ready?” i just nod. “shy; when you laughed or smiled you didn’t show teeth. closed off; you chose the booth furthest away from other people. passive; you did nothing when i snatched your notepad. trusting; you trusted me with your drink and that i didn’t do anything to it. physical traits; well put together, pretty-“ i felt my face heat up and i had to stop him. “alright, alright you proved your point.” i waved him off and he laughs. “you asked for it” he says, laughter still in his voice. “i asked for you to prove yourself not show off” i say fake sulkily and extra pouty. he laughs even louder and makes a few heads turn. “ok jackson! people are looking.” i whisper shout and smile at him fully this time. “oh! you’re smiling” he points “you’re not shy around me anymore!” “ok you have to teach me how to read people like that” i rest my hand on my chin and my elbow on the table. “well, for starters, we could go back to the ‘getting to know you’ questions. so, when’s your birthday?”

after hours of talking, we had to leave simply because the cafe was closing. jackson looks at his watch and widens his eyes. “it’s 22:58 (10:58 pm). oh my god. do you have class tomorrow? i’m so sorry for keeping you out so late, i’ll walk you home. where do you live? oh my god i’m really so sorry” he apologized profusely. “no” i say flatly. “n-no?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “i don’t have class tomorrow it’s fine” i let out breathy laugh. “do you?” i raise my brows at him. “no” he sighs out in relief. “alright come on. let me walk you home” i barely take two steps when i stop and drop my head into my hands. “my.. RA. it’s past curfew. i’m dead” i say defeated. “oh my friend i can stay with- she has class tomorrow and she’s probably sleeping” i say gaining hope and losing it instantly. “i guess i’ll just take the warning, it’s only one” i start dragging my feet i the direction of my dorm. “you could.. stay the night with me. my RA isn’t as strict with the rules”. was that nervousness i heard in his voice? jackson? the same jackson that told me stories of him being bold and fearless? jackson? wang? never. “i don’t want to be a burden-“ i wave him off. “ you won’t be” he insists. i look into his eyes and really sink deep into those two chocolate pools. all that is visible is purity and good intentions; i trust him. “ok” i smile. “thank you” “no problem”

we get to his dorm and as he is unlocking the door he informs me that his 3 other roommates won’t be there until late that night so we’re safe from the teasing. he opens the door and lets me in first. it’s dark until jackson comes in and turns on the kitchen light. he sits around the island and i join him. i take this time to look around. right across from the kitchen was the living room that was in good shape for 3 boys, diagonal of the living room was the laundry room that was neat too, there was a walkway from the front door in between the laundry room and the kitchen leading to the living room, and one long hallway/walkway passing in between the living room and the kitchen continuing both ways to god knows where. there was also a sliding door in the living room leading to the balcony. “you must be hungry. do you want me to cook or is takeout ok?” come to think of it i haven’t eaten since lunch.  i was so absorbed in jackson that i didn’t even realize how hungry i am. “yeah, takeout is fine” “is pizza ok?” he says pulling out his phone. “oh pizza is more than ok” i say, starting to get excited “ok miss pizza what would you like on it?” “pepperoni please~” “alright.. and the pizza is on it’s way” he hops off the chair with ‘hmph’. he walks over to me and holds his hand out to help me down. “thank you” i take his hand and get off the chair. “come on i’ll give you everything you need”. he leads me to his room at the end of the short hallway without letting go of my hand. he turns on fairy lights that aren’t too bright but are enough to make everything visible. he turns to the left to his walk-in closet to retrieve me a hoodie and some sweatpants. he tells me that when i go in the bathroom there should be an extra toothbrush behind the mirror. i say thank you for the 100th time today and go to sit on his bed to wait for him. “i can put something on if you want” he come and sits next to me on the bed. “mm..” i think about all the shows that i need to catch up on and finally choose one. “can you put on ‘he is psychometric’?” “ohh yes! what episode are you on?” he gets excited. “the last one and it’s so good, i just never have time to watch” “me either” he puts it on the tv and the pizza arrives. “that was quick” i say shocked because my pizza takes at least an hour to come. “yeah the place is right down the block; convenient” he comes back to the room with pizza and shuts the door.

we finish ‘he is psychometric’ and both of the pizzas. “i’m gonna go change” i take jackson’s clothes to the bathroom. i change into the comfy clothes that smells like him and brush my teeth. i pull my hair into a bun that i ruled ok for jackson to see and leave the bathroom. “oh you look good in my clothes but don’t go stealing it now” he says like he’s my father and gives me a stern look. i giggle and say “ok” sarcastically. he goes in the bathroom to change as well. i pull my notepad and pencil out my bag and sit in front of what seems to be his work desk. i write more analyzations and now have to flip the page thanks to jackson teaching me how to properly read people. i’m on a roll until jackson presses his hands on my shoulders and yells “boo!” “oh my god!” i jump and turn around in the swivel chair. “i’m sorry i had to” he laughs at me hysterically. “yah~ don’t do that! stop laughing!” i smack him on the shoulder repeatedly. “ok ok, yah!” he grabs hold of my wrists and is now inches away from my face; staring into my eyes. “i-i’m tired. where can i sleep?” i had to break the growing silence. jackson lets go and backs away “you can sleep on my bed, i’ll set up on the couch” he said walking towards the door. “no” i command, stopping him in his tracks. “ when the guys get home they’re going to ask why you’re on the couch and from the stories you’ve told me, you’re not a good liar” he turns back around but still doesn’t move. “you’re right” he says grinning. “well get on the bed so that when i turn off the lights you won’t trip and break your neck” “alright, no need to reference that traumatic story ok, that was a very scary experience” i say getting on the bed. “i’m just saying if you had a night light-“ “ok! jackson! good night!”

i was on the edge of sleep when i felt a heavy arm fall around my waist and a warm body touching all of my back side. steady breathing was blowing on the baby hairs on the back of my neck. he was sleeping. i suddenly started to feel uncomfortable in the position i was in and couldn’t take it anymore. while adjusting and re-adjusting my lower half, i inevitably brush up against jackson’s area. he didn’t respond so i assumed he just didn’t feel it so i continued on the quest to getting comfortable, all the while rubbing against him with my ass. suddenly jackson grips my hip. “you better stop playing with me” he growls lowly into my ear, ultimately ruining my new underwear i got from victoria secret on sale but i couldn’t possibly be mad at him. the ache in my core was way too strong to ignore so i reply as seductively as i could “who said i was playing?” while pushing up against him. he groans and i feel him grow beneath me. he attaches his lips to my neck and sucks and nips and licks away. he finds my spot at the base of my neck and i let out a low moan. when he feels as of though he’s left a satisfactory mark, he licks and kisses the spot. he turns me to face him and wastes no time in connecting his lips to mine. passion begins to fill the room as he climbs on top of me. the hands that are on my waist start travelling under his hoodie i had on. his warm hands on my bare skin was setting me on fire. one of his legs that was positioned between my legs started to rub against my core. i moan loudly into his mouth and he doesn’t miss his chance to stick his tongue in my mouth. i break the kiss to catch my breath and jackson moves back to my neck to leave more marks. i was lost in my own pleasure when i come to my senses. “jackson” i breathe out. he removes his lips from my neck for a brief moment “yes baby”. “what about the guys?” “fuck the guys” he tugs at the bottom of his hoodie and he looks up at me asking for permission. i nod and he removes the hoodie swiftly as he begins kissing his way down my body.

i wake up the next morning with the comforter covering more than half of my face so the sunlight seeping through the window didn’t bother me too much. i was initially startled about where i was but i soon remembered. then i remember the events of the night before. i turn around to see the beautiful man that shared the events of the night before with me. the light highlighting his features perfectly. from his fluffy, messy hair to his soft, plump lips. i move to brush away the hair that was in his face and move down to caress his cheek. how did this even happen? and how did it happen so quickly? i guess it’s the jackson effect. he flutters his eyes open and when he sees me, he immediately gives the softest smile. he pulls me closer in his arms and whispers “good morning princess”. i hum and say good morning back. “how’d you sleep?” he kisses my forehead. “really good” i take a deep breath, inhaling his intoxicating natural scent. we stay like that for a while until we realize that we have to leave before the guys wake up and tease us. or the extreme awkwardness considering the fact that we may or may not have gotten a noise complaint. jackson gives me fresh clothes to leave in and i freshen up, doing most but not all of my morning routine due to the shortage of time. i grab my bag and exit the room with him. we’re walking down the hallway when i forget my notepad on his work desk and go back for it. on the way back to him i hear voices coming from the living room, i stay out of sight to eavesdrop. “jackson i swear to god you should do my- no our homework for the next week” one voice says, putting emphasis on ‘our’. “i shut my door, turn my music on my speaker up all the way, and even covered my ears with 2 pillows but could still fucking hear you two. jackson i swear to god if you don’t warn us next time” another voice says and lets out a deep sigh. “you guys i’m sorry i really didn’t plan-“ another voice cuts him off . “no you’re not sorry, you’re gonna be sorry when your ass is doing my physics homework for the next week” “i don’t even know how to do physics” “well you better figure it out” i couldn’t hear anymore of this, i had to save him. i walk out into the living room “um.. g-good morning” i wave awkwardly. damn! this is exactly what i wanted to avoid. they all look up at me with wide eyes “good morning” they say all out of sync. jackson stands next to me and holds my hand “this is my girlfriend, y/n” my heart drops, comes back up, does some somersaults, and skips numerous beats. “y/n this is jinyoung, jaebeom, and mark”. i give a small closed-mouth smile. “well, this was fun but y/n and i have places to be” he looks down at me and smiles “let’s go” jackson starts walking to the door and drags me along. i look back and wave goodbye and so do they, still looking baffled. jackson locks the door and we start walking down the hallway. ”i could tell you were uncomfortable so i had to get you out of there” he says with a hint of urgency in his voice and i laugh. “thank you but were we really that loud?” i ask putting emphasis on ‘that��. “i don’t know but what i do know is that i’m that good” i roll my eyes at him “yeah ok”. “so ‘girlfriend’ huh?” he looks down and scratches the back of his neck. “y-yea” his ears turn red. “you haven’t even taken me out on a date yet.” i scoff in fake disbelief. “i was hoping that i could go on a date today and then i could confess to you but i guess i got a little ahead of myself” “you think?” we chuckled. “confession? how long did you like me?” “ever since i had to do that first project with you in psych 2. whenever i’d ask to meet up and you said you couldn’t it always made me think you didn’t like me. and when we did you were kind of standoffish so i gave up. until you sat next to me yesterday” he smiles thinking about it. “i’m sorry that i made you think that i was just so intimidated by you and your good looks and what not.” “good looks?” he raises his eyebrow at me. “take the compliment or i’ll take it back” “oh no thank you thank you”

we leave his dorm building to the parking lot and his car. “i changed up our schedule for today a little bit.” he unlocks the doors and we get in. “what did you change?” he starts the car so the hot air doesn’t literally suffocate us. “after we visit your dorm we have to go to the mall”. he takes my hand and intertwined our fingers. “the mall? why?” i look over at him and furrow my eyebrows. he looks at me and smirks “to get you back that cute little underwear i tore off you last night” brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.