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starfinss · 2 years ago

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𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 — 𝘑𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘢𝘯

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Honkai Star Rail

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Jing Yuan + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 9,818

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing.

Without saying anything, you crossed to his side of the desk, leaning to grab at the front of his clothing and yanking him up to meet your mouth in a kiss, effectively shutting him up and showing just how comfortable you were.

You had a headache.

You’d had it since you woke up that morning, persisting even after you downed a couple of painkillers, and even still after your first cup of strong tea. And finally, to your chagrin, it only grew worse as you walked to work. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was simple dumb luck. Things like this always seemed to happen to you right before you had something important to do.

For the umpteenth time, you rubbed at your throbbing temples. On a normal day, you’d call in sick and spend the day at home, and the General wouldn’t mind. He was good like that. But today, you couldn’t afford to bail. Incidents like the Sanctus Medicus debacle came with a lot of red tape, even after all the heavy lifting and clashing of blades was finished. Incident reports, statements, casualty reports, and more bureaucratic nonsense that was of no help to the bereaved families of the fallen Cloud Knights. It was a web of all sorts of complicated, and if you weren’t careful, it was easy to get lost in the nearly endless amount of work to be done, especially as an advisor to the General of the Cloud Knights.

But you had an idea. It had come to you when you were combing through the incident reports; brought about by the footnote left by Jing Yuan regarding those very stragglers of the cult-like group. A solution to capture the remaining disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. Your notes on that were tucked away in the folder in your arms, all ready to be passed off to the General.

Head still throbbing, you gave your identification to the guards at the door and pushed into the meeting room, taking your seat near the General’s chair. He had yet to arrive, but that was fine with you. It gave you time to review what you were going to say. You placed your folder on the table in front of you, scanning through the lines of text, typed up the night previous, and accompanied by your own notes in the margins. It wasn’t a complicated plan, not as much as you were making it out to be in your own head. It was simple enough, but you were confident it could work.

The General trusted you. Your strategies had worked before, and you’d been instrumental in helping orchestrate successful battle formations, not to mention that you were responsible for the plan that had stopped a string of robberies in the Central Starskiff Haven, something you’d actually received an award for. You knew Jing Yuan would back you up to the other upper echelons of the Cloud Knights, as he had in the past.

It wasn’t long before people began to file into the room, and low chatter began as the pain in your head settled behind your eyes, but gradually began to lessen. You thanked the Aeons for that. You also thanked the Aeons that Fu Xuan was the one who called the meeting to order, recounting facts you already knew from the incident report, so you didn’t actually have to follow what she was saying. Tea was passed out, and you took a slow sip of the liquid. It smelled distinctly herbal, and was undoubtedly picked by the General himself. He always had good taste in teas.

“And that brings me to my next point,” Fu Xuan said, “what are we to do about the remaining members of the Sanctus Medicus who remain in hiding?”

You let yourself prepare what you were going to say, letting a few other people toss ideas around before you raised your hand. When you did, the Master Diviner’s gaze shifted to you, and she nodded, signaling you to speak. Jing Yuan shifted in his seat beside you, leaning on his closed fist, amber eyes expectant. All eyes were on you.

“Yes, what is it?” The Diviner asked.

“I have a proposal,” you said, and Fu Xuan nodded meaningfully.

“Then let’s hear it.”

Gathering your thoughts, you rose to your feet with a sigh.

“In the incident report, transcripts were recorded of the firsthand accounts given by the passengers of the Astral Express. Please, if you will, turn to page nine, where Mr Welt Yang’s statement is attached.”

A rustling of paper followed, and once it had quieted, you picked up where you left off.

“If you see, written in line twelve, Mr Yang recounts an interaction with a captured member of the group. The defeat of Phantylia the Undying was more than likely enough to send the doubters away, but if Mr Yang’s statement is to be believed, even despite their defeat, some of these people still hold a strong degree of loyalty for the Abundance. Which makes them all the more dangerous.”

“I see,” Jing Yuan interjected, clearly interested, “you’re saying that what we have left are the fanatics. The ones most likely to cause problems, yes?”

You nodded. “Yes, correct. I propose we send an agent to infiltrate them. Gather information, cut them off at the root.”

“I’m afraid we tried that,” Qingzu said, “and while we did garner some important information, it was ultimately a failure. Dan Shu escaped, and things ended up escalating to the current level.”

“Yes,” you said, “I’m well aware of that. That was something I advised you on, Miss Qingzu. You approached me for help, if you recall.”

Qingzu folded her hands in her lap, sitting back in her chair. “I do. Your point being?”

“My point being,” you said, “I learned that I needed to reflect on what went wrong, and so I have. And, as it stands, the situation is more dire than it was before. These people have proven themselves to be dangerous, and it is paramount—”

“They were dangerous before,” Qingzu said, “and, it was paramount before. They have always been enemies of the Hunt. If we try to infiltrate again, don’t you think they’d be suspicious?”

“I thought of that,” you said, “which is why I propose we use an ex-member. We have a number of them on record, arrested after the incident, who express resentment towards the group. The Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus bear many strong resemblances to an insular cult, and it would be incredibly useful to have an agent who already knows the ins and outs of such an organization. We’ve done what we can with the information gathered from interrogation, but the fact remains that these fanatics are still out there. We need to utterly destroy whatever is left, and this is the most efficient way to do so.”

“Interesting,” Fu Xuan said, “but there is always the chance of betrayal. How do you account for that?”

You made a rueful face. “Can it not be argued that there is always a chance of betrayal? Though, you could always see the outcome for yourself, Master Diviner. Your divinations are never wrong.”

“What you suggest is reckless,” Qingzu said, “if this ex-member has any sort of loyalty at all left over, it puts us at risk.”

“I accounted for that,” you said, “I propose that—”

“It is simply too risky,” she said, “thank you for your input, though.”

Annoyance flared in your veins, and you tried hard not to let it show on your face. You knew Qingzu well enough to know that she wasn’t shutting you down out of malice, she was simply thinking about efficiency. But she hadn’t let you finish.

“Wait,” you said, “I said, I accounted for that. If you’ll allow me—”

“Allow me to be clear,” Qingzu said, “you acknowledge the risks, yes?”

You paused. “Of course, but I said that I—”

“You acknowledge that if we take this gamble and it fails, it could put the Cloud Knights at risk, correct? If our infiltrator switches sides, we’ll be left wide open. They will have information about us, the acquisition of which might lead to even bigger problems. Do you acknowledge this?”

Discontent and anger peppered across your thoughts as you shifted where you stood, your words stuck in your throat. You glanced down to where Jing Yuan sat beside you, to take in the expectant, almost nonchalant expression on his face. His eyes met your own, briefly, meaningfully, before he fixed his gaze on Qingzu.

“Well?” Qingzu said, “do you, or do you not?”

“Yes, I do,” you said, “and that is why we would send that agent in with one of our own. Say this agent is someone new, a recruit for the cause. It would minimize suspicion, and give us some wiggle room if things were to go south. We have one of our own keeping them in line.”

“I see,” Jung Yuan said, “please, elaborate. How would we orchestrate this? How would we pick the candidates for this operation?”

“General,” Qingzu said, “you know that this is—”

But he held up a hand, silencing her. “Let the woman speak. I can see you are interested in what she has to say as well, Lady Fu Xuan.”

“Correct,” Fu Xuan said, “the idea is intriguing, and could very well lead to the eradication of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. But Lady Qingzu’s worry is not unfounded. If the plan is found out, our agents would likely be killed, and we would be left with bereaved families and nothing to show for the loss. If you can assuage both her fears, and my own, then I believe that your strategy is plausible.”

Ah. And you’d been doing so well before. But the second Fu Xuan fixed you with that look, expecting something great, you could feel your confidence draining out through the soles of your shoes. She seemed to have that effect on everyone, though. Despite her small stature, she could be incredibly intimidating. Regardless, you took a deep breath. You could do this.

“Well,” you said, “I believe that no strategy is without risks. Of course, we’d need to make sure these agents are well briefed and prepared for the operation, so there is little room left for error. We’d need to be careful in our selection process, and I propose that you assist in overseeing this portion of the plan, Master Diviner. That way, you can see for yourself who will be involved and how it will be done. Does that assuage your worry?”

That was a weak answer and you knew it, but you hadn’t accounted for Fu Xuan picking your idea apart like she was. So when her eyes narrowed, you knew she wasn’t satisfied.

“And how exactly will we prepare these operatives?”

You bit your lip. This was the kind of thing, the fine moving parts, that was what you thought about after presenting the actual idea. That did well enough for when you were working with Jing Yuan, and when you presented strategies to others like you were now, he’d often back you up, or at least say something to help you. You looked at him sidelong, and he looked back, as calm and collected as ever. A small, almost bemused smile tugged at his lips, a challenge in his eyes.

“Do you have an answer for me?” Fu Xuan said, canting her head, expectant, “if you don’t, I am sure the General has something to add.”

“I do,” you said, “I have an answer.”

Fu Xuan shifted in her chair. From her expression, you were beginning to figure that your time was up. “Be that as it may, I’d like to hear what the General is thinking. If you’re really confident in your strategy, send me a draft of it and I will review it in full. Thank you.”

You sank down into your chair again, trying not to let your embarrassment show on your face. Jing Yuan proposed an idea similar to yours, but involving sneakier tactics, such as tailing known members of the group and such. Fu Xuan seemed much more complimentary of that than she had of yours, clearly satisfied by the lower risk factor.

But you knew yours would work. It would get more answers, and it could spell the demise of what remained of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus.

After the meeting drew itself to a close, you gathered your things, ready to go to the Seat of Divine Foresight to draft up the proposal Fu Xuan asked for. You just hoped she’d actually listen this time. It was as you were circling around the table to go to the door that you heard Jing Yuan call your name, prompting you to turn around, eyebrows raised.

“Walk with me back to the Seat, alright?”

You sighed inwardly. “Yes, General. I was already on my way there.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling, “then it works in both of our favors, doesn’t it?”

He held the door for you as you left the room, and you thanked him politely as he retook his place beside you. You had to walk quickly, the General was a tall man, and his stride was much longer than yours was. It always made you a little breathless, walking alongside him, but then again, most things did when it came to him.

“My idea could work,” you said, and you saw Jing Yuan smile again, thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he said, “it could. I’m confident it could. It was a well thought out plan, as your plans always are.”

You blinked, not expecting the praise, especially not after he’d stayed quiet during the meeting.

“Huh?”

A soft laugh. “You weren’t finished talking when the Master Diviner cut you off, were you? Lady Fu Xuan is… an intense woman. But she is more open to the ideas of others than you’d expect her to be. She just prefers when a person speaks up about what they’re really thinking.”

You frowned. “So you’re saying you support my plan?”

Jing Yuan pushed open the doors to the Seat of Divine Foresight as you rounded upon them, and as you entered, he gestured for those inside to leave the room, which they did, leaving the two of you alone.

“Of course I support your plan,” he said, “you know I’ve always respected your inputs, they’ve served me and the Luofu well in the past. But you lack conviction.”

You let his words settle as the two of you crossed the room, making your way to the desk, where you set down the folder you were still carrying.

“How do I lack conviction?” You asked, “I believe firmly in my own ability. I am good at what I do, and you know that, else you wouldn’t have picked me as your advisor. In all the time we’ve worked together, when have I ever lacked conviction in anything I’ve done?”

“That isn’t what I mean,” Jing Yuan said, “I mean in your own ideas. You clearly had more to say to the Master Diviner, but when she stopped you, that was the end of it. You clearly had it thought out, as demonstrated when Miss Qingzu brought up her concerns, but you didn’t fight for it.”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to admit that. You chewed your lip, eyes flicking to where the folder you’d just set down was laying.

“What are you getting at?” You asked, finally, “that I need to be more confident? I know that. I didn’t account for… several things. I suppose I should have.”

Jing Yuan laughed; a lovely, low sound. “Lady Fu Xuan is something few people can really account for. She’s confident to nearly a fault in her abilities of divination, but even she cannot see every angle of a matter by herself. So she tends to pick apart things that would ordinarily require a bit of a gamble. Experience breeds caution, something that rings especially true with someone like the Master Diviner.”

You snorted. “A little warning would have been nice.”

Another laugh. “My apologies. But really, I was interested in seeing how you’d rise to the challenge. You had a good idea, as I knew you would, and I wanted to see you fight for it.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in your gut, and you turned away from him, studying a spot on the floor.

“Well, I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Disappointing me? Nonsense. You merely need an extra push. Now, would you care for a game of chess?”

You turned back, looking at him quizzically. “Chess? General, I don’t think now is the time.”

He smiled playfully. “There’s always time for a game of chess. Now, I’ve received this exquisite set, a gift from the Nameless on the Astral Express. I was told it was bought in a city called Belobog. I’m very eager to break it in. As we play, we can discuss further.”

Exasperated, you pulled a chair up to the desk, sinking down into it as Jing Yuan set up the board. The set really was lovely, you noted. It was made of carved wood, the pieces and board both showing fine craftsmanship and detail. You turned over the rook in your hands, admiring the way the wood shone gently under the light.

Jing Yuan chose white, as he usually did when the two of you played chess, and you chose black. He moved first, setting one of his pawns two spaces out from where it was originally, and you followed his example.

“Chess is much like life, no?”

You watched his hands, intent, as he moved his pawn forward once more.

“In some instances,” you said, “strategy is certainly something the two have in common. Or the fact that both require you to think outside the box, especially when figuring out said strategies.”

A good-natured chuckle as you moved a second pawn further, freeing your knight. Jing Yuan moved his own pawn ever closer, but he hadn’t moved any of his more powerful pieces. You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was planning.

“There’s that sharp intellect I know so well,” Jing Yuan said, “but you’re missing one thing.”

Leaning forward, you rested your elbow against the desk, propping your chin on your folded hand.

“And what would that be?”

A smile, playful and knowing. His eyes sparked with mirth. “You know very well what I mean.”

It was your turn to smile, maybe playing a little dumb. “I assure you, I don’t.”

“Let me give you a hint, then,” the General said, eyes fixed on your hands, watching as you shifted your knight out and onto the board, towards his closest pawn, “purpose, focus, planning. All are vital for a successful gambit, am I right?”

You watched as he moved his pawn again. This was surely a trap, for the rook waiting beyond the pawn, poised to take your knight after the pawn was captured. But you doubted Jing Yuan would do something so obvious. You moved your knight away, clearing it from danger. You needed to back up the piece with another one.

You supposed he was right. Purpose, focus, planning. But there was also sacrifice. Any good plan required gambles, and that rang true on the chessboard as well. You moved your pawn closer to Jing Yuan’s, near ready to capture the piece. Two could play at that game. You could make sacrifices, too.

“Yes,” you said, “but the Master Diviner doesn’t seem to understand it the same way we do. She doesn’t want to take risks.”

Amusement sparked in his golden eyes, electrifying as the air around you. You twisted your fingers around the top of your pawn, adjusting it more squarely into its spot.

“She is a careful woman. She wants everything to be accounted for. You believe in this strategy, yes? That it could work?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Naturally.”

“Then make her believe that. A firm belief in one's self commands a room. Make her see that you will handle whatever unexpected circumstances befall us.”

“Oh?” You said, heart thrumming in your chest, “me, alone? I’m just one person, General. Won’t you be helping me?”

His smile broadened, turning into a lazy grin, and when he spoke, he echoed your words from before.

“Naturally.”

That stupid smile sent butterflies into your stomach, their wingbeats gale force strength as they battered against your lungs. It was always like this with him, something unspoken hanging in the air between you, undisturbed by years of friendship, but ever present. So you did what you always did when it reared its ugly head. You stepped aside to leave it ample room to fester.

“I should be going,” you said, rising from your seat, “we’ll have to finish our game later. I need to finish writing the details I left out for the Master Diviner.”

“You will remain here.”

You blinked. He didn’t say it with any sort of authority, as if he was simply discussing the weather. But the firmness in his eyes told you that it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Excuse me?” You said, voice much weaker than you’d have liked.

“You heard me well. I have more to say, if that’s alright with you. Sit. It’s your turn.”

And so you sat.

“Really, it’s just the two of us,” Jing Yuan said, “we can speak with candor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to discuss the details you did not get to share earlier. Leave nothing out.”

You narrowed your eyes, absently moving your pawn. “Fu Xuan is already backing your strategy, not mine. My conviction in my plan does not change, but if you were this confident in what I had already, why didn’t you speak up?”

“You know why,” Jing Yuan said, “I wanted you to fight for it. We’re only talking in circles, my dear. How will we guarantee the safety of our agents in this operation?”

Your answer was automatic, despite the rush the diminutive sent through your already electrified system.

“There is no definitive way to ensure that nothing goes wrong aside from preventative measures and ample training,” you said, voice as steady as you could keep it, “any way you slice it, it’s always going to be a bit of a gamble. What I’m suggesting is an infiltration. That kind of operation is unpredictable. You know that. In order to avoid problems, we have to be ready for anything.”

A smile. The rook took your pawn, but you expected that. Without blinking, you took the rook with your knight. Jing Yuan’s eyes flashed with excitement, a contagious grin spreading across his face.

“Excellent answer. But tell me, how will we be ready for anything if we don’t even know what that could be?”

You shrugged. “There’s no perfect way to be ready for absolutely everything. We’ll just have to try and account for what is most likely to happen if things go awry.”

“And the unlikely?”

You knew he was testing you, trying to get under your skin. You looked up at his face and away from the chessboard, the nonchalance in his expression utterly infuriating. You tried your best to remain just as nonplussed.

“I mentioned training, didn’t I?” You said, “we have to trust the operatives will know what to do in the unexpected.”

His smile broadened. “Excellent. See, if you were able to say to her what you just said to me, then we’d be getting somewhere.”

You twisted in your seat. “What makes you so sure of that?”

Another easy smile. “Am I wrong to trust the judgment of a trusted friend and advisor, especially when she’s yet to steer me wrong? I value your opinion. You know that.”

“I do,” you said, “and I value yours as well.”

“I’m hardly worthy of such an honor, I’m sure,” Jing Yuan replied, his smile growing, eyes warm.

For some reason, his words sent those aforementioned butterflies present in your stomach shooting through your bloodstream in an intoxicating rush. Shit. Those feelings were back, the complicated ones you tried to run away from earlier. The way he was smiling at you wasn’t helping in the slightest, and mortifyingly, you could feel your cheeks heating up. Why was that of all things flustering you like this?

Aeons, you had to get out of there. You cleared your throat, expelling any improper or amorous thoughts about your superior from your mind as you straightened in your chair.

“I really should be going, General,” you said, voice a little louder than you’d have liked, “if you’ll excuse me, I—”

“Is something the matter, _____?”

You blinked, staring at him.

You should have said something intelligent, or something to assuage his worries, but instead, all you managed was; “what?”

You cleared your throat for the second time, smoothing down the fabric of your uniform.

“Let me rephrase,” you said, “what do you mean? What would make you think something was the matter?”

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, almost lazily, eyes remaining fixed on you as he did so.

“Well,” he said, “you keep trying to excuse yourself, to start. Additionally, your face is very red. Do you feel ill?”

You latched onto that. “I woke up with a headache this morning,” you said, “I’ve been all out of sorts since then, I’m afraid.”

A soft hum, then an understanding nod. “I see,” Jing Yuan said, do you have any other symptoms?”

You shook your head. “Just a headache.”

That was a total lie, your headache had diminished to nothing more than an annoyance during the meeting, and had vanished altogether in the time you had been talking with Jing Yuan. But he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know that situations like this always made you need to excuse yourself to rethink your entire working relationship with him, or that you often thought about how lovely he looked when he smiled.

But then, he was leaning across the table, hand outstretched, and he was pressing his palm to your forehead, the skin cool against your own. It did nothing to calm your racing heart, nor the incandescent blush on your face. The butterflies in your stomach were doing an entire floor routine at this point.

“You do not appear to have a fever,” he said, as he pulled back, “but your face is still very flushed. Are you too warm?”

You tugged at the high collar of your uniform, fingers absently catching on one of the buttons.

“I suppose it is a little warm in here.”

Another lie. You were actually a little bit cold. Another thing he didn’t have to know. YOu had to change the subject, and fast.

“Why is it that you value my input so much—”

“Are you embarrassed?”

The question came so suddenly it stunned you for a moment.

“What would I be embarrassed about?” You finally managed.

“I value your opinion,” he said, “I believe that is what I said that set you out of sorts, yes? The fact that I value your input flusters you? Do you fear that that is all I value? I assure you, I not only treasure your ideas, but your presence as well. You need not feel uncomfortable here, I very much enjoy your company.”

This was not going the way you envisioned at all. You were a professional for Aeons’ sake. You straightened yourself, rising from your chair, just to put some distance between the two of you, just to catch your breath. What was he doing? It almost felt like…

“You’re teasing me,” you said finally.

You turned when he laughed, your expression a mix of emotions, but he was as cool and collected as ever. It almost made you want to slap him. Or kiss him, Aeons forbid. You shoved that thought to the deepest corner of your mind.

“I was concerned at first,” he said, “though I realized after I felt your forehead that you were not ill. I apologize for my behavior, but I’m afraid I just couldn’t help myself.”

You felt like you were going to burst into flames. “So— what you said, about— huh?”

Another laugh. “I meant every word of that. Come now, lying about such things would be unbecoming. Please, would you sit with me some more? I would very much like to finish our game.”

“No,” you said, “the game can wait. Do you not take me seriously?”

He looked briefly surprised before he answered.

“I take you very seriously, I assure you. I cannot see why you would think I wouldn’t. I apologize if I led you to think otherwise.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why tease me?”

“I admit,” he said, “I found your reactions to be… endearing. I did not mean to offend you.”

Your heart sputtered under the new load that had been put upon it like a backfiring starskiff. You’d only ever seen hints of this before, in offhanded compliments and veiled praises, but the General had never been so overt before. Hell, you’d always been certain you were imagining it. But that single revelation brought you to a realization.

“You weren’t just teasing me,” you said, “you were flirting with me.”

The smile grew, and you could have sworn your heart was beating in your ears. He canted his head, regarding you with a playful gaze as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk in front of him.

“And what if I was?”

You coughed, trying to clear your head as confusing emotions swam laps in your bloodstream. Damn him, making you feel like this. Did he not even realize the impropriety of all of this? Did he just not care? How stupid and blind had you been not to realize this was happening?

“If you were,” you said, carefully, “then what does that mean, exactly?”

“You’re a smart woman” he rebuffed, “you know what it means.”

Your brain wasn’t catching up with what he was saying as quickly as you wanted it to, which infuriated you. He was staring at you, waiting for you to say anything at all, and you turned to face him when he said your name.

Damn it. Damn him. Damn everything. The way he was looking at you, like you put the stars in the sky, it made you feel like every cell in your body was screaming. All these years of pining for someone you thought was so unattainable was an arms reach away all along, and that not only made you feel silly, it made you feel a certain degree of strange, misdirected anger.

And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing.

“Of course,” he said, mild panic in his voice, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, it will never be spoken of again—”

He made a sound of surprise when your mouths met, a sound that snapped you from whatever impulsive haze that had settled over your brain. You were about to yank yourself back and apologize until you were unable to do so anymore, but then his hands found your shoulders, holding you in place, and your own fell from his clothing to catch his cheeks in your palms.

He was much taller than you, something especially evident as he rose to his full height, forcing you to stand on your tip-toes, arms slinging around his neck. His own wound around your waist, as not to let you slip away, his body quickly pulled flush against your own.

He tasted of herbal tea and almond cookies, warm against your mouth as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming and passionate, and you felt Jing Yuan pull back for a mere moment, just once, before diving back in, his teeth grazing your lower lip, sending sparks dancing down your spine. Your actions were rapidly growing frenzied, almost fierce, and you could feel yourself moving, your backside making contact with the desk behind you.

You knew this was moving fast, but you couldn’t even begin to care, not when you ran your hands through his hair, drawing a soft gasp from his lips, feather soft against your own, and especially not when his hands shifted to brace on the desk, effectively caging you in. Kissing him was intense , and almost completely overwhelming. The scent of him engulfed you; orange blossom and sandalwood, as well as something earthy and herbal and him.

He was the first one to pull back, face tinged pink as he caught his breath, eyes hooded as he watched you through lashes the color of moonlight. Aeons, he was pretty. Too pretty for his own good. Your eyes fixed to his mouth, watching as his tongue darted out, running briefly over his unfairly full lower lip.

“I see the matter of your comfort isn’t a concern.”

You could only shake your head.

He smiled, and you felt your heartbeat flutter in your chest.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he said, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, “I’d like to do that again.”

You answered him by pulling him into another kiss.

You could feel his hands on your waist, warm even through the fabric of your uniform. Gooseflesh raised on your skin as he paused, dangerously close to your hips, and your own hands laced into his hair, your fingers combing through thick, silver locks. The action drew a soft, low sound that made your blood sing with energy. It was embarrassing how quickly he got you like this, so pliable and willing, but as he nibbled at your lower lip, any thoughts of embarrassment were ejected from your mind.

His tongue slid along the seam of your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to press it against your own. Your fingers tangled into his hair, catching at the tie that held it back, and you flirted with the idea of undoing it before he was tugging you backward, away from the desk and onto the bench behind him, gathering you into his lap. The buzz of excitement took its place beneath your skin, and you shifted forward, bumping your hips against his.

You could feel his hands trailing down your body, catching in the bend of your waist, and you wanted so badly to shift down, pressing your bodies flush together, just to see what he would do. Fuck, he’d pulled you into his lap, and the provocativity of such an action only put you more out of sorts than you already were.

Breathless, you broke the kiss, meeting his hooded gaze with your own as you rolled your hips down, and oh, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his grip grew tighter on your body, it sent any remaining rational thought you had right out the nearest window.

You squeezed your thighs around his hips as you pressed yourself down again, and his jaw tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh through the fabric of your uniform. His gaze was dark as he regarded you, amber eyes sweeping across your body, seemingly hungry for what he was seeing. It thrilled you more than you thought it would. Overwhelmed, you dove forward to catch his mouth in another kiss, and he sighed into you, his lips moving languidly against your, almost indulgent as he pressed closer.

He pulled back suddenly, forehead against yours, breath heavy, and you tried to move to catch his mouth with yours again. He allowed you the impulse for a few frenzied seconds before he moved away, and for a horrible moment, you thought you’d done something wrong.

“Is this alright?” He asked, and the way his voice had deepened to a baritone rumble sent your head off into space, “you and I both know the direction this is taking us.”

You did. If you continued at this pace, you knew exactly what would happen. Anyone with common sense would know. This was something out of a dirty fantasy, something you’d shamefully thought of on lonely nights, something out of one of those silly erotic web novels you found yourself reading on boring days off. It was exciting and sexy, and you didn’t want it to stop. Here he was, the object of your pining, of your recently thought to be unrequited affections, asking what you wanted at that moment. Who were you to refuse?

“Yes,” you said, after you’d found your own voice, high and breathy in contrast to his, “I’m okay with this. I want this.”

A soft hum, and you felt your heart jump into your throat as his head dipped, mouth dragging along the bit of your throat left exposed by your uniform. You couldn’t help but gasp, almost embarrassed at your own sensitivity.

“Aeons, you’re lovely,” he breathed, enraptured, “I am left in awe every day I see you.”

You felt your face warm, your voice lost as he peppered kisses along your jaw. His hands slid down your body to find your thighs, calloused palms pressing against the skin, left exposed by the shorts attached to your uniform. He used the grip to tug you closer, firmly pressing your pelvis against his, an action that caused both of you to gasp aloud.

He held you in place as he rolled his hips, slow and easy, the friction making you gasp. He was already halfway hard, evident through his trousers, and the thought that you’d been the one to make him that way made intoxicating arousal flood into your bloodstream.

His fingers caught the buttons at your collar, fumbling to push them through the buttonholes. Once that was done, you reached to the front of your waist to unfasten your belt, which was holding the top of your uniform in place. After it was loose, you slipped the garments from your body, discarding them to the floor.

You barely had time to think before Jing Yuan was exploring the newly exposed parts of you, his mouth latching onto the bend of your shoulder, the column of your throat, the underside of your chin. His hands, warm and calloused against your naked waist, made you shudder, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh as his tongue passed over your pulse point.

You had trouble finding exactly where his armor ended and he began, but you eventually found the buckles necessary to unfasten the thick plating from his body. He helped you with this endeavor, eventually shedding his wrist guards and shirt, as well as the armor at his waist, leaving him bare chested beneath you.

He was built powerfully, like the Aeons themselves had sculpted him by hand. Muscles rippled under the flat press of your palm, his perfect pale skin only marred by the threads of countless battle scars. Broad, strong shoulders and arms, a well-built chest, all tapering off into a trim waist. You ran your fingers down his body, feeling his muscles tense, quivering, breath catching as your thumb caught the jut of his hip bone, settling into the groove of muscle at his navel.

His gaze was riveted to your hand as you explored his body, only dropping away when your mouth attached to his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone, making him sigh with shuddering breath. Your fingers mapped their way across his scars, and you absently wondered what the cause of each one was. You kissed the one closest to you, a thick, pale stripe of skin cutting across his left shoulder, ending just above his pectoral. You felt his nose press into your hair, and for a moment, you simply rested your cheek against his shoulder in a little bubble of intimacy that settled so perfectly into your comfort zone that you almost had trouble breaking away.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, softly, and you heard him chuckle, the sound like a roll of thunder beneath your ear.

“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, “that word is reserved for you.”

He drew you close and into another fierce kiss, stealing your breath from your lungs, and you could feel his hands on your back as he unfastened your bra, pushing the straps down your shoulders. You took the bra off the rest of the way, dropping it behind you as you rolled your hips against him, an action that caused him to grip at your body, and oh , you could feel him, hardness pressing neatly against your clothed cunt. Teeth clicked together as he rocked his hips, holding you against him, the friction drawing a soft, breathy moan.

His palm slid along your body, cupping your breast, and when his thumb swiped over your nipple, you let out an embarrassingly loud gasp, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he squeezed the nipple between two fingers. You were so unexpectedly sensitive, just from this alone, a fact that would have embarrassed you if your head wasn’t so full of clouds and fluff and other emptiness, drunk on his touch.

His mouth found your pulse point again, tracing down to your collarbone, then to the valley of your breasts, and your back bowed as his hand smoothed along your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, breath and body shuddering as his lips passed over a nipple. His breath was hot as it misted over your skin, and when his lips finally caught a nipple between them, you let your head fall back, gasping and breathless.

Jing Yuan’s tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, rolling your nipple beneath it, and he caught your opposite breast in his free hand, gently squeezing, making you whine, soft and low. The pleasure of it all felt like fire beneath your skin, burning you from the inside out, but not one part of you cared, not when he was touching you like that.

You pushed yourself against him harder, because feeling him through clothing was rapidly becoming not nearly enough, a sentiment he clearly shared from the way you felt him groan against your skin.

“Can I touch you?” He rasped, and you nodded quickly, shifting to unfasten the tie holding your shorts closed, briefly standing to slip them off, as well as your panties, before you were moving back into his lap, completely bare.

“You’re incredible,” he rumbled, “a goddess. I hope you know that. I am a very lucky man.”

His hand pressed against your hip, making your shift back, and your face flushed in embarrassment as he took in your naked form, gaze famished and punch drunk in love as it roved over you.

“I want to touch you, too,” you said, and he simply smiled.

“I’m yours to do with as you please.”

His hand slipped from your hip to your thigh, and you shifted your hips back, allowing him room to maneuver as he pressed a broad palm to the apex of your thighs, causing you to gasp, hips unconsciously pressing down. His middle finger ran along the length of your entrance, aided by the soak of your arousal, slow as he pleased, leaving your head full of fog. You pressed your hips down against his hand, lip catching between your teeth as he picked up his pace, free hand gripping your hip to still you as one finger slowly sunk inside of you.

He began to move at an agonizingly slow pace, and you moaned lowly as his finger curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made stars burst across your vision. He touched you in a way that stole your breath from your lungs, and when he added another finger, his name slipped from your lips, soft and pleading.

You reached forward to fumble with the front of his trousers, managing to unsnap and unzip them after a few seconds. He hissed between his teeth as you pushed his underwear down, pulling him free, and shit, you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. Jing Yuan wasn’t a small man, so you supposed this shouldn’t have come as a shock, but he was big. He was thick, and long enough to make you nervous, and when you reached forward and wrapped your hand around him, your fingers barely even met.

His breath hitched sharply when you touched him, and you felt him twitch against your palm, throbbing. When his fingers curled inside of you, you squeezed him, making him cry out. You touched him in slow, even strokes as your hips ground down on his hand, and when his thumb found your clit, you picked up the pace.

His head fell against the back of the bench as you squeezed his tip, circling your thumb around him, making him groan, low and long, hips bucking into your touch. He was leaking precum, and you used it to aid in your motions, smearing it around the head of his dick, making his own motions falter for a moment.

You wanted him so badly at that moment, as you watched his pretty face twist with pleasure, with need. You could feel your climax building, winding tighter under your skin, driving a high, breathless wine from between your gritted teeth as you ground your hips down harder. When he sped up his pace to aid you, your hips jumped, heartbeat pounding in your ears, and you were grinding down on his hand like a bitch in heat.

You really weren’t going to last, not when he knew exactly where to touch you, fingers practiced and sure, and fuck, you felt like you were melting into him, fingers slipping from his cock to grip at his shoulders, your ability to focus rapidly draining away.

Your head dropped back in pleasure as he worked you even closer to your high, allowing him room to latch his mouth onto your throat, surely leaving marks as his teeth dragged against your skin, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even begin to care about that, not as your thoughts and senses devolved into complete delirium.

With a final press of his thumb, you tumbled over the edge with a broken cry, nails digging into Jing Yuan’s skin as you came. He worked you through it with whispered filth and an unfaltering pace, making you sob with rapture, squirming helplessly as he worked you into overstimulation, dangerously close to a second climax before he pulled away.

You collapsed, boneless and panting against his chest, and he drew you close, mouth hot as it molded to yours, and as you shifted forward, you could feel him, pressed against your bare stomach.

The friction made him groan, hands on your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you needed more, and you knew he wouldn’t protest giving you just that.

“How do you want me?” Jing Yuan rasped, “do you want to be on top? It may be more comfortable for you to adjust that way. I’m afraid I don’t have protection, though. That does not tend to be something I keep here in my office.”

“I’m on birth control,” you said, “it will be okay.”

After a moment of consideration, you shifted forward to press yourself against him, an action that earned a breathless groan. He felt hot against you, almost searing, and as you slowly rolled your hips, you felt his grip grow tighter, almost impatient. A spike of arousal shot through you as his jaw tightened, his restraint clearly being tested by your teasing.

Slowly, you began to sink down. You were met with some resistance, even just the tip was a stretch, and you had to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, which was escaping your lips in quick bursts.

“Relax,” he urged, voice low; tone taught and fraying, “breathe. You can take it.”

A quick nod as you tried to do as he said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. You pushed down further, drawing a hushed groan, his hands slipping from your hips to your waist, gently urging you downwards. It took another few moments of adjusting before you were able to take all of him, and you sat there for a few moments, breathless and stuffed completely full.

His head lolled back against the bench, expression stricken and lips parted, and you pulled him into a kiss, which he returned with vigor. You stayed still as you adjusted to the size, something that clearly wasn’t helping with keeping his restraint in place, evident from the way he was gripping your body, tight enough to bruise.

Just to test the waters, you shifted forward in a slow, easy grind, and he groaned, long and low and aching. You whined into his mouth, toes curling as you rolled your hips again, just to hear that wonderful sound again.

His hands drifted back to your hips, squeezing as you moved again, this time lifting yourself halfway up, only to take him again, and he was surely leaving bruises, absolutely holding back, especially as you thrust back down again.

“Tight,” he whispered, “it’s— fuck— it’s so tight.”

That did it for you. You put your hands on his shoulders as you picked up the pace, forcing the breath from your own lungs, rendering him speechless as he watched you, eyes fixed to where the two of you were connected, watching his thick cock disappear inside of you.

The stretch of him made you feel like your mind had emptied itself out, and you let out a thin, breathy moan as his hips bucked up, stuffing you full as your nails dug into his shoulders. You yanked him into a messy kiss, hands lacing into his hair, and he growled against your mouth, a sound that sent shockwaves down your spine.

Another tug at his hair, and you were moving, your back suddenly against the desk, chess pieces scattering around you as he rucked your legs up, pulling them against his hips as he pressed close. You cried out, the new angle making the tip of his cock rub just right against spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

You lifted your hips from the desk to meet him, propping yourself up on bent elbows as he leaned over you to join your lips to his. The pace he set was slow, but the strong impact of each thrust made it impossible for you to think , or to even speak as his hands slid along your thighs to the bend of your knees, holding you in place for him as he fucked you.

The kiss was broken, and he rested his forehead against yours, just for a spell, before he was drawing back a little, hips pressing forward, and one of his hands was moving between your bodies, clit under his thumb, forcing you to tighten around him, forcing broken gasps from both of you.

“Deeper,” you found yourself blurting, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

“If that’s what pleases you.”

Your head fell back in bliss as he changed the angle, the speed picking up as well, and you could do nothing else but gasp his name, sprawling back over the desk as he reduced you to a mess, beginning to wind tighter once more, thighs trembling in his grip.

You were still sensitive from your last climax, something he was undoubtedly aware of as he touched you in all the right places, as his mouth found your breast, tongue passing over your nipple and making your back arch into his touch. It was too much, but also not nearly enough, something that was as oxymoronic as it was maddening.

Your hands scrambled across the smooth surface of the desk before finally curling around the edge, nails digging into the wood, and you watched Jing Yuan above you with hazy eyes; watched the way his face twisted and pinched in bliss. He was thick and heavy and hot inside of you, and you were not going to last, not like this, not when he was whispering filth and praises and fucking you so deep that you could barely tell where he started and you ended.

The pressure of his thumb on your clit picked up, and you squirmed in his hold, the back of your head knocking against the surface of the desk underneath it, your eyes squeezing closed, the delirious, desperate feeling that comes before a climax bleeding into your system, threading its way through you, leaving you utterly helpless to its pull.

You were barely aware of what you were even saying, but you knew his name was on your lips, and you were so close that you could hardly take it, but he wasn’t slowing down, not even as you bucked and squirmed and shook under his touch.

The edge came quicker than you’d have pleased, and your back bowed up as you came undone, trying and failing to stray quiet as your high washed over you with tidal wave force. You were throbbing around him, squeezing him tight, and you could hear him growling in pleasure, feel him twitch inside of you, only driving you higher as your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, lips parted, cheeks flushed pink.

But he wasn’t letting up, not even as you squirmed with overstimulation, clamping a hand over your mouth to try and quiet yourself, barely able to handle the continued stimulation. The stretch of him inside of you and the feel of his thumb on your clit was making you feel like you were losing yourself, and if he knew that, he was only encouraging it.

You wanted him to cum, to feel him lose himself too, to see it on his face as he spilled himself inside of you, just as drunk on bliss as you were. You locked your ankles together behind his body, pushing him deeper, and you got the privilege of listening to him groan.

Your second climax knocked the wind out of you, and it was only then that he was pulling his hand away, fucking you through the aftershocks of the climax, but the base of his cock was rubbing against your oversensitive clit, prolonging your high, and building you towards another one.

His hand found your hip, holding you down as his pace picked up to something almost punishing as he chased his own climax, and you found yourself scrambling forward to grab onto him, kissing him hard and deep, hips moving with his and making him moan into your mouth, grip tightening on your body as he pushed you back onto your back, one hand flattening on your lower stomach to hold you down as he thrust all the way in, staying close as he rolled his hips in slow, deep rocks that made you feel like you were burning alive, but you could do no more than lay there and take it as he worked you into another dizzying climax.

It hit you with a force that made you scream, forcing you to clamp a hand over your mouth, the tears that had caught in your lashes leaking down your cheeks, and his thrusts were growing uneven, breath unsteady. You felt him shudder, hips twitching, sending jolts of almost painful pleasure through your spent body, making you whine.

With a low, unrestrained moan, he was thrusting deep as he could go, and you could feel him trembling , grip iron tight on your body as he spilled inside of you, and you pulled him down into a fierce kiss, bucking your hips to work him through his climax. He moaned against your mouth, gasping your name when you deliberately squeezed around him, breaking the kiss to sink his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his unrestrained cries.

You felt him begin to soften inside of you, though he remained close, arms wrapped around your body as you gasped for breath. It was with almost palpable reluctance that he pulled out, and after gathering you into his arms, he was falling back to sit on the bench behind him, chest heaving, eyes closed.

A few moments passed of just laying together before he was moving for a drawer in his desk, and you realized he was reaching for a package of tissues, which he used to wipe your thighs clean, depositing the tissue in the trash can tucked beneath the desk. You grabbed your panties from the floor, tugging them back on before settling beside him once again.

“I didn’t picture that happening for the first time here,” he said, after a few moments of comfortable silence, “though I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Despite everything, you felt your cheeks warm. It was definitely comical that you were blushing at that of all things after he’d just fucked your brains out, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“Where did you picture it?” You asked, settling closer to him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Preferably my bedroom,” he said, “or yours. I wanted to at least take you out first. Call me old fashioned, but I’m quite fond of the act of courtship.”

You smiled. “We can still do that.”

A chuckle. “Yes. You’re quite right.”

For as long as possible (and until you started to get cold), the two of you sat curled up together on the bench before Jing Yuan suggested getting dressed, which didn’t sound like a bad idea. But it wasn’t until you tried to stand that you realized that might be a problem.

“This is your fault,” you said, as he helped you put your shorts back on, and he smiled, as calm as ever.

“And I’d do it again.”

That, you weren’t ashamed to say, made you blush. From the smirk on his face, that was exactly his intention. You shot him a glare, but it was short lived when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, offering you a hand to help you up.

Your legs were still wobbly, but with his support, you were able to stand.

“Well, love,” he said, “since we’re doing things in reverse order, how about lunch? We can take the rest of the day off, go back to my home?”

You leaned closer to him, lacing your fingers tight with his. “I’d like that.”

He kissed you, slow and gentle, before he led you from the Seat of Divine Foresight, leaving the mess of forgotten chess pieces scattered across the floor, chatting happily about what restaurants he thought you’d like.

You never did finish that game.

Though, of course, there would be others in the future.

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3liza · 1 year ago

Text

everyone suggesting alternatives for Photoshop is inevitably not actually using most of the Photoshop functionality, which to be fair is probably the vast majority of the potential Photoshop userbase.

the reason Photoshop has been industry standard for 30 years is that it does almost everything and has almost always done almost everything. it has had a few weird slow adoptions, for example it didn't support basic live mirroring while drawing until the 2010s (ish). it didn't have recovery saves or auto saving until about then. it's never been the absolute last word in real media synthesis, that was Corel Painter for years and now I think CSP is probably the king. illustrator is better at vectors. etc. but Photoshop can do all of those things well enough to prepare a professional grade, print-ready artwork from RAW file to layout to text to retouching to total from-scratch illustration, in one step, with layer and channel separation, multiple types of masking, adjustment layers, lossless file object placement, vector text transformation including all standard print layout tools like kerning, like spacing, comprehensive font support, and both true font variation and faux transformation like fake bold and fake italic. and clients and print workflows are expecting PSD files and file preparation for this reason. Krita, as an example of a popular program suggested as an "alternative to Photoshop" which I have used for hundreds of hours to do professional and personal work, is great for drawing but has a completely unusable text engine, you can't make a webcomic with speech bubbles easily and quickly in Krita. it was like pulling teeth even trying to put "BABY SLUT" on my Lethal Company skin with Krita. but you can lay out an entire magazine in Photoshop in an afternoon, and people do (print preparation is whole other topic I'm not saying vogue is prepared solely in Photoshop, it isn't, I'm saying you CAN do it in Photoshop)

I have never paid for an Adobe product, I am not pro Photoshop, I am pro getting my work done. I would absolutely love for there to be an actual Photoshop alternative, but there isn't. there are individual alternatives for individual features of Photoshop, and if you are working in a limited professional scope or you just want a drawing program or just want to make your webcomic or just want to do pixel art then one or two programs will replace Photoshop for you. everyone who, like me, has to do RAW editing, fashion retouching, print and web layout, pure digital illustration, vector illustration, text and graphic design, and all the rest of the crap I have to do in a format that's accepted by publishers and the rest of the various workflow destinations it's just not realistic. which is why it's great that Photoshop is completely trivial to pirate at any stage of its development you care to install,including versions prior to the introduction of the AI crap, the cloud crap, and the rest of the crap no one serious is actually using unless their manager is forcing them to

#blog #Photoshop

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tuliptired · 11 months ago

Note

anything w egon and ta!reader 🙏🙏🙏

Southern Skies

Pairing: Egon Spengler/TA!Reader

no more fics abt kids for 10 years cuz I'm scared yall can tell when I'm ovulating

Better formatting on Ao3!!

The newspaper was spread out over the table, frankly ignored as all four men were scrambling to get breakfast in themselves before they headed out to a call scheduled painfully early. Egon paused, hoping to get a sip of coffee without it spilling over onto his underclothes, when he spotted it- an editorial that had consulted you for a professional opinion. Mug barely to his lips as he skimmed it, Ray appeared in front of him, ready to go.

“Something interesting?” he inquired, attempting to read upside down. Ray opened his suit a tad in hopes to get some air. “Jeez, it’s hot today.”

“It’s that time.” Egon’s own words making him start to wonder something, forgetting about the mug, guessing that it’d just have to go cold if they wanted to get there in a timely manner. “Do you recognize the name?”

Ray got a proper look, squinting and fishing for an answer in his head, shaking it twice. “Not really. You know my memories’ shot,” he patted Egon on the shoulder, all the men filing out and down the steps.

Ray’s memory must’ve been crushed, ran over, and spat upon- Egon could remember like it was yesterday. He wasn’t complaining, really, content with the recollection being something he could keep just for himself as he broke into a small and selfish smile behind his friends’ backs.

Christine brought eyes to the clouds in exasperation “You don’t know how awkward it is to see a clone of your boyfriend everywhere,” she complained as you headed back to your dormitory.

“Side-effects of dating a twin.” You let out a small laugh at her long-distance plight with your books stacked in your arms. It was nice and bright out, the perfect afternoon for a good, long book, or an equally as lengthy nap. “Are you at least, like, friends?”

She sighed, pushing open the complex’s doors. “A bit. We’re gonna have to be, anyway.”

“It’s not all bad. No need for those pictures he sends-”

“I’m not listening !” Christine whined, squeezing her eyes shut and pushing manicured nails into her ears while you snickered devilishly. “I can’t believe you saw those.”

You put the key to your space into the door. “Relax, I’m not reading your mail. Just stop leaving nasty letters on the coffee table.” Christine groaned in embarrassment, sinking into the armchair you got in a yard sale all the way back in winter.

“Speaking of,” she toyed with a fraying edge of the lime green fabric, “He called this morning. He’s still coming- just thought we should bring a few friends.”

You made a skeptic noise as you started on lunch for you and your roommate. “Ouf. During your big reunion trip that you can’t stop talking about?” you asked over your shoulder, washing some fruit.

“That’s the one.” Christine sat up, accidently pulling some of the thread with her. “I suggested it. I just thought he deserved to see them, after being away so long.” You traded your skepticism for understanding, placing grapes in a strainer. “What I’m trying to say…”

“I would love to take a road trip with strangers while you make out in the front seat. It’d be an honor, actually.”

Christine snuck a few grapes and popped them in her mouth. “You’re not as distant as you think. It can’t be that bad- I’ll be there!” she punctuated herself by stealing another handful. “What happened to our summer plans?”

“If I’m only being half sarcastic,” you ended up giving her the entire colander, “wouldn’t I be intruding?” She sat on the counter, legs of her jeans swinging back and forth.

“Not at all. I’d like you to meet him before the wedding,” Christine teased you. When you weren’t entirely receptive, she poked you in the side. “If you end up with the brother, our kids’ll pretty much be siblings.”

“Not how genetics works. We’d have to be twins, too.”

“We practically are.”

“Oh, of course.” you joked as she turned you both towards the mirror on the wall. You watched her hopeful face in the mirror. Why was she always the one encouraging you to try new things, anyway? These next few months won’t last forever, admittedly, and soon you’ll be put into the real world where you can’t just drop everything for a trip out with other young people. Plus, you needed to know if her boyfriend was as cute as she said. “When do we leave?” you finally caved.

Christine jumped up, full of excitement as she dragged you to the closet. “Oh, I have to help you pack!”

“Why would I wanna do that?” Egon said into the phone, slipping into casual speech with his brother on the other end when Peter and Ray walked in, back from their lunch. “I don’t like being in a car with you on a regular day.”

“Because I’m coming home and you wanna see me,” Elon answered, unaffected by his twin. Egon sighed into the receiver at his happy tone. Out of all the things he’s had nightmares about, being stuck in a hot car with his brother and his girlfriend was the most hellish.

“Do they know you’re coming?”

“The last time I surprised Mom she told everyone I died. I attended my own funeral. Hey, you could bring Pete and Ray along. It’s a whole thing- Chris offered.”

“What about us?” Peter said over Egon’s shoulders, making him flinch away from his friend.

“Wanna take a trip to the shore?” Elon raised his voice so Peter could hear him, Egon flinching in the opposite direction as his ears were assaulted on either side.

Ray dropped what he was doing, now intrigued. “A road trip?” he smiled. “We’re going!”

Egon handed his roommates the phone, since they were so interested in a little excursion with his brother. What was it about the concept that sounded so fun to those three? He could drive anywhere at any time without it having to be a “thing”.

“Oh man,” Ray covered the receiver, “apparently there’s a campsite with the clearest sky for stargazing,” he beamed.

“Get pictures for me,” Egon said plainly, turning his chair back to his desk. Peter didn’t like that, apparently, spinning his friend back around with his hands on his hips.

“You’re not staying here to rot while we’re off kissing girls and looking at space.”

He ignored the pseudo-vulgarity. “I’ll manage. Besides, I have work to get ready for.” Not entirely untrue, he did have an internship coming up- they all did, just not until much later in the season. Ray frowned, seemingly catching the man in his half-lie.

“That’s so far away, Spengs. If you do this, we’ll never ask for anything ever again.” Ray reasoned, grinning hopefully. Egon sat back in thought, under a spotlight shined on him by his two friends. His legs would get tired. He probably couldn’t wear a sweater in the heat. He’d have to sleep in a dingy motel at some point. But- he’d get a rare chance to actually see the night sky without light pollution. If it rained, he’d get a moment for fungus hunting. And maybe he did miss his brother. Maybe.

“When do we leave?”

You barely had time to catch the bag your friend nearly dropped before she was sprinting towards a parked light blue car by the curb with its trunk popped open. As you got closer to the little congregation, your mouth fell open as you got a real look at the man she was clinging to.

Holy shit . This was gonna be so much more fun than you thought.

“Lonnie!” She hugged him tightly, peppering lipstick covered kisses all over his face. The face you’d come to know quite well, actually.

“Hey, Chris,” he smiled dopily. It was jarring, seeing that face smile so earnestly. They were the exact same person, down to the length and style of their hair, height- if you were crazy enough, you’d ask if they wore the same frames. And one of them was smiling? You had assumed that everyone in the Spengler family was a sea anemone. He, Elon, held onto her waist, before catching sight of you standing on the sidewalk. “Hi,” he grinned warmly, “have you met everyone?”

You couldn’t answer before he took the reins, introducing the unfamiliar men who you had only just noticed. Elon exuded being a natural conversationalist. How ironic? “That’s Peter. Psychology.”

You wondered why he was so familiar until it finally clicked. “I know you. There’s a girl in psych who said you slept over and stole her silk robe.”

“I can’t help it if I look better in it.”

Elon stifled a laugh- that girl was good friends with Christine. “Ray’s in engineering,” he managed to get out.

“I like your jacket,” you complimented, amused at the fashion choice in such unrelenting heat.

“Thanks,” Ray cuffed his sleeves happily, “I like your lack of a jacket.”

You laughed at that, adjusting the bag on your back getting heavier and heavier by the second. “It’s 80 degrees!”

“Car ACs are no joke.”

Elon tried peeking around the back of the car. “I’m sure you’ve met my brother. He’s just a ray of sunshine.”

“Sure.” You smiled inwardly, watching Egon arrange luggage like there was a science to it- which, there probably was. You headed back there, slinging a backpack off your shoulder. “Isn’t this fun?” you spoke lowly. He looked miserable, but in a humorous way. At least, humorous for you.

He didn’t answer, placing it in the trunk silently. You placed Christine’s on the roomy felt flooring next to a bit of camping gear before you spoke again, unbothered by his petulance. “I didn’t know you had a twin.”

Egon moved her bag, the spot you chose apparently not optimal enough for him. “I’d consider him more of a parasite.” That made you laugh as he shut the hatch, but didn’t lock it, the latching mechanism seemingly unfamiliar to him. You reached down, doing it for him before leaving him behind to join the rest of your new friends.

“At least he’s a cute parasite.”

Elon held the door open for his girlfriend. “You wanna sit upfront?” Elon asked before she shook her head, climbing into the window seat in the back.

Christine pulled her seatbelt across her chest. “I’ll get sick. Y/N, sit back here with me.” she patted the spot next to her. Elon nodded, getting into the driver’s seat while you slid in beside your friend, cherishing the space you probably won’t get again for the next couple of hours.

“Ray? Will you be my co-captain?” Elon starts the ignition, cranking his window down a crack. Ray got in the passenger’s seat enthusiastically, almost hitting his head on the roof.

“Do I!” he was virtually buzzing as he took in all the bells and whistles in front of him. You weren’t exactly a car person, but you could say this one was objectively pretty hip- even the leather felt nice underneath you. Peter and Egon filed in next, Elon pulling off from the sidewalk as Ray couldn’t contain himself, starting again.

He ran a careful finger across the dash. “Where’d you get this from, anyway?”

“I cashed in a couple favors, traded in the beetle,” Elon paused at a crosswalk.

Peter hummed. “Didn’t know they drove like this in yodieland.”

Elon put a finger up in defense. “I got this ‘cause of my exceptional business skills.”

“Just say you’re a bad dealer.”

Eventually, your little group made it out onto the highway, surrounded by high heels and even higher trees. You had the little book you had snuck in cracked open, but there really was no need. The car was full of excellent talkers, dissolving any previous fears about if it would ever get too quiet or awkward. Excellent talkers, excluding Egon. A silent part of yourself cursed Christine for picking the window, placing you in between herself and the psychologist, away from the victim of your tortures. But, your read and your position were forgotten about, book spread open and face down on your lap as Elon shared a riveting story about roller skating.

“Now that you mention skating,” Peter turned to you and Christine, her legs thrown over your own, “you’d never believe me if I told you how good Egon is.”

You sat up, somehow even more interested. “No way.” you flashed the man over Peter’s shoulder a wicked smile as he offishly avoided your gaze.

Peter nodded. If there was trickery in his eyes, you’d have missed it. “Yes way. Absolute god, too.” Elon and Ray made a few noises of agreement up front.

“I’ll have to see it sometime,” you say as innocently as possible, enjoying the sight of Egon’s cheeks turning pink under the attention. “No need to be embarrassed- I think it’s cool.” you sounded genuine to everyone who wasn’t either of you, leaning forward to catch his eye.

It twitched as he searched you, just like it did in your lecture hall. Who said a classroom could only have four walls?

“Not embarrassed for me,” he kept eye-contact, “embarrassed for you when you fall.”

There was a chorus of ooo-ing as you slumped back in your seat- not embarrassed yourself, but satisfied with his ability to get you back, even when it wasn’t over a work of fiction. “Very funny,” you started, needing an iron will to refer to him with his first name as to not make things look weird, “Egon.”

At some point, Christine had her face pressed to the glass while you were stuck in midday traffic- bumper to bumper. “Check out the moose!” she gasped, shaking your shoulder.

“Moose don’t live down here,” Elon spared a look while the car inched forward. You put your play down, squinting outside with her.

“Those are two bucks.”

“And they’re-”

The car suddenly gained speed as traffic lessened, giving the two not-moose their privacy.

At some point, as the sun was getting ready to set, the car found itself on another long stretch of highway, no other vehicle in sight as you made your way around winding roads lined with yellow-green. Elon must’ve noticed something, or someone, with their thumb out when he decided to slow down, easing on the brakes as he pulled onto the shoulder.

The hitchhiker spoke into his half closed driver side window, “Hey, man. I just need a ride to somewhere with a bus stop.” Elon nodded understandably, saying something about checking the tires before you’d go.

“Try to make a decision before I get back,” Elon spoke softly as to not be overheard by your prospective guest.

Egon definitely would’ve rather kept going, but Ray was the first to speak. “Probably won’t see anyone again for miles,” he presumed, turning in the passenger’s seat.

“He can’t have any ill will. Hard to kill all six of us.” you offered, not to Egon’s surprise. He watched as you turned to your friend, tapping her boot against the floor. “Christine? What d’you think?”

She kept her eyes straight ahead, arms crossed. “Whatever gets us to the rest stop the fastest.”

“Don’t worry. Just don’t think about the beach. Or the river down there. Or drinking wate-”

“Be quiet , Peter!” she fussed. He apologized when she shifted around where she was sitting, checking how much progress her boyfriend had made on whatever he was doing.

Ray unbuckled his seatbelt. “He should sit up front,” he started, before Peter put a hand out.

“And where will you go?”

He gave his friend a bemused look, cocking an eyebrow. “I’ll get back there with you guys,” he said as if he was doubting his answer.

“With that butt? There’s no space.” Egon could tell you were holding in your own amusement before your own friend spoke up, foot tapping evolving into knee bouncing.

Christine squeezed your shoulder like it was a stressball. “I’d let you sit on me, but I think I’d piss my pants if you did.”

“Glad I’m being thought of,” you kept your eyes ahead as she once did to avoid being the next puzzle piece for this little dilemma. When you heard Elon approach the car again, with no verdict reached, you sighed heavily, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward. “You don’t mind?” his wide eyes caught sight of your hand on the frame of the door. He’d say no, make you sit on the roof; that’d keep you from bothering him. So why’d he say yes?

He thought he was done with this. The things you’d do, the things you’d say- he thought all of that was done, at least until school started again and he was locked into the same routine. But now, you were on him, and it wasn’t explicit but it felt that way and he couldn’t miss the look his twin gave him before he finally decided to drive and the car was moving . He got insanely self aware insanely quickly, cursing whoever it was that convinced him to wear a dingier pair of pants.

Elon couldn’t have been more careless a driver, bumping into potholes and sticks and whatever other debris littered the road ahead as he approached a town. He only had a second to burn a stare into the rearview mirror, before his brother stopped a little too hard, sending you sliding down the length of his bent thighs and into his torso.

Egon was absolutely burning up, hands not knowing where to stay as he unconsciously encompassed the middle of your back with both of his palms, sitting up uncomfortably. “Sorry” was all she could mutter as his heart clamored to the front of his chest.

Except, you looked back at him. Smiling . “What’re you sorry for?” you asked sweetly, quiet enough so only he could hear. This was his affliction acting up again, head swimming without coherent thought. He knew that this was nothing but your poison, giving him a perfectly reasonable reaction to the toxin. Like Claudius and Hamlet. God, he was thinking like you.

So Egon didn’t say anything, planting two hands on your waist like he’d seen his brother do to Christine. He could be poisonous, too.

The car sputtered to a stop at a larger gas station outside a little town, forever tainted by the sight of Christine running inside before she could have an accident. Peter offered to fill up the tank as the hitchhiker made his way to the bus shelter, and everyone emptying out the car left only you and Egon.

“Thanks,” you grinned, pinching the apple of his blank face before you climbed off, following them all. He knew he’d rather stay alone in the car, but Peter had yet to bring the last 8 minutes up, and he was most likely close to breaking.

Egon gave Ray a half-hearted thanks as the interior gave him much needed relief from the sun, even if it was in the form of a handful of desktop fans. He wandered off from you and Ray as you stocked up on campfire-food, his eyes drawn to the knick-knacks for sale that lined the walls of pure dark wood, wherever there wasn’t an ancient looking antique mounted. A charming kind of hospitality, Egon thought as he passed another shelf full of anything anyone would stock up on.

There was a lunch counter facing a large window that gave patrons a wide view of the orange sunset. But, he wasn’t so much drawn to it as he was to the glass classes full of confections and pastry that garnished the benchtop, marked with differing prices. Egon’s stomach sang at the idea of a slice of cake. When was the last time he had a good dessert?

“Huh. Pegged you more of a vanilla-guy.” Egon jumped. You had to stop popping up everywhere. “Let me buy it for you.” you kept your eyes on the crystalware.

“Buy an entire chocolate cake?”

You shrugged, arms full of packets of graham crackers. “Sure, if you promise to go halfsies.”

Egon couldn’t think of much as you started towards the cashier, simply following you. “Why?” was the only word that came to mind. You stilled, sighing before keeping on.

“Because I find you so agreeable. Now, get my wallet for me.” And, naturally, it had to be in your back pocket.

You held the wax-paper wrapped one-tier in awe, both of you fairly hypnotized at opaque swirls of brown icing pressed against foggy parchment. You handed it off, telling him to hide it while you used the restroom. Egon hardly had a moment to take anything else in before you scuttled out the family bathroom, door shut harshly with your back.

“What?” He noted the quick rise and fall of your chest as you took a few steps away.

“They really missed each other.”

You all met Peter with bags full of marshmallow and chocolate when the stranger’s greyhound pulled up, coughing out exhaust. Elon quickly ducked into the glove compartment, springing out with a small baggie that his brother missed when he bounded over to the man. From this distance, the backpacker seemed elated as Elon returned, looking pleased with himself.

“What was that?” Ray placed the last paper sack into the trunk, away from the windows.

“Expanding my business to the east coast,” he answered confidently. His eyes went round at the sight of a police trooper against the tangerine horizon, ushering everyone back inside so they could get back on their way.

It was past dark when they pulled into the parking lot of a state campsite, virtually all for themselves. Egon felt out of place when he gandered at his reflection in the mirror of the visitor’s bathroom, t-shirt and Peter’s lounge pants replacing his normal pajamas. He was starting to miss his cap and gown- it certainly would’ve protected against prospective ticks better than the short man’s bottoms leaving his ankles bare.

Elon drove out to the lake, where Ray was put in charge of starting a fire and assembling smores. At some point during the little mass, you had stopped him passing one to Egon insisting that you see the inside. You crinkle your nose, before grabbing the bag of marshmallows and handing him one on a stick.

“How do you eat yours?” Your tone was professorial, as if you weren’t trying to interrogate him on how he toasted a mini cube of gelatin and sugar. Egon plucked it from you, holding it over the flame for all of three seconds. You made a face, taking it back. “There’s a right way to do it wrong.”

He watched as you let it burn completely charcoal black. Before he could refuse, you put a hand up, deep in concentration. Your fingers pinched the burnt outside, meticulously sliding it off to reveal a gooey, white center which you haphazardly rolled onto your palm after sampling the caramelized shell. “Try,” you held it out to him. Egon made a face in turn, silently refusing. He cowered, attempting to nix you when you climbed over your stump and onto his, eventually forcing the treat into his mouth. Reluctantly, he chewed, and found it wasn’t all that bad- if not a bit hot. He caught his brother’s eye as you sat back, licking the residue off your fingers, and the warmth and smoke of the fire caught up with him as he frowned. This was not enjoyable. This was the poisoned goblet

When the fire was out, they could really enjoy the night sky above them. It was an inky oil spill, dappled with the light of soft stars in an uncorrupted plane, vast and never ending as it rolled on in every possible direction. “It’s beautiful,” Christine marveled, curled up into her boyfriend while they sat on the grass.

Egon kept his eyes upward to avoid the sight of Elon’s fingers dancing along the hem of her pajamas. He muttered something about a better place to see it all, and they were off somewhere in the sloping hillside. Your knees were tucked into your chest when Ray leaned over, smiling.

“Have you ever seen stars like this?” You broke out into your own smile, shaking your head.

“Never,” you clenched and unclenched your hands, appealing smaller. Egon could feel that pull in between his eyes, that involuntary darkness in his face. But it wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at his friend. Where was this coming from?

Peter stood then, shaking refuse from himself. “C’mon, Ray. I’ll grab the camera and we can go up there for some good pictures.”

Ray stayed sitting with his legs crossed. “Oh, it’s okay. You can see it great down here.”

“Oh, you’re so much better with the camera than me,” Peter persisted.

“I wouldn’t say that-” Ray started to wave his friend off, before he was hoisted to his feet and led off into the darkness somewhere. That left only you and him.

You rose when they disappeared over the trees, unlocking the trunk and propping it open as far as it could go. After clearing the way from stray bags and luggage, you procured a blanket that hung over the backseat, draping in across the bed and settling in. Egon looked on stiffly, before you touched the space next to yourself. “Because you don’t like the grass,” you said simply.

He sat, legs dangling over the edge of the car ungracefully. You didn’t seem to mind. “Isn’t it perfect?” you venerated heavenward. Egon took in the celestial body, marbling in a color he had only seen on your sweaters. Other hues swirled and mixed with each other, creating a depth that he was sure would match your corneas. Airglow flowed out from within Andromeda, streaks of energy peeking and hiding within a dark backdrop that mirrored the flow of your hair. The stars speckled everything in sight, being everything and nothing at the same time, content with vacuity and shining in abundance. He nodded, transfixed.

“I never realized that stars weren’t just…dots. Now they’re in front of me, and they’re things .” you expressed, attempting to trace them into vaster shapes. “It’s a shame the moon isn’t out.”

Egon did the same, scanning for a constellation. “Burning groups of hydrogen turning into helium, letting out electromagnetic radiation.”

You twinkled. “Show-off.” You leaned back on your hands, before sitting back up, digging around and emerging with the cake from earlier. “You hid it back here?” you judged him playfully, stealing two forks from the glove compartment.

“One for you,” you pressed a fork down the middle of the, surprisingly undamaged, dessert, “and one for me.” Egon was wary as you took a piece from his half, bringing it to his lips. His pupils crossed as you held it between his eyes, and he held back as if it was venom. He took the fork from you instead, whatever fluttery feeling that was happening in his abdomen flying away.

You took your own bite, and nearly melted. “What’s in this?” you said around a mouthful of cake. Egon savored some of the pleasant, treacly chocolate flavor.

“Cherries,” Egon deduced, the both of you going back for more. At some point, you had clutched his arm, eyes wide and glowing.

“A shooting star!” you pointed, the streak of light soaring through space for a mere few more seconds before it faded as quick as it appeared. “Did you make a wish?”

He sat unaffectedly, arm tingling where you had touched him. “An archaic superstition.”

You raised a brow, sitting back again. “You believe in ghosts and possession, but not wishing on stars?”

Egon didn’t have an answer, and a silence fell when you brought yourself back to the cosmos. “If I had the time, I’d look more into astronomy.” He didn’t know what forced that out, perhaps it was the vulnerability of megacosm enveloping him.

“If you had time?”

“Astrology, if I had an eternity.” Egon paused, when you let out a noise of acknowledgment. “Its connections with the paranormal are worth researching, however frivolous.” In the corner of his vision, you were sitting and staring. Eyelids low, gaze burning and expression unguarded. Poison.

“You’re not just a robotic physicist.”

He was lost for words. “To who?”

“To me, at least.” Egon’s eyes studied every bit of your face, like a robotic physicist. Eyes with a depth that matched the hues of the night sky. Hair flowing like the airglow of space. There was a beating in his ears, drowning out sounds of rustling grasses and a rippling lake in the wind. If the universe had a tangible sound, it’d be this. And it sounded like your breathing. It all created a new layer of confusion for him. This reverie was voluntary. So why could he see ether within you? The medley of matter and the atemporal shine of stars?

An indecent noise pulled him from his rumination, though it did nothing to raise his temperature even higher than it already was. “They must’ve really missed each other,” you remarked, climbing over the backseat to grab your toiletries. Egon frowned, watching your figure retreat in the direction of the visitor’s bathroom. He only followed in case you’d get lost. But his insides still felt stark.

Egon woke when your head hit the trunk door, and you winced in pain. He sat up, not quite remembering electing to sleep in the commodious back seat, but recognizing that he was no longer in the middle of a park. He clutched the blanket pooled around his middle closer to himself, feeling like an indecent woman as you got the door open. This was a parking lot. To a diner.

“Well, don’t you two look nice.”

“You left us,” you stood at your friend’s table, not nearly as chastened at being in the middle of a busy restaurant in your sleep clothes as Egon was.

Christine smiled apologetically, putting her mug down, “Sorry, you just looked so peaceful.”

You both returned to the table after freshening up in the bathroom equally as eager to eat the breakfast that was ordered in your absence. Before having anything of your own, you split off a piece of the pie Christine saved and wordlessly slid it over to Egon. He ate it just as wordlessly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Ray started from across the table, “The book you were reading earlier- it was Liliom, right? Are you a fan of Rodgers and Hammerstein?”

You brightened. Egon didn’t much enjoy the taste of pie anymore. “Oh, yeah! I love Carousel,” you clenched and unclenched your hands again.

“That’s great! My graduating class did Carousel!” Ray leaned forward. You parroted him.

“In highschool?” You asked, awestruck. “I’m jealous.”

“What’s Carousel?” Peter wondered indolently, buttering a piece of toast.

“It’s this opera-musical about a mill worker-”

“Who falls in love with a carnival barker-”

“But he dies trying to provide for her! And he has to redeem himself for their future daughter.” you say simultaneously, breaking out into a fit of laughter. Egon felt ill.

“You were going to see Midsummer Night's Dream, right?” The question slipped out without much thought from him, though without any resistance or regret.

He added sugar to his coffee while you wiped your eye. “Yeah, there’s a revival in this theater with the best costume design.”

“I’m surprised you enjoy it so much. I mean, it is a parody of its audience.”

You narrowed your eyes in the same owlish way you did at the chalkboard. “A parody of the audience?”

“Lysander, Hermia, Helena, Demetrius?” he offered. “Do they not mock the audience’s romantics?”

“They’re young and in love . They’re more of an ode to the audience, if anything- look at Hermia.”

Egon clicked his tongue, watching on as your passion sparked. “Her argument in the woods speaks otherwise. It mimics the efforts of the showgoers.”

“It mimics their situation!” There was the flame. He smiled to himself. This was familiar. This wasn’t confusing.

The back and forth continued, both developing a thesis: you asserted that love was arbitrary and that’s what makes it special, and he argued that love was arbitrary and that’s what makes it fleeting. You were brought to a standstill when Elon charmed a local motel owner into letting everyone use the showers- only being let in after vowing that no one in your party was a “hippie-lunatic-drug-dealer.”

What would’ve been an afternoon to get to the beach turned into an evening, when unexpected downpour managed to back up the highways. It didn’t seem to bother Elon or Ray, as they found an indoor flea market to explore while they waited for the storm to pass. It wasn’t all bad- there were endless tchotchkes to look at and Christine had managed to haggle for some unexpectedly good donuts.

The car eventually pulled into the beach town at night, joining dozens of others in the parking lot of an ocean themed motel. It was close enough to the boardwalk that the neon signs reflected off the windows, shining in Egon’s blinking eyes. Ray looked on eagerly as you popped the trunk.

“You saw the size of that coaster, right?” he asked Peter.

“Sure did.”

“We’re going on it, right?”

“Sure are.”

“You guys coming?” He asked you and Egon, making sure he still had his wallet.

You looked around, noticing that your friend and her boyfriend disappeared, probably at the front desk. Then you noticed all the stuff left to bring in. “Don’t wait up,” you breathed out, letting the men race each other to the attractions.

Egon started to help you pull bags out, before you gasped, looking up at something over your shoulder and stopping him. “What?” he followed your gaze to the yellow-lit windows of the kitsch inn.

“They’re catching up on lost time,” you dismissed him, “let’s just-” you put everything down, shutting the door. There was a beat of quiet filled with the sounds of fun from the oceanside, before you turned to him, grinning at the absurdity of the situation. “We’re stuck out here.”

You lead him towards the boardwalk, hands in your pockets. “I don’t suppose you’re a fan of rides,” you assumed.

“I’m not. You can go ahead. I’ll just,” he pushed up his glasses, “wait.”

“No way.” Egon was confused as you threw a few glances around, before stealing over to the edge of the wooden boulevard. “Come on,” you clutched a woven rope.

There wasn’t much for him to do but follow, cringing at the feeling of sand under his shoes. You led him rather quickly, only stopping to get a better sense of direction. “Don’t you need a license to be on the beach?” Egon put out.

You halted at the bottom of a formation of large rocks. “It’s the beach,” you made your way up them like a staircase, “I shouldn’t need one.”

Egon sighed, prudently doing as you did when you waited for him at the top. They weren’t that high, just slippery from the tide as they formed what was natural and short pier. “This isn’t safe,” he warned, anxiously watching as you teetered to the end. “There are rules against this.”

“Just look,” you pointed upwards once he cagily caught up to you. The moon was finally visible, white beams bathing everything in a dim, pale light. It seemed so close from here. “Turn around,” you patted him on the shoulder.

Egon hesitantly agreed, only turning around when he felt your clothes hit his back and heard your footsteps running down the makeshift wharf. There was a hearty splash when he raced to the ledge, pupils dilated when you didn’t come back up. He chucked off his shirt, diving in after you.

Your head popped out above the foaming surface of the ocean, laughing madly as you wiped the water from his face. “I remembered I can’t swim,” you gasped, gleefully holding onto Egon’s shoulders in an attempt to stay afloat. He blinked away salt from his eyes when there was the sound of a whistle from down the beach, making him hold you closer to himself.

Egon regarded the way moonlight bounced off your smiling face, seawater lapping around where you held him. Poisonous.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters 1984 #egon spengler #egon spengler/reader #egon spengler x reader #egon/reader #egon x reader #elon spengler #peter venkman #ray stantz #oneshot #fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 link #open requests #ask box

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narastories · 3 months ago

Text

trying out Obsidian, my first setup, my opinions, etc.

Okay, so this is going to be a long post. Earlier this week I decided to give Obsidian a go to see if it would work for my longer writing projects. I heard some of my mutuals use it and others would like to see my setup, so I'm making a post about what I learned so far. I downloaded it three days ago so I'm sure things will change, but this is where I am right now.

I'm shy about my WIPs so what you see there is the beginning of heart worth the trouble. But hopefully, this lets you see my folder structure and the links in the notes.

My wishlist and how I got here

I recently wrote a rambly post about writing software which got way more notes than I expected (bc the lovely @barbex reblogged it <3). After I made that post, I started using Focus Writer (again a recommendation from the writing discord) for my discovery writing in March. After more than two weeks of heavy use, I realized I needed a little bit more than that (but it's a great program).

Initially, I tried combining it with Wavemaker bc I liked that when I played around with it, but that completely pissed me off, bc it turns out it's just not compatible with other things I'm using. Like Firefox. -.-

Still, this whole ordeal made me narrow down what I really want and need from a piece of writing software at this moment. I think it's a good idea to start with such a wishlist if you are looking for a new software. Here is mine:

free

no account required, not stored on someone else's cloud, I can back it up wherever I want instead

Linux support

widely compatible file formats

focus mode, where it's full-screen, and ideally highlights the paragraph you are working on

I can make it look nice and calming on the eyes currently all I want is a cream paper background look, and a friendly monospace font changed to brown or something

clicky keyboard/typewriter noises - luckily I got this covered by Mechvibes already!

something like the card feature in Wavemaker, where I can have individual notes and choose to display them on the side. this might sound like it conflicts with the focus mode but I just want to have the option to have some notes without having to vomit them into the draft

easy to rearrange the order of the scenes

wordcount obviously

Tall order? Weird order? Maybe.

I think the most important is to figure out is how you work as a writer and find tools that match that. This is just honestly what is important for me right now.

It seems like Obsidian might just do this.

it's free

doesn't require an account

text is stored locally in markdown files

works on Linux I'm using the AppImage if you want to know

can be integrated with Github for backup & sync

tons of customization options to achieve the rest of my requirements

The Basics

If you want to use Obsidian for note-taking (or for writing fic but you're not very picky about the how), you can pretty much just download it, pick a pretty theme if you want and you're good to go. It's that easy. I promise it's not as hard as people make you believe.

This is a local-first software, which I love. However, this also means if you are not used to storing your writing locally, you need to get into the habit of backing your things up because if something happens to your computer, there is no copy of your files on the web.

That said, you can pay I think 4USD/month for the subscription and then you'll have an account, and your files will get synched to other devices, and you can restore your files. (And remember, if something is free and doesn't have ads and you have cloud storage space you didn't have to pay for... then you are the product and the company is paying for it with your data. So the fact that this is paid is actually a very good thing.)

The file structure works pretty much 1:1 as your file explorer btw

If you create a folder on the sidebar, it will create a folder on your computer.

If you create a note on the sidebar, it will create a text file on your computer.

If you drag the note into the folder on the sidebar, it will put the text file in the folder on your computer.

Each note is stored as a separate markdown file. Markdown files are widely compatible with various software so that's great. Also, you can even just rename the file to have .txt extension instead of .md extension and literally every text editor will open it for you (you will lose the formatting tho). The opposite also works. If you have a note in .txt format, you can copy it into your Obsidian folder, rename the extension to .md and it will appear in Obsidian.

That all makes it very easy to import things and switch between files to edit them.

There is only one downside to this that I found. You know how in your file explorer you can drag and drop files into folders but you can't drag and drop files to change their order? Well, your Obsidian side-bar is the same. You can choose to order them based on the name, last modified, etc. But if you want custom order, I suggest you number your notes and folders.

I feel like we're not that used to this anymore but again, this is literally like a file explorer, so it's not a big deal imo.

Another important basic concept is linking your notes. You can just right-click a piece of text and link a note, drag and drop the note into your other note, or do [[Note]] whatever you like. Then you can quickly access the other note by clicking on it, or see a preview while hovering over it (If you turned that feature on). Linking notes is also how you get those cool graph views.

I just wanted to mention all of this bc I feel like all the videos I came across on Obsidian intimidate people into thinking it's more complex than that lol

Appearance

I go a little crazy about visual optimization if you give me a chance. You can change a couple of simple things out the box. Light/dark theme, change the font, etc. I'm using a font called Code Saver for the editor (regular is free for personal use).

Then, there are the themes you can download. There are so many awesome ones! I'm using one called Underwater right now bc I liked the rounded edges.

Most themes come with a light/dark version. But if you download the Style Settings plugin, you might unlock more easy-to-customize options. It depends on the theme what you see there. The one I'm using has a couple of built-in colorways. I went with the "rose pine dawn" option and then I switched out some colors in the color pickers. If you want to mess with the colors I highly recommend finding some hex color palettes online, they make your life so much easier. You can find colors that look good together and look up a color and find lighter/darker versions instead of trying to blindly click around on the color picker.

For this theme, you can also add a background image if you want. (If you really want to make it look like Focus Writer for example ;)

Plugins

These are the plugins I'm using right now.

GitHub Sync: This is what I use to sync my progress and back up my files. I started with this before anything else, but I'm not going to go into what I did bc I don't want to make this post even more complicated. If you have a specific question about it, pls feel free to ask me :)

Focus Mode: This is a full-screen mode, very nice for writing

Stille: Dims everything but the active paragraph, again, very nice for writing. I found that the combination of these two plugins work best for me, but there are others like Typewriter Mode that can do both (I couldn't turn down the vignette mode on that one tho and it was annoying me)

Smart Typography: switches the straight quotation marks for curly ones

This is how it looks with Focus Mode and Stiille both on.

And lastly, a bit of a disappointment: Longform. This is the plugin that everyone seems to recommend for longer writing projects in Obisdian. Basically what it does is it can compile your individual notes into one file, and allows you to move the order of them freely, unlike the normal Obsidian sidebar. Here is a pretty good video on it.

Unfortunately, this plugin gets absolutely wrecked by synchronizing to another device.

From what I gathered, this happens regardless of what method of synching you use, meaning it happens even with the paid synching feature. You can read about this more here btw. It's a community plugin so I'm not going to be mad at the creators for not fixing this, however this means it just doesn't work for me.

If it worked on the one computer where I originally set it up, just not on the other, I would be fine with it. But I set it up on my Linux, and after I synched to my Windows, the scene list disappeared from both. (Not the actual files! It just doesn't get recognized as a Longform project anymore so it pretty much becomes useless lol)

So, I just decided to create the the same structure with folders and notes. Right now, this is a discovery draft and I don't have chapters. But I'm making a folder for an "Arc", and put the numbered scenes into them. I'm also making separate notes that I can link with stuff I want to remember/work on.

At the moment I don't require an extensive wiki where I note what each of the characters like to have for breakfast and such. But you can absolutely do that with Obsidian. You can create a folder for Characters, Worldbuilding, whatever you want, really. Put images there, links both internal and on the web and just go wild if you want.

Obviously, without Longform I will need to compile the files into one at the end by a different method, like copy-paste into one, turn them into .txt, and concatenate from the terminal, you know, depending on your comfort level xD. It will probably include more work than with this plugin, but it's not like you don't go through your manuscript about a million times anyways, am I right?

Word Count

Lastly, mentioning the wordcount options bc they are important

there is a built-in wordcount, about which the common agreement is that it's not very good lol

because of this there is a community plugin called Better Wordcount, which is self-explanatory. If you want to get the total word count, you can right-click the top folder of your project and ask it to count the words for you.

Longform also has a wordcount and it will display it like words of the scene/total words of the project if you are using that

if you don't want to have three different word counts displayed I recommend you only have one of these active (:

That's where I am right now. If you have read all this to the end, you're awesome, and also we both should stop procrastinating and go write instead :P But if you also use Obsidian for writing and have cool tips pls let me know xx

#nara's writing diary #nara rambles about writing software again #obsidian #writing software #tech stuff #long post

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alicepao13 · 1 year ago

Text

Hudson and Rex Episodes

It has come to my attention that Hudson and Rex episodes are not easily accessible to a lot of people, despite it being broadcasted in many countries. I was looking for a place to archive the episodes myself in good quality as a backup but up until recently, the 1080p rips were huge so it was an impossible feat. I finally found some mkv ones that are not as ginormous as the others, and I'd like to share them with the fandom.

Disclaimer: I did not do these rips or the transcoding. I haven't checked the episodes one by one to see if there are any faults with them, just a few as random tests, I also watched a few, and they were all good, subtitles were working and in sync, etc.

What you need to know before downloading:

The files are in mkv format and Mega, the host I've uploaded them on, does NOT have a player to play MKVs online. The links are for downloading, or alternatively transferring to your own Mega account, not for online streaming.

The video codec is HEVC, which is why the size of the episodes is not huge. That might affect some older computers which may not have this codec, though. Read about HEVC here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_Efficiency_Video_Coding and if it's missing, you can add the HEVC codec.

Same goes for your tv if you choose to play them in one (although you probably can't add the codec there). I generally recommend downloading one episode as a test. If it plays in your device, they all should play in that device.

Most of the files have forced English subtitles on them. I am unfamiliar with forced subtitles in general. You may have trouble removing them on a tv, maybe. I've tested them only using VLC on my computer and they can appear and disappear just fine when I choose so like normal subs do. Forced subtitles are not hard-coded subtitles.

Episodes S01E01 - S06E06 were all transcoded by one team as it was a pack, the rest by another, as the first pack was uploaded during this winter hiatus and there was no other upload by the first team for the rest. I only see small differences between the episodes, not worthy of a mention. I've kept the original file names, so you will know when the teams change if you're interested in that (team name is the last input on the title of the file).

The size of all the episodes in total is around 92GB. When you go to download them, each file will also display the size of it.

How to download (skip this if you've downloaded from Mega before):

Even if you have set your browser to ask you where to download the file, Mega will download the file you requested entirely before asking you were to save it. It's how their cloud service works. You don't need to download anything else to get these files, just right-click a file and click Download, and then Standard Download when the submenu opens. You do not need to download the Mega Desktop App, unless you want to download the entire folder at once as a ZIP file. I don't know how many concurrent downloads a free user gets on Mega, or limitations regarding the GBs per day on free users.

Mega suggests users download using Chrome or a Chromium based browser, however downloading the files one by one should work in any browser.

If you have a download manager, just load these folders in it and it will do the job better than your browser.

If you attempt this with a smartphone, then I highly suggest you download the Mega mobile app. I don't think the files will download to your phone otherwise.

Links:

These lead to each season's folder of episodes. Only copy the link below, do not copy the season identifier at the start of each line. Make sure you copy the entire link especially the S4 one which apparently continues in a second line.

S1: https://mega.nz/folder/1ZMTlbpY#DqS2V2KKgeajbINzx8c6Pg

S2: https://mega.nz/folder/kZE1yTTC#p29HrvXgahGXW-0rlzx77Q

S3: https://mega.nz/folder/0Bt3gBJL#hcX7tjU1GScmprTc0nkc0w

S4: https://mega.nz/folder/UQFD3SZZ#nbGJeLzH2IHLVpVFyK750A

S5: https://mega.nz/folder/ARkzUQbS#eS1Yy11x_DEPg3T2bD5ozw

S6: https://mega.nz/folder/lBUFnBwb#WszZvKLzfpRKVvuz5B78Nw

S7: https://mega.nz/folder/kJlEFCLJ#exM6rRVhPtNSULhvsjHWZg

About Season 7 rips: I will upload the first rip that is up so that we won't waste time, this is usually a HDTV rip by the release team SYNCOPY (so basically the episode as seen on tv without ads, usually with the promo, in 720p, no subtitles - subtitles will be added on the same folder in separate link, if any). Later, this will be replaced with 1080p links. Please, check the link periodically to find more links. The goal is to have 1080p Webrips around 1GB for each episode.

Other information:

I'll try to keep the links up as long as I can but I suggest keeping your own copies. Mega does not offer that amount of space for free, so this is a paid cloud service. I'm not looking for anyone to participate on the upkeep but there might be a day when these links will be taken down for any number of reasons. Personally, I don't trust the cloud. Keep local copies of anything you don't want to lose.

If these are reported, I will not be reuploading them and I assume that reporting may also take down my account with them so I will probably also not be able to be a paying customer of their service either way. So, keep the sharing of the links within the fandom. I will not tag this post, but I highly encourage reblogging it to spread the info.

I suggest that anyone who wants to share this with a lot of people should make their own cloud backup. The purpose of me uploading these links is, ironically, not piracy. The purpose is to make the episodes easily accessible to fans.

I will not upload these in other cloud services, if anyone wants to go upload these in google drive, for example, I'm not willing to risk it but of course, anyone else willing to do it is welcome to.

If anyone has questions or concerns, I'll be glad to answer them. Not everyone is familiar with hosting sites, but this is easier than a torrent. I'm sure I've forgotten things which to me may seem simple.

#resources

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hoasvuon · 1 year ago

Text

5:21 PM

you never used to believe in the idea of "fate" but if any day was going to prove you wrong, it was today.

the stars had (in the absolute worst way possible) lined up in a way that made even you question the irony of it all. not only were you late to work today, you had run straight over a puddle on the walk to work: ruining your shoes, soaking your socks, and staining your skirt. then at work, you somehow managed to delete the entire file that you had spent two painstakingly long hours trying to format, only for your mouse to slip and click 'delete file' instead of 'save file'. and the icing on the cake, you realized that you hadn't remembered to grab anything to eat for lunch on the way out of the door this morning. all in all, this all added up to result in a very sad, sad day.

you couldn't believe your luck (or lack of it).

but finally, you reached the end of your workday. softly sighing, you logged out of your computer, and began packing up your stuff before noticing your phone screen light up with a text notification.

baby jun 🐱:

are you getting off work now ?

i got off work early today ! i'll meet you outside your office and we can walk home together (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)and i got you a surprise !

your eyes widened as you read the message on your phone, a small glimmer of delight breaking through the cloud of misfortune that had hung over your day. you never knew how, but your boyfriend somehow was always the one person who seemed to have a knack for turning your gloomy days around.

a smile crept onto your face as you quickly replied:

"yes, just finished! i'll meet you outside baby !

you packed up your belongings in a hurry, eager to escape the your desk and the day that seemed determined to test your patience at every turn. as you walked out of the office building, you couldn't help but your mood slowly get lighter.

sure enough, as you emerged from the building, you spotted junhui waiting for you with a bright smile. he held out a cardboard boxhis right hand, the aroma wafting through the air as you got closer, letting you know it was your favorite earl grey pastries from a bakery you often frequented across the street.

taking light steps up to meet him, you opened your arms to wrap around his shoulders, resting your face in the nook of his neck, feeling his arms wrap around your body as he placed a soft kiss on the side of your head.

"tough day?" he asked, sympathy in his eyes as he began to pat your back in a soothing manner.

you chuckled, realizing how understated that question was, before pulling back to look him in the eyes. "you have no idea. it's like the entire universe decided to play a prank on me today."

"well, consider this the universe's way of making it up to you," he replied, before turning and linking his free hand with yours. "let's walk home together, and i promise by the time we get there, i'll make sure you'll forget all about your terrible day."

as the two of you strolled together, the weight of the day began to lift. junhui's company, your shared laughter, and the simple joy of having someone to lean on turned your day's misfortunes into distant memories. you couldn't help but marvel at the serendipity of it all, the way fate seemed to weave its magic in the most unexpected moments.

perhaps, you thought, there was something to this idea of fate after all. because somehow, fate had brought this ray of warm sunlight in your life, and you couldn't be more grateful for the stars aligning in the best and most unexpected way.

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alphabetboyluvr · 2 years ago

Text

THROTTLE - JJK | NINE

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - plans are being set in motion!!! back to busan we go! references to drugs, shitty driving, the usual. no smut! a rarity! plot!! one of my fave metaphors / set of lines in the entire fic is in this one!!

word count - 11.4k

minors dni // series masterlist

"I've been thinking," you tell Hoseok a little after dusk. The sun sets later these days, mid-year sun never wanting to settle. A monsoon has been looming for a few days now, but the grey clouds sit defiant in the air. "You were right."

He looks at you, contemplation sinking into the creases of his frown, the crisp white shirt he's wearing unbuttoned to his mid chest. A pair of thin-framed glasses adorn his eyes as he skims over the notes of a casefile from work.

"What about?"

His voice is soft as he asks.

With your hair like this - top layer in a half-undone bun, the rest wisping around your shoulders - he's reminded of how you used to be.

There's a lot to be said for your relationship, or lack thereof, but once upon a time, you'd cared for another. Would dance in his parents' kitchen when they were out of town, you in one of his shirts, bare feet padding against the ondol heated floor.

You look younger with your hair like this. Like yourself, he thinks. Someone he used to know.

It's part of the reason, you think, that you're so awful to another. You grew up together. He's a part of your formation, and you a part of his. There's a reminder of the innocence that once was.

He knows how much you wanted to get out of the fold. Knows you wouldn't have come back without an ulterior motive. He isn't naive to this. Isn't naive to anything you do. Is well aware you've been doing things that no woman with a diamond on her ring finger should be doing.

But he's no saint, either. The ring was given to you with a purpose. Just like his dress shirts are dry cleaned with a purpose. Saves you from having to wash his secretary's lipstick out of them.

"I need something to fill my days," you say. "I think I'm going crazy cooped up here."

It's not a lie.

It's also not the full truth; not what's prompting this conversation, but that's neither here nor there.

Hoseok nods. Put his case file on the coffee table and turns his full attention to you. There's a softness to him now, one that he didn't have the last time you spoke.

He's not all bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is just caught up in a God-awful world. He's like you, in that regard.

Whatever freedoms once belonged to you have been traded for protection - not just from the men who lurk around dingy boxing clubs, but from your own family, too.

Hoseok's position within the police force gives you an added layer of armour. He's chainmail. He knows this. Knows you need him.

But he needs you, too. He's got a greasy pole to climb. Helps him out if you're throwing him towels from the Mayor's office. Will get him to the top a little quicker.

It's unsurprising that he had been the one to suggest picking your relationship back up where it had been left a few years prior.

He had painted the idea as a beautiful utopia; Daegu's darling children, reunited. A powerhouse. Unstoppable.

You didn't have a plan back then, not yet - but power seemed like a good place to start.

"You've been away for a while," he muses, well aware that it's not been an easy adjustment for you. "I... Look, you and I both know this isn't ideal. I know you wouldn't be here if you thought there was another option for you."

When you nod, he thinks you might cry.

The person you are isn't the person he once knew. You're so strong in some regards, far more powerful than he ever thought you would be and yet at times you can seem so docile. So timid. Weak. He doesn't understand it. Not really. Doesn't understand you.

Because if he did, he'd know there's nothing docile about you.

"I don't actually want to ruin your life," he says with a small smile that seems sincere. Might not be. You choose to believe it is.

"It's fine," you offer back an equally minuscule smile. "I do a good enough job of that all on my own."

He presses his lips together, and contemplative dimples etch themselves into his cheeks. "What are you thinking? Let's work together. Find a solution."

Men. So easy to wrap around your finger.

"I'm thinking of proposing a library initiative to get the city kids reading. You know how much my Father likes a good press release," you say. "I'm not too sure yet. I could volunteer at the library, start promoting for the education sector. Something like that. It will give me something to do, and gets me in a public role that is pretty much as safe for publicity as can be. If I'm working as a volunteer, there's no need for additional expenses."

As you recite your lines, you think of Jimin - and how good he is at putting words together to make them sound convincing. He and Jin are definitely the brains of Kang's boys. Namjoon and Jungkook the brawn.

Like clockwork, you're thinking about him again. Thinking about the way he didn't take his eyes off you for the entire meeting. Thinking about the way he didn't crack a single smile. Thinking about how he'd followed you out afterwards, just to ask if you were okay - and about how forlorn he'd looked when you told him that you're none of his concern, and that the only thing between the pair of you anymore is business.

And then he had smirked. Told you that business was the only thing that had ever been between the pair of you. Told you not to get it twisted. Told you not to flatter yourself, and reminded you that he was the one who had orchestrated your entire relationship.

"Whatever's between us -" He had almost snarled. "- Is what I made it to be."

You'd laughed. Stepped a little closer. Toyed with the key still around his neck, and said, "we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He was silent. Could barely breathe, let alone think straight. Wasn't till you were a mile across the city that he seemed to remember how to function like a human being again. He knows one thing for certain: he absolutely cannot be around you. Not if he wants any shot at sanity.

And so when you walk into the boxing club the next day, Jungkook pauses.

He watches how you scan the room, but drops his gaze before your eyes are able to reach his. He doesn't care for making conversation with you. Knows that it will be a fruitless endeavour.

It feels like oceans bloat the distance between you, and he's never much been one for swimming. Loves the freefall of the dive; hates the dictation of the currents.

"Is Jin about?" You ask, an air of indifference to your tone.

Following the conversation with Hoseok, you'd been granted approval from the Mayoral office to start planning the campaign. You'll be working with the PR team, but it's your domain. They'll be there to hold your hand if you need it, but you'll be the guide.

You're just here to report back to Seokjin. Aren't here for small talk. Would rather swallow a razor blade, you think. Much more pleasant.

Still in his workout gear, Jungkook doesn't look at you. Just shakes his head, slams his locker door shut, and kicks the heavy metal side door of the club open.

"You shouldn't be here," he says as he exits. "Ain't safe for you."

And he's right. It's a terrible place for you to be. Not for the risk of Kang showing up, or you being spotted fraternising with the enemy, but because of the way Jungkook makes you feel like your heart might stop beating entirely.

Part of you thinks it would be preferable if it did.

The door slams behind him, and echoes into the lofty room. The chime is haunting. Almost sounds like the same one that used to be in your stomach.

You're looking at your feet, gearing yourself up to leave, when the door swings back open.

Jungkook is agitated. Chewing on his cheeks, thunder in his eyes; he's the monsoon that's been looming all week.

You wish he would just crash. Pour down. Bless you with the glory of what it feels like to be covered in his torrential rains.

But there's a ring on your finger, and a hole in his chest. His mouth is constantly dry in your presence, and he's all cried out. He's got nothing left to give.

You look so familiar. So much like home - but Jungkook lost the keys a long time ago, and the one around his neck won't work on any of the fucking locks. He's shut out. An intruder every time he tries to peep inside the windows. It's invasive, the way he looks at you.

Has you drawing the curtains shut.

"I wasn't kidding," he says, his rounded white teeth clamping on his bottom lip before he can speak his favourite letter out loud. Doesn't wanna call you the name he used to trace on your back in the dark of the night. "You don't what it's been like since... You don't know. It's not safe."

"It's never been safe," you sneer. "Why the fuck are you acting like you care now?"

You watch as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head. Looks to his feet.

There's something calming about it. You've seen his head hung low like this many times over.

It's never been due to your faults, but his, instead - his own disappointment, his own shame.

When his eyes fall back on you, dark and heavy, you're reminded of exactly who he is: danger.

So yeah, you're right. It's never been safe. Not with him around. Not safe for your life, not safe for your heart.

Never safe.

But he's always cared.

He wants to curse you out. Wants to say that you've no fucking idea how hard this has all been for him. Wants you to know that the only reason you're both still in this mess is because he cared. If he had never cared, then he never would have fucked it all up in the first place.

The words on the tip of his tongue are knocked back down his throat when a familiar rattle sounds in the parking lot. Thick and heavy, the gargle belongs to an exhaust pipe, and Jungkook has been around these parts for long enough to know exactly who it belongs to.

"Shit," he hisses. Doesn't answer your question. Holds the door open, instead. "Out."

When you stay put, he snarls.

"C, get the fuck out. It's Kang. You wanna fuck things up all over again? Wanna prolong the time we have to spend together?"

You start walking as soon as he finishes his final question.

"S'what I thought," he mutters when you walk past, and closes the door behind you both. "Go slowly. Don't turn the corner into the parking lot. Wait for me."

He clicks the lock shut; scrambles the code on the padlock. Keeps his eyes on you while you wait by the corner of the building. Appreciates that you listened to him for once in your life.

Old Man Kang only comes to the boxing club these days to check up on Jungkook - to make sure he's fighting fit. He's got a boxing match coming up. A big one. Puts him up against some boys from Busan. He knows they don't take well to 'traitors', which is what he's deemed as, now that he's fighting for a Daegu club.

Kang's banking on a heavy return should Jungkook win - but there's no 'should' about it. He has to win. If he doesn't, his debt to Kang - for the money lost on you - will only increase.

"You drive here?" Jungkook whispers as he comes to stand behind you, peeking over your shoulder to get a view of the parking lot. You choose not to inhale through your nose. Know that you might just die if he still smells the same.

He scans the cars, but can't spot the Merc you've been driving.

Of course he can't. Hoseok needed it for work. An out of town job.

"Got the bus," you say back, just as quietly.

"M'kay," Jungkook says gently. Goes to put a hand on your waist. Stops himself. Remembers things aren't how they used to be. "Take my key, get in the passengers side. Keep your head down. I'm gonna go back in for a minute, and make it look like I'm just leaving. They'll ask questions if they hear me drive off without seeing my face."

"I don't-"

"It's not up for debate. If they see you here, it fucks everything up. Just get in the damn car."

It's silent, save for the faint hum of traffic on the main road a few blocks away. Just you, and Jungkook, and the sound of the city. Neither of you really understand the way you feel. It's not quite sorrow. It's solemn. Sad - yet there's serenity, too. A saving grace for those who have fallen from it.

Jungkook decides that you're too stubborn, but also knows the one thing that always got you on side was a little desperation.

He gets closer. Puts his hand on the back of your neck. Wonders if you can feel the pulse in his thumb, and how it's beating a mile a minute. Squeezes ever so gently. Whispers, "Please, C."

The bus stop is two minutes up the road. You know that you could make it there - and be on the next bus going anywhere - by the time Jungkook has finished distracting Kang. You don't need him to save you. You don't need his protection. His kindness.

Yet you hold out your hand. Take his keys, and say, "Please be quick."

All he can do is nod, because truthfully, he'll do whatever he can to get himself beside you again.

"I'll be as quick as I can be. Promise."

It's funny. He's broken every single promise he's ever made you. Strange of him to think it holds any merit, now.

Doesn't stop you from holding out your pinky, mind you. Also doesn't stop him from linking his with yours. Pretty little promise, wrapped up with a pink bow. All perfect and pristine, satin against skin.

At least it's not red, you think. Not this time.

You hear Jungkook greet Kang - "Hi! Didn't see you there. Was just about to leave! What can I do for you?" - and decide that the coast is clear. Glancing around, you make a beeline for Jungkook's obnoxiously bright tin can of a car.

You hate it. Hate it in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns. No matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.

But of course you will.

It's home.

Some say it's where the heart is.

And considering you've been without one ever since Jungkook left your apartment all those months ago, perhaps it's not a bad place to start looking for it.

As you approach the bright, siren-red car in the parking lot, Jungkook's keys sit snug in the palm of your hand.

The satin lanyard strap is a little worn through - a freebie from a car show he'd attended a few years ago - but is just as soft as it always has been.

There's comfort to be found in it, like a blanket from childhood, or the warmth of a heavy duvet after a long day. It's a comfort you haven't felt in Hoseok's bedding, nor in the childhood bedroom you're able to visit again now that you're back on cordial terms with your family.

Jungkook had never smothered you. Not once. Not like a blanket nor a duvet could - and that's exactly why you kind of used to wish he would. You had craved the weight of his body; wanted your airwaves cut off by the very essence of everything he was. Deprivation had made you desperate.

Foolishly, it seems like not much has changed. Not much and everything all at once.

When you hook your fingers beneath the door handle, you can still feel the burn of his touch. In fact, your pinky finger almost feels numb. You hold it out a little, away from your other fingers. You want to preserve the feeling; lodge the sensation in your memories, embed it into your skin. Never wanna lose it, as if you have any choice in the matter.

Sinking into the passenger seat (alternatively known as the closest thing you've ever had to a second home) it's the scent of his leather that hits you first. A little oaky. Well-aged. Cared for. Restored by a pair of rough hands that hand touched you with just as much gentle cautiousness, once upon a time.

It's details like these; his discipline when it comes to making sure his car is looked after - preserved - that let you know just how meticulous Jungkook is. Nothing he ever does is purely up to chance. Luck isn't something that comes naturally to him. It's something he crafts.

Like Rumplestiltskin, he'd spun gold from straw in the form of your relationship. None of it was real. Not really.

A few tears brim on your lashline and threaten to fall - but you've never taken well to threats. You wipe them away. Won't let him know that being back in a place that once felt so much like safety is scaring you half to death, now.

It's a vow you've made to yourself: Jungkook will never know how he affects you. He won't see you cry. Will never know your skin is forever changed by his touch, numb to everything else but the tips of his fingers and the taste of his tongue against your own.

He'd lost the luxury of 'you' the very second he decided you were expendable.

Shifting in your seat, you're acutely aware of the little changes that have been made in your absence. There's a new air freshener, but it smells just the same. Some sort of pine. Gas station staple.

There's no hairband around his gear stick, like you know there used to be. No receipts from GS25 in the cupholders, no dirt from your shoes in the footwells, no bottles of soju left to roll around in the back.

His car is void of all essence of you.

The centre console - the old store for your snacks after late night shifts - is empty, save for a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

They're large - clear lenses - and slightly more rounded than you'd expect of his taste, but the thick dark frame on top of them seems apt. You can't imagine him wearing them. Think it might be fatal. Decide you'd never like to find out.

When you flick down the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror, you almost miss it; the one relic of you.

Tucked in a small slip where his tax documents should be, is a photo strip. Taken in a beachside photobooth after a few too many drinks, you remember it well.

It's rough at the edges. Torn in half. Jungkook is gone, and yet you remain.

The removal of himself from his own memories is stark. Confusing. Distressing. Forces you to focus on yourself; the smile that you know was caused by him tickling at your ribs, and the tattooed hand on the side of your face in the second picture, that you know for a fact was pulling you in for a kiss, even if you can't see it.

In the photographs, your eyes are bright, despite the black-and-white filter (his pick). There's a stupid pastel purple frame around each one of the pictures, with miniature Kuromi's perched on the edges (your pick).

You wonder where the other half is. Decide you're better off not knowing, but don't have time to give it much thought though, for Jungkook's yanking at the drivers-side door, and asking for the keys before you even have a chance to flip the visor back up.

He looks at you - eyes jagged, jawline sharp - and lets his gaze fall to your hand, where the pictures sit pretty.

"That's still in here?" he sneers, as if it's a surprise; as if he doesn't look at it every time he stops by the river to breathe for a moment. Just like he didn't sit on the beach in Busan last month and set fire to the other half; watching himself disintegrate. "Keep it. I've got no use for it."

He holds his hand out for his keys, so you make sure to drop them just beyond his grasp and into his footwell. You know you're pressed for time, and that you really shouldn't be fucking about, but he's too much of an asshole, you decide.

"Real fuckin' mature," he grumbles, pulling on the lever beneath his chair to push it back so he can reach down for them. There's silence as his posture restores and he sinks his key into the ignition. A spark lights in his engine, the exhaust roaring into action. He knocks the gear stick into reverse, and holds onto the headrest of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. Swings the car around. "Head down."

You do as you're told.

It's mainly because you don't want to give him any more reason to snarl, but also because the quicker you do, the quicker you can just get the fuck out of his car.

It's claustrophobic now that he's sharing the space with you. You don't wanna breathe; don't wanna smell his aftershave. Don't wanna listen; don't wanna hear the way he mumbles to himself. Don't wanna look; don't wanna see his tattooed hand knock the gear stick into first, then straight up to third.

In fact, you'd quite like to stop existing altogether.

Jungkook used to say how much he enjoyed it. Enjoyed existing with you.

You hope it makes him feel fucking sick, now.

"Just drop me at the end of the road," you say. "I'll make my way from there."

"End of the-" he scoffs, not even finishing his repetition of the question. He coasts around the corner, foot on the clutch. You wonder if he's exercising a complete lack of control on purpose. Wonder if he's baiting you. "That private school education of yours really didn't give you any street smarts did it, huh?"

He definitely is baiting you. There's no doubt about it. He's petty motherfucker when he wants to be - and you can be just as bad. You just can't decide on how you want to respond.

Firing back would be the easy option. It's what he would expect. What he knows of you.

Staying silent looks meek, you think.

The final thing you consider is crying. Do you want to? Not really. You're more frustrated than you are sad. Thing is, he wouldn't expect it. Wouldn't know what to do. Would definitely make him freak out a little. Might even get him trying to make things better.

But you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you laugh. Look straight ahead. "Baby, these streets are mine. We both know I'm untouchable."

His hard stare on the road intensifies. You're approaching the bridge. Neither of you want to speak, both too aware of the impact that first night had on your lives; how it planted a seed that turned out to be nothing more than a venus fucking fly trap.

And yet Jungkook just can't help himself. He doesn't want to let you win.

It's pathetic, and he knows it. Knows that he's the one who fucked you over; that he's the one who did all of this. Knows that you've every right to be hurting, and every right to want him hurting, too.

But you're engaged, he fumes internally. Due to be married. Have committed your life to someone else, as if the time you had spent with Jungkook meant nothing. It's only been about four months since it all went to shit. He can barely look at the watermark he still hasn't cleaned off of his bathroom mirror.

Lies were fed to you between his kisses, but every single one of those was real. He meant it every time he pressed his lips against yours; every time he told you he needed you in his sheets eternally.

He makes assumptions like you used to do. Thinks about your fiance. Assumes it's love. Has to be.

It's clear to him now that the feelings you pretended to have for him were always a lie.

He doesn't understand why.

Sure, he knows why he lied to you. Knows that he filled your head with half-truths, and tiptoed around the facts of the situation, but he was always honest with how he felt. Never told you bullshit about wanting to keep you close. Meant every single word of it.

But you didn't. It's obvious to him that your lies went beyond your family tree. Nobody likes a liar - not even the boy who cried wolf, himself.

"Untouchable?" he smirks. It's cruel. Juvenile. "We both know that isn't true, don't we?"

"Haven't you heard, baby?" You simper, voice sweet a honey laced with rat poison. You hold up your hand, and wiggle your fingers. Light catches in the cut of your diamond. "I've got a ring. I'm untouchable in every sense of the word."

It stings. Almost like your diamond's encrusted on a dagger, and you've impaled it into his chest.

He doesn't look at you as he drives. Not like he used to. Doesn't throw you a single glance across the centre console, doesn't hold your knee nor your hand beneath his on the gear stick. Instead, his jaw remains taut, eyes ahead on an endless horizon that he hopes he never reaches. If he keeps driving forever, none of this has to end.

For a little while longer, he can pretend.

Pretend that things are as always as they were; that perhaps you've just had a small argument - over what to have for dinner or the way he'd rolled his eyes at a suggestion you had made - and that you'll crack a smile soon. He'll say something dumb, play your favourite song. Tell you he's sorry. Pull over, and refuse to drive until you hold his hand.

But your hand has a ring on it now. He'd feel it lodged beneath his fingers. Would be indented with the mark of commitment from another man.

And that's what makes him crack.

"Engaged," he laughs quietly, not an ounce of humour in his voice as he shakes his head. His eyes stay on the road. He can't look at you. Knows he wouldn't be able to look away.

You're silent for a moment. Consider not responding - but his tone bothers you.

"Uh-huh. We've established that - but you've no right to pass judgement."

Jungkook doesn't want to pass judgement. He wants to be vulgar.

Wants to remind you of the way you were taking his cock a matter of months ago. Wants to ask if your fiance hits the spot like he knows he used to. Wants to know if your body is still stained by the colour of his claim; rosy handprints on your ass, plum bruises on your chest left by his lips. Wants to know if it's his name that reverberates in your head when you bite onto pillows. Wants to know if your fiance even fucks you well enough to make you do that. He doubts it.

He doesn't want to know the answers to any of those, though.

"I'm not passing judgement, C," he says in perhaps the most judgemental tone you've veer heard, flicking his indicator to merge into the next lane. "What's the dress like? Can't be white, can it?"

Bastard.

"We're going traditional," you lie. It hasn't even been discussed yet. You also don't plan on sticking around long enough to see it through to the big day, but that's none of Jungkook's business. "Hanboks only. No modern dress."

Funny, Jungkook thinks. Had never pictured you as the traditional type. Then again, never pictured you walking down the aisle with anyone but him.

Truth be told, it's not like he's ready for any of that. He's not good with the future. Not anymore. Moves from one bad decision to the next. No point in planning ahead.

He disregards the flashing amber light over the pedestrian crossing, narrowly missing it as it changes to red. His foot is on the gas, and he doesn't seem to be easing. You adjust in your seat. Cross your legs. Hold onto the door handle.

"Slow down."

The way he ignores you is childish, and the way he speeds up is even more so.

"Jungkook-"

"Don't tell me how to drive my own damn car," he snaps.

"Then don't drive it like a fucking idiot!"

The tyres screech to a halt. You're almost certain you can smell burnt rubber.

Around you, the road is empty. You're just a few blocks over from the bridge, not far enough for the coast to be clear, and you both know it. There's silence. No static from his radio, no chatter of former lovers; just his engine, purring softly, echoing into the night.

Neon lights from the amalgamation of churches and noraebangs rain down on you through his windows, painting your skin in a red haze. The beam of his headlights on the road ahead is intrusive, decrepit buildings shown in all their miserable glory; paint peeling from the walls, rust forming beneath nails like tears on cheeks, railings covering windows to keep outdated electronics protected. You hate this area. Always have done. Can't believe you used to consider it home.

"Fine then," he snaps. "Get out. Walk yourself home. See what I care. Don't get hit."

He expects resistance. Expects you to defy him. It's what he wants. Wants you choosing to stay - but like fuck are you gonna let him speak to you like that.

It's so hard knowing what's false with Jungkook.

Some days, you think it was all ingenuine; that you've never seen the real him.

On others, you tell yourself that the version of Jungkook you'd first met on the bridge was a facade; that you'd worn him down. Seen within.

Most days, though, you believe the version of Jungkook you'd met on that very first night is exactly who he is.

Everything that followed? A carefully crafted performance for an audience of one.

And now it seems like he wants a standing ovation - and who are you to deny such a skilled actor his applause?

Yanking just hard enough to piss him off, you pop open your door and stand beside the car. Applause comes in form of his door slamming shut, and the click of your heels piercing the emptiness in the air as you walk up the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" He shouts after you from his window - but you just hold your middle finger up in his direction and continue onwards. "C?"

You wouldn't tell him even if you knew. All you know is that you selfishly kind of hope he'll call after you again. He does. You smile to yourself, and ignore him.

Cursing to himself in the driver's seat of his car, he revs the engine back up.

There's a sinking feeling in your chest, but you're the one who put it there.

Only have yourself to blame.

You choose not to watch as his car hurtles past you. The sound is soul-destroying enough as it is.

Jungkook takes a moment to consider his choices. The obvious is to let you go - but he's done that once before, and has hated it ever since. He knows chasing after you will only end in him chasing his own tail, but he's been doing that ever since you left, as it is. What difference will it make? At least this way he can say he tried.

He pulls into a side road.

Derelict and dilapidated, it's no place for a car like his - but then again nowhere in this city is. He sticks out like a sore thumb. None of the other Pony's are polished quite so well, no have been lowered like his. None of them rag about in the dark of night, only for him to fix his faux pas in the light of day the following morning. He'll never let it rust. Never let it falter. Never let it down; and in turn, it won't let him down either.

It will always take him exactly where he needs to be - and right now, he thinks it's beside you.

Slamming his door shut far gentler than you had, Jungkook pushes the key into its lock and twists it shut. He doesn't want to use the electric locks today. Feels like the only way to do things right is to go analogue. Old school.

Wishes there was a way he could go back in time with you, too.

His feet splash in the shallow puddles as he trundles back down the alley on foot, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. He's still in his workout gear - a pair of joggers and some beat-up trainers - but doesn't care for keeping up appearances.

He waits as you approach. You notice him immediately, but make no acknowledgement of his presence. Just keep on walking. Even when he begins to walk alongside you, not a single word is spoken. Cars pass by, passengers gazing out of their windows at the strange pair walking side by side yet miles apart.

You wonder if they make assumptions about you like you know would.

If you were to see yourself, you'd guess that you were angry. A couple in the midst of a fight but too far from home to go your separate ways, maybe. The way your arms are crossed definitely suggests ice to the relationship, but of what the relationship is, you don't think you'd be able to tell. Lovers? Friends? Enemies? All of the above?

You wonder if they'll make up a life for you both. Wonder if they'll resolve the argument they must think you're having. Consider that maybe in their mind, you get a happy ending.

Maybe your observers will be just as naive as you once were. A fool with a fragile heart who gave it to a man who didn't know his strength.

Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he just never cared if he were to break it.

Jeon Jungkook; a rebel with a cause, just without care.

Asshole, you think. Wind whips loose stands hair against your face, cold despite the heat of summer that has now arrived. A storm is coming this evening, but you don't plan on being around to see it.

It's a shame. You've been looking forward to it. Hoseok's away. Work retreat to Yeosu. Some sort of training programme. You had anticipated a night alone watching the raindrops sinking down his apartment window.

The idea of going 'home' right now doesn't appeal to you.

Though when you come to think about it, home is standing next to you as you wait at a zebra crossing, waiting on a green light.

When green lights up the sky, you continue forward. Take a left a left when you reach the hospital. Walk seemingly without direction and yet there's only one place this road leads to. Jungkook knows it well. Isn't really sure what you're doing. Thinks you're playing some kind of joke.

And yet he doesn't speak up. Just follows.

The sign of the KTX station lights up the walkway, the rattle of overground trains polluting the silence between you. There are only a few more services for the night, but it means that freight trains are gearing into action, and they're so much louder than the passenger trains.

As much as he might not know what you're doing, you don't know either. Haven't really thought any of this through.

All you know is you just don't want to stop walking with him.

You hate yourself for it. Hate how weak he makes you feel. Hate that he gets to be okay and just live his life after ruining yours. Maybe you're misplacing your blame. Know full well that you've made some bad decisions as of late. Would take them back if you could.

Jungkook is one of those bad decisions you wish you could undo. If only life came with a rewind button. Ctrl+Z. Reboot. Restore to factory settings.

And yet the idea of not knowing him - the sound of his laugh in the early hours of a Sunday morning, the feel of his cheeks a few days post-shave, the pressure of his lips on the crown of your head - fills you with dread. You may hate the memories, but you don't want to lose them, either.

You know Daegu's KTX station well. Hanger left as you enter, straight towards the self-service kiosks. Pick one that accepts card, then rest your palms on the pale blue plastic casing of the machine. There's a touchscreen full of choices - endless opportunities - but Daegu's KTX autofill route is the only one that you care for. The only one that feels right.

Busan.

You tap through to the next menu, ignoring Jungkook's presence beside you. You don't care what he does. Are only thinking about yourself.

Funny, really. He's only thinking about you.

Jungkook knocks your hand to the side to stop you from pressing through to the transaction screen. He reaches over a little further. Presses the small plus sign next to 'passengers'. Says nothing as it jumps from '1' to '2'.

You just watch as he clicks on through to the following screen, and slides his card into the slot that's flashing green at you. There's no conversation. No acknowledgement of what he's done; just acceptance.

The machine spits out the tickets into a metal tray, so you take yours and turn on your heel, leaving him to collect his own. He can follow you if he likes. You won't wait for him.

Realistically, it's not like you'll be apart for long. The assigned seats are side by side.

Of course, you could just leave. Buy a ticket elsewhere. Go home. Head down towards the subway and lose him in a sea of people.

The possibilities are endless.

Yet you find yourself checking the departure screen for train 071, instead.

The menu flickers through the upcoming departures, before finally falling back to the screen 071 is on. Platform two, departing in four minutes.

It's enough time to get to your track, but not enough time to run to your favourite coffee stand. You just sigh. Today is just disappointment after disappointment.

Jungkook walks straight past you. Makes no acknowledgement of you.

Just heads towards the exit for the tracks. Another sigh leaves your lips.

But you find yourself following him.

You're the one orbiting him, now.

And like the planets you're convinced rule your life, it doesn't feel like you can stop any time soon.

Your train is already on the platform by the time you make it down the stairs, quietly purring in its bay. Doing one final check of the platform, the conductor blows his whistle just as you're hopping on.

Heading down the aisle, you're displeased to see the train is only half full, knowing it means your assigned seats will be beside one another - and once you reach carriage four, you can see the top of his head poking out from the row you've been allocated.

It's interesting how he's taken the aisle seat, when his ticket is for the window. Still, questioning it means engaging in conversation, and you're still pretending like he doesn't exist - to the point where you don't ask him to move. You just step over him, and cringe at the way you know your ass brushes the top of his knees from the awkward positioning.

If he were in a better mood, he'd smile, aware of your annoyance and the fact you're probably cursing out your own ass in your head.

But Jungkook is in a foul fucking mood, and all he wants to do is hold your goddamn hand.

He knows can't.

So he won't.

He'll just sit, and stew, and lament the fact he's on a train to fucking Busan with you.

The jokes he knows he would have cracked six months ago are lost, now. There'll be no nonsensical conversations over who would die first in a zombie apocalypse, no dumb declarations from Jungkook about how he'd protect you no matter what.

Would have been a lie, anyway.

In the row ahead of you, a teenage couple share a pair of headphones.

Between the crack in the seats, you can see their heads leaning together, hairs melting into one another. The girl is peroxide blonde, but has dark roots growing through. It's a bit like Jungkook's hair used to be. Her (presumed) boyfriend has a streak of blonde peaking through his dark hair. She no doubt did it for him (again, you presume). The sight of it makes you feel sick.

Jungkook notices it too. Watches as the girl flicks through the boys playlist. Searches up a song he doesn't know, and presses play. When she locks the phone and puts it down on her boyfriends lap, she shuffles closer against him. Jungkook feels a little unwell, too.

The silence continues.

It's only 45 minutes to Busan. Not a long haul by any stretch of the imagination - and yet it feels endless this evening. When the train eventually rolls into his hometown, Jungkook thinks he's going crazy. Hates being alone with his brain. Hates that you hate being alone with him, too.

The hushed nature of your pairing prevails as you make your way onto the subway. Rammed full of late-night punters, you're forced to stand by the entryway. He stands behind you, and holds the bar that's over your head. Doesn't say sorry when the movements of the carriage cause him to lean against you slightly. He pulls away from you as quickly as he can, but you're surprised to find that you miss the weight of his body.

But of course you do. You've been missing it for months, now.

The subway trundles through underground tunnels, metal screeching every so often, more and more passengers departing - until it's just you and him. You take a seat, and so does he. You're opposite one another, eyes unashamed as you stare one another out. There's no trust. You're like cats, stalking their prey.

Or should that be you're like a cat. Jungkook is a lion. Could rip you to shreds if he wants. Has done it before. Your scars are barely healed. Can still feel him all over your skin. It's insidious. Makes you want to take a fucking potato peeler to your body, just to rid yourself of your memories.

The way he looks at you, all dark and brooding, like he's some kind of 90's heartthrob that never stood the test of time, makes your fingerprint-shaped scars burn.

You ride the subway until the very final stop; not because you wanted to, just because you were following his lead.

Stupid, really. He was following yours. Of course he was.

The static voice of the automated alert lets you know you've reached Dadaepo.

Jungkook knows it well. Was his favourite place to explore as a kid. A hidden rocky alcove just beyond the cliff walk was the site of many discoveries as a kid; sea glass, bugs he can't remember the names of, and - in his later years - the scent of marijuana.

The fact you're still giving one another the silent treatment is comically unbelievable. It's been upwards of two hours since his car door slammed shut back in Daegu. Even longer, actually. Closer to three hours.

There's something so childish about how petty you both are - but at least this way, you can't miscommunicate.

You just don't communicate at all, and you think you prefer it that way.

The waves roll in as you sit, staring at nothing. Side by side. Miles apart. It all becomes a bit much for Jungkook. He knows he shouldn't make a sound, but he thinks he likes it better when you fight. At least that way he gets to hear your voice, no matter how scathing it can be.

"The last train back is in half an hour," Jungkook says quietly, unsure of how much time has passed. Dadaepo is fifty minutes away from the station. You'll have missed it, and are fully aware of it.

So you just shrug.

"Not have a fiancé to get home to?" He questions, and almost manages not to sound bitter. Almost.

Again, you shrug.

Hoseok is away for the week - an all-expenses training retreat over in Yeosu.

When your Father had still been in the police force, before moving into local politics, he'd gone on the same training programme. It's a yearly excursion. Just an excuse to get shitfaced with his crew and a chance to slip his wedding ring into his wallet, knowing your mother would never find out.

She'd always know. She was the one who did his laundry, after all.

Unlike your mother, however, you won't spend the week in a foul mood because of it.

That's not to say you won't spend the week in a foul mood - it's just that the reason for your awful mood is currently sitting next to you looking over the East China Sea.

"You should stop concerning yourself with my life," you tell him, voice quiet - but he hears you crystal clear, regardless. He's listening out for only you. Fuck the waves, fuck the dog walkers, fuck the traffic and the coffee shop soundtrack blaring just a few feet behind the woodland. You're the only one he hears.

He considers saying nothing, but just can't help himself - so he scoffs, and says, "shall I stop breathing, too, while I'm at it?"

It's a stupid comparison to make. His life doesn't depend on you. You tell him so.

"You need to breathe to stay alive. You never needed me to stay alive."

Never needed me at all.

"I don't know, C. Kang was pretty pissed when we let you get away," he says as he purses his lips. It's a miracle his nose still looks the same as it always did - unless it just got broken so many times that it somehow snapped back into place.

Thing is, Jungkook's not really thinking about that. The pain subdued. After a few weeks, it was like it never happened.

But the ache in his chest remained. His one source of chronic pain, and you're the one who held the knife. Sure, he's the one who guided your hands. Pulled them into his chest. Inflicted it upon himself.

"Your coworker," Jungkook finally sighs. He's not even sure why he's asking. He doesn't want the answer. "Is it... The ring. Is it him?"

And while you want to hurt Jungkook as much as you possibly can without laying a single finger on him, you know you've done Yoongi enough damage. Makes you sick thinking about his tender face; the way it'd light up around you. You think of Jieun, and the time spent together in the shop and it's so consuming that you can't even think of an appropriate response to Jungkook.

"Yoongi," you correct, but Jungkook already knew his name. Just didn't wanna acknowledge him as more than a meagre colleague. "No. It's not Yoongi."

But just for a night? It had been Yoongi. Or was it two nights? Your head taunts you. You fucked Yoongi. Fucked his life up. Fucked it all. Whatever becomes of you is what you deserve.

Jungkook is unaware of this as he clamps his lips together to stop the smile that's begging to break through his hard exterior.

"You ever..." You begin to mumble, but then realise who you're talking to. You don't want to converse with him. "Nevermind."

He knows this. Doesn't care. "Have I ever what?"

There's a moment of silence; waves lapping against the shoreline in place of your words.

"You ever do something that just destroys you?"

Your words linger like the brief seconds waves will take to kiss the shoreline; white bubbles sinking into sand, murky water retracing its steps and dissolving into the currents.

"Destroys you?" he asks, not because he needs clarification, but because he can't possibly imagine what you've done.

You simply nod.

And so he takes a moment to think. Decides it's about time he gave you some honesty.

"Yeah," he says gently. Can see there's something you're grappling with. Doesn't want to intrude, though. "I've done things that have destroyed me, C. You know I have."

The silence resumes once more. It's louder now.

If you listen closely enough, you can hear that chime in your stomach again. It's faint. You ignore it.

Jungkook can hear it too. It rings and rings like tinnitus. He can't ignore it. He can pretend that he detests it, though.

Moonlight ripples on the surface of the water. It rolls into shore, then pulls away again. Gets just close enough to touch, but not far enough to soak your feet.

It runs away from you as soon as it gets close, and the irony isn't lost on Jungkook. He'd always thought you'd behaved like the moon and her tides, after all. Cyclic. Endless. Eternal.

It sort of feels apt that you'd end up back here.

Yeah, he thinks as he refuses to look in your direction. Too consumed with the way the vast expanse almost looks like a black hole. Just like the tides.

But waves can roll up on any beach, and the moon caresses every inch of the earth during her slumber. There's nothing unique about the pair of you. Nothing special.

Insignificance has always been a fear of his. A life that could be chalked up to birth, then death; records in a library system forgotten about for years upon years. His impact? Null.

He'd seen it with his mother - her vibrancy, her love for life, for others - and how she'd all but been forgotten. Sometimes, he feels like he's the only one who remembers her.

Even his father seems to forget why he's in such a sorry state. His brother has a new family, now. And what does Jungkook have?

No family. That disintegrated. Yeah, they're still around, but they're not present. Not there for him when he needs them.

No career. Sure, he can get work wherever electricity is, but he's under Kang's thumb, now. He trains, and he fights. Time for honest work is non-existent.

No love. He's never been the type to need a relationship, but he'd gotten a little foolish. Gotten used to the comfort of another human. Now that he knows what it feels like - how nice it can be - he feels half alive without it.

The Jungkook beside you is just the same as the Jungkook you first met.

He's a little stronger, a little broader. Is missing a few of his piercings, and wears his hair dark now instead of the blonde you had always adored.

He's exactly the same, and yet forever changed.

He digs his fingers into the sand beside his thighs. The grains slip through the hollow gaps between his knuckles. Even the things within his grasp always seems to get away from him.

He hates the silence. Hates that he never knows what to say anymore.

And thankfully for him, you hate it just as much.

"Fighting a lot, these days, aren't you?" You ask, not that you need any clarification. You saw a note in one of Hoseok's files earlier on in the week. Just a small scrawl about Kang's, and the illegal gambling ring he's running. JJK had been written down, with a set of odds next to his name. Pretty good odds. Baby is a champion. You'd be proud, if the circumstances weren't so harrowing.

"Not any more so than usual," he lies, shutting down the conversation as soon as you start it. He just can't help himself. It's like he's hard-wired to fight.

You turn to look in his direction and are momentarily caught by how ethereal he looks when basking in silver moonlight. The tip of his nose looks cold, and yet his eyes are warm. Watery. Welcoming you to dive right in.

Sink, or swim?

He's got a bruise on the top of his cheekbone, and a small graze just in front of his ear. It's clear to see that he's been through the wringer recently. There's really no point in lying to you.

"No?" You ask, just to let him know you're aware he's full of shit.

"What does it matter if I am?"

"It doesn't."

And so silence settles again. Neither of you know how to interact with one another anymore. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you both hate it - and yet there's nowhere either of you would rather be. No one else you'd rather be in discomfort with.

Time gets away from you. It chases through the night, just like his car used to do down the backroads of Daegu, with you in the passenger seat and your hand beneath his on the gear stick.

You wonder if he ever thinks of it; if he ever thinks of you in the same way you think of him.

You don't ask him, because no matter what the answer will be, you'll convince yourself it's a lie.

Midnight creeps in, and so does the chill of night air. It may be summer, but the sea breeze can be biting at times.

Jungkook's fine - his workout gear is keeping the heat in well, but you're underdressed. Huddled up and clearly not enjoying yourself but refusing to voice discomfort, Jungkook is the one who forces you up. Says it's stupid to still be out by the water. Tells you that there will be loads of bugs about, soon.

You both know that the bugs have been out since dusk. Leaving now makes no difference.

Ignoring the hand he holds out as you get to your feet, you rid your legs of sand, and head towards the pathway through the small wooded area.

Neither of you have any idea what to do. The keys in Jungkook's pockets are rendered useless, his car still down in a back alley of Daegu, and the buses have stopped running. Subway, too.

You've no bag with you, just your phone (that's dangerously low on charge) and a card tucked into the back of the case.

Jungkook's phone is new. Holds it's charge well. He's not worried about it.

He's got his wallet, too, so at least he's a little bit more foreign-city-ready than you'd been upon your decision to run off to Busan. He's glad he came with you, now.

He figures he'll just stay at his Dad's place - but it means getting a taxi, and he really can't be fucked with an hour's drive this late at night.

He's unaware that the card in the back of your phone isn't yours. It's under Hoseok's name. He gets a notification every time it's used. It's why you're so selective about how you spend your money.

You've no ID with you, either. Left it in your purse back in Hoseok's apartment. Hadn't really expected to end up in Busan, in all honestly.

Especially not with Jungkook.

If you wanna check in to a hotel - which is the only option, really - you're gonna need your ID. Standard policy around these parts. No ID, no room.

You tell Jungkook this.

He sighs. Grates his jaw a little.

"And you didn't think that maybe it would be smart to take your ID out with you? What if you'd gotten in an accident, huh? No one would have known who to call, 'cause they wouldn't know who you are."

"I was hardly gonna get in an acci-"

"How do you know?" He cuts you off. "You can't plan these kinds of things, CC. Accidents just happen."

"Is that what this is, then?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest as you walk a little further away from him up the sandy sidewalk. "Another calamity of yours? Just ended up here accidentally?"

Sometimes, he considers kissing you just to stop your from spouting off at him over nonsensical issues.

Jungkook thinks it's obvious he ended up in Busan for one reason, and one reason alone:

He'll follow you to the end of the earth, if it means he gets to be with you.

He's hardly gonna tell you that, though, is he?

"Ended up here cause I missed the beach-" And I missed you, too. "- but it's late," Jungkook says as you meander back up the sidewalk without much aim, and nods across the road to a beachfront hotel. "Let's just crash here and figure out how to get home in the morning?"

For reasons you can't understand, you find yourself agreeing. When you explain that you can't use your card, he shrugs. Says he'll cover it. Says he doesn't care.

It's a different story when you're in the hotel.

The presence of the concierge makes you feel unsure of yourself. Reminds you of how embarrassed you are by what Jungkook did to you; how foolish you had felt. You feel the need to defend yourself.

"Do you have any suites available?" You ask the concierge with a smile so sweet it could rot his inside. He thinks you're sweet. Thinks Jungkook should smile more. Knows he'd be smiling if he had you alone in a hotel room.

"All booked out, I'm afraid," the concierge says as he checks the screen in front of him. The glare reflects in his glasses, and you wonder how many times he's been caught out looking at things he shouldn't. Not just at work, but in general. He seems like a sweet kid - but a kid nonetheless.

"What's the most expensive room you have available, then?" You query instead.

Jungkook shakes his head. Looks at his feet. Tenses his jaw. Thinks you're fucking unbelievable.

You know he's got money problems. Know he's fending off sharks from his poor Father's back. Know that the only reason he fucked you over was to finally have a decent payday.

And yet you choose to do this? Knowing he won't kick up a fuss in public?

Spineless bitch. Spiteful.

But, oh, how you love to hit him where it hurts.

The concierge is none the wiser of Jungkook's discomfort. Tells you both that there's a deluxe sea-view room left.

"It's gone midnight, so I can give you a discounted rate," he says, and still quotes a price that would make even a black card owner raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook looks at you. Holds your gaze. Passes over his card. Waits till the concierge is retrieving your keys to hiss, "you're the most expensive mistake I've ever made."

You just smile. "Shouldn't live life with regrets. They give you wrinkles."

"And stress gives you grey hair," he counters, insinuating that you've got some growing through. The concierge returns to his position behind the desk, so Jungkook plays his role up. "You been stressed lately, baby?"

The concierge coughs. Holds out your key. "Seventh floor. Follow the corridor from the elevator right to the end, and you'll find room number one." Jungkook takes the key with a polite nod. "If you need anything else, the front desk is open twenty-four hours. I do hope you enjoy your stay."

The tension between you and Jungkook is palpable. The little routine you've cooked up in which neither of you speak unless it's to bait each other out continues. Doesn't end until you're in the room - and what a fucking room it is.

Crisp white sheets on a bed that is far too big; a bathtub in the corner of the room instead of the bathroom. Huge windows that let the midnight view of the ocean pour in, and chiffon curtains that will keep you hidden from the outside world. You won't close the blinds. Will want the morning sunlight to bathe you in its glory; make you feel like you belong to the days instead of the nights.

So much of your relationship with Jungkook was hidden in the shadows of Daegu nights, but it had been different in Busan. It's hard to pretend as if you don't miss it.

Hard, but not impossible.

You toss him a pillow and the stiff cotton throw from the end of the bed. "Here. The bathtub looks cosy. Sweet dreams."

"I'm not sleeping in the fucking bath," he laughs, but it's full of scorn. He finds no humour in this situation. "If I pay for a hotel room, I'm sleeping in the bed. Bath is all yours."

And yet you stay put.

When Jungkook turns off the main light? You stay put.

When he grasps the back of his sweater and pulls it over his head? You stay put.

When he says, 'No? Not fancy the bath?' as he tosses the pillow you had thrown at him back onto the empty side of the bed? You stay put.

When he walks around to that side? When he pushes the duvet back? When his weight dents the mattress? The scent of his aftershave intrudes on your senses? The sound of his bare skin nestling into the sheets is all you can hear? When he turns his back to you? Turns off the bedside lamp?

You stay fucking put.

And you know you shouldn't, and know that this is all kinds of wrong, but my god, it's all you've wanted for months: the past. All that's missing is your arm looped over his waist.

When he turns to face you? Looks at you, eyes all glassy, lips pursed? Tries to get a read on you?

You don't move a muscle. Just look at him right back. Wonder how he can still look so beautiful in such darkness. Wonder if his hair always spilt onto the pillow as it does now, and you'd just never realised when he was blonde.

And then you wonder if maybe someone else had been in this position with him during your absence.

It would be okay if they have. Wouldn't be their fault. Wouldn't be his, either. You're the one who left. Have a ring around your finger, now, no matter how loosely. Would be incredibly unfair to expect Jungkook to spend the last few months alone.

But the more you think about it, the more you get caught up in your own head, and how he'd kissed you beneath his shower, skin coated in red dye. Has you thinking about the way he'd always kiss you as he came, and the 'forever's he'd whispered in the dark of night.

So fucking cruel of him. He always knew that forever wasn't an option. There was no reason he had to pretend there was.

And maybe you're just tired, or maybe you've just been keeping it all bottled up for so long that the pressure had finally reached full capacity, but you just can't help yourself as you say, "why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

Your brows furrow. Lips pout. You know what's coming and you can't even be bothered to stop the tears. Maybe he should know how badly he affected you. Maybe it's the only way he'll understand. Maybe then he'll care.

For now, you can't bring yourself to think too hard. You just let the tears fall.

"C'mon, C," Jungkook whispers as his thumb strokes over your cheek. His hands are a little rough. He's been working on his car a lot lately, and hasn't taken time to look after himself, instead. It's self-sabotage. Thinks he doesn't deserve to feel good. Physically, mentally, whatever. "This isn't you."

Oh, it's laughable. Hilarious, you think, that he seems to think he knows who the fuck you are. You wanna scream. Wanna tell him that he knows fuck all. Tell him that you never let him see even an ounce of what makes you 'you'.

Denial is a strange thing. Has you lying to yourself like it's a bible oath. Jeon Jungkook knows exactly who you are. You just wish that he didn't.

"You've no idea who I am," you whisper back through partially gritted teeth, that are stopping your sobs from leaking through.

Jungkook purses his lips together. Shakes his head. Strokes away another tear. Is almost silent when manages to croak out, "I wish that were true."

And you might be wrong, but it sounds like he's holding back a tear or two, as well.

You reach over to toy with the key around his neck. It's warm in your fingers, the heat of his skin keeping it cosy. It's amazing how warm he always is, you think. Never met anyone like it. When your eyes flick up to his, ever so briefly, you notice that they seem warm, too. Just a byproduct of his body temperature, you decide.

"Why coke?" You whisper as you bring the key to your lips. Press it against them, just to feel the pressure of something that belongs to him.

He'd kiss you now, if you asked him to.

But you won't, so he doesn't.

He just shrugs instead.

"Why do we do anything of the things we do, C?" He pauses, but doesn't anticipate a response from you. Just continues, instead. "To feel alive? To feel closer to death? I don't know."

Lost one drug, he thinks to himself. It's just a replacement.

And it's funny, because aside from the lines he'd snorted on the first night you'd returned just to fucking cope with it all, he's not touched it. Thinks if he could just touch you, he'd never go near coke again.

You hold the key to his lips, now. Wait for him to press his lips against it. He does so, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Funny. Seems the key works on something, after all.

When you pull the key away, you let the chain hang slack, before dropping it to his chest. The ridges of the metal are sharp against his skin, but he's numb to it. Can only feel the print of your fingertips and the scars that are embedded into his skin from them.

"You should stop," you whisper, stroking down the bridge of his nose with the side of your index finger. His eyes close. Jaw tenses. He inhales. "It'll ruin this pretty nose of yours."

And then he smiles; eyes still closed, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.

But the tepid movement of your finger doesn't stop. It reaches the tip of his nose. Trails down his septum. Encroaches on his cupid bow - and then it comes to rest on his lips.

Just like the key, he presses against it. Kisses the side of your finger. Keeps his eyes closed. Lets it linger.

He hears the change in your breathing. How you inhale a little sharper than before. How it sounds painful.

Doesn't wanna open his eyes. Doesn't want to look at you, knowing that you'll probably look so tragically hurt that it would be captivating, in a way. He'd wanna kiss it all better, but knows better than to attempt such a thing.

"I don't think I can, C," he eventually says. Opens his eyes. Is devastated by your beauty. "Don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

You both know he isn't talking about coke.

"Then it'll ruin you," you whisper, pretending as if you still are.

He just nods. "So let it."

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #throttle #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook

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novella-november · 9 months ago

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Tiny Tip #2

So, you've decided to take up creative writing! You open up your preferred writing program and go to open up your last file, which is your 20,000 word first draft of a novel-- until, uh oh! An error message pops up, saying the file is corrupted, can't be retrieved, etc!

Or, say lightning strikes your house, and fries your computer--!

Or, a cat comes scampering across your computer desk, sending your computer crashing to the floor where it promptly explodes in a million prices --!

How to you avoid losing all your hard work in these scenarios?

✨By Backing up your work regularly✨

You should take steps right now with any important documents you have on your computer!

Here's some very simple ways you can back your work up, from completely free to paid services:

Each day that you make changes to your main writing document(s), make a brand new copy with the "Save-as" function, and label each one with that day's date, so you have a complete timeline of documents from day one to current day, instead of all being one single document.

Email the Docx / ODF file to yourself once a day, and if you have more than one email, or a trusted friend/family member, email it to them as well in case you somehow lose access to your account.

use Google Docs to back up your documents or for cross-platform writing, or if you use Google Docs as your main writing program, back up your writing locally to Libreoffice and all other methods mentioned above. It only takes 1 issue with logging into your account or a service outage to lose access to your work on google docs!

Use 4thewords as another online cloud service to back up your writing and write cross platform

Use A cloud drive service to back up your works once a day, such as Google Drive, Mega, One Drive, IDrive, Sync Drive, etc to back up your works once a day

Use Calibre to convert your document into an ebook format or PDF, and send it to your phone as an extra backup, and a handy way to reference your writing on the go.

#writing #tiny tips #BACK YOUR WRITING UP YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN #BACK IT UP AT MINIMUM ONCE A DAY OR ANY TIME YOU MAKE MAJOR CHANGES #bold text #large text

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clydethesnake · 7 months ago

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Icy Waters Vol. I

Chapter Seven

It’s six months before another note arrived.

Things had been going well in hindsight; Kiko got another job, as well as the one at The Union, so she was earning a little extra money, Bumi had come to visit again, she was having regular healing lessons with Katara, who assured her that she didn’t need any more lessons in combat, and in general, the feeling of eyes on her became a less regular thing.

She’d even had a rather successful birthday on Air Temple Island with the Beifongs and the Avatar’s family.

Kiko walks up the large flight of stairs to reach the Air Temple, unbuttoning the top of her black shirt after coming back from work. It had been a busy night, but she was glad to not hear any happy birthdays from any patrons.

Not that she’s told anyone her birthday here anyway.

It's a difficult day for the waterbender; without any family to celebrate, she never made it a regular habit to do something. Especially after moving to Republic City.

However, clearly, someone found out.

She jumps back like a scared cat, bending some water into ice shards as a weapon as she hears jumbled shouting.

“Dammit, Bumi! You ruined it.”

Kiko’s eyebrows furrow, her alarmed expression morphing into one of confusion. Dark silhouettes emerge from the bushes, illuminated by the street lamps dotted along the path.

She makes out a group of people, led by Kya who is scolding Bumi. Aang has a large smile on his face, Katara and Sokka by his side. Tenzin is also there, standing next to Lin with Toph and Su behind them.

“What...?” She can hardly mutter out before Katara interrupts.

“Happy birthday, Kiko!”

She looks at her best friend with an unamused expression, “Really? How did you find out?”

Kya turns to Lin, who is standing next to her mother. She has a slightly guilty expression, “I got the Chief to find your file. You know, you’re a hard person to find information about.”

Kiko's jaw drops slightly in disbelief, “I can’t believe you. That is so creepy, not to mention an insane breach of privacy!”

“I’m a police officer, and you’ve been arrested in Republic City before; technically, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Besides, the majority of your file was locked.”

Kiko’s eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to speak, “Don’t be mad at Lin, she was checking for me.” Katara interrupts, her smile not faltering.

“Why?”

“Everyone deserves to have a nice birthday. We thought it might take your mind off everything that is happening.” Kiko stays silent for a moment, her eyes roaming the hopeful faces all looking at her, but Katara carries on, “I made roast duck.” She says in a teasing sort of tone.

Kiko’s head perks up at the mention of her favourite food, “I suppose I could stretch to having some nice food.” She walks past the group, “But no singing.”

So, when Kiko woke up one morning, the sunlight muted from the clouds and her sheer curtains, spotting a new envelope on her bedside table, the waterbender was understandably uncomfortable.

She almost doesn’t want to open it; the threat Toph has given her is still on her mind, if there’s any escalation further than some notes, then you are joining a programme immediately.

Kiko sits up and throws her legs over the edge of her bed, her head pounding from the lack of sleep she had received the night before. Working two jobs and having healer training is really taking it out of her; she’s hardly ever on the Island now. Katara will probably have me on house arrest after this.

They had all been hopeful that the waterbender’s stalker has stopped trying to contact her after six months with not a single new note. However, they have clearly decided now that they are done waiting. Kiko can’t help but feel a sinking feeling in her stomach, this is the start of something bad.

She reaches for the note on her bedside table, hands shaking slightly out of nervousness. It's in the same format as the previous two; a neatly pressed envelope with a single sheet of paper. And the writing, gorgeous copperplate, clearly written with good quality ink.

Her eyes scan over the crisp piece of paper, a shiver crawling up her spine.

I’m getting impatient. Reveal yourself or who knows what might happen to your pretty girlfriend and her sister.

Kiko’s heart is racing and she feels her hands start to become clammy, her breathing quickening at the words. Pretty girlfriend? Reveal yourself? She shakes her head and places the note face down back on her bedside table. Just what am I meant to reveal? Kiko scans her brain for answers to the question.

They had been close to figuring out who was the one who sent the notes; Chief Beifong had sent the second note Kiko received to be brushed for fingerprints months prior. It had made it to the lab well, but as the evidence was being sent back to the police station, the car carrying it was raided.

It was the Amber Wolfbat Triad, Toph told her, almost indifferently. There’s nothing we can do. They lost the evidence that day, and Kiko knows that it’s only going to get harder to figure out who is doing this.

Kiko sits on the edge of her bed, face in her hands. She knew something like this was going to happen. She knew that she had put Lin and Su in danger, and yet, she couldn’t stay away. A little voice is nagging in the back of her brain, you need to cut ties. It has been her go-to method when she gets too close to people, when they start to ask questions about her childhood.

And yet, cutting ties with Lin seems like an impossible task.

They had just begun getting closer; her and Kiko were spending lunches together, taking turns in deciding which restaurants they go to when they have aligning lunch breaks. Though, Lin doesn’t need to know that I sometimes take my lunch later just to eat with her.

It was only yesterday they had visited Narook’s for food that, as Kiko described, was the most authentic Water Tribe food in Republic City.

Kiko turns the corner on Kyoshi Street, Narook’s coming into view.

To this day, it’s the most authentic Water Tribe food she’s found in the city, specialising in Northern cuisine.

Her stomach growls aggravatedly, despite her shift at The Union not being a particularly busy one. Kiko's lips quirk up into a small smile at the thought of being able to share one of her favourite restaurants with Lin.

However, her smile drops as she notices the earthbender in question already standing outside the restaurant.

“I see you’ve beaten me here.” Kiko acknowledges, in a slightly teasing tone.

“The Chief let me off earlier.” Lin smiles.

“You’re lucky. Boss has been giving me as many shifts as possible. If I even think about leaving early, I have him screeching in my ear.” Kiko shudders, her and Lin walking side by side into the cozy restaurant.

Lin snorts, “You do know you’re entitled to time off?”

“I know that.” The waterbender says, a little to defensively, “I just- I'm finally making a little more money and- and I like being able to see something and just say, you know what? I’m going to treat myself to that today.”

Lin nods, “I get that,” She muses as they sit down at an empty table, “We could always get out of Republic City for a few weeks? Kya invited us to come along with her to Ember Island.” She perks up even more, clutching the menu, “And Izumi would be there! She would love to meet you.”

Kya had left to travel over the past few months; sending letters from each of the cities she was visiting. The last letter Lin had received was from Ba Sing Se, where Kya admitted to wanting to visit somewhere familiar; Ember Island. She invited the whole group to come, with Bumi even being able to take some time off to come.

Kiko recoils a little, “Really? It doesn’t seem like you to willingly take more than a few days off work. Let alone a few weeks.”

“It would be relaxing.” Lin carefully avoids Kiko’s very true words about not taking time off work.

Kiko shrugs, “We could always ask Kya about it.”

And that’s how Kiko was roped into going to Ember Island.

The waterbender sighs at the memory, the pleasant emotions she had been feeling seemingly so far away. Well, I’d better call Lin about this note.

She stands, pockets the envelope, making sure not to crumple it, and heads to the phone in the living room of the temple.

---

Kiko thought that it would take at least an hour for Lin to make it to the island, prompting the waterbender to head to the gazebo that overlooks the bay, where most Air Acolytes come to meditate.

She had always hated meditating; staying still in one place for hours was never easy for her. And it wasn’t a common thing to be encouraged in her household, not after what happened to her mother.

And yet, Kiko found some sense of mind in that moment, sitting in the lotus position and breathing deeply helped her to briefly forget about the chaos of what was happening. Of the stalker. Of her slightly complicated feelings for Lin. Of her unresolved childhood trauma.

It was all too much.

But in that moment, the waterbender allowed herself to relax.

However, after about 10 minutes, she feels a presence behind her. Turning around immediately, she comes to face Tenzin. Kiko gets up, “Need something?”

She doesn’t particularly have the best relationship with the airbender; knowing that he is practically head over heels for Lin doesn’t help. He's always huffy and grumpy around Kiko, preferring to ignore her existence and live in his own little world where he believes that the earthbender is in love with him.

Tenzin rolls his eyes a little, clearly not happy to be talking to the waterbender, “Lin’s here. I offered to come and tell you.”

Kiko raises and eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Willingly talking to me now?” She teases with no real amusement, “Or are you only here because Lin wanted to talk to me?” The waterbender moves close to Tenzin, who rolls his eyes again.

“She’s in the living room.” He grumbles, ignoring her question.

Kiko backs off, taking a few steps back before walking past the airbender, muttering a quick thanks.

What in spirits’ name is his problem with me?! The waterbender thinks angrily, walking through the cobbled courtyard of Air Temple Island. She half-heartedly stomps up the rest of the steps, walking into the living room, where Lin is sitting patiently on the couch.

She raises an eyebrow, “Another note, you say?” She gets straight to the point, arms crossed.

Kiko nods almost solemnly, sitting next to her friend, “Unfortunately.” She takes out the slightly crumpled envelope and hands it to the earthbender.

Kiko watches Lin’s facial expression closely, noticing her eyes widening slightly before she puts on a mask of no emotions, “Who is this referring to?” She points at the words, pretty girlfriend.

The waterbender’s face reddens a little, muttering out her next words, “I’m guessing that they are referring to you.”

“What? But we’re not dating.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Kiko rolls her eyes a little, her tone a little sarcastic.

Lin decides to ignore the comment for now, “We need to get this to the Chief.”

“So she can do what? Send it to the lab and get it stolen again?” Kiko asks, her sarcastic tone persisting, “There’s no point, no one is doing anything to help me.”

“Then join the programme the Chief recommended.” Kiko huffs a little, knowing that it would be the best idea, but before she can say anything, Lin continues, “Why are you so insistent that you don’t want to join anyway?”

Oh boy... “I just- I guess... I've always had a bit of a problem accepting help from others.” Kiko keeps her eyes trained on the wooden floor.

Lin is silent for a few seconds, before she hesitantly places her hand on the waterbender’s shoulder, her thumb drawing comforting circles into her dark skin, “I- uh... I’m not very good at this but- you can always come to me for help. For anything.” The earthbender takes her hand away, but is stopped when Kiko catches it, “I- I don’t know if that helped but-”

“Thank you.” Kiko squeezes Lin’s hand before releasing it. She flops down on the couch and runs a hand through her loosening hair, “I guess we should go to the station then?”

Lin nods, “I think that would be the best idea.” She replies, pocketing the note that Kiko had handed her earlier.

It takes 10 minutes for Kiko to freshen up, before they are on the ferry to the mainland.

Kiko feels a slight weight being lifted off her shoulders at the thought of joining the Zheng Hai protection programme, despite being so against it in the beginning. But, of course, Lin managed to break through her walls and convince her to join. She just seems to have that effect on me... the waterbender thinks, as she looks at Lin’s sharp side profile.

“Were you at work today?” Kiko questions, taking note of Lin’s civilian clothes.

Lin shakes her head, “No, I took the day off for myself.”

“Oh, well, I guess this probably isn’t what you had in mind.” The waterbender looks out to Air Temple Island, watching it get smaller as they get closer to the mainland. She can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at ruining Lin’s plans of relaxing for the day.

“Hey, what did I say earlier? Don't worry about coming to me for help; that’s what friends are for.” Kiko only hums, her eyes latching catching Lin’s. The earthbender continues, “But, if you’re really that worried... we could grab some dinner after going to the station? It might help to take our minds off things.” Her tone is hesitant, with a hint of hopefulness.

Kiko smiles, nodding slightly, “That would be great.”

She is also hesitant, though not in the same way as Lin. Her stalker already thinks that her and Lin are more than friends, and now that she knows that they are back to threatening her, the thought of going out with Lin brings Kiko a great sense of anxiety. What if they decide to attack? The thought makes the waterbender’s heartbeat quicken.

Kiko hopes that Lin didn’t catch onto her nervousness, but it’s evident by the look on her face that she did, “Is everything alright? Your heart is racing.” She asks, concerned.

The waterbender looks away from her piercing green eyes, “I- uh- I don’t want to put you in any more danger, is all... the stalker already thinks that we’re dating.”

Lin’s face falls a little, but a determined look flashes across her features, “I can handle myself.”

“We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“I’m a Beifong. And you’re a strong waterbender, I know you’ve been training with Katara.”

Kiko interrupts, “Healer training.”

“That only proves my point more,” The earthbender looks a little smug, “Katara knows you’re amazing at hand-to-hand combat.”

“Yeah, enough to beat you.” Kiko snickers, thinking back to the time they sparred with no bending.

Kiko stands in the courtyard of Air Temple Island in only her cream-coloured bindings and a pair of navy blue shorts. Across from her, Lin is wearing a white tank top and similar shorts to Kiko in black. The taller of the pair can’t help but risk a few glances at Lin’s strong thighs.

Lin finishes wrapping her arms and stands with her feet shoulder-width apart, “Ready?”

Kiko nods, standing in the same position as Lin, “Remember, no bending.” She teases, giving the earthbender a small smug smirk.

She rolls her eyes, but nods anyway, stalking closer to the taller woman.

Lin immediately curls her fingers into a fist and throws a punch, going straight for the offence. Kiko catches her fist, twisting the earthbender’s arm and sending a jab to the gut to wind her. Lin doubles over briefly, before straightening up almost immediately and sends an uppercut straight for Kiko’s jaw.

The waterbender swears under her breath as she feels her teeth collide, feet stumbling backwards as she feels Lin’s presence follow her. Wow, she is really not pulling her punches. Kiko thinks, tasting a hint of metallic blood in her mouth.

The two agreed not to go easy on one another, excited to be able to properly spar without knowing that they are seriously going to injure one another. They are both on the same level when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, after all.

However, just as Kiko recovers from the blow, Lin sweeps her legs out from under her, causing the taller of the two to go falling to the floor. She lands on her front, and Lin gets on top of her, wrapping an arm around her neck in a weak headlock, “Yield?”

Kiko makes a weak attempt to shake her head, but then decides to use Lin’s weight on her back against her, and rolls both of them over. Kiko is now on top of Lin, though the Beifong’s arm still had her trapped in a headlock.

The waterbender makes use of their position, jabbing Lin’s gut once again with her elbow until her grip weakened, and twists out of her hold. Kiko kneels on her abdomen with no real weight, grips the front of Lin’s now slightly dirty tank top and pulls her up slightly. Her arm comes up in a threatening position, “Do you yield?”

Lin hesitates for a moment, their eyes catching, before she huffs, “Yes.”

Kiko smiles, getting off the earthbender and offering a hand to her. Lin takes it, heaving herself off the cobble ground and stands. They shake hands almost jokingly, chuckling to themselves.

“Want to go get some tea? Katara is making some.” Lin offers, a soft smile still on her face.

Kiko nods, “Of course.”

Lin rolls her eyes at the reminder from Kiko, “Yeah, yeah. I was distracted that day, you know that.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Lin gives her an unimpressed look before they both feel a jostle as they dock, “We can take my Satomobile.”

Kiko nods and follows Lin to her car with a slightly grim expression on her face, “Lead the way.”

---

“So, you’re finally agreeing to join the programme, then?” Toph asks, legs crossed in a domineering way at her metal desk.

Kiko sighs and glances at Lin before agreeing, “Yes, I think it would be for the best.”

Toph nods but stays silent. She heaves out a sigh after what seems like an eternity to the two girls, before she motions to the man on her left, who Kiko assumes is a scribe, to get something from one of the filing cabinets.

He seems to understand what she wants straight away, and immediately starts rummaging through the overfilled metal files. “Take a seat.” The Chief motions to the chair in front of her desk.

Kiko does as she says, noticing that Lin moves to stand behind her seat.

“Are you comfortable with having Officer Beifong here while you do this?” Toph asks, gesturing towards where she knows her daughter is standing.

“Of course.”

The man in the room seems to have found what he needs, and places it in front of Kiko with a pen. The waterbender mutters out a small thanks before looking over the print.

Toph’s voice interrupts her again, “Normally, the Zheng Hai protection programme is reserved for important figures, particularly those who have already been targeted. However, considering your relation with the Avatar and my daughter, we will make an exception.”

“How charming.” Kiko mutters under her breath, catching Lin’s slight snicker from behind her.

It doesn’t take long to fill out all of the necessary fields of the paperwork. By 2 pm they are done.

The man standing next to Toph takes the piece of paper from in front of Kiko and files it away again.

“Thank you.” Kiko expresses her gratitude towards Toph, but also Lin. If it weren’t for her, Kiko probably wouldn’t have joined.

The Chief only nods, but Kiko knows that she appreciated the thanks.

The two women leave the office and walk through the bullpen back into the lobby of the station, before Lin is caught by another officer.

“Thought you weren’t in today, Beifong?” An older man asks her, tone teasing and cocky.

“Had something to do.” She doesn’t look him in the eye, instead focusing on the people working and milling about behind him.

“Oh yeah? This girl of yours get in trouble again?” He smirks almost viciously and Lin tries to ignore him, but he just has to open his mouth again, “She seems to be ‘round here lots recently. You into the naughty ones?” He looks Kiko up and down with a wolfish expression.

The waterbender feels her skin crawl, a slight sense of dread filling her, but doesn’t show her uneasiness.

Lin’s face goes bright red, but not in the cute, flustered way Kiko loves to see, “Shut up, Lieutenant Keta, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but her tone is warning.

Kiko grips onto Lin’s arm as he opens his mouth again, “What are you gonna do about it, Beifong? Cry to mommy?”

Lin's expression turns to one of anger and she scoffs, but as she’s about to yell at him, Kiko pulls on the arm she had grabbed onto, “Let’s get out of here.” The waterbender’s voice is steady as she walks away.

“That’s it! Get your pretty girlfriend of yours to fight your battles!” He barks after the pair, and Kiko can see Lin’s jaw clench tightly in anger.

They get back into the Satomobile, but neither open their mouths.

That is, before Kiko does, “Does he always harass you like that?”

Lin hesitates for a moment, “Ever since he got promoted a few months ago, he thinks that he can do whatever he wants.” She rolls her eyes.

Kiko wants to ask another question, but she knows she probably already has the answer to it, “Why haven’t you told Toph? Or me?”

Lin sighs, “Because then I’d be playing right into his game; he already thinks that I’m just a spoiled brat who used her position as the Chief’s daughter to get into the academy. If I go to mom, then I’d be exactly who he thinks I am.”

“Lin- no.” Kiko places a hand on her friend’s shoulder and coaxes her to look at her, “This is bullying, and you need to tell your boss, even if she is your mother.” Lin shakes her head again, but Kiko continues, “I can see that his words are hurting you.”

“It’s not that- It's- I just couldn’t stand hearing him talk about you in that way. And the way he looked at you... it- it made my skin crawl.”

Kiko hesitates before wrapping her other arm around the earthbender’s shoulders into a hug. It's a little awkward and uncomfortable because of the fact that they are in a car, but Kiko revels in the feeling of Lin’s hesitant arms circling her back.

“Please, speak to the Chief about this.” Kiko whispers against Lin’s neck. “You’re not weak, or turning into what Keta thinks you are if you do. You know that you’ve worked hard to get here. Why does some idiot’s opinions of you matter?”

“Because... it’s what everyone thinks, oh, she’s just using her mom’s position to get here. I know that it’s not true, but it’s not going to change my colleague’s opinions.”

Kiko shakes her head slightly, her nose bumping against Lin’s neck, “They’re only mad because you’re better at your job than they are.” She chuckles, attempting to lighten the air a little. Lin lets out a small huff of a laugh, “Seriously though... you’re not going to be able to completely change everyone’s views. It's tough knowing that people think these things about you, but you just have to remember that you’ll go further than any of them.” Kiko pulls away from the hug, placing her hands on Lin’s shoulders, “I mean, you’re a Beifong for spirits’ sake!”

Lin smiles a little bashfully, “You’re right.” She shakes her head and looks to the side, “I- this is hard, but I promise I’ll think about it.”

Kiko only nods, her mood rising at seeing the cute expression on her friend’s face, “Now, I want that dinner you were talking about. Take our minds off all of this drama.” She sits back properly in the passenger seat.

“Let’s go.” Lin starts the engine and drives deeper into the city.

---

Hours pass as the two enjoy each other’s companies.

Lin managed to park her Satomobile on the side of the road somewhere, using her badge as an indicator that she was allowed to, even though she wasn’t on patrol. Kiko teased her for using her position to do that a little, if only to see her flustered expression.

Between them, the pair agreed on a little Fire Nation diner. It was quaint and had a cozy, homely feel. There were a few paintings of famous Fire Nation jazz singers on the walls, the reds and blacks of their clothes popping out on the walls. Kiko and Lin even recognised a few.

However, all good things must come to an end.

They walk out of the restaurant, Kiko holding a small bag, in which she carried some left over noodle soup and roasted komodo chicken. They were both a little tipsy, having drank a few glasses of plum wine between them.

Lin heaves a sigh as they stand on the pavement, “I think I’m going to walk home. Probably shouldn’t be driving like this.” She has her hands in the pockets of her jacket. The same jacket Kiko had borrowed all of those months ago.

Kiko nods, “I’m walking to the docks, too.”

“Just- be careful, alright?” Lin’s eyebrows furrow in concern, and Kiko appreciated that she is not telling her to stay at hers. She doesn’t think that she can risk another note being found in Lin’s apartment. They've already done it once, what’s stopping them from breaking in again?

“You too.” Kiko responds, smiling before looking around, “I’d better get home; I don’t want to miss the 11 o’clock ferry.”

Lin nods, “See you later.”

“See you later.”

They part ways, walking in opposite directions.

Kiko feels more than slightly hesitant to be walking alone at night, the hair on the back of her neck excruciatingly aware that someone could be following her right now.

But there is something that she just needs to do.

#lin beifong x reader #lin beifong #lin beifong x oc #legend of korra #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanart #original characters #toph beifong #kya ii #tenzin #suyin beifong #slow burn #friends to lovers

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