#au. let me pick up your heart ; the crystalline shine of your love for me. / sugar sugar rune.

[dawnled]

tag post #5 ( au verses #2 ) !

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

SPOILERS! SORRY i wanna request another annie x reader, this includes spoilers like season 4 episode 8, and when annie comes out of her crystal in the manga so feel free to ignore! basically, reader was in sasha’s place and ended up dying when gabi shot her. after annie comes out of her crystal, the scouts explain to her what happened to reader. when annie and the scouts see gabi again, annie has a breakdown and screams at gabi how much reader meant to her? <3 tysm!!

You guys are sending me on an Annie brainrot, I’m not even kidding...

Also, the part where Annie comes out of the crystal hasn’t been animated yet (I already knew it happened cause of spoilers don’t worry), so I kinda just looked it up really quickly, so it might not be super accurate but ya know.

ALSO I LISTENED TO “I love you” BY BILLIE EILISH WHILE WRITING THIS AND IT HONESTLY ADDS TO THE MOOD SO MUCH BUT IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Tragedies of War

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon (Somewhat non-compliant)

Warnings: Slight violence, season 4 spoilers

Category: Angst

Summary: After coming out of the crystal, Annie searches for her s/o, and when she receives news of your passing, she searches for the one who ended their life in order to get closure.

Words: 5.0K

The sun shined harshly onto the parched dirt below your feet, and a swift pivot of your foot kicked a small cloud of dust into the space that surrounded your legs. You had dodged Annie’s punch flawlessly, and you held your hands up to your head defensively, just as she had taught you.

For a moment, a smile graced her lips. She was proud of how quickly you were catching up to her technique. She had taken up the task of teaching you basic martial arts and hand-to-hand combat after you expressed your dismay at being so inept at it.

Her fists raised to her face once again, signifying her readiness to continue.

You slowly approached her, preparing to land a strong hit, and hoping to get the upper hand against the experienced blonde girl.

Once you were in range, she swung her right fist swiftly towards your face, but a quick shift of your head to the right managed to have her arm swing right into the air above your shoulder. You acted quickly, not giving her the chance to recoil her arm or regain her stance, and delivered a harsh uppercut to the underside of her jaw with your idle right hand.

She stumbled backwards in a mixture of shock and slight pain. She had to admit, the late night training the two of you had been partaking in for the past few weeks was starting to pay off. Your uppercut was stronger than it had ever been, and a dull aching pain spread rapidly through her whole jaw, rocking her usually tense form ever so slightly. She brought her left hand up to rub her jaw, trying to sooth the pain as she winced.

“Impressive.” She muttered through her clenched teeth. Outwardly, she seemed annoyed, but inside, she was pleased at your performance. “You’re improving Y/n. Sooner or later, I might have to start to actually try against you.”

You chuckled nervously, reminded of how many levels above you Annie was. Still, a spur of confidence surged through you at the successful hit, and you raised your hands once again. You let out a satisfied huff.

“Well then, let’s see it!” You smiled confidently, high off of the delusion that you could possibly beat Annie’s master level combat skills.

You charged at her more recklessly this time, and reused your previous uppercut in attempt to catch her off guard once again. In response, she arched her back, tilting her head away from your fist effortlessly. Before you even had the time to acknowledge that you had missed, her left hand struck your stomach fiercely, and as you buckled over in pain, she placed her hands on the back of your head, and drove your face to her kneecap unrestrained.

You sunk down into a heap onto the dirt, clutching at your stomach in pain. You coughed dryly, trying to regain the breath that had just been knocked out of your chest oh so mercifully.

“O-Owww... That was... A little rough, Annie...” You choked out between pants.

“Well, you seemed confident. I needed to knock you down a peg.” She stared at you, unamused.

She waited a moment for you to stand up so the two of you could resume training, but you stayed hunched over on the dirt as crimson started to drip slowly from your nose. The small whimper of pain that left your lips ignited a twinge of sympathy in the girl, and she knelt down next to you to grab your hands and cautiously lift you up.

Her attention shifted to the blood that leaked from your nose, and she averted her eyes. It was training, you were bound to get hurt no matter what, but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty over your minor injury.

She walked over to the small pile of towels she had set aside, originally there in case one or both of you got too sweaty and needed a break. She picked up one from the top of the pile and brought it to your nose to try and prevent the blood from leaving stains on your clothes. After all, you only had so many shirts, and they were seldom washed to remove stains.

“Maybe I was a little rough there... sorry...” She murmured, embarrassed at how soft the whole situation was making her feel.

An adorable giggle left your lips, and Annie looked at you in confusion. What is she laughing about? What’s so funny?

Her look of confusion didn’t help you keep your composure, as you started full blown laughing.

“Y/n??” Annie asked, accidentally bringing the towel away from your face. “What it is??”

Your laughter died down, and after letting out one final chuckle, you spoke up. “You’re just really cute, especially when you’re worried.”

She blushed at that, still not used to the verbal affection that you were so fond of giving her.

Flustered, she tilted her head down to rest her head longingly on your shoulder. You grinned once again as you felt a gentle smile curve upwards on her lips.

“Take it back...” Her voice faltered. She was deeply conflicted between accepting the compliment or insisting that she wasn’t cute.

You only chuckled once again. Her inability to think of anything to do in response to affection was even cuter.

You grabbed her wrist, and brought it up to your face. You started gently and endearingly ghosting kisses along her skin, starting at the wrist and moving wordlessly up her arm. You stopped for a moment though, just to hug her arm into your chest lovingly.

“I love you Annie...”

“...”

“I love you too...”

*CRASH*

Cold. That’s all it felt like. Cold.

Something was... wrong... very wrong... but she couldn’t place her finger on what.

Her eyes peeled open slowly, and the first coherent thought she would have after four years started to form in her mind.

Oh... I’m on the floor...

She sat up slowly, her tense joints and muscles refusing to give her an easy time of it. Once she stood up on her unsteady, almost shaky legs, she stretched, surveying the room around her.

Small fragments of icy crystalline shards lay scattered at her feet. It took one bewildered look behind her for her scatterbrained mind to form together an understanding of what was going on.

I... I’m free from the crystal...? Why?

She glanced around, confused and desperate for any indication of why she was free. There were no MPs in the room, nor any scouts or Marleyan soldiers. Clearly, no one was intentionally trying to set her free.

After assessing the situation to ease her mind a little, she shuffled backwards and slid down the wall, taking a deep, full breath for the first time in years. The air felt great, she had to admit, and being able to move once again was certainly freeing. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head in her arms tranquilly. She loved feeling free once again, but she felt her heart tug, as it was yearning for something... or someone.

Her head perked up abruptly, a memory flashing through her brain. She was training with you... her girlfriend.

It had been four years since she’d seen you... she wondered what you would look like now. Had you been having fun with everyone? Did you find out the truth and escape the walls?

An anxious thought ruthlessly tore it’s way through Annie’s brain. Did something happen to you? Did you take your final breaths cold and alone while she slept like a baby in the stupid crystal? Were you devoured by a titan that her own nation sent to kill you? Did you... die hating her?

She stood up abruptly, swinging her leg back and kicking a shard of crystal across the room and letting out a huff through her clenched. Surely not. She’s an extremely strong soldier. I know her better than anyone else would. Nothing could have happened to her...

But, still, a seed of worry had already planted itself in her stomach. Still, she just had to see you again. Not only did she need to make sure that you were unharmed by this senselessness, but just to see you once more. She couldn’t care less what become of her, especially now that she had escaped. She wanted to treasure one more conversation with her lover, and to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you. God, she was missing those little things so bad right now.

Her mind shifted to the first step towards seeing you- getting out of this shitty dungeon. The wooden door was unlocked and unguarded, at least from this side. She took quiet, strategic steps towards the door, and creaked open the door gently, as to not alert anyone outside of her presence.

A lone guard stood with their back turned to the door. One look at the short and wavy cream colored locks and she was easily identified as Hitch, her old MP roommate.

She made a quick dash, stopping behind the unaware girl and placing one hand over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise, and the other arm was wrapped tightly over Hitch’s neck. She felt the girl tense up considerably out fear in her grasp.

“Take me to the Scouts.”

---

Within the day, she had arrived at the current residence of Scouts. She had convinced some of the higher up MPs to let her see them, with much pleading of course, and on the promise that she would do absolutely no harm, and she would be under MP supervision the whole time.

She walked along the worn dirt path quickly, an MP standing to either side of her, holding both of her arms as to prevent any chance of Annie attacking. She stepped right in front of the door, and her heart filled with both excitement and anxiousness as she thought about her lover, who was most likely waiting on the other side.

An MP dully knocked on the door, and a disgruntled Levi answered.

“Military Police? What are you doing here?” He asked, unamused at the sudden presence of guests.

Peering over his shoulder from inside, Armin’s eyes widened as he recognized the anxious girl in the doorway. “Annie? What are you doing here? Why are you out of your crystal??” He started to jog to the front door, standing next to a confused Levi.

“You know her?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, from our cadet years. She didn’t join the Scouts though.” His gaze shifted from Levi’s eyes to the floor, an unreadable expression painting his face. “She’s also a Marleyan Warrior.”

Annie’s eyes widened at the mention of the Warrior Program. Of course they found out...

Levi turned around to head back inside, deciding this was none of his business. “Take care of it Armin.” He let out a small chuckle before continuing. “I thought we were getting arrested again.”

Armin’s eyes followed Levi as he walked away, but he turned back to face the MPs and Annie once again. She admired him for a moment. He seemed more mature now, but at the same time, it seemed some of the childish wonder had left his eyes in place of a more hopeless, dead look in his eyes. Such was to be expected of a soldier long at war.

“What are you doing here?” Arming questioned, staring at Annie.

“I... uh...” It wasn’t until now that she considered that admitting the only reason she was here was her lovesickness would be a little embarrassing, but she had to explain. Still, she altered her motives just a little bit so she wouldn’t seem so hopelessly devoted to you. “I broke out of the crystal... somehow... and I just wanted to visit you all one more time.” Even if she wasn’t directly speaking about you, admitting that she missed any of the people from her cadet days made her fluster up a little bit.

Armin stepped out of the way, beckoning her and the MPs to come inside. She stepped inside curiously, gazing at the inside of the building. It doesn’t seem half bad in here...

The MPs followed her cautiously, and still held both of her arms securely behind her back. Armin saw this, and motioned with his hand for them to let go, before speaking calmly.

“She’s not a threat, you can release her.”

The MPs loosened their grip on Annie, allowing her arms to fall comfortably at their sides. The two officers stepped back and against the wall, deciding to stay there to observe the situation.

Annie took the time to gaze around at the soldiers surrounding her. People looked on at her with many emotions. Some were indifferent, since they didn’t know her, but many were weary of her Warrior status, and a select few stared at her with pity-filled expressions. She continued to look to see if she recognized anyone in the crowd. Most faces were unfamiliar, but certain people stood out to her from her memories. Mikasa, Eren, Connie, Jean, Sasha... she glanced around, searching for the faces of her old comrades, but more so, she was looking for you.

“Everyone has changed a lot, haven’t they?” Armin sighed, looking at the ground with a look of sad nostalgia.

After a few more seconds of searching, she failed to find your beautiful e/c eyes anywhere in the room, and the seed of worry in the pit of her stomach began to grow, her palms growing clammy with anxiety.

“Where is Y/n?” She spat out abruptly, worry evident in her voice. She couldn’t bear any small talk at this point, she just desperately wanted to see where you were.

Her eyes widened as she looked back to Armin. His mournful expression by itself answered her question clearly, but she refused to pay any attention to it.

She gazed around at the others in the room desperately. Everyone from the 104th Cadet Corps (in other words, everyone that knew about the Annie’s relationship with the h/c haired girl) had the same expression.

Their faces were all laced with the same emotion.

Pity.

The kind of pity that you see when a neighbor has to tell the little kid down the street that the family puppy got hit by a car, or the kind of pity that you have when somebody gets their life’s work stolen from them, or, in this case, the kind of pity where you are forced to tell a distraught individual that their lover died at war. That kind of pity.

She didn’t want to believe it. No, she couldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t be bothered to close her slacked jaw, or to hide the distress on her face as she waits for the possibility that she was reading the room wrong.

Armin looked to his side, averting his eyes. He truly couldn’t find it in his heart to answer the question.

It wasn’t until the distinct clacking of boots on the hardwood floor started to approach her that she snapped out of her trance.

The person approached Annie slowly, but calmly, and Annie took a moment to scan her face. The stranger was decorated with a Scout badge on her shoulder, and a shiny medal hung from their neck. They had auburn/brown hair that was tucked into a loose ponytail behind their head, and an eyepatch covering their left eye.

The person had a sorrowful look as they grabbed Annie’s limp hand and encased it in their own.

“I am Hange Zoe, commander of the Scouts.” They said courteously. They bowed her head in mourning and respect as she continued on. “It’s my displeasure to have to inform you of this, but during a semi-recent mission to the city of Liberio, Y/n was shot and killed by a Marleyan.”

All of the sudden, everything stopped.

No sound, no motion, no nothing. It had just... frozen.

She had a feeling that the person in front of her was still talking, based on the fact that their lips were still moving, but she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear anything. All that enveloped her ears was ringing. Painful, painful ringing.

She had stopped shaking, and she was certain her hand had gone cold in the other person’s grasp.

She didn’t understand it at all.

“How...” A barely audible whisper ghosted from her lips, and Hange’s word stopped in their throat. “How did this happen?” She grit her teeth and spoke out shaky words of disbelief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “How did someone like her... die...?” The last word of her sentence was so light in volume, yet so heavy in emotion. It’s almost as if the blonde girl couldn’t even comprehend the word itself.

“It was a warrior candidate.” Someone spoke from the other side of the room, and both Annie and Hange turned to look. The speaker leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a scowl adorning his features.

“Floch, now isn’t the time-” Hange quietly tried to coax the man into shutting up and letting Annie grieve, but he continued to speak.

“That little bitch- she climbed aboard the ship using stolen ODM gear, took a gun, and shot into the crowd of soldiers blindly. Hit Y/n in the chest, she dropped to the ground in seconds.” He continued to explain so nonchalantly, as if the death of a comrade was just another casualty in his eyes. His calmness made Annie want to knock him out cold, but she wanted him to finish. She desperately needed to know.

“We beat the shit out of her for a minute- her and some other little blonde kid. They’re in holding cells downstairs as we speak.” Annie’s eyes widened as she thought about her girlfriend’s killer residing in the same exact building as her. Dark thoughts of violence flashed through her mind as she imagined all the things she would do to the murderer if she just got a chance. All she needed was a few minutes.

“I wasn’t with her when she died, but Mikasa, Armin, and Connie were. I think her last words were directed to you, but I don’t remember what she said.” He folded his arms and looked away, a subtle indication that he had finished speaking.

The room was still with tense, stagnant air. No one moved, nor spoke. Annie tried desperately to gather her thoughts, to try and think rationally about all of this- but she couldn’t. Rage and sorrow flooded her mind, and any other thoughts were just a blur. She was going to go confront this person. No, she swore, she was going to kill her.

Taking advantage of the stagnant environment (and the MPs questionable devotion to their guard duties) Annie made a mad dash towards the hallway.

The tears were rolling down her cheeks unrestrained now, and she made no effort to wipe them away. Normally, she would never let anyone see her this emotional. Well, no one other than you, of course.

She ran to the end of the hallway, and found the staircase that led to where the supposed murderer was- the basement. She swore she could hear chaos filled yells from behind her, but she couldn’t pick out if they were directed to her or this “Floch” guy, and frankly, she didn’t care.

She rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping because of how hurried she was, and reached the only jail cell that remained locked.

Gazing through the bars, she was met with two figures, both sitting slumped on the beds. One had short blonde hair, with a lost and confused look in his eyes, while the other had the same auburn hair as Hange, alongside chestnut colored eyes that were swelled over in rage. They looked battered and filthy, but that was to be expected of any prisoner of the Scout Regiment.

Still, their faces ignited a twinge of sympathy in Annie’s bruised heart. They were the faces of children. Lost, confused- they hadn’t began to even sort the world out. They still had lives to live, so much opportunity ahead of them. Opportunity that was not to be found in the Warrior Program.

Regardless, nothing could stop her from getting to that child on the other side of the bars. The anger in her eyes would easily single her out as the guilty party. No one with kind eyes, like the blonde boy’s, could have done this.

The children gazed upon her, mostly with confusion, but also a mix of fear and apprehension. Despite her relatively small size, she could look pretty damn intimidating when she was pissed.

A swift, but strong kick hit the ancient rusty lock, and it snapped open easily. The forced of the kick cause the door to swing wide open, and no longer did anything separate her from the monster that just crumbled her world from all around her.

Dangerously slow steps approached the girl as she gazed on with both fear and aggressive apprehension. The blonde boy could do nothing but watch bewilderedly.

“You...” A low whisper escaped Annie’s throat, like the shriek of a ghost trying to breach the worlds between the living and the dead.

She stopped walking when she reached the bed, and she gazed at the floor silently. She wondered if this was the sympathy that lay locked in her heart. She couldn’t say she didn’t understand the girl, after all, Annie was a warrior candidate once too. She knew what it was like, the desperation to get picked and become an honorary Marleyan, and to not disappoint your family- she got it. It led you to do a lot of things, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for anyone caught up in the twisted program, especially since she was only a child, twelve at most.

The flicker of empathy that burned quietly in her chest was quickly snuffed out, however, as images of your bleeding form crying out for her, alone and in pain, floated in her mind tauntingly.

She grabbed her right arm with her other hand, and let out hushed breath, before leaning her head back and bursting into hysterical, almost maniacal, laughter.

None of this was fair at all. Why did she lose you? Why did you have to die? Why you? Why? Why why why why why why-

“WHY?!” She suddenly screamed, tugging on the front of the girl’s shirt and throwing her across the room carelessly, adrenaline flowing through her and giving her all the strength she needed.

The girl collided with the wall with a thud, and fell into a heap on the floor with a yelp. But, Annie wasn’t done. She marched over and picked up the girl by the collar and slowly raised her off of the ground. She held her against the wall with fury in her eyes, and the girl winced in pain as her feet lifted from the floor and kicked helplessly into the air.

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO IT?!” Annie screamed, her eyes wide with trauma and lips frozen in a broken frown. “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HER, DAMMIT?! DID YOU EVER THINK BEFORE YOU CHOSE TO KILL SOMEONE?! WHAT THEY MIGHT MEAN TO SOMEONE?!”

Annie vigorously shook the terrified girl, trying desperately to get some sort of point across. Any point was lost in the translation of anger and grief, however. But for now, scaring the shit out of this girl would have to do.

“Dammit...” The tears that had been held back for so long started to flow once again. All she saw was you... your smile, your laugh, everything about you was just so perfect. She yearned to see you just one more time, and to have one final conversation with you.

“Dammit! Don’t you understand?! I was going to spend the rest of my fucking life with that girl! We were gonna get married and settle down and live a normal fucking life! That’s all I ever wanted! I was supposed to be there for her through everything, and you let her die cold and alone because of what?! What did you gain out of this?! Do you feel proud?! Satisfied?! Do you enjoy the blood on your hands?!”

Her hands stilled around the stiff fabric of the shirt that she still clenched in her hands. The girl had giving up on clawing Annie’s grip from her- Annie wouldn’t let go.

A final, lowly chuckle left her lips, her hands slowly relaxed, and the girl slowly slid down the wall, and her feet connected with the ground at last, but the girl didn’t run away. She could, if she truly wanted to, but she stayed there in the blonde girl’s grip. Perhaps guilt, or perhaps fear. Annie couldn’t tell, of course. Her vision was too blurry from tears to make out facial expressions.

Sobs started to wrack Annie’s body as she struggled to keep her composure, and one of her hands left the worn shirt to instead go up to her mouth, covering her mouth as she started to breakdown further into grief.

“I... I loved her...” She chocked out quietly. “I loved her so much... and now... I’ll never get to... see her again.” Her other hand finally let go of the cloth, and she leaned that arm against the wall for support as she leaned her trembling body onto it, her forehead meeting the cold stone.

The final realization of her lover’s death hit her like a brick as her sobs wrecked helplessly through her body, and she shut her eyes in mourning, or perhaps to pretend that nothing had even changed at all...

“I... I miss her...”

She stood there for a moment, and although she could feel the gazes of the two children on her, she didn’t care. She stood there in silence, crying silently in vain for her lover to return to her.

After what felt like hours, a gentle hand placed itself upon Annie’s shoulder. She turned around hesitantly, and was met with Armin’s saddened gaze.

“Annie, I...” He averted his eyes and gazed at the two children still inside the cell, as well as Mikasa, Connie, and Jean, who all appeared silently in front of the open prison door. “I think it’s time to go.”

---

“Her last words?” Connie questioned sorrowfully.

“Yes.” Annie leaned her back against the stone grave and gazed into the moon as it began to rise elegantly over the horizon. “What did she say?”

“Well...” His eyes darkened as he slowly started to recount the events that unfolded that day.

“When she was first shot... and I ran to her side to try and talk to her, and see how bad it was. She said your name, Annie. I thought it was a little strange at first, until she cupped my cheek and smiled at me. She lost a lot of blood, and fast, so I figure that she may have been hallucinating, and thought I was you for some reason.” He chuckled painfully at that, conflicted on whether to be sorrowful or nostalgic about that moment.

“I was screaming at her to hold on until we arrived at the island, but there was just too much bleeding. There was nothing that we could do. But, she told me something else right before she died...”

-

“Hey, Annie... Don’t be sad, okay? I promise you... w-we... will meet again sometime. Maybe another life, or in heaven... I don’t really care. I don’t really want you to forget me, but... let me go. You have your own life to live, even if mine ends... here. This is a senseless war anyways. But... if even just my sacrifice... can slowly bring... c-closure to all this fighting... than it’ll have been worth it, I promise you. So, in that regard, I don’t regret anything. Just... stay strong for me, Annie... I l-love you...”

-

Connie finished speaking, and turned his back away from Annie respectfully as the tears started to fall yet again.

“Try not to get too cold out here...” He stated bluntly before leaving.

After a few minutes, and she was sure he and anyone else was gone, she slowly shifted to lay right underneath the tombstone. The moon now shone brightly upon her, and reflected beautifully against the grave stone. She didn’t figure that this was how she would be spending her night with you, but she felt a least a little solace in being alone with you again, under the vast, unaware stars that freckled the night’s sky above.

Her mind having finally been cleared, she came up with a conclusion that she was honestly ashamed for not reaching earlier.

This was a senseless war. A war where everyone is a victim. It wasn’t Annie’s fault, nor was it yours, or Eren’s, or even Gabi’s- as she had soon learned was the girl’s name. All this fighting amounted to nothing but bloodshed and loss.

She peered around her surroundings, and pondered if every solemn gravestone belonged to someone who was loved in the same way that she loved you. She stopped to wonder, as well, about all the Scouts she had murdered during that time as the female titan. She thought back to Marco, as well. All of it was pointless. Every single person meant something to someone, and she was so cruel for ripping that away. This stupid war- she should say- is cruel for ripping it away.

War never felt so cruel until it affected her like this.

It was like your final conversation that she could ever have with you, one that she would have from beyond your grave. A conversation of ideas, and of hope for a future without bloodshed.

Truly, the reality of it started to set it. Even without you, she would do all she could to stop the bloodshed. It meant sacrifices. Sacrifices, most notably, like you. She would’ve given anything for you to be at her side- to end this conflict with her, but she sighed as she figured that it just wasn’t meant to be that way. Your death wasn’t in vain, though, as it helped her understand.

With or without you, she would fight to end this war, no matter the costs.

WHY IS THIS SO LONG HOLY-

i did this instead of maintaining a consistent posting schedule...

Still, I hope you don’t mind how unusually long and detailed this is, I may have gotten a little hooked on the prompt.

Hope you enjoyed it, after all that effort lmaooo

[hongism]

the little things - k. hongjoong

↣ pairing: hongjoong x reader; ft. seonghwa, san, mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.8k ↣ summary: a job doesn’t go as planned for hongjoong, and you’re left to pick up the pieces ↣ warnings: mentioned illness and death

Hongjoong arguably has the hardest job out of anyone in the coven. You are well aware of that, and the pressure he feels from being the leader of the coven doesn’t help one bit, especially since the majority of the public eye’s judgment falls on his shoulders. He would never admit it out loud, but that pains him quite a bit, even if he is willing to take the judgment of others so his coven doesn’t have to. Seonghwa helps in those moments of weakness, lulling Hongjoong to sleep with a quick spell or trying a myriad of other things to calm the man, but it must be worse than usual for Seonghwa to call on you to help with the issue.

Hongjoong’s magic is draining mostly due to the fact that he is eclectic and likes to dabble in everything. Some spells take more out of him than others, some take no effort, and others require days if not weeks of recovery time. Now, however, there seems to be a different issue.

“A job went south.” That’s the only explanation you got from Seonghwa, but the small shake of his head told you all you needed to know. Because jobs don’t just go south for Hongjoong.

That is what lands you here — steps outside Hongjoong’s room with hand raised and ready to rap roughly against the wood several times. You aren’t sure what awaits you inside, but considering the very late hour, you are hoping to find Hongjoong asleep. The faint yellow candlelight filtering under the door tells you otherwise though, and that’s why you opt to knock rather than barging in unannounced.

“Come in.” Hongjoong sounds tired even in the two small words, but it isn’t the typical kind of tired you’re used to hearing from people. You are used to the exhaustion of the body, people coming to your door for sleep remedies, and nightmare potions meant to dispel the bad dreams that keep them up at night. The exhaustion in Hongjoong’s voice is one that resides deep in the body, one that eats away at the bones and muscles, breaks you down until you can hardly keep your head up. It’s nothing you can’t fix with a simple herbal concoction, but Seonghwa didn’t ask you to bring anything. He didn’t expect you to use your alchemy to fix Hongjoong, thus you’re going to have to rely on words and comfort instead.

You twist the handle as quietly as you can so that you don’t disturb the other sleeping men in the house. Sneaking in was hard enough, especially since Jongho was sprawled out on the couch with Yeosang’s lithe cat form curled up directly on his stomach, but you managed to get past the two of them with little to no disturbances. (And you delivered a few head scratches to Yeosang but that’s beside the point).

“Are you here to heat the tea again? I forgot all about it — oh.” Hongjoong’s thought falls short when he turns to face you, no doubt assuming that it was Seonghwa knocking for the umpteenth time tonight, but instead, he finds you with your hands tucked behind your back and lips stretched into a small smile. “What are you doing here? Did something happen back at the cottage? Did you come alone? Please tell me that you at least carried a ward or charm with you. That walk isn’t safe alone at this hour and I—”

“Hongjoong, darling, please.” Your smile stretches bit by bit as you move towards where Hongjoong is seated at his desk. Back hunched almost painfully, the man seems to be slaving over some old tomes, several books cracked open and laid bare before him, and your heart squeezes tight in your chest from the sight. There’s a barely touched mug of tea alongside the books, no doubt cold at this point, and the small lamp sitting on the corner of the desk illuminates the space.

The tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders remains even as you get within touching distance of him, and you dart a hand out to brush a few loose strands of hair off his forehead. The dark locks cave under your fingers, letting you tuck them back with little resistance. Hongjoong sighs from the gentle touches.

“Long day?” you murmur, despite already knowing the answer.

“Fucked up an important job,” Hongjoong sighs in response. He drops his head and faces forward again, staring down at the book before him. You take the opportunity to look in the same direction but you regret doing so a moment later because of what you see on the page.

Curing terminal illness with magic.

You tug at the back of Hongjoong’s chair, pulling him away from his desk with as much strength you can muster, but eventually he caves and assists you in pushing the chair back. You leave just enough room for you to slip between him and the desk before dropping your hands to his shoulders. No words come from your lips for quite some time; the two of you just remain in that position until tension begins to ebb away from Hongjoong’s shoulders. And the moment that begins to happen, you take advantage of it, dropping atop his lap with little effort and slipping your legs about his waist. Hongjoong’s hands secure at your hips.

Even the slight touch fills your body with energy — it’s weak and fragile, evidence of how much magic Hongjoong used today and how much he’s struggling to even stay awake right now — and you push yourself closer to him in attempts to offer at least some warmth and comfort.

Seonghwa would be better suited for this as a witch, or even San since the man is Hongjoong’s familiar, and yet you were called upon to help Hongjoong. You, the herbalist and alchemist with no magical ability in your bones. It’s a daunting task being asked to help Hongjoong without knowing what to do or having the skills that the others have. Still, you refuse to let that lack of confidence shine through in the slightest, bringing your hands up to cup Hongjoong’s sharp jawline and lift his head. He blinks back at you with wide eyes, dark orbs swirling with a mix of emotions that leaves a deep-seated pain in your heart.

“My love, what happened?”

Hongjoong blinks away from you. Before either of you know it, tears are springing to his eyes, welling them up with crystalline drops that glisten under the yellow lamplight. Not a single one falls quite yet; they still hold onto his eyelashes and waterline for the time being, but the moment he starts speaking, you know they’ll begin to fall. You wait as long as he needs you to, patient as ever as he collects himself and takes several deep breaths to calm down a bit before talking again.

“I promised his father that I would be able to heal him and fix him,” Hongjoong exhales against the exposed part of your neck. “I – h-he trusted me, and I… he died.”

Your arms tighten a bit around Hongjoong out of sheer instinct, and Hongjoong’s breaths tremble before he’s able to get his next words out. You don’t force him to continue the thought; you’ve heard enough to know how badly the job went and why Seonghwa was so concerned when he talked to you earlier. Your fingers brush over the base of Hongjoong’s neck, combing gently through the locks of hair the reside there in a desperate attempt to offer him some comfort.

You don’t need to ask what he’s talking about to understand. There can only be one patient he’s referring to – the young boy of about nine who suffered from a tragic terminal illness, one that left him bed-ridden for years before Hongjoong came along. It only took Hongjoong two weeks to get the boy out of his bed, and another three for the boy to walk around normally. Within two months, he could run and play outside once more, and in the third, the boy and his father were going on weekly fishing trips that always resulted in Seonghwa getting vast deliveries of black bass and rainbow trout. The young boy’s case has always been Hongjoong’s pride — the one job he never tires of, the one he would always return to, the most important one he’s ever had. There were no signs of things going south again.

“I-I wanted his father to be mad at me. Scold me and harass me and berate me. Call me a failure because that’s – that’s what I am, but h-he just… smiled. Told me not to take it too harshly. I was a last-ditch effort as it was. He didn’t expect anything to work and y-yet I was able to at least prolong his son’s death for a few precious months. He was grateful — grateful. Even though his son d-died. Even though I couldn’t save him.”

You pull back to look Hongjoong in the eye now. Dark eyes search yours, still glistening with tears that fall freely now, and they seek answers that you don’t have. All you can do is hold his face with the gentlest touch manageable and bring your forehead down to rest against his.

“Death… death is fickle, mio caro. She takes as much as life gives and is as elusive as a cloud on a clear day. We can’t control her no matter how much we try. While you have the ability to prolong her cold touch, no one can keep her away forever. You gave this boy months of life – a life he was able to cherish and use to the fullest. That was enough. You did enough.” You drag the pads of your thumbs over Hongjoong’s cheeks collecting the tears and brushing them away with ease. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as you trace faint patterns across his skin.

“I just keep thinking about the ‘what if’s. What if I had noticed the changes sooner? What if I had been quicker to help him? To find a solution or a spell or just… something – anything. Could I have given him more time? His father seemed ready b-but the pain in his eyes when I delivered the news is not something I could readily forget.”

“You don’t have to forget that pain, Hongjoong. No one is asking you to. But put aside the possibilities, and look at reality.”

“The reality is that he died.”

“But not because of you,” you counter with haste, gaze sharpening on Hongjoong a bit as he opens his mouth to protest. “Were you the cause of his illness?”

“…No.”

“Did you do everything in your power to help him?”

“Yes, but there is alwa—”

“Shush, darling.” You drop a hand to where one of Hongjoong’s rests against your hip, taking it in yours and lifting it to your chest. You place his hand directly over your heart and fall completely silent so that he can feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat. “Do you feel that?” You inquire once a few seconds have passed.

“Yes.”

“That’s life, Joong.” A soft smile overtakes your lips. “Where there is death, there is also life. And we cannot focus on the life before us if we are too consumed by the cold touch of death. As much as you want to hear that you’ve failed or made a mistake or deserve to be hated, it is not what you deserve because none of those things are true. You gave that man and his son the most precious gift of all for those months: time. Time they spent together whereas before they could not.”

“Notre petite étoile is right.”

You don’t need to turn to see who’s just stepping into the room; the little nickname is enough to tell you who it is since there’s only one man in the house who speaks French and calls you by that name. Hongjoong looks up though, arms squeezing around your waist as he looks to where Seonghwa stands at the edge of the room.

“Are you two ganging up on me?” Hongjoong grumbles. You and Seonghwa merely laugh in response, the latter man coming closer to the desk. He pauses at the edge to glance down at Hongjoong’s mug of tea and wordlessly traces small patterns against the side of the mug. Before you know it, small wisps of steam curl into the air above the liquid, and Seonghwa has once again heated the tea. The smile he wears signals that it’s something he’s done time and time again tonight, but he doesn’t make it seem like a chore or a burden at all, hand reaching out to comb through Hongjoong’s dark hair. Hongjoong sighs into the touch. There’s a gentle silence that drapes over the room next – one that Hongjoong relaxes under with your scent and Seonghwa’s intermingling under his nose.

Seonghwa doesn’t stop his rhythmic motions until Hongjoong’s shoulders have dropped all the tension stored in them, then he moves around the back of his chair and leans over it. You aren’t quite sure what he’s up to until two fingers curl under your chin and lift your head to greet his.

“My little star,” he murmurs before dipping closer to press a soft kiss against your lips. “One for you, and—” Seonghwa pulls back to glance down at Hongjoong, finding expectant and wide eyes blinking back up at him, then he parts Hongjoong’s bangs and places a second kiss to the exposed skin of his forehead “—one for you, my sweet starlight. The sun will rise soon, along with our darling sunrise to do the yard work. You two ought to get some rest before the chaos begins.”

“I should get home so I can prep the shop for morning opening,” you whisper, beginning to pull away from Hongjoong inch by inch. You half-expect Seonghwa to be the one to urge you to stay with pleading eyes and lingering touches that most definitely hold a bit of magic to them, but this time, he doesn’t say a word. Rather, it’s Hongjoong who tightens his hold on you and clings to you as though he might lose you if he dares to let go. You don’t realize it right away – perhaps you’re too distracted by the haziness of the late hour or by Seonghwa’s presence in the room – but when Hongjoong’s hands move up to brush over your shoulder blades, there is a sudden sense of desperation in his touch. Seonghwa smiles from off to the side.

“I’ll tell the younger ones not to bother you too much. Sleep as much as you need to. Yeosang and I will take care of the shop, étoile.” Seonghwa turns on his heel and walks towards the door again, leaving you and Hongjoong to watch his retreating form in silence. Just before he disappears completely, however, he shifts to look at the two of you once more. “I could get used to such a vision in our home.”

“Hm?” You echo, confusion evident on both your features and in your tone.

“You being here often, Hongjoong distracted from work long enough to focus on something else, San sneaking up the stairs behind me and hiding outside the door while we talk.” Seonghwa cracks a smile and pushes the door wide open. A startled San pops out from behind the wood, broad shoulders curling inwards in his momentary shame, but Seonghwa doesn’t let that last long and brings a warm hand to the younger man’s waist. He doesn’t say anything else, slipping out of the room behind San’s form and leaving the familiar in his place.

“Come, come, darling.” Hongjoong motions for San to come further into the room as he nudges you up, and you quickly slip off the man’s lap to stand on your own feet again. The breath leaves your lungs in a huff as a pair of arms suddenly wraps around your body, squeezing you in a tight embrace. The lines of sinew and muscle could only belong to San though you never saw him move in the slightest. Still, his hold is warm and inviting, enough to easily pull you towards Hongjoong’s bed, one that’s large enough to accommodate more than simply two bodies.

“Missed you,” San mumbles into the crook of your neck. His cool breath tickles the hairs on your skin, sending rows of goosebumps over you, and San kisses them away as best he can. “Been too long since you stayed the night.”

“Hm, Hongjoong needed me tonight,” you sigh, watching said man adjust the books and papers on his desk. He leaves the lamp lit for the time being, but it’s evident that he’s preparing to join you and San in bed, and that’s enough of a welcome sight to cause some of your worry to melt away. San sits up all of a sudden, tossing the sheets back to slip under them, although you don’t join him in doing so quite yet.

“His emotions have been volatile all day,” San says under his breath. The hush over the room is not nearly enough to conceal his tone though. Hongjoong most definitely can hear his words, but he neglects to mention it for the time being. “Couldn’t do anything to fix or help.”

San and Hongjoong share in a special type of relationship, one that is more interwoven and connected than most simply because of San’s identity as a familiar. Not just any familiar but Hongjoong’s familiar, just as Yeosang is Seonghwa’s familiar. It allowed the pair to share a deeper connection, sharing of emotional states – when one feels pain, the other does as well, just as with every emotion from happiness to rage. Hongjoong, however, prides himself on being able to cut off his emotions and keep them from affecting San too badly; so if San could sense the distress today, Hongjoong must be suffering a lot more than he’s letting on. Thus, it’s no surprise that San showed up when he did or that he’s here to stay the night with the two of you. The bond they share provides more than just physical comfort; the bond of a familiar and his master is one that bears great emotional weight and connection as well. It’s something you’ve been a bit insecure about when it comes to both men, along with Seonghwa and Yeosang, but they never let those doubts linger for long.

You’re halfway through taking off your second shoe when Hongjoong finally approaches the bed. He pauses before you, setting the chamberstick on the bedside table alight with a small flame, then he slips down to his knees. Deft fingers work the knots of your laces apart and push the shoe away from your foot. His touch is too warm to be normal, and you only realize what he’s up to when a sudden wave of drowsiness overwhelms you. Hongjoong’s soft touch is the only thing that keeps you awake as he works his way up, pressing a trail of ghosting kisses up the inside of your calf and stopping at your knee. You can hardly keep your eyes parted but manage to see – or at least feel – Hongjoong crawl over you to get onto the bed and slip between your body and San’s.

“No fair,” you murmur, words slurring together a bit. Hongjoong huffs out a laugh before leaning over you to puff the candle out. Small billows of smoke fill the air around your heads, along with a pleasant scent of lavender.

“Forgive me for wanting my star to get some rest,” he chuckles as he settles back against the mattress.

“That’s Seonghwa’s line.”

“Yes, well, Seonghwa isn’t here to say it, is he?”

“I’m telling.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes – a gesture you can barely make out through the darkness – then he leans forward to peck the tip of your nose.

“Childish.”

“Seonghwa doesn’t like it when people steal his nicknames.”

“Oh hush, you little brat. You’re worse than Wooyoung.”

“That’s more like it. Our dearest affectionate Joongie,” San laughs from behind Hongjoong, chin coming to rest on the length of the other man’s shoulder. His lips stretch into a grin, dimples flashing through the darkness, and you smile back at him softly. A hand touches your waist, and you almost think it’s Hongjoong but San grumbles something about you being too far away to cuddle properly and you know it’s him instead. You hum at the touch and settle into the warmth it provides. You nearly fall asleep right then and there, but you force your body to stay awake just a little while longer so you can press one last kiss to Hongjoong’s lips, then another to San’s.

“Okay, goodnight, my loves. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer thanks to Hongjoong.” You press closer to both men, wrapping yourself in the combined warmth of your lovers’ arms and the sheets, and Hongjoong tucks your head against his chest. His chin comes to rest on the top of your head. You’re already drifting off when you hear San’s next whispered words, ones meant only for Hongjoong’s ears but ones you hear nonetheless.

“I have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

“Hm? Is that your way of telling me to clear my schedule?” Hongjoong murmurs. The words send soft vibrations across your hair, and you instinctively tuck yourself further into his chest.

“Well, your schedule should be empty at night unless one of the others would be having you… preoccupied at that time.”

“As if you don’t intend to have me in that way yourself.”

“Only after the surprise,” San whispers, tone slightly offended, but you can also hear the affection in his tone.

“Then I’m all yours tomorrow evening.”

“Perfect.”

Those are the last words you hear out of either man; both fall silent after that and leave you with the soft heavings of their breaths above you, warm arms clinging to you as you drift off into a pleasant and peaceful rest. And as much as you protest the idea of intruding and living here with them, you have to admit that these moments make it worth it in the long run. The little things – the kisses and hugs, the sudden intrusions from your other lovers, the piling warmth, lingering gazes, soft smiles, quiet shared whispers. Perhaps you could get used to nights like these.

...

a/n: just another lil addition to the witchteez universe, i plan of having a drabble for each member then doing drabble requests after? i think? let me know if that’s something you want to see or if you have any ideas for the other members’ drabbles! i haven’t come up with anything yet so im quite open to suggestions!

[bangtan-madi]

noel on ice — kim namjoon

Pairing — Namjoon x Reader, feat. minor mention of Jungkook x OC

Genre — fluff, holiday, minor angst, mental health

Tags — strangers to lovers, figure skater!Namjoon, barista!MC, non-idol au, figure skater au, café au, holiday au

Word Count — 16k

Summary —  After sustaining a crushing defeat at the World Figure Skating Championships, falling from his perfect gold standard to his long-time rival, Kim Namjoon returns to South Korea with an unsure heart and accompanying injury. At the same time, Y/N is as far from home as she has ever been due to a falling out with her family, working as a barista at a café in Seoul while trying to finish her degree. As if by fate, the two meet, and Namjoon makes it his goal to make Y/N see the magic of the holidays -- one Christmas adventure across Seoul at a time. 

Warnings — minor language, brief anxiety attack, mentions of ptsd related symptoms

A/N — This year has been a very difficult one for us all. For my fic in this Christmas collab, I wanted to acknowledge all of that and give a little mental health break for everyone. All of our experiences have been different, but one thing we all have in common is that 2020 was unexpected, painful, and heavy. Please, no matter what holiday you celebrate, let yourself have as much rest and healing as you need. If this little, probably-needs-more-editing-than-I-had-time-for fic can help you get there — even just for the twenty minutes it takes to read — then my job is done ❤️ I love you all, and I know I speak for the others when I say I hope 2021 treats us all so much kinder, and I hope we learn to love ourselves in spite of our worlds around us.

Playlist — Link here.

Christmas Collaboration — this fic is a part of the Christmas Collab by @kooala (link coming soon!)

"Hey—Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Raising your head slightly, your eyes widening as you realize you've zoned out again, focusing on the snowfall outside instead of the next customer in line. The woman waving her hand in front of you is as foreign to South Korea as you are, but her expression is entirely that of an angry American. Her scowl has etched deep lines into her skin, where smile lines should be.

Unfortunately, her face is all too familiar. Usually it pays to be one of the only native English-speakers at your café; however, when Americans come in, you're the one pushes to take their orders and serve them.

Even the most difficult ones.

"S—Sorry, Ma'am," you mutter. Shaking your head, you force a customer-service smile. "I was just admiring the snowfall. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Oh, yeah," she retorts sarcastically. "So beautiful that it's making travel home nearly impossible. Can you please just make my drink so I can leave?"

"I—I didn't hear it, Ma'am. Can you repeat it please?"

While the woman rolls her eyes, she repeats her order swiftly, muttering something along the lines of, "Baristas these days, I swear to god," under her breath. "Make sure to get it right this time. Every time I come in and order a blended cappuccino, you guys end up giving me a latte, which is not what I ordered."

"And every time, we have to explain that all a latte is, is a blended cappuccin—"

"—I don't want to hear it!"

With a sigh, you ring up the total for the "blended cappuccino, not latte" and let the woman pay. From the sidelines, your co-worker Lisa stands with a glare and a tin of heated milk ready to go for your order.

"Ms. Blended cappuccino again?" she asks as you turn towards her with a note written in perfect Hangul.

You nod, running  a hand over your hair in frustration. "I hate being the only native bi-lingual person here. Means I get to deal with her every damn time."

Sensing your downtrodden spirit, Lisa pushes you out of the way, giving you a gentle shove towards the back room. "I got this one. Go take a breather in the back, okay?"

"But—"

"—Ah! No buts. I know enough English to get by."

From the front desk, the woman pipes up again, demanding her drink be made faster. Lisa marches past your, arms herself with the imaginary drink, and says in perfect English, "You're in Seoul now. Speak Korean."

Knowing Lisa can handle the absolute hell-spawn that is an angry American Karen, you turn your back to the drama and shuffle to the break room behind the "employees only" door. An exasperated breath escapes as you revel in the silence, pushing away the muffled café sounds on the other side of the door. Being the only one in the break room, you spot your favorite white chocolate mocha on the side table, with a smiley face sticky note indicating it's from Lisa beside it.

You smile gently at the sweet gesture, and shove the sticky note into your pocket as a reminder to yourself to thank her later.

Taking the mug between your overworked hands, you settle down on the window seat and watch the December sky slowly shift from violet to navy. The mocha is just slightly sweet with a hint of peppermint, just like you like it. It's almost enough to illicit the Christmas spirit lying dormant inside you.

There's something incredibly painful about this particular holiday season, you think to yourself as the cars pass swiftly on the street outside. The glittering lights, the beautiful carols, the crystalline snow — none of it feels the same as last year.  The holidays are supposed to be a time of comfort and renewal, but this year — after moving halfway around the world by yourself — your heart is starting to wonder if that part of you has died.

Maybe it's the loneliness you're feeling, or maybe it's the fact that you're so far away from home. Or maybe it's the fresh-in-your-mind arguments and falling out with your family over the summer. That bitter taste lingers still in the back of your throat, not unlike a dark espresso.  A Christmas season without your parents and siblings; you never thought living your own life and following your happiness could hurt so much. For better or worse, that nostalgic feeling family and friends bring is long gone. And now you're nostalgic for nostalgia itself; what kind of messed up feeling is that?

You've had twenty-four wondrous, magical holiday seasons. Is it part of growing up that your allotment of joyful Christmas days is limited?

Is twenty-five the year that the magic just...stops?

When the night sky becomes unchanging, the door to the café kitchen opens. Lisa peeks her head inside, side-bangs falling in her face. "How's the mocha? Did I get it right?"

You take the last sip with a grateful smile, then place the mug onto the coffee table. "You nailed it. Thank you, I needed that."

Pride swells in Lisa's chest, and her shoulders straighten as she enters the room. "Well, good news. Karen's gone," she announces, "and your favorite customer is here!"

"Who?"

Lisa places her hand horizontally at her hip-level. "About this tall? Loves peppermint hot choco?

Bolting from your seat, all your concerns are momentarily gone. Your co-worker doesn't have to utter another word to get you to exit the back room and reenter the kitchen.

Across the counter, a mop of black hair is barely visible. Dark brown eyes peer over the granite surface; they twinkle and shine at the sight of you. Tiny hands splay on the surface in an attempt to make the small child taller. He's around seven to eight years, you estimate. Nine or ten at the very most. Definitely not out of primary school. And he's your very favorite customer, because unlike most, this child comes in with a toothy grin almost every single day with enough money for a peppermint hot chocolate. He's never late, and he's never unhappy. If the Sun were to bless the world with a ray of sunshine in human form, this kid would be it.

"Ahjumma!" the little boy shouts, a grin plastered on his face.

Instead of having him crane his neck, you walk around the counter, bend down on one knee, and ignore the other customers behind him. Pulling one of the tiny baked goods from your apron pocket, you offer the sweet to the child with a wink.

"You're here awfully late, Yeongu. You're usually here right after school lets out. It's already after dark."

Yeongu digs through his pocket and pulls out several crumpled won, enough for his beverage of choice. "Tomorrow is the last day before Christmas break, so dad picked me up and took me skating. I'm with mom and her boyfriend for the rest of the month 'cause Dad's going to Busan with his new wife. I don't like her that much. She frowns too much. And she smells like soju and taffy."

You exchange the won for the baked treat, laughing softly as you invite the boy onto the corner table nearest the hot chocolate machines. "You don't like taffy, do you?"

He makes a face and takes a big bite of the delicacy. "My teacher tells us that if we eat taffy, it will help us remember things. I ate too much of it last year, and now I hate it. Dad's new wife must always be forgetting things, because she always smells like it!"

After finishing the simple drink, you slide the mug across the table and plop down in the seat across from the small boy. "So does this mean I won't get to see you until after Christmas?"

Yeongu shakes his head. "I'll be by tomorrow after. Mom wanted to visit my cousin before we left. He's back in town for Christmas, and we haven't seen him in a long time."

"Oh? What does he do?"

"Sports."

At that, the boy changes the conversation. "What are you doing for Christmas, Ahjumma?"

"Yeah, Ahjumma," Lisa pipes up after serving the final to-go customer for the night. She flips the sign on the front door and turns back to the two of you, hand on her hip. "What are you doing for your first Christmas in Korea?"

Shrugging slightly, you turn your attention back to the small child across from you. "I'll probably spend the day with Mochi — my cat — probably studying so I'll be ahead in the new year for my next classes." Lisa gives an empathetic look at the mention of your kitten, which causes you to roll your eyes playfully. "Don't give me that look! I'll be fine. Probably best for me to have a relaxed, non-hectic couple of days. This year has been a rough one."

"That sounds sad," Yeongu states bluntly, earning a snicker from Lisa.

"Kid's right. Absolutely dreadful, [Y/n]. What a lame Christmas."

"What about you, then? Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

At the question, Lisa's smirk drops and she perks up. "Well, I'm sure you know, but Christmas in Korea is pretty different from America," Lisa reminds you, and you nod your acknowledgement. "It's more of a couple holiday, so my boyfriend Jungkook and I are planning to take the week off and do a ton of holiday activities together. Mostly outdoors stuff. Y'know, snowboarding, skiing, snowball fights — the usual."

"Sounds like a blast," you laugh.

"Oh, it will be." She gives a wink, then nods to Yeongu. "Are we about done here? I need to head out if you're okay with locking up for the night."

You give a wave of approval as the child nears the end of his glass. "I got this. Say hello to Jungkookie for me."

Lisa flashes a set of extravagant finger hearts before disappearing into the back, where she gathers her personal items and exits out the rear entrance. In her absence, Yeongu tugs on your sleeve and holds up an empty mug.

"Thank you for the hot choco, Ahjumma," he grins, showing the dark stain on his upper lip.

Taking the mug, you use the edge of your apron to clean the mess from his face. "If you come by tomorrow before you leave with your Eomma, I'll make you another with extra peppermint, okay?"

The boy's smile grows, and he hops up from the table with a swift bow. "I'll be here!" He heads for the door with a skip in his step.

"Will you get home all right?" you call after him.

Yeongu turns and grins. "I will, don't worry, Ahjumma!"

And then he's gone, out the door in a rush of energy and giggles towards his home nearby. You merely shake your head; there's no point in going after him now.

Soon after, you're following in his step. It doesn't take you long to clean up. By the time you lock up and exit out the back, snow has begun to fall. You brave the cold, tugging your coat tighter around you, burying your face into your scarf. The journey to the subway is short, and your feet take you quickly. Even still, you stare upward at the snowy clouds in hope that they might spark a semblance of Christmas joy in your heart.

Tonight, like every other night, nothing changes.

You heave a sigh, and the breath billows out as a visible fog as you enter the station. Going through the motions to get to your apartment is easy. A swipe of a card, a short ride to the edge of the neighborhood, and a trek up the set of stairs. Once through the door, you're greeted by a mewing shadow of a cat.

"Hi, my baby girl," you greet with a soft smile, bending down to scratch the tiny fur ball behind the ears. The black cat rubs her chin against your palm and follows you when you waltz to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

As if responding, "Yes!" Mochi speeds up and meows a bit louder than last time.

Her antics bring a smile to your face as you turn on the television for background noise. You find the nearest Korean news station, finding the program in the middle of a report on Korea's favorite rap duo and their upcoming tour: Suga and J-Hope. Your intention with the selection is two-fold — first, to continue to enhance your skills of the Korean language, and two, to continue learning about the culture and world of your new home. While you had extensive knowledge of both before moving to Seoul — despite the process being rather quick due to the fallout with your family — nothing compares to being immersed in the country itself.

As the musical entertainment section ends, you begin pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboard. "What do you think sounds good, Mochi? How about teokbokki?" The black cat perches her paws on your right leg, purring pleasantly. "I agree, sounds great after a long day."

You toss a bag of rice cakes onto the counter as the news changes to sports. Even as you prepare the sauce for the meal, you actively listen to the voices in the background.

"Unfortunately, RM Nam's ice skating season has been cut short due to an unforeseen injury he sustained during practice this summer. At the time, the damage to his shoulder seemed unnoticed by the athlete and his coach. However, as we saw earlier this October at the Grant Prix Series: Skate America, Mr. Nam's mishap on the ice turned out to be far more damaging than originally thought. Thus, the position representing South Korea at the next in the series, Skate Canada, was shifted to his rival, Kim Seokjin, and RM Nam returned home to Seoul to recover."

You can't but help a glance up at the screen. The skater in question has his back turned to the cameras as he heads into the airport. Behind his sunglasses, mask, and beanie, he offers a polite smile and wave to the reporters. Moments later, his coach guides him into the building, out of sight.

"That doesn't sound fun," you mutter to yourself as the report moves onto politics.

After you finish cooking, you plate yourself a portion and move into the living room. Besides the tiny tan sofa and the television propped up on a box, most of the room is bare. There are a handful of boxes strewn across the apartment of the few things you either had shipped from the States or that you bought in your six months since then, but for the most part, you've been putting off all of it. Most of your time is spent at work or at school; you haven't had the time, energy, or motivation to do any of it. Even at Christmas, despite Lisa gifting you with your very own tiny tree and twinkle lights to spread across the home, you've yet to unpack any of it. The tree remains in the slender box beside the TV, and you doubt it will go up this year at all.

Heaving a sigh at the thought, you turn the channel to VIKI put on your favorite drama. This particular one is a reincarnation plot with two male leads played by Korea's golden boys: Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. Paired with the bowl of teokkboki in your lap and the kitten curled to your side, it's enough to drag you thoughts out of homesickness and back to the present.

This might just have to be the Christmas you forget and hope that the next year is a kinder one.

A lot changed in your life this year. In some ways, the changes were good. In others, not so much. Most of the turbulent times were in the heat of the summer, but things began slowing down once you moved to South Korea in September. You were now away from toxic family members, away from a life you never wanted, and looking ahead to an uncertain but certainly hopeful future.

In late October, the seasons began changing for the better — and not just in the physical sense of the falling leaves and cooler breeze. Lisa was right about your favorite customer; it truly was little Yeongu. However, there was another that you looked forward to seeing, just as much as the elementary school boy.

This person was older, around your age, with a deeply dimpled smile that made your stomach flutter. Eyes as slender as his body proportions, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't an attractive man. Hair the color of the snowflakes he walked through, eyes the color of the beverage he'd always order, skin the color of warmth in a cozy fireplace. Even his voice was warm and deep; at every conversation, while you are completely fluent in Korean, you find yourself just wanting to listen to the soft timbre.

Over time, this man — whose name you'd quickly learn was Kim Namjoon — became a regular at your little coffee shop. He'd come in at the oddest hours, either super early or super late. Hours you often worked alone, when there were fewer customers. Every time, he'd strike up a conversation as you took his order and crafted his beverage of choice (a heavy coffee brewed dark and bitter, with just a splash of cream and almond whip.) He was sweet, and eventually you opened up. He'd hang around the counter long after the transaction was completed, sometimes until another customer stole your attention away. It didn't take long for you to realize that he was far more than merely a pretty face.

In those weeks leading up to December, you found yourself smiling a bit more. Joking a bit more. Shoulders lightening a bit more. You looked forward to the increasingly insistent days where he'd waltz in — sometimes covered in raindrops, sometimes in crisp leaves, sometimes in snowflakes — always a crystal blue umbrella under his arm and a charcoal grey scarf around his neck.

It's the same person standing at the entrance now, the man currently shaking the rain from his umbrella and platinum locks. Lisa gives you a smirk as she nods her head towards the register and steps away from the counter, as if silently saying, "You're up, m'lady. Holler if you need me; I'll be doing an order in the back."

You brush your hair back into proper place, display a genuine smile, and take your stance behind the register. When Namjoon's eyes meet yours, his smile deepens and creates dimples on either side of his mouth.

After the customer in front of him pays and leaves with his order in hand, you greet him with a simple, "You haven't been in, in over a week. Finally trying to break your caffeine addiction?"

Namjoon gives a deep laugh and shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. I like being able to function as an adult in society, thank you very much." He pulls out several won from his wallet. "I'll have..."

"The usual?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "You remember?"

"Of course," you grin, and type his drink of choice into the register. Taking his money, you add, "How could I forget your order after the hilarious reaction when I suggested a mint mocha?"

The boy thinks back to the first day he walked into the café, and recalls that conversation with a groan. "Oh god, was I that bad?"

Handing him his change, you tap your chin and reply, "Well, maybe a bit. I'd never seen someone so horrified at the idea of mint chocolate."

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "Sorry about that. Pretty terrible at hiding my disdain for that flavor combo."

"No worries! Made me laugh."

Seeing that there are no other customers behind him, you turn to the brewing station and usher Namjoon to take a seat on the bar stool across the counter. It's a position you've taken several times before. When the customers are low, as they are at this hour of evening, the platinum-haired man tends to linger and converse far after his drink is finished.

"What brings you in today? Just wanted a pick-me-up or?"

Namjoon heaves a sigh. He watches you closely but casually, silently admiring the skillful way you begin to brew the dark beverage. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, and coming here always helps me de-stress."

"Coffee helps you relax?" You can't help but chuckle at the sentiment.

"And the company."

Heat rushes to your face, and when you glance up to meet his gaze, the warmth only increases. "You're smooth, Kim Namjoon. Very smooth."

Brown eyes widen, and he bows his head so that his bangs cover his eyes. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"Calm down, you're fine. Wanna talk about what's on your mind, though?"

In all your conversations, the two of you have only ever talked on the shallow surface of various topics. You don't know much about Namjoon, and he doesn't know much about you — despite having shared extremely vague information about your year, your jobs, and your education. You feel very open with him, but most of the time, those conversations can't be had in a fifteen minute discussion at a café.

"It's a long, complicated story. I'm not sure you'd wanna hear it." He raises his hands defensively as he realizes how his words might be construed. "Not that you wouldn't understand! I just wouldn't want to be a downer."

You select the cold brew setting on the machine and let the device begin to whir to life. "Well, I've got at least the time it takes to make your drink. I'm all ears."

Namjoon shakes his head as he settles his elbows on the counter. "You're persistent."

"Honey, I've been called far worse."

Seeing your eagerness, your companion heaves a sigh and shifts his gaze from you to the window at his right. As be begins to speak, his demeanor falls a bit. He's not as happy-go-lucky; there's an err of anxiety about him that you can't quite nail down. "I've been thinking about a change in career recently. Things haven't been unfolding this year like I wanted...and I'm starting to think I'm not meant to do what I'm doing now. Maybe I need to retire — from this industry, I mean, and move on to another."

Even with that small confession, you can't help but mirror his emotions. "I hear you. I've felt similar feelings this year."

His gaze shifts back to yours, and he tilts his head in surprise. "Really? How so?"

"I told you I moved to Seoul in September, right?" Namjoon nods. "That's because I wanted a...a fresh start. I enrolled in Yonsei University, got a job here, and just...moved."

"That's pretty brave, and that's really awesome you're at Yonsei. They're a fantastic school."

"Thanks," you grin whilst popping the canister of cold brew out from under the brewing machine. "I needed to get away from certain people in my life that weren't letting me move forward, so moving was the best choice." You pour the dark beverage into a small mixer and pull out the vanilla creamer. "Sure you don't want mint this time? Last chance."

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow as a silent challenge; the expression makes you giggle to yourself as you pour the very non-mint add-ins. "Hilarious."

"Hey! Just offering." After giving the mixture a whisk, your smile falters.

Nothing gets by the observant person across the counter. "I feel like your story has a 'but' after what you ended with."

"You're good," you reply, gesturing to him with the handheld whisk. "I'm not talking too much, am I?"

Namjoon shakes his head adamantly and flourishes with his hand for you to continue. "I mean, we're practically friends now. Please, go on."

Reassured by both his calming nature and genuine interest, you continue talking. "But after getting here...let's just say it's hard to make friends and get out there in a country where you look so different, where your language isn't native, and where you know literally no one. So...ah, this year's been a pretty lonely one, and I know I still made the right choice, but now that the holidays are here..." You trail off and offer a small smile. "All that to say, I know what it's like to second-guess yourself and not have things go the way you thought."

"Seems we have a lot in common," he chuckles, leaning his chin on his hand.

The comment causes the mood to lighten, and you let a laugh slip out. "Yeah, seems so."

Before the conversation can continue, the front door opens. Yeongu enters, a couple of other customers behind him. As if on cue, Lisa enters from the back room and greets the adults with a smile and a swift, "Hi, welcome! What can I get you this evening?"

As the child approaches the adjacent counter where you stand, his grin widens. You perch your elbows on the counter and lean over. "How's my favorite customer?"

"I'm finally free from school, Ahjumma!" Yeongu cheers loudly.

"Congrats! I'm sure you're relieved." He nods affirmatively. "t's freezing outside. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, I promise. But can I get a mint hot choco?" He holds up a crumpled bill with a toothy grin.

"Of course, you can. Extra mint, just like I promised." You nod towards the seat closest to the window. "Sit in your usual spot, okay? After I get this nice man his coffee, I'll get your hot chocolate."

As Namjoon turns to look at the child, Yeongu's eyes widen in surprise. "Namjoon-hyung! I didn't know you were here."

Much to your shock, Namjoon reciprocates the affection and hops down from his chair to bend down to Yeongu's level. "Yeon-ie!" He teases the boy by ruffling up his hair, which Yeongu scowls at him for.

"Um... You two know each other?"

"Yep!" Yeongu grins. "He's my cousin, the one I told you about yesterday."

"Oooh, that makes sense. Didn't realize my two favorite customers were related."

Yeongu laughs at the comment and hops into the chair beside Namjoon. "But I'm your favorite customer, right?"

"Of course," you tease, flashing him a playful wink.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Ahjumma, can I please have mine in a to-go cup? Mom told me to come right home so we can finish packing for our trip."

"Of course, give me just a second to get you a lid." You turn to your first customer with an apologetic smile. "Namjoon, I'm almost done with yours. Just give me a moment."

"Actually, do you mind putting mine in a to-go cup as well?" He jerks his thumb towards Yeongu. "I should probably walk him home. He lives just around the corner from me. I'd feel better if I did."

"Oh, sure, I can do that."

"Would you walk with us, Ahjumma? Pleeeease?"

Your gaze moves to Namjoon. "Do you mind?"

The elder cousin hops up from his chair, shaking his head adamantly. "Not at all! Can you?"

"Sure, I'm about at the end of my shift anyway! Let me grab my coat. I'll come with." You turn quickly to Lisa, murmuring, "Can you watch—?"

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand. "—Go! I can close up for the night. But if you don't come back with a date planned, the invitation to spend New Years with Jungkookie and me is rescinded."

With a playful eye-roll, you peck her on the cheek and run to the back for your coat. Once you return, you find Namjoon scuffling Yeongu's dark locks with a dimpled smile. Looking back up as you return, the expression doesn't falter.

"Ready?"

You nod and follow behind through the exit, trying to ignore the wink and dual thumbs-ups Lisa flashes you as you pass.

Once on the street, Yeongu walks ahead of you and Namjoon. The first few minutes are silent between you two. From ahead, you can hear the small child talking to himself, or perhaps his hot chocolate, and then occasionally to the adults.

As you cross the busy street, Namjoon clears his throat. "So...you have any plans for Christmas?"

You scoff under your breath and shake your head. "Why does this topic keep coming up?"

"Hope I didn't offend," he laughs. "Yeongu said something about a café girl not having plans last night. I figured it was you."

"Trust me, you're good. But yeaaah. Kinda new to Korea. I spent the fall settling in and trying to start over. Between work and school, didn't expect much. Holidays sneaked up on me, I guess."

There's a pause as the trio rounds the corner. Yeongu finishes his hot cocoa along the way and hands the empty cup to Namjoon. The elder doesn't even hesitate to take it, and the boy rushes ahead to what you assume is his home. Over his shoulder, he shouts, "Thank you for the choco, Ahjumma!"

You grin widely and wave. "You're welcome!"

Yeongu turns to Namjoon, sticks out his tongue in a playful manner, then disappears into his house.

"Aaand that's the thanks I get." Namjoon rolls his eyes and turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention as the sun sets behind Seoul Tower. "I have a crazy idea."

"Oh, really?" You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. "Those are my favorite kind of ideas."

"Cheesy," he grins. "Well...I don't have any plans either. Maybe we spend it together?"

"No plans, huh? Do I look that pitiful?"

"No! No, it's not that at all, god." Namjoon's smirk falls from his face as a horrified expression drowns out any humor. "Sorry if that's how it came off. I just—You seem really nice, and it's been a while since either of us just enjoyed someone else's company. No strings. No pressure."

Tugging your lower lip between your teeth, you shuffle in your step. "I don't know, Namjoon..."

"Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I hate to see anyone's shoulders so heavy in December. How about this — give me three days to prove the magic isn't lost."

"Three days? That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay then, Mr. Kim." You offer a hand in his direction. "Three days."

Namjoon's eyes lock with yours, as does his hand. "It's a deal."

The following weekend you wake to a phone call coming in from your recently-added number. Rolling out from under the covers to grab the device from the nightstand, you answer with voice still groggy with sleep. "Hello?"

"Are you still sleeping?" the caller laughs in a deep timbre.

"Shuddup." Peaking an eye open, the time on the screen reads just after eleven a.m. "It's not that late."

"Really?"

"Did you call me just to make fun of my lack of healthy sleep schedule, or did you have a point?"

"Ouch!” Namjoon exclaims playfully. “I actually did call, and it's actually perfect because I don't need you ready to go until around three this afternoon. So you can totally just go back to sleep."

You curl back under your heated blanket and revel in the warmth it provides. Beside you, Mochi curls closer, nearly sitting on your head. "Mmm sounds perfect. Wait—what?"

"You heard me." There's a hint of teasing in Namjoon's words. "It's Day 1. Be ready for an outdoor adventure by three. I'll pick you up then, okay sleepyhead?"

The butterflies rumble in your stomach at the nickname, and you clear your throat before replying. "Yep, got it. Three p.m. Outdoor adventure. Can't you tell me what it is or where we're going?"

"And ruin the surprise? No way. Just trust me, Jagi."

A squeak slips out, and you throw your hand over your mouth to hide it. "Okay, see you there—I mean then!"

You can almost hear Namjoon shaking his head as he says his goodbyes and ends the call. Despite still being sleepy and warm and cozy in your nest, you lie wide awake in bed for the next half-hour, replaying his voice over and over in your head like a well-loved record.

The day flies by, and eventually it's approaching three. You've dressed to impress while still trying to keep it casual. Despite this being a date, it's still casual. You like Namjoon a lot, and you hope he likes you as well. However, outside of conversations at the café, you haven't spent a lot of time together yet. This is as good a second-first impression as any, and you intend to make the most of it.

Grabbing your winter coat and scarf, you scurry down the stairs and spot Namjoon lingering by the entrance with two cups in his hands. He's dressed in jeans and a sweater with a dark grey jacket over top, his usual scarf looped twice around his neck. A beanie covers his head, but bits of his platinum hair still stick out in places. Slung across his shoulder is a brown leather backpack. He always looks nice, that much you know, but the fact that today he looks nice for you makes you sickly happy.

He flashes a smile as you bound out the door. "You look rested," he teases, then offers you one of the cups.

Taking it with a nose scrunch, you look down at the order on the side, seeing that it's your usual order. "How did you know!"

He shrugs. "I have my ways."

"Was it Lisa?"

"Maybe..." He straightens up and nods his chin towards the nearby station. "Follow me for our first adventure!"

After boarding the train to Itaewon, you can't help but wonder where he might be taking you. Your mind goes through all of the things to do in Itaewon, but the list is lengthy. From his excited and proud expression, you know Namjoon has been looking forward to this all day, just as you have.

After exiting fifteen minutes down the line, Namjoon reaches for your free hand. "May I...?"

Your fingers close the distance, glove-covered palm clasping his. "Lead the way."

Namjoon grins, then tugs on your hand as you exit the station. Once outside in the frigid air, you see your breath come out in puffs of fog. You tighten your scarf around your neck and allow your companion to usher you down the sidewalk, towards a clearing in the colorful buildings of Itaewon-do.

Another block or so, and you see the direction in which he's heading. A large sign along the way reads, "Grant Hyatt Seoul Ice Rink" in bold Hangul. Your eyes widen as the realization hits you, and the excitement inside you grows. "How did you know I've wanted to go ice skating!"

Namjoon shuffles up to the ticket counter, replying over his shoulder, "Um...lucky guess?"

As he purchases your tickets, you take a moment to absorb your surroundings.  The trees are glowing from the lights covering every branch and trunk. They surround the rink and give a glow from within that is so much softer and more intimate than the harsh lighting of the city. The Hyatt Hotel stands as a black silhouette against the horizon. In the opposite direction, you can see N. Seoul Tower already lit up as the afternoon lighting shifts to evening. Projectors shine shapes of glittering snowflakes across the ice, giving another layer of ambient lighting to the rink.

"I haven't been since I was a kid," you add, staring at the exterior of the open-air rink with awe. Namjoon hands you the ticket, which you use for entrance and skates before shoving it into your jacket pocket. "Have you ever been before?"

"Yeah, a...few times. Hey, what size shoe are you?" When you tell him, Namjoon grabs a pair of skates from the shelf beside the ticket booth and gestures for you to sit on the bench across from it. "It can be tricky to lace your skates properly," he commentates as he kneels down in front of you and begins to untie your boots. "It's really something you have to adjust yourself, so let me know when I'm close?"

Not having any words to respond at his sudden closeness, you nod the affirmative and watch in silence as he puts one boot to the side, slips the skate on with ease, and begins to adjust the laces like a professional. After repeating the movements with your other skate, he taps your knee and looks up at you.

"Too loose? You want them to be as tight as you can handle to keep your ankles steady."

Moving your feet, you shake your head from side to side. "A bit more. I'd hate to have Day 1 turn into a trip to the E.R."

"Definitely, nothing says ‘Christmas magic’ like an emergency room visit," he laughs, adjusting your laces as you requested. "How's that?"

"Much better, thank you."

After lacing up your skates as tight as you can handle, Namjoon stands and offers you an arm. He helps you waddle over to the entrance, gently sliding you onto the ice despite your shaky knees and flailing arms. You soon realize that it might be best to hold tight to the barrier and stick only to the periphery.

He doesn't follow you on at first. When you turn and look back for him, he waves you on. "You go ahead. I need to grab my skates first."

"Mmm fine, but if I break my neck trying to catch your ass, you're paying for ramen after. Got it?"

Namjoon gives you two thumbs ups as he lets you go onto the ice. "Loud and clear."

Eventually, you begin tugging yourself along, trying but failing to keep up with the traffic of more experienced skaters. Even compared to those half your age, or even less, you're the child on this rink.

About half-way around the rink, you spot Namjoon making his way towards the entrance. Waving your hand, your smile widens when he sees you. He waves back, nearly bumps into the person ahead of him at the gate, and you murmur to yourself, "This should be good."

Namjoon hits the ice. He's not like the barreling disaster you are, but like a graceful swan. It catches you off-guard; if anything, you expected him to fall flat on his face or tumble over a child on his way over to you on the opposite side. He needs no assistance from the railing, nor does he struggle to cross the center and come to a full stop in front of you. His skates make a graceful scraping sound, and his stance is one of a professional. Even his skates are different than yours; they're custom, and you realize that must've been what he was carrying in his backpack.

You assume the awestruck look on your face is the reason for his smirk and laughter. He does a spin for dramatic affect as he closes the distance between you. "Surprised?"

"For starters! How the hell are you so graceful? You're literally twirling around on one foot on a frictionless surface, and I can barely make a left turn!"

The platinum blond gives you a look like you're still missing the point, then extends his hand. "C'mon, I can help you more than the railing can."

"Promise not to sue me if I break your face by crashing into you?"

"Promise, now grab my hand and skate!"

Your hands in his, you take the leap of faith and separate from the barrier around the oblong rink. Namjoon slowly skates backwards, carrying you the whole way. Your eyes remain glued to your trembling feet, careful not to have the blades deviate too far out to one side or the other.

"Look at you!" he cheers, ever the positive one. "A whole two minutes on your feet."

"Shut up."

You won't deny that your progress surprises even you. Despite having to hold both his hands for the first ten minutes, then eventually one as you skate side-by-side for the following half-hour, you're more adept at skating than you thought you would be.

"You think you can try on your own for a lap?" he inquires.

Giving a hesitant nod, you let go of Namjoon's hand, saying, "Don't leave my side, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Taking a deep breath in, you push one skate out in front of the other and move yourself forward. The other follows after, and you get about twenty feet before you stumble and nearly fall face-first. Luckily, Namjoon keeps his promise and wraps his arms around your waist before you crash.

"Good try!" he exclaims, keeping his arms around your middle even after you regain your balance. "You got pretty far, actually."

You give an awkward chuckle and lay your nervous hands over his at your hip. "Maybe I'm not quite ready for a free-skate yet."

"No worries." He lets his arms drop and retakes your hand to steady you. The dimples appear next to his smile as he adjusts your beanie on your head, which had nearly fallen off in your almost-fall. "But I gotta say, you didn't have to fall for me on Day 1."

"So smooth!" You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a playful shove, only to gasp and reach back for him when he naturally skates backwards at the push. "Nevermind, I take it back. Please don't leave me in the middle of the rink."

Namjoon lets out a loud laugh, nearly doubling over as you cling to him. "You're so cute."

As you skate together, you keep getting the feeling that Namjoon has spent far more time on the ice than you previously assumed. After you get the hang of it yourself and are able to wobble along beside him without a constant hand to hold, he smiles a proud, wide smile.

"See? I knew you could do it!"

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Still nowhere near close to you."

"That's what a lot of people say," he brushes it off.

"Way to brag there, Joon," you snort, then immediately freeze in place so suddenly that you nearly fall over again. "Wait—you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

Namjoon's smile shows his dimples, and they deepen with his reply. "Not a bit." The song changes, playing the symphonic piece "Noel on Ice." Namjoon's face lights up, and he turns back to you with a wink. "Watch me?"

Nodding affirmatively, you release his hand and let him skate towards the center of the rink. His gaze remains on you as he spins to a stop in the middle, then turns his gaze downwards. Arms still at his sides, and his shoulders straighten. You await with bated breath for the next note.

The melody lifts, and Namjoon's arms follow suit. Piano notes drip across the chilled air, and the violin prompts an extension of his hands upwards. Then he moves, gracefully flowing from one movement to the next, as if this has been an ice dance built into his very being. The harp and cello urge him to move faster, spinning like a dancer across their stage.

Namjoon spins into the air, fully coming off the ice. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth out of fear, but he lands it with ease, shifting into his next series of steps like a professional. Flawless and practiced, he's caught the attention of everyone at the rink. As you look around, you see everyone else focused intently on the skater. Some even have their phones out to record. Not just one or two people, either; you see at least a half dozen with their cameras trained on Namjoon.

That in particular has you perplexed. Brows pulling together, you shift your eyes back to Namjoon. The piece is nearing its close, and he's moved back to the center of the ice. Twirling in place, he's moving like a spinning top. Always in a single place, so fast you can barely see, gracefully shaving ice under him so that snowflakes fall around him. He lowers, nearly sitting as he continues to twirl on one foot. The music grows to its crescendo. Slowly, he rises up and extends his hands towards the sky.

And then it hits you.

There's a reason why his face, his voice, and his presence is so familiar to you. You couldn't put your finger on it until just now, but the way he moves on the ice like he's the only one in the room — like it's a second home — brings you back to one of the first days you had in Seoul. That first day, at the Incheon Airport, the man you saw being bombarded with press and fans. Then again on the screens in the lobby of the immigration center. And again a few nights ago on the news.

RM Nam. South Korea's pride and joy, their greatest skater, the man bound for the Winter Olympics until a training injury earlier in the year put him out for the season. You're not into sports, but even you knew him by name and the tragedy that had occurred.

That legendary skater was the one in front of you now. He hadn't mentioned it, and you didn't suspect a thing until today. While definitely a shock, you can't help but be in awe of him even more. He isn't just good on the ice — he's like nothing you've ever seen.

As the music comes to a close, Namjoon skates to a halt. His spin finishes, and he ends with a ending pose bow. Clearly out of breath and shoulders heaving, his gaze shifts to you once again. Your smile widens, and you throw your hands up as you cheer. The others around you begin to clap, but you're by far the most enthusiastic one there.

Suddenly, Namjoon's persona returns to that of a shy and humble one. He bows again in the directions of the viewers, then scurries out from the center and back to you. Eventually, those around you begin to skate once more, ignoring the fact that one of the biggest sports icons in all of Korea is among them.

Namjoon runs a hand over his bleached hair, his smile sweet and his eyes a little nervous as he approaches. You shake your head in awe, letting a surprised laugh slip out.

"Okay, I see exactly what you're doing now. You suggested ice skating because you're Olympic-level! That's totally cheating, by the way."

Namjoon skids to a stop in front of you, as graceful as his takeoff. Without thinking, you reach your hand for his, which he gladly takes. "Figured it out finally, did you?"

"Call me stupid, but I honestly didn't see it until just now." You shove his shoulder with your free hand, only encouraging his teasing reaction. "RM: Guessing that's a stage name?"

He adjusts the beanie over his hair and gives an affirmative gesture. "Yeah, mainly to protect my privacy. Skating world can get pretty intense, sometimes."

You move your chin towards his shoulder, recalling that's where the injury occurred over the summer. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, totally okay. I go to PT a couple times a week. Mostly healed up, just can't compete for another few months. My coach has made me swear off skating until the New Year, but I figured it was worth throwing a little extra into trying to impress a pretty girl." He tilts his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "Did it work?"

Instead of responding verbally, you curl your finger towards you, a mischievous smile on your face. Namjoon lowers his head and skates closer to you. When he's within arm's reach, you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. A giggle slips out as his eyes widen and his cheeks flush.

"So... Is that a yes?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air and nearly falling over for the hundredth time that night.

Namjoon returns the chaste gesture to your temple as he helps you recover your balance. "Skate with me some more then?" he murmurs, adjusting your scarf around your neck with gentle fingers.

Your face hot and your stomach fluttery, you nod your response and loop your arm around his. "Only if you show me how to do that fancy twirl there at the end."

The idea has Namjoon laughing loudly. "That's my variation on the basic Scratch Spin, which took me about three months to nail perfectly in a routine."

"Then you'd better prepare to be here 'til February!"

After skating for hours, until both of you are exhausted and ready for food, Namjoon takes you to a nearby ramen shop that's close to the train station. It's a hole-in-the-wall, with less than five tables, but with ramen you're able to find a park bench and settle down there with your backs to the city lights and your eyes on the stars overhead. You each mostly in silence, just enjoying each other's company and the delicious food. You make sure to tell your companion how great the choice was, and you insist on coming back again soon.

After wrapping up the meal and seeing the late hour on your phone, Namjoon suggests you both start heading home. "Hate to have to take a bus at this hour instead of the last train," he snickers.

Fully in agreement, you let him take your hand again as the pair of you begin to walk back home. First on the train, then on the sidewalk the short distance to your apartment building.

As you turn the corner onto your short street, your apartment in sight, you rest your head against Namjoon's shoulder and sigh happily. "Thank you for today. It was just...magical."

"Christmas magic?"

You nod against his jacket, wistful and content. "Definitely."

Stopping outside your apartment, you turn towards him, not letting go of his hand. Namjoon gives you a content smile as he looks at you, one where his eyes glisten at his coming words. "Then I have a chance."

"At what?"

He reaches yet again for your scarf, moving it from around your lower face so he can cradle it in his hands. "Restoring your hope in the holidays, and your hope in yourself and your choices."

"Ooof, that's getting ahead of it, I think." You bite the inside of your cheek as a small tug of anxiety and sense of being lost pulls at the back of your mind.

But Namjoon is relentless in his pursuit, and for that you're grateful. "That's why I have two more days planned."

"Already?" you laugh.

"You bet!" he exclaims. "In fact, I'll pick you up at nine on Saturday, but don't wear a dress or skirt. Are you free then?"

"For you, absolutely."

His teeth show through his grin, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyebrows. The gesture is gentle and sweet, made even more so by the warmth of his hands on your cheeks through his gloves. Nevertheless, it leaves you breathless.

After a moment of silence, he pulls away and lowers his grasp, but you crave the contact as soon as he relinquishes it. He nods towards your apartment, as if saying, "I'm not leaving until you're home safe."

You take the hint and give a tiny wave as you enter your building. "Have a great night, Joonie," you whisper through the cracked door. "And thanks again."

Namjoon waves back. "Goodnight, [Y/n]. Sleep well."

Saturday can't come quickly enough. You find yourself smiling more often, a joyful feeling in your heart as you go about your work shift and college classes. Even the smallest and insignificant things feel a little easier. The weather wasn't just cold anymore; it was full of beauty and hope and Christmas spirit.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe he was helping you turn a corner.

Right before you're ready to head downstairs to meet Namjoon at the entrance, your phone begins to buzz. Lit up on the screen is an international number, but the area code is that of your old home. The butterflies of excitement die almost instantly, shriveling up into tiny balls of anxiety in your stomach.

Even though you ignore the call, you can't resist listening to the voicemail left behind. Putting your phone on speaker, you're shocked to hear your mother's voice wishing you a Merry Christmas, saying that she and the family miss you, and that they wished you would visit so you could clear up everything that went wrong over the summer. Your throat constricts at the sickly sweet tone; her voice always did drip in honey when she wanted something, she she was trying to manipulate her child. Between her conniving control and your father's lack of respect for privacy and personal boundaries, you remember all over again why you left.

You jump as your apartment bell rings, and the small screen by the door shows Namjoon at the entrance. "[Y/n], are you up there? I texted twice...not sure if you got those."

Looking down at your screen, you see that he's right. You have two unread texts from the last five minutes that you missed due to the unexpected caller. Shaking yourself out of it, you shoot him a quick response, close everything out, and head for the ground level.

"There you are!" Namjoon greets with a grin that almost makes you forget your mother's call.

Almost.

Forcing a smile and reply, "Sorry, I don't know why I didn't see your texts."

"No worries." He waves his hand as if to say it's nothing to worry about. "Are you okay? You seem bothered about something."

You glance up at him, unable to deny he looks slightly concerned. You mirror his laissez-faire attitude and brush it off. "Totally good. Heading to the station?"

"Not this time." Namjoon gestures towards the bike parked by the corner of the building. "You ready to go?"

"Both of us, on that? Are you sure that's safe?"

"Oh yeah! Trust me." He kicks the stand down and mounts the bike, patting the extended seat behind him. "I once rode up Namsan Mountain with Seokjin on the back of this thing, and let me tell you, he's a hell of a lot bigger than you."

Knowing he's probably right, you settle yourself on the seat behind him and wrap your arms tightly around his middle. It's probably not the most well-balanced thing in the world, but you trust Namjoon more than you buy into your fear of falling. "No skirts or dresses, huh?"

"Now you get it," he laughs, pulling out onto the bike lane on the street headed into towards the older side of the city. "Unless you'd like a wardrobe malfunction."

He picks up speed and gets to an easy pace down the street. It's fast enough to get to your location speedily but slow enough that you're able to stare at the beautiful buildings and wondrous landscape around you. Even the people have an aura of happiness caused by Christmas. Had it always been this stunning? Or had you been blind to it until just now?

"Seokjin, as in Kim Seokjin, your rival?"

"So you do watch the news," he sighs. "They aren’t portraying us as friends these days, are they?"

You shake your head and rest your chin on his shoulder. "Not really. I didn't know you were friends."

Namjoon shrugs his shoulders slightly, his voice monotone. "Yeah, well, we've known each other since we were seven, got into skating together around that time, and have been friends ever since. While I wish I didn't have to sit this one out, I couldn't be happier to have him representing South Korea at the Worlds — sorry, that's what we call the World Figure Skating Championships."

"Yeah, they're kind of painting you as opposites."

"That's just what the news does, I guess. Gossip and tabloids and fan-wars. I fell on the ice and hit my shoulder pretty hard; it had nothing to do with Seokjin. He and I talked before I left, too. We're on good terms. Most of us from South Korea are friends, actually. We only get represented as enemies because it's a competition. But a lot of times we're on the same flights, in the same hotels, in the same training areas, you get the idea."

Namjoon pulls up to a stoplight at a near empty intersection, waiting silently for it to shift colors. "Is that what you meant by change of career?" you inquire.

"You're observant," he chuckles.

You turn to rest your cheek on his back. "For what it's worth, and keep in mind that I don't know the first thing about figure skating or your injury or anything like that, but as someone on the outside looking in, you're still so talented. Last week, when you were skating alone, I couldn't tell at all you were injured, and you looked like you were really enjoying it. I don't know if that means anything to you coming from a novice, but if you're still in love with skating and want to get back out there, I think you should go for it. You're still spectacular to watch, Joonie."

There's a beat of silence, but then Namjoon glances over his shoulder and winks at you. "Would you come see me perform live if I did?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you state, "Why not?"

He laughs at your silly expression, then begins to move the bike again as the light finally shifts. "That actually means a lot, [Y/n]. Thank you."

The rest of the ride is quiet, at least until you begin to hear the sounds of a bustling outdoor market. Namjoon turns the final corner, and you're elated with the stone street in an older part of Seoul. Vendors in various booths stretch out in every direction. Some sell food or drink, some sell trinkets or clothing, some even sell vintage books or vinyls or movies. Every nook and cranny has something special to offer. The sights, smells and sounds bring an enormous smile to your face as Namjoon steadies the bike to a stop beside the bicycle rack.

You hop off with his help, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement as he parks and locks his bike on the stand. "This is amazing!" Turning to him, you catch him off-guard with a tight embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him down to you.

Namjoon seems amused by your eager reaction, and he pulls you closer to him. "I thought you would like it. There's nothing quite like Christmas than a market."

After letting him go, you press a kiss to his cheek as you lower back down to your level. Namjoon's hands tenderly cradle your face, just like last time, only today he's glancing away from  your eyes and down to your lips. As your heartbeat quickens, you pull him back to you, fingers grasping at his winter jacket.

His voice is deep and soft as he asks, "May I...?"

Your cheeks flush as you nod your approval. Namjoon's dimples deepen as he lowers his face to yours, barely brushing his lips against yours in the gentlest kiss you've ever had. You close the distance, tugging at his jacket so he moves closer. He gives a tiny laugh against your mouth, then follows your guidance to deepen the kiss. One hand slips back to your hair; he gently plays with the strands.

A moment later, and you're sighing as he pulls away, both light-headed and light-hearted. Namjoon smiles down at you, gives you a surprising second peck, then pulls back with a chuckle. "You're a really cute kisser, y'know that?"

You drop your head and hide your face in the front of his coat. "Shut up."

Your companion's laughter echoes in the air around you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and places his lips briefly on the top of your head. "Are you hungry? I know where we can get the absolute best Tteok-kkochi."

Eventually you lift your head and nod, feeling your stomach rumble at the thought of rice cake skewers. Namjoon moves his arm from around your shoulders, taking your hand instead, and ushers you into the first aisle of the Christmas market.

If it was magical from the outside, it's even more so from within. Somewhere in the distance, you hear holiday music playing. Not the commercial Christmas songs you're used to, but instrumental music that plays perfectly with the sounds of the market crowds. You're awestruck by every single booth you pass, and Namjoon promises to take you back to all of them after you grab a bite to eat.

Which are well worth the walk into the interior of the market. The Tteok-kkochi are cooked to perfection, drowned in a sauce, and by far the best you've ever had. Even after circling back to the booths you missed on the way, you beg Namjoon to lead you back to get another set.

"I've found heaven," you exclaim dramatically, taking the next two from the cook behind the counter and hanging one to your companion. "I'll never have rice cake skewers this good again."

After paying, you spot a section of the market decorated with lights and colorful orbs, much like the decorations you're used to seeing in the West. "Can we go over there next?"

Namjoon spots where you're pointing and eagerly agrees. The pair of you make your way towards the greenery and decor, amazed at the giant Christmas trees decorated to perfection on the periphery of the market.

"That's a massive tree," he gasps, staring upwards. "Are those normal in America?"

"Maybe at a mall or outside a hotel or something," you reply, equally as taken back. "I've never seen one that big in person in a long time."

As you peruse the Christmas section of the market, slipping from booth to booth as the clock strikes Noon, Namjoon asks, "Have you decorated your apartment at all? I know it can be kinda hard to find stuff in Korea like you're used to."

"Not really," you admit in passing. "Between work and school and, y'know, starting a new life in a foreign country, the holidays kinda fell on the back-burner."

Namjoon taps your shoulder, ushering your attention towards the old, American Christmas movies booth a few spots away. You gasp and rush over with renewed excitement, eyes scanning eagerly over the shelves. They have just about everything, from the classics like "It's A Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol" to movies you grew up on like "Home Alone" and "Elf." The more you sort through the outdated DVDs, the bigger your smile gets.

"What's your favorite Christmas movie?" Namjoon asks, casually looking through the Christmas vinyls on the booth next to the movies.

"Without a doubt, Ron Howard's 'How The Grinch Stole Christmas.'"

"The one with Jim Carrey?"

"You know it!"

He laughs. "Yeah, my little sister and I watched it a lot when we were kids."

Your head perks up at the mention of a sister. "I didn't know you had siblings, either."

Namjoon nods. "Yeah, she's in college, too. Studying to be a psychologist."

"She sounds amazing."

"Yeah, the family is very proud. I know I am." He pulls out a vinyl for one of Frank Sinatra's Christmas records. "Do you have siblings?"

At the question, your gaze shifts back to the movies, hands preoccupied with finding the perfect one. "I do. A brother and a sister."

"Older?"

"Yeah..."

"What are they like?"

"A lot like my parents," you sigh, moving on to another shelf, turning your back to your companion. "Which is part of the reason I left, so..."

Namjoon senses your anxiety around the topic and rests a hand on your shoulder as he passes by. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize--"

You cut him off with a casual wave of your hand. "It's no worries, really." Spotting the record under his arm, you ask, "Find one you like?"

While he doesn't seem to buy your act, he lets the conversation go and holds up the vinyl for "Tales of Noel on Ice" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, as performed by the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra.

"You don't already have that one?" you gawk in surprise.

"I don't actually," he admits bashfully. "The title composition is one of my best free skate performances, and I have a record player at home, so why not?" He gestures to the movies. "Did you find one?"

"Oh, I don't need one! I was just looking. I don't even have a DVD player anymore."

"I do, so pick one out and maybe we can watch it sometime."

You shake your head at him, trying to subdue a chuckle. "A record player and a DVD player? You're so odd."

"But to your benefit," he reminds you with a wink, pulling out a single movie nearest him. It happens to be your favorite with Jim Carrey in all his hilarious glory on the front.

Cocking an eyebrow, you give a tiny round of applause at the luck of pulling that film out of all the others. "Well, you're going to have to invite me over sometime then."

"You can count on it."

For the next couple hours, Namjoon and you make your way through the entire market, hitting all the shops that interest and intrigue you. All the while, you talk about a plethora of things and get to know each other letter. For instance, you find out that he was born in Ilsan, not too far from where you are now, and that he hates seafood just about as much as mint chocolate. You also find out that he looks like his mother, who was the one that got him into skating to begin with. And to no one's surprise, Namjoon is actually very funny. Not only is he smart, athletic, and good looking — which alone would have caught your attention — he's got a wicked sense of humor to top it all off.

Likewise, he learns more about you. You tell him about the city you grew up in, the friends you had in high school, what you studied before you came to Korea. You tell him that along with your studies, you're really invested in writing and try to make time for that as well. It hasn't been so easy since the move, but you're hoping to get back to it in the new year.

As you approach mid-afternoon, and the final leg of the market, your phone begins to buzz. Your screen lights up with the same foreign number as before. Instantly, both your feet and your heart stop. Your shoulders tense up, and you turn to a blissfully unaware Namjoon, saying, "Hey, I gotta take this. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" he asks, the person in front of him not the same happy-go-lucky one as before.

You give him a nod of reassurance. "I'll catch up."

Before he can reply, you've turned and moved towards the massive Christmas trees, where there's an opening and the crowds are quieter. Despite what you told him, you don't intend on answering. Whoever is on the other end of that line, be it your mother or father or siblings, you want nothing to do with them. You do, however, want this to be over. You promise yourself to hear the message, block them, and then go run an errand after the holidays to get a new number.

After the call drops, you wait with an anxious feeling building in your stomach. Maybe they didn't leave a message. Maybe it wasn't your family after all. Maybe — 

A soft ping alerts you that you have a new message. Selecting it, you raise your phone to your ear and hear your father this time. He repeats all of what your mother said, only with a layer of frustration and authority that she didn't use. He's borderline cruel as he spouts the same old lies that you're trying to unlearn; it's your fault, it's because of you, you're the cause of it. What it is, depends on the day. This time is has to do with your family not being the same and their world falling to pieces. He uses colorful sentences, well-crafted insults, but all you hear is blame, blame, blame. 

Tears prick your eyes as the voicemail ends, and you realize you should've just deleted the message when you had the chance. A small part of you still hoped they would change, even after all this time, but you see now that it's not possible.

They will never change, and neither will you.

The pit of depression weighs down in your stomach, and loneliness tingles at the back of your throat. Why now? Out of all the times, out of all the days, why are you feeling these things now? You're out having an adventure with a man who you really like, and who you know likes you, in a city you now call home. You're far from any sadness or trauma or family or friends that once brought you down. You've left your past behind. You'd started to feel like there was hope in the holidays and in the future again, like the last year was worth the pain, like everything was starting to turn around.

But suddenly, that snake is wrapped around you again, pulling you back into old habits and old ways of thinking. It's grabbed on tight and is pulling you back into the dark, away from people you care about, away from people who care about you.

Even as you glance up at Namjoon a few stalls away, completely naïve to the painful flickers going through your mind, you feel the need to draw back. Pull away. Stay away. Go back to the security of the known, of the sad, of the lonely. It's warm and comfy, even if it hurts.

Clenching your fists, you try to silence the noise in your brain by shaking your head. The thoughts only grow louder, and the pit in your stomach gets heavier. You haven't felt a depressive episode like this in a long time. You thought they were long gone, especially now, especially with him...

"[Y/n]? Are you okay?"

Looking up, you see Namjoon's approaching you in the clearing. One hand carries the movie and vinyl he purchased for you both, but the other is outstretched towards you. While you don't pull away from his touch, you taste bile in the back of your throat.

"I—I need to go home," you mutter. "I'm starting to feel sick."

"Oh, okay, hold up I'll go get my bike and I'll take you home."

Feeling your breath quicken, you pull your gaze from Namjoon and nod shakily. The walk back to the bike rack is silent, even the crowd outside fades to a low background murmur. Namjoon places the purchased items in his bicycle carrier, then mounts it.

You follow suit, regret beginning to pile up inside you. Running isn't going to help anything, and you know he must be hurt and confused. But to you, the only thing you can do right now to protect yourself is get away from it all and go back to the place where you feel safest.

Tears burn your eyes as you curl up against him. Namjoon pedals speedily to your apartment, making the trip faster than last time. When he pulls up to the curb, you hop off without a word.

"Do you need me to walk you up?" he offers, worry causing his brows to pull together.

You shake your head and put distance between you both. "No, I'm fine. I'll...text you later, okay?"

Without another word, you turn and enter through the front, leaving Namjoon behind on the other side. Trekking up the stairs, through the door, past a mewling Mochi, you curl up on your bed and let yourself finally feel all the sadness piled up inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the waterworks flow when your phone lights up from an incoming text. Knowing exactly who it is, you grab it and text a swift message to Namjoon.

"I'm so sorry I left so suddenly. And that I ruined our day. Not feeling like myself."

"That's okay. I just got home, so I wanted to check up on you. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Do you need anything?"

"No, but thank you."

"Okay... Maybe we can try again some other time? I'd hate to let you down on Day 2."

Unable to reply, the phone turns black and you let it fall onto the duvet.

The days leading up until Christmas Eve were long and full of guilt. You closed the café for the final time the Monday before the holiday, and with no classes to attend, you mainly stayed inside and watched the snow fall outside your tiny apartment window. Mochi kept you company, but even the small fur ball could sense that something had changed for the worse. Even she had gotten used to you being happier this December; you'd taken two steps back while attempting to take a single step forward.

Every morning, you'd spot Namjoon riding his bike past your apartment on his way to the rink where he trains. Every day, he'd stop and gaze up at the building, never sure which frosty window you were behind but melancholy just the same. He'd call and text; the former, you would never answer, but the latter, you did sporadically. Mainly at night when you thought he wouldn't be up.

He usually was.

"Was it something I did?" he asked that Tuesday before Christmas. "Did I move too fast? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"No. It's not you."

"Then tell me what it is. I don't want to come across as pushy, but I thought we were getting closer...and then you pull back and hide from me. From everyone. I know I don't know everything about your past or what happened before you came to Seoul, but I promised you three adventures. I still have one to make good on before Christmas."

"Joonie..."

You couldn't bring yourself to write more. The tiny part of your brain that told you that maybe this can work, maybe it's worth trying, maybe things can be different now, it was silenced by the overwhelming majority of your mind. It remembered everything from your past, from the hurt and pain, from the loneliness and fear. Despite your wish to make things right again, it was drowned out by the pure terror of being wronged again.

"Don't shut me out. Please. Let me show you things can be different now. You don't have to go at this alone, [Y/n]. Not anymore."

Pushing down the urge to cry yet again, you move your fingers to type a swift and cold reply. "I'm so sorry I wasted your time, Namjoon. I really am. I thought I was ready, but it's clear that I'm not. Please, spend Christmas with your family. Don't waste any more time on me."

And that was the end of it. You muted his notifications, ignored his calls and texts, and eventually he went silent. The day before Christmas Eve was the first you didn't hear from him, and it was the first day you felt like you'd truly fucked things up for good.

On Christmas Eve, you got an unexpected call from Lisa. Deciding to take a break from staring at an empty Word document with ever-growing frustration, you answered the call, only to be bombarded by Lisa's rambling.

"Oh, thank god! I didn't think you'd answer! I need a huge favor, and I hate to bother on such short notice on Christmas Eve, but this really cannot wait and I'll love you forever if you—!"

"—Okay, okay," you chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.

"I need you to run back to the café and grab something for me. Jungkook is on his way there, but he doesn't have a key."

"What could you possibly have left that's this important?"

"My fucking credit card."

"You've been out of town for two weeks and only just now realized you left your card?"

She heaves a frustrated sigh. "Please, just, do me this favor?"

Rolling your eyes, you pull yourself from the sofa and grab your keys on the counter. "Fine, but you owe me."

"Yes, yes, I know."

You leave the apartment in a hurry, taking the next train to the café. In less than fifteen minutes, you're at the front door. Lisa assures you that Jungkook is on his way, only twenty minutes away. After unlocking it, you make yourself at home in the lobby with a fresh white chocolate mocha. It reminds you of Yeongu, and you smile at the thought.

After about a half hour, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Lisa's text has you halting in place.

"I'm sorry to do this. You didn't really give me another choice. I crossed a line, but I think you'll thank me in the end."

Your fingers are swift typing a response. "What did you do?"

"You remember how you gave me a spare key in case you ever got locked out? Or in case you were kept at school too long and needed someone to feed Mochi?" A pause, then she adds, "He came to Busan, [Y/n]. He asked me in person what to do. Do you know how out of the way that was for him? Give him another chance. Please."

"You didn't."

"I did. I'm sorry, but you've talked about how you pull away when you get close to people. It's gone on for almost a week. It's Christmas Eve. You can hate me all you want later, but please. Go home, kiss and make up, then try to salvage Christmas."

A huff of air exits your nostrils as it hits you. Lisa's given the spare to Namjoon. Jungkook was never on his way; this was all a rouse to get you out of your apartment long enough for him to get inside. But to what end?

"He's good for you; I can tell that much already. If you ever were to give someone the benefit of the doubt and place your broken pieces in someone's hands, he's the best you're gonna find."

A pang of truth rocks through you, and while you have still a semblance of willpower, you shoot her a swift text and rush back for the station. "I'm still mad at you, but we'll talk later. I need to get home."

"Go get him!"

The series of stairs up to your apartment never felt so long. Out of breath and winded from rushing home, you find the door unlocked. Pushing through, the place you left less than an hour ago isn't the same as it was before.

The entrance hallway is glittering, multi-colored strands of twinkle lights hanging along the periphery. Fake snow lines the trim, and paper snowflakes are tossed across the furniture. Each one is unique and hand-crafted.

As you venture further, a rainbow array aurora covers your living room and kitchen. There must be at least a dozen lengthy strands of Christmas lights hung across the few items you've unpacked, circled around the sealed boxes, and framing every window and door.  Fake icicles hang on the windowsill, fake greenery lays where curtains should be, and a small Christmas tree stands at your height in the corner.

Jovial, English holiday music plays softly in the background. And humming along to the tune of The First Noel, Namjoon stands with bent-back facing you. He's finishing his final touches on the tree, ensuring that each sparkling orb and shimmering tinsel is perfect. He adjusts the star on the top with a smile to himself, oblivious still to your entrance.

For a moment, you stand in silence and watch him. Your heart is heavy but still beating. If anything, seeing him in the midst of such a sweet and selfless act makes it flutter. Even after cutting his well-planned adventure short, ignoring him for over a week, and telling him to stop speaking to you, he's still here. He came back, and he's trying to prove to you the truth he's been spouting all along.

Eventually, you blink out of your stupor and clear your throat to alert him to your presence. Namjoon turns on his heel, elbow grazing the tree just enough to send it toppling backward. He curses and lunges for it, grabbing it by the star just in time to keep it upright. His characteristic clumsiness prompts a snicker from you, one that you attempt to hide with your hand over your mouth.

Namjoon adjusts the tree and turns back to you with a bashful expression. His lips pull into a side-smile, a single dimple popping out in the process. "H—Hi..."

"Hi," you repeat back to him, letting your hand fall. Your eyes follow suit and drift to your damp, snow-covered shoes.

A beat of silence passes where neither of you knows what to say next. Then the both of you break it at once, words tumbling over each others several times in a row. You laugh to yourself and look back up at him; Namjoon smiles down at you, shaking his head at the awkward reunion.

He gestures silently to you. "Go ahead."

You clear your throat, then say, "I...I wanted to say that I owe you an apology."

He shakes his head firmly, extending his hands in a olive-branch manner. "No, you don't—"

Your feet move back, putting space between you both. "—Can I explain and finish, please? Just...hold your forgiveness until then." At your request, your companion falls silent, letting his hands fall respectfully at his side. Taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, you re-calibrate your mind and prepare for your admission.

"There's a lot you don't know about me yet," you begin softly. "Ah, shit — That came out super mean. I mean, you know a lot about me. You kinda know why I moved to Korea, the situation with my family back in America, that whole thing. You know where I work and what I'm studying. You know my favorite drink of all time is a white chocolate mocha, and that my favorite customer is barely four feet tall. You know Lisa is my shield at work, and that we've become pretty close in less than a year. You know I'm a homebody and that my favorite thing to do by myself is play with Mochi and watch dramas."

You release a huff of air and raise your eyes to meet his, a wistful smile tugging the corners of your lips. "But there's a lot I haven't told you — or anyone for that matter. I've gone through...a lot of shit this year. When I moved to Seoul, my mental health was in the trash, and my self worth was in shambles. I'd just been shoved from everything I'd ever known into a foreign place."

When you pause for a moment, Namjoon's small and steady voice pipes up with a single inquiry. "I thought you left willingly?"

"I did," you state. "I've wanted to move to South Korea for a long, long time. Since I can remember. But I never thought I'd lose everything before then." Tears prick your eyes, and you lift your sleeve to wipe your nose. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Namjoon gestures towards the small sofa, and you follow his lead. You perch on a single cushion, legs folded underneath you. He takes the adjacent one, far enough to for personal space but still close enough to rest a hand on your knee. This time, you don't push him away as you catch your breath. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, I do, but maybe not now." You take another breath in and focus your thoughts. "I didn't mean to start all that with the intention of being the victim and making you feel bad for me. I...I told you that because I wanted you to know that there are reasons why I push people away. I've been on a journey to heal that trauma all year, but it doesn't happen overnight. But even with that, I never should have just left like that. I never should have ignored your calls and texts. I shouldn't have made you feel like you were the bad guy, or that any of this was your fault, or that you did anything wrong. You were—"

You struggle to find a word that fits what you're truly feeling, one that doesn't feel overwhelming, but the only one that comes to mind is... "You are perfect, Joonie. You're sweet and kind. You treat me like a normal person that's worth something, and I think part of me was scared of that. Especially around the holidays, I feel very fragile, and I run from things I think might hurt me."

"I would never, ever hurt you." Namjoon flashes a soft and empathetic smile. "Can I ask why you got spooked so suddenly? You looked off when I picked you up, and I know you said it was nothing, but..."

You pull your phone from your pocket and play the message for him, the one from your mother. And when he remains silent, you play the second from your father. While he listens, you watch him. The hand on your knee turns to a fist, and his jaw clenches. Part of you is relieved that someone else is reacting negatively to the messages, yet another signal to you that your choice is validated.

"I got the first that morning, but the second right before I left," you murmur. "I didn't respond, and I've blocked the numbers, but I've felt unstable since then. That's why I shut down, and why I left."

He nods, then turns off the phone. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. That's emotional abuse and manipulation. No one should have to go through that."

"I know, but I was wrong. I'm sorry for doing that and for hurting you. It was wrong, and I don't deserve you coming back again and again...even if you concocted this up with Lisa."

At your light-hearted comment, he chuckles and bites the inside of his cheek. The fist on your knee loosens back, his fingers tapping gently against your skin. "She told you, did she?"

"Yep," you chirp. "I'll thank her later."

After a moment, Namjoon's eyes flicker back up to yours. For a moment, he almost looks worried. "Are you mad?"

"Meh." For a moment, you're able to hold your composure long enough for your companion's eyes to widen in horror. "I'm just kidding," you relent, and Namjoon looks visibly relieved. "How could I be mad? Look at all this!" You gesture to the magical space around you. "It looks like a wonderland in here."

A crimson hue fills his face, and he's all of a sudden very shy about the accomplishment. "I wanted you to feel like you had a Christmas, even if it was just for one night."

Leaning your head against the back cushion of the sofa, you stare at him with a bittersweet smile on your face. "Are you mad at me?"

He shakes his head, expression more adamant about that than anything he's said so far. "Not a bit. I was worried, yes, and maybe a little disappointed. I think most of that was tied to the fact that I thought we were on the up-and-up. I saw you slowly opening up and having a good time."

"Gahhh," you groan, eyes fluttering shut with frustration at your past self. "I really fucked it up, didn't I?"

"Not really." His hand slips up your knee, and he weaves his fingers through yours. The squeeze he gives and the gaze he locks gives emphasis to his next words. "I know I don't know everything about you, just like you don't know everything about me, but I'd be lying if I said you aren't the most joyful thing I've experienced in a while. Being around you makes me happy, and the fact that this has you so down makes me want to be there for you — if you want me to. I don't blame you for anything you've done, so you have nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, after hearing those messages and some of what you've been dealing with this year, I know I would've reacted the same way. But, if it helps your peace of mind, then I forgive it all."

"Thank you," you whisper, trying to blink away the tears pricking your eyes.

Namjoon's gaze softens, and he tugs on your hand. "C'mere." You scoot closer, and he pulls you the rest of the way onto his lap and into his arms. Your legs dangle off the side of his thighs, and your head nestles in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. One hand holds tightly to yours while the other circles your waist, dipping under your sweater to rub soothing circles on your skin. Your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him even closer than before.

"Sometimes terrible, inexplicable things happen to us and it takes us months — even years — to process." Namjoon's timbre is quiet and deep, rumbling against your ear as he speaks. "Everyone goes through that, even me. But it's so much harder to face it alone. Sometimes it takes a lonely, awful Christmas to see just how out of sorts you are. I don't know everything, but if you'll have me, I'd like to stick around to find out."

"You'd still be willing to get to know me more, even after seeing me at my worst?"

"Jagi, if this is your worst, then I would hate to introduce you to sixteen-year-old Kim Namjoon. That boy was a train-wreck."

Letting a watery smile show as laughter escapes your lungs, you reach upward and wrap your arms around Namjoon's neck. He pulls you closer, hands splayed on your back and waist. A sense of relief, and something like home, floods through you. Burying your face in his neck, you allow yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. Ever patient, your companion just holds you close as you come back around.

"Enough with the heavy," he breaks the silence, pulling back and wiping his thumb across your cheeks. Nodding towards the front of the space, where your television is, you follow his line of sight. "I brought your movie and the player. If you're okay with me staying over, do you wanna watch it?"

Leaning forward, you bring your face closer to his, murmuring, "I'd love that."

Namjoon closes the final distance. Both your eyes and his flutter shut as your lips meet in the middle. You tug on the collar of his sweater, encouraging him closer as his arms tighten around your waist. In a burst of bravery, you run your hand through his platinum hair and nip at his bottom lip. He inhales abruptly, and you giggle in response.

"You're gonna be the death of me, [Y/n] [Y/l/n]," he laughs, eventually pulling back to catch his breath.

You grin mischievously at him, biting your lower lip. "Still sure you wanna stay?"

"Definitely. Oh! And I placed an order for takeout, which should be here any minute."

You burst into laughter, resting your forehead against his shoulder as joy fills your body. "You really put all your chips on me coming to my senses, didn't you?" When he shrugs, you add, "What if I had said no?"

"Then I would've been eating for two alone in my apartment," he groans.

You shake your head at his antics and playfully poke the dimple in his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

His smile deepens at your words and gesture. “Merry Christmas, [Y/n].”

Just as he promised, food arrives at the front of your apartment a few minutes later. Namjoon hops up and volunteers to get it from the entrance, and you pop the movie into the player. Silencing the music on his phone, you select the "Play" option from the menu, and the credits begin to play over Anthony Hopkins' narration as your companion returns.

He serves up the food and delivers it to you on the sofa. With a rumbling stomach, you take it gratefully. Just as the singing begins, Namjoon settles into the seat beside you, hooking your leg over his so you maintain closeness as you devour the takeout. Neither of you have seen it in so long, and thus both of you are laughing whole-heartedly at every joke and hilarious mannerism.

After the meal is finished and the dishes are on the makeshift box side-table, you find yourself slowly slipping closer to your companion. Namjoon gladly pulls you closer, and by the middle of the movie, you're back in his lap. With the blanket wrapped around you both, his chin on your head, his arms around you with one hand tracing absent-minded patterns on the skin above your pants, you know you've never been more at home in Seoul than you are right now.

"I'm sorry I ruined your grand plans for Day 3," you murmur after a while.

Namjoon's hand on your waist halts, then changes to a reassuring, tapping pattern. "Be glad you did; this is way better than anything I had planned."

"While I have to agree, what did you have planned?"

You can hear his smile in his voice. "Well, honestly I hadn't decided between Lotte World or Seoullo 7017. You said you hadn't been to either of those, and at Christmas, they're magical. All the lights, the music, it's an absolute winter wonderland."

"Well, if I get to see you skate live, then we can definitely go to those after the solar New Year. Maybe...Maybe even call it a date?"

Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead, one that makes you grin to yourself and sigh peacefully. His reply is loud and clear, a promise reverberating through his chest. "I think that sounds perfect."

As the movie continues, you relax and think back on everything that's happened this year. All your concerns and worries you had a few weeks prior, at the beginning of December, they all seem so far away now. Even those anxieties brought up recently feel as if they're resolved. he sense is comparable to that of a chapter ending and a new one is being written. And this time, you're the one holding the pen.

At the resolution of the film, you realize that what Namjoon set out to do over a series of adventures truly did come to fruition. Be it luck or fate or whatever you want to call it, he really has given you that spark of hope in the Christmas season. It's something you thought you'd lost, or perhaps you'd left it in America along with many other things. He's brought it back to life, and so much more along with it.

All that magic, all that wonder, all that love and hope and joy — Namjoon is right. It hasn't disappeared from the world, and you haven't outgrown the things you used to feel during the holiday season. It's all still right here, in front of you and around you, waiting to be taken with grateful hands and heart. Maybe it's not in the form it used to be, nor is it in the place it used to be, but neither are you. Both you and your home have changed this year. But despite it all, you are still here, still striving to love yourself and your new life, still trying to let the magic find you.

And this year, because of a wonderful person named Kim Namjoon, you had all the love and magic you could ever need.

[neomikey]

Contributing to the #RyukoPrompts this month (albeit belatedly), Final Fantasy 14 with my wife and sister-in-law has been helping us to get through the lockdown!  After all our time spent running through Eorzea, original adventures inspired by our time playing came to mind...and I thought to write one out.

Enjoy~!  :)

The following story’s canon is questionable,

both with the in-game lore and how the characters are presented.

Viewer discretion is advised, void where prohibited,

see store for details, careful of wet floor.

~

Hear...

Her voice was calm and crystalline.

Hear.... Feel....

The air was warm.

Hear.... Feel....  Listen....

There was great weight to her tone and a quiet urgency.

I am Hydaelyn. I know all...see all...I have seen you...and you are needed.

You will be required for a great task.  One of which you must not fail, for to do so would bring great ruin.

The task which you have been given is monumental – you will help to stop a primal where no one else can.

My words...keep them.  Remember them. Heed them.

You must not forget, Muto. You must not forget.

~

Muto blearily opened his eyes.  Outside the world was waking.  Light was coming in through the window, still orange as the sun started its journey above the horizon.  Birds were already in song, announcing to the world that they had survived the dark night.  Windows were beginning to light as the people of Gridania awoke.

As he lied in bed, something urgently tugged at Muto's mind.  Something desperate. Something important.  His eyes shot open.

He was out of toilet tissue.

This was the fourth attempt that Hydaelyn had made to spur the Hrothgar toward his quest.

Stumbling out of bed in his boxers, he rushed for the door and threw it open. Rushing across the small house, he passed by another white-furred Hrothgar and a tired-looking Lalafell who were sitting at a table with mugs.  On the side of the beastman's in large block lettering had originally been “#One Brother,” but the number had been messily scratched out and replaced by “#1st”.  It was a gift Muto had made while still learning to read and write Eorzean.  The Lalafell, meanwhile, had a tankard large enough for a Roegadyn filled to the brim with coffee.

“Just one morning,” Lalinu sighed, “I would like for him to be decent when he comes out of there.”

“Muto is not naked,” Tahro observed.

“A marked improvement,” the Lalafell admitted.

The door to the back was flung open and Muto rushed out.  A minute later, he rushed back and stood before them, eyes wide with excitement.  “No more emergency!” he announced.

“...I'm sorry?” Lalinu asked.  “Wait, no, forget I—”

“Muto thought there was no more toilet tissue, but Muto was wrong!”

“You were wrong about something.”  She went to have a drink of coffee.  “How about that.”

“Tahro buy,” Tahro informed him.  “Tahro also fill up larder.  Get groceries. Get good deals.”

“While somebody was out playing adventurer.”

“Muto is real adventurer....” Muto insisted.

“If you got sustainably paid, you could be considered a 'professional' adventurer.  Just like how I'm supposed to be a 'professional' accountant.”  She had another drink of coffee.  “Though I currently lack the dignity that comes with such a position.”

“Muto think Lalinu is great!”  He grinned brightly, hoping the smile would affect her mood.  It remained as dark as her coffee.

“Muto need a good job,” Tahro informed him.  “Get good money.  Money not lasting.”

“He's right.  It's not.”  Lalinu swiveled in her chair, then hopped off. She walked across the kitchen to where her desk was set up, which was a little lower than the Hrothgars' knees.  She sifted through the stacks of papers, brought up one, then put on her glasses.  “After your last trip to...hold on....”  She squinted and leaned in, then removed her glasses and sighed.  “I can't even pronounce half these names....  Anyways, your exploits are currently not economically self-sustaining, even cutting back on everything – including feeding that beast in the barn – and your queen's 'adventuring grant' won't last forever.”

“Muto need to do more,” Tahro gently informed Muto.  “Cannot keep doing light duties.”

“Grand company have nothing but light duties for Muto!” Muto protested.  “So many adventurers in Eorzea!  So many legends!” He put a hand to his chest.  “But Muto is legend in heart.”

“We know how great you think you are,” Lalinu said after another drink of coffee, “but until you make that a reality, you're under a ticking clock.”

Muto looked above himself.  “...where is clock?”

Lalinu gave a throaty sigh of frustration, but Tahro spoke up in her stead. “Lalinu mean...get big job...or no more adventuring.”

It looked for a moment like someone had slapped Muto, as his expression went from shock to heart-rending sadness.  His ears drooped, his tail went limp, and he looked like he was about to cry.  However, the moment was brief, as moments later, his ears went back up, he brought his fists near his chest, and he bore a determined expression.

“Muto get help!”

~

The world was warm and comfortable.  She was a ball.  A warm, fluffy, pink ball.  All was well in the world.

And then she woke up.

“Miyu...!”

“Mm....”

“Miyu, hey...!”

“Nuhhhh....”

“Come on, it's time to get up.”

“Nuhhhhh...!”

“Don't 'nuhhhh' me.  You asked me to get you up.”

A pink tail emerged from the blanket ball and began to angrily swish.  “That was before it was morning....”

“I even let you sleep in a little,” Ryuko said, poking Miyu through her hammock.

The blanket ball tightened.  “Then you can let me sleep in more.”

“If you sleep in more, you're going to miss all the good jobs.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmhh.” The blanket ball loosened and Miyu's head poked out.  Her hair was skewed to one side and only one eye was open.  “You know how unfair this is.”

Ryuko stood before her already clad in her dragoon armor, leaning on her spear.  “Oh, I know, but Eorzea isn't gonna help itself.”

“Why not?”  Miyu tucked herself back into the blanket ball.  “Seriously.  People treat us like their servants sometimes.  Like...picking mushrooms a little outside the city's walls.  'I'll give you 50 gil to get ten for me!' Get them yourself! Seriously, the creatures outside are not bad if you don't bother them.  We have other things to worry about, we're not here to do your chores for you.”

She heard the Au Ra's boots walking away.  “Technically speaking, that's exactly what we're here to do – do whatever people pay us to.”

“Well, some of us have standards....”

Ryuko's boots came back.  “Are you getting up?”

“In a moment....”

There was a pause. “Moment's up!”

The carbuncle was dropped into the hammock and immediately starting rooting through the blanket to find an opening, while Miyu's limbs flailed.  “Ack! Twitchums!  No! Stop!  Off!” His nose found Miyu's face, then eagerly started licking. “TWITCHUMS!!”

The hammock twisted from all the activity, dumping Miyu and Twitchums on the floor, followed by the blanket, which fell and draped over half of Miyu's face.  Ryuko did her best to hide her amusement.  “Glad you're up!”

“That was meeeeaaan...!” Miyu whined, pushing Twitchums away.  He was trying to jump up on her chest to lick her face, both because he loved her and because it was time for breakfast.  He was a bright, shining topaz color, indicating how thrilled he was to see the Miqo'te.

“You asked me to get you up,” said Ryuko as she turned and headed for the door.

“I'm asking you for less next time...” grumbled Miyu.  She stroked Twitchums's head, making his tails twitch in delight.

“Go and get ready soon!”  Ryuko waved from the door.  “I'm sure you're gonna get a great job today!”

~

“It's Declan,” he said, flashing a bright, sly smile, “but you can call me 'Dec.'”

The Viera lady looked to the Miqo'te less than enthused.

“Y'know, I'm kinda big around these parts,” Declan went on.  “I took out some primals singlehandedly, you know.  Like Titan?  Yeah, that was me.  I even took his crystal, just because I felt like it.  I sold it for a million gil, even though I didn't need the money.  Did I mention I was rich?”  He flashed the Viera a bright smile again, who returned a flat stare.

“Declan,” said someone behind him.

“Not now,” he said, waving the person away.  “Okay, okay,” he went on to the Viera, “I've got a secret...but you've gotta promise not to tell anyone.”

She just stared.

“I...am actually one of the original Warriors of Light.  I know!  I know, but it's true!  I was there when Bahamut broke out.  I was actually right by Louisoix's side.  I told everyone, 'Get out of here and I'll protect you!'  I was gonna save everyone, but Louisoix decided to hog the glory.  He totally stole my idea.”

“Declan.”

“Not now.”  He leaned against the wall, still eyeing the Viera.  “So, I wouldn't call myself a 'legendary hero,' but some people do.  I just was trying to do what was right, y'know?  However, I'd love to have lunch with ya.  I know this lovely place near the Steps of Nald.  My treat! You like Lalafell cooking?”

The lady sighed. “I'm gay.”  Then she walked off.

“All right!  All right, that's fine!  Hey, you do you!  Just making polite conversation!”  She wasn't stopping.  Declan sighed, his ears lowering a bit, then looked to a nearby man in a hooded white robe with glasses.  “What do you think, Bo?  You wanna try?”

“No, Declan...” he wearily sighed.  

“Awww, you're no fun....”  Bo hadn't been “fun” ever since he had become a white mage and swore a vow of celibacy.  Declan ran his fingers through his hair, then turned to face the young, dark-skinned man.  He had a metal-clad grimoire hanging from his belt and waiting with his arms crossed.  “Yeah?”

“About time.”

“I was doing important business, thank you.”

Enzo took a hardboiled egg out of his pocket and bit into it through the shell. “Does Kijhon'a know about this 'business?'”

“Hey, I was just being friendly is all!  Just making a lady feel welcome!”

“Sure, whatever.” Enzo tilted his head.  “I've got a lead on a job.  A big one, and I could use your help.”

“Ehh?”  Declan arched a brow.  “Well...maybe.  Maybe.  What's it paying?”

Enzo inwardly cringed.  He knew this might be where things fell apart. “Technically, it doesn't.”

“Not interested,” Declan immediately responded.

“It's a Garlean facility,” Enzo went on.  “It's currently lightly guarded.  I've got a lead on—”

“Ehh....” Declan gave a dismissive wave, then walked off.

“You can have a share of whatever we find inside!” Enzo called after him.  Declan turned a corner, then was gone.  Enzo's ears flattened, while his hand went to the ring on his necklace and rubbed it while in thought.  As much of a blowhard as Declan was, he did have considerable skill, which was exactly what Enzo needed right then.

Enzo popped the rest of the egg into his mouth.  If Declan was out, what other options did Enzo have?  His sister, sure, but he could guarantee she would say “no” straight-out.  This wasn't something that he could entrust to just anyone at the grand company either, as secrecy and decorum would be needed, and the grand companies documented everything.

“Hmm....”

There was an idea.  Not the best one, but it would work...enough.

~

Miyu waded through the crowds.  She was running a little behind, both because she had been tired, plus Twitchums had decided to take his time with “doing his business.”  What made this situation all the worse is that it was Tuesday, meaning that all the week's fresh jobs were just posted. Miyu mused that maybe this week, people were still recovering from the last one and weren't likely to be out there this early.

Seeing the grand company's building, her heart sank.  She was definitely wrong.

A large crowd of adventurers clustered in front of the building.  Some were crowding around the posting boards, while others were waiting in line to talk with representatives.  It was always surprising to her how most of the larger races hardly ever stepped on the smaller ones, particularly the Lalafell.  If she were a giant, she could see herself being lost in her own world, but then again, it was likely taught to them from a young age to be mindful of the small ones.

Getting to the board, she likely wouldn't find too many good postings left. Her best bet would be to wait in line with everyone and to see what someone of her rank could get.  Given her record of...nothing big or impressive...it likely wouldn't be much.  But she had been consistent, at least!

Speaking of which....

Someone who was determined to be an adventurer, even if he just got duties picking mushrooms, was a Hrothgar she was always happy to see.  Regular as ever, she always saw him in line at this time.  While waiting, he was looking to the large postings, reading them and slowly sounding out the words to himself as he did.

“Muto!” Miyu called, jumped, and waved.  Despite her best efforts, it was all for naught.  His full concentration was on trying to sound out “tyrannic coeurl.”

Miyu knit her brows, then knelt down and gave Twitchums a stroke from head to tail.  “Eee!” squeaked the carbuncle.

“Where's Muto?” she asked. Twitchums's tails went up.  “Wheeeeere's Muto?” The carbuncle eagerly looked about, his nose snuffling at a surprising speed.  His tails flicked about wildly as he concentrated, seeking out his quarry, until his eyes locked on the Hrothgar. “There he is!”

Twitchums shot off like a bullet.  He nearly collided with a Lalafell as he went past, snaked through the crowd, and the next thing Muto knew, there was a carbuncle who was so happy it was bordering on gold pawing at his leg.  It took Muto a moment to realize he knew this carbuncle, then broke into a wide smile.

“Oh!! Is Twitchums!!”  He bent down and scooped up Twitchums, who eagerly went to wash Muto's face.  “Are here alone?  Is not good to be alone!  ...wait, is Twitchums here to be adventurer?!” The Hrothgar became incredibly excited.  “Oh!! Muto teach you everything!!”

“Mutooooo!!”

The carbuncle's ears flicked, then wriggled out of Muto's grip and ran back towards Miyu.  The Hrothgar followed his path, then brightened up.

“Is Miyu!! Hello!!”

“Muto!” Miyu called over the din of the crowd.  “Wanna adventure together?”

“Miyu and Muto be party?”

“Yeah!”  She nodded.  “Let's party up!”

“Join Muto!!”

The crowd was thick and unmoving, and prodding a couple Hyur's in fur-trimmed armor to ask to get by only got Miyu dirty looks.  She then eyed a nearby street lamp, shimmied up it, then – at Muto's encouragement – leapt straight for him.  He caught Miyu, and after a bit of shuffling, she crouched perched on his shoulders while holding onto his horn for support.  She could feel the glares of the Hyurs who initially spurned her, and simply playfully swished her tail back and forth at them.

“Next.”

“Hello!” Muto greeted the Elezen representative.

She blinked in surprise at seeing the Miqo'te perched on top of the Hrothgar, but neither of the pair paid it any mind.

“Badges, please.”

Muto passed hers down to Muto, then he placed them onto the counter, smiling brightly to her, hoping his smile could at least pass on to this person.  As it turned out, working customer service did not make the Elezen feel like smiling.

“Okay, two one-stars.  Are you working together?”

“Muto and Miyu make best team!” Muto affirmed.

“Uh huh.  All right, we have plenty of one-star jobs.  If you're interested in working locally, there's a farmer who has had some kobolds spotted near her farm.  It looks like she'd love to have some able-bodied adventurers on hand to scare them off...or permanently deal with them if it comes down to it.  Until they make a move, though, she would love to have some help harvesting her crops.  That will be 200 gil and 50 points towards your next rank.  Sound good?”

Muto perked up, happy to have work at all, completely forgetting what Tahro and Lalinu had said earlier.  “Muto think sounds g—”

“Wait...wait, wait, hold on.” Miyu's tail began to angrily swish.  “You're dealing with two one-stars...and you're giving us farm duty? That should be a zero-star job!  We qualify for at least a two-star.”

The Elezen gave a weary sigh, and in her best customer service voice, she repeated what she had many times before.  “The stars in your rank do not accumulate when doing jobs together.  You can only do jobs at your current rank or below, except in special exceptions.  Those exceptions are when requested specifically by a higher-ranking adventurer or in times of great peril.  Is there a third member to your party who is above you in rank?”  She paused only long enough to see the tell-tale facial expressions that said “no.”  “Then in that case, you'll have to take one of the one- or zero-star jobs, and at the moment, this farm job is the best one I have to offer you. Tuesday jobs are first-come, first-serve.”

“Muto think that sounds gr—”

“Come on!” Miyu pleaded, leaning further down and out, yet somehow keeping her balance.  “Do you know how long we've been working?  How much we've been trying and trying to rank up?  We've been grinding for who knows how long!  Week after week doing these one- and zero-stars, just wanting a chance at a two star!  Just a chance to make an impression, to show how truly amazing we are!  Haven't you ever wanted just a chance?  And here you are, the only person able to give us – us great adventurers with greater promise – that chance we need.  You are the gatekeeper and we are horses, only wanting to get through the doors, wanting to gallop on our way through to the beflowered fields promised to us.  We want to truly spread our wings in the skies of—”

“If I give you a two-star, will you stop the monologue?”

“Yes.”

A paper was shoved towards Muto.

“Next,” she called, looking past the pair.

Muto and Miyu made their way out, looking over the assignment.

“M-mee...” Muto sounded out.  “...meerk...meer-ka-haynt....”

Finally hopping off his shoulders, Miyu leaned into Muto and dragged her finger along the page.  “Merchant seeking protection along road from Gridania to Ul'dah.  See, says here they're departing tonight and are looking for at least two guards.  Well...with you, me, Twitchums, and maybe some friends, I'd say we have this one in the bag!”

A fairy flew by, making tinkling noises and illuminating the page before flying off.

“Muto did not bring bag....” said Muto bashfully, suddenly worried about his bag-less status.

“No, it's...ahh, nevermind.”  Miyu had tried explaining metaphors before, including cracking the joke “I never metaphor I didn't like!”  In response, Muto had given the smile that said he had no idea what Miyu was saying, but he was very happy that she was enjoying herself.  “Either way, we have an actual two-star! Sheesh, trying to give us farm duty, pff, go eat a chode, we're adventurers, not bloody farmers.”

“Muto sometimes get bloody when doing farm work!  Weeds are spiky....”

“That's why you wear gloves, Muto.”

“Muto strong.  What does not kill Muto make three mistakes – not kill Muto, make Muto stronger, make Muto angry!”  He grinned, showing off his teeth, then punched into his palm.  “Muto kill and eat, just to show how tough Muto is! Weeds taste bad, though.  And make tongue bleed.  But Muto show them.”

“Muto, please don't say not killing you is a mistake.”  Miyu rubbed at his arm. “The world would be less without you in it.”

“Oh, Muto not leaving!”  He flexed hard and showed off his bicep.  “Muto too strong for that!  Plus Muto have Miyu!”

“And Enzo?” said another voice.

“Enzo?” Both Muto and Miyu looked over.  The Hrothgar immediately reacted upon seeing the dark-skinned Miqo'te.  “Oh!! Muto have Enzo today!!”

Enzo was leaning against a nearby building with his fairy Eos fluttering near his shoulder.  “Meowdy.”  His cool demeanor was quickly replaced by mild panic as the ground shook and a shadow overtook him. The next moment, he found his feet off the ground and himself in Muto's tight embrace.  “Hrrk!!”

“Enzo, hey!” Miyu greeted him.  “You already go through the line?”

“Hhhhhh...!”

“Muto, let go.”

Muto did.  Enzo took a moment to get air back into his lungs and straightened out his coat.  “Good to see you guys too.  Bit...less tight next time, hey, Muto?”

“Muto sorry.” He grinned brightly, showing off his fangs.  “Just happy to see Enzo!”

“Always mutual.” He flicked an ear, then took a boiled egg out of his pocket.  “Egg?”

“Okay!”  Muto took it and shoved it into his pocket.  “Have later.”

Enzo brought out another.  “You?”

Miyu lowered an ear.  “I'm...fine, thanks.”

Enzo shrugged, then bit into the shell.  “To answer your question, no, I haven't gone through the line.  I don't need to.  Came here to get some help, actually....”

Miyu squinted, suddenly very suspicious.  “You didn't 'need' to go through the line?  What, did you get a job elsewhere?”

“More or less.” He quirked a brow.  “You two interested?”

Muto looked down at the paper in his hands.  His ears went back slightly as he concentrated, trying to decide.

“Well, first off, what kind of job are we looking at here?” asked Miyu.  “This have a ranking?”

“It's...an independent venture.”

That term – sometimes called an IV – was always a bit scary.  Adventurers may come upon a task that needed doing, and instead of going through the paperwork of posting a job and seeking additional adventurers in an officially sanctioned job, they sought to resolve the problems themselves.  Once the IV had finished, it was documented, submitted, and appropriate ranking points were assigned.

While in the past, adventurers had said certain troublesome events were “IVs” to give themselves an excuse, the grand companies quickly put harsh restrictions and punishments into place.  Extremely foolhardy ventures – such as trying to assassinate a foreign dignitary and potentially starting a war – were punished so severely that getting put to death was an option.  Retroactively saying something was an IV as an excuse for causing trouble or damage was severely punished, with it not uncommon to to lose one's adventuring license entirely, or at least a few ranks.  The same punishment went with falsified IVs.

IVs were always a gamble, though.  While the grand companies could at least guarantee payment and ranking points, there was no such guarantee in an IV.  Even if adventurers barely made it out by the skin of their teeth, if they accomplished little or had nothing to show for their time, they would likely get little in regards to advancing their rank.  However, the benefit was that IVs were not limited by rank or the number of adventurers allowed to join, meaning a great amount of money and advancement could be open to anyone.

“Go on...” Miyu said slowly.

“Not just yet. This's a hot job, big reward, and shouldn't be too tough, but I first need to know if you want to join me.”

“Sounds too good to be true.  Where'd you get this?”

“Long story.”

“Shorten it.”

“I've got sources.  Good and reliable ones.”  He reached into his pocket, dug around, then made a face.  He pulled out a white rat, which looked at him with wide, curious eyes, then handed it to Miyu.  “Hold this, would ya?”

“Wh—?”

He then pulled out a rolled-up communique.  “A little chocobo told me about a nearly abandoned facility that's ripe for picking through.”

“'Nearly' abandoned?”  The rat scampered to Miyu's shoulder.

“A couple leftover guards, they're basically just babysitting the place now. Easy pickings.  And you don't have to worry, they're not 'good guys' by any stretch.”

“Mmmmm...”

Enzo motioned with his chin at Muto's paper.  “What rank's that mission?”

“Oh!” Muto held out the paper proudly.  “Is two-star! Miyu is best ne-go-shee-ater!”

Enzo got a lopsided smile, proud of their accomplishment.  “Well look at you!  You're moving up!”

The rat climbed up to Miyu's head, where Eos flitted near to investigate. “We're looking at 700 points for this job.”  Miyu then snorted derisively.  “She was trying to give us something with 50, can you believe that?”

“Yeah.” Enzo shrugged.  “It's kinda unfair to us lowbies like that.”  He took a moment to look between them with a twinkle in his eye. “...but what would you two say to a four-star?”

“...I'm sorry?”

“IS FOUR-STAR?!”

“Shhhh!!” Enzo and Miyu hissed at Muto.

Muto clapped his hands over his mouth, while Miyu recomposed herself. “Okay, this is definitely sounding too good to be true.  How is it a four-star?”

He moved the hand holding the communique, showing the emblem stamped beneath.  “It's Garlean, but don't let that scare you.”

“Don't let that scare me?!  Just the Garlean empire, nothing threatening....” Her sarcasm was interrupted as another thought came to her.  “And what's the pay?”

“A third of whatever we find over there.”

“And what should we expect to find?”

“That's all a bit—”

The unseen hand of Hydaelyn nudged Muto's memory.

Muto gasped and clapped a hand heavily on Miyu's shoulder.  “Oh!! Muto remember!!  Tahro say to get big job!  Or Muto have to stop adventuring!” He shook Miyu, making her head bounce about and dislodged the rat. “Is Muto's big chance!  Show Tahro!  Show Lalinu!  Show queen!  Show the world!”

“M-Muto....”

“Muto help Enzo!”

“But what about our job tonight?”

“Muto know math!” He was excited to share his academics.  “Four is bigger than two!”

“He has a point,” Enzo chimed in.

Miyu looked between the two.  They were both looking at her with wide, expectant faces.  She gave a heavy sigh, then poked a finger into Enzo's chest.  “All right...but we're trusting you!  If this IV is a bust, you're going to be the one to pay the gil, all right?”

“Sure, yeah, that's fine!  Let's say...500 gil if things don't pan out?”

Miyu squinted.  Her shrewdness was kicking in.  She knew she could negotiate for something a great deal higher, but Enzo was a friend...and she was curious exactly what they would find in this Garlean place anyways.

“Deal.”

“And you, Muto?”

“Huh?”  His attention had gone to Eos, hovering above Enzo's head.

“Is 500 gil acceptable?”

“Okay!  Umm....” He held up the paper with the two-star adventure.  “Should Muto share?”

“Oh, that?” Enzo shrugged.  “Yeah, just pass it along to someone else.”  He turned to Miyu.  “So...out in eastern Thanalan, there's this Garlean lab....”

While Enzo explained the job, Muto looked down at the two-star adventure, then to the crowd.  He saw a frustrated Au Ra wandering away from the company building.  It was the telltale sign of a poor adventure...and Muto had the solution.  He wandered away, while Enzo continued his explanation.

~

Its breath was thick, and stank of blood and meat.  Its lip were curled back in a permanent snarl,  showing every single dagger-like tooth, while ichor-like saliva dripped from between them.  Its teeth were literally the subject of horror stories, capable of piercing flesh and bone easily.  Its jaws were powerful enough to crunch all manner of alloyed metal, whether it was armor or the side of an airship. Each claw was like a curved saber, able to rend its prey to pieces with a single swipe.  Its muscles were beyond natural, fueled purely by aether and pure menace.  Its kind had killed countless and would kill countless more.  “Nightmare” was not enough of a description for the beast.  To be seen by one was to already be counted as dead.

“Smoo-thie!”

It was an odd stroke of fate that a behemoth had ended up in the care of Muto.  It was a hassle to care for, but nobody wanted to take it for domestic purposes, Muto refused to give it to those who intended it for battle, and him and Tahro seemed to be the only ones to whom Smoothie seemed to listen.

Pupil-less eyes swiveled onto Muto as he approached, carrying a fresh pig carcass behind him.  Smoothie growled, and even in the warm climate, a cloud of breath could be seen.

“Muto got you nummies!”

He tossed the pig over the top of the cage, where it slipped through the bars before falling.  Smoothie caught it in its jaws, and bit down, causing a small spray of blood against the side of its enclosure.  Muto leaned against the outside of the stall, his tail swishing back and forth contentedly as he watched the behemoth feed.

“Are hungry, neh?  No worries!  Muto off to do big job!  Can get even bigger pig next time!”  He reached through a patted one of the behemoth's horns.  “But am sorry, is in Thanalanalan.  Smoothie is too big to go on airship!”

There was a loud crack of bone and spray of viscera.

“Awww, don't be sad!  Muto is sorry, but will definitely try to take Smoothie on next big mission!  Will try to get one in Gridania!  Muto knows Smoothie likes hunting for deer!”

Smoothie shook its head, flicking droplets of blood across Muto's armor.

“There you go! Now you behave!  Muto loves you!”  He kissed his fingers, then put them to Smoothie's horn, before absently wiping away the blood.

He walked to the neighboring stall where his chocobo was caged.  For some reason, it was always wide-eyed and nervous.

“Hello, Legbird! Time for adventure!”

~

The desert sun was high, but it barely reached them.

The storm had been sudden and filled with rage.  The world was roaring.  Wind violently whipped the sand about, shoving them about as their chocobos struggled onward.  Enzo led the pack, all while keeping his grimoire open, its pages emitting a barely visible light.

Each of them wore caps that had been customized to fit over their cat ears, while goggles protected their eyes and scarves covered their lower faces. The chocobos had been given similar head protection, with glass shielding over their eyes and an insulated covering that went over their beaks.

Enzo held up a hand to halt.  With one hand holding the grimoire open, the other reached into his pocket, then withdrew a scope.  He scanned in the distance, tapped a switch a few times, then grinned to himself.

Turning to the others, he gave a thumbs-up and enthusiastic nod.

~

“You'd think there would've been something in the weather report.”

“What?”

“I said, you'd think there would have been something in the weather report!”

The other man gave a helpless shrug.  He only heard half of what was said, but agreed with the sentiment.  Things had been miserable ever since the main arm of the Garlean empire had pulled out.  Insurgent forces had set up a fantastic base there in Thanalan, which was to be a hub of operations.  However, due to a lack of resources – both material and personnel – and with the staff already there, it instead became a self-sufficient laboratory.

It was a risk having a lightly guarded Garlean base so close to Ul'dah, but it was a calculated risk.  They were able to glean bits of intel regarding Ul'dah to occasionally send back to Garlemald, while the handful of scientists continued their research.

All the while, they held onto hope that the Garlean empire would make a push into central Eorzean lands once again, they would have a seat of power in Thanalan already ready for them, and everyone there could finally return to their lives in Garlemald.

Admittedly, life hadn't been too bad.  It could be boring, even.  The guards took shifts in their camouflaged watch box, nestled under an outcrop of rock that disguised the entrance and gave them shade.  Cooled air piped in from the main facility made even the hottest days pleasant. All the while, the scientists continued working on...whatever it was they did.  Something about crystals...of course.  It was always crystals.

This sandstorm had rattled the guards, though, because their schedules depended upon sandstorms.  Every time there was to be one, a cart would either leave or return with supplies hours before a storm hit, which would then hide the tracks leading to the base.  Sure, someone could follow the cart, but they had had training and tools to help them detect when they were being followed or spied upon.  This system had been working for them for years.  However, the sandstorm predictions had been inaccurate before.  This one, though, was particularly harsh.

One of the guards squinted out through his view port, then turned to his comrade.  “I thought I saw movement!” he shouted over the rush of the storm.

“There's a lot of movement!”  The man smiled.  “It's the sand!”

He just got a flat glare in response.

A Miqo'te stumbled through the sand to the shelter of the overhanging rock.  It wasn't much, but it was at least some kind of shelter.  Her face was bare and grimacing, and she held her hands over her ears to prevent sand from getting in.  She drew close against the wall and tightly pulled her knees to her chest with her eyes closed.

The two guards looked to each other.  This was a problem.  They could wait out the storm and hope she left once it had passed.  However, if she stayed there long enough, she might take notice of the disguised doors.  They had done what they could to keep up maintenance, but years with only what scant supplies they could get from Ul'dah without raising suspicion had left some telltale chipping, uneven edges, and a silhouette if you knew what to look for.

The guards pantomimed to each other about what to do.  One was silently saying they should kill her, while the other one was pleading to leave her alone.  Their silent argument was becoming more heated, until they heard her speaking.

“Please...! Please help...!”

Their hands froze mid-conversation.

Was she talking to them or praying?

A large stone punched through the wall of the watch box, hitting the one guard in the face, rocking his head back and into the wall, where he slid to the floor.

“Witch, you're about to—!”

The remaining guard took up his rifle, wrenched open the door, and ran into a wall of armor and muscle.  Muto picked him up by the face, slammed his head into the rock wall, then let him fall.

Twitchums was low the ground, wearing his own pair of custom goggles.  Flecks of energy came off him, fresh from manipulating the earth.  Miyu walked over and eagerly petted him.  “Good boy...!”  He eagerly twitched his tails, then sneezed, sending out sparks.

Within moments, the sandstorm was gone, revealing Enzo in the midst of it.  He brought up the grimoire, blew off the remaining sand, then clapped it shut. “That's always a fun spell...!”

He opened a pouch, allowing Eos to fly out and perch on his shoulder.  Muto, meanwhile, raised up the goggles and lowered his scarf, then looked to the body at his feet.  “Muto hit harder than meant to....”

“They're bad guys,” Miyu said, doing her best to empty out all the sand that had collected in her robes.  “It's okay.”

“Should Muto kill?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” said Enzo disinterestedly.

“No!” Miyu shot him a glare, then looked up to Muto.  “Only kill if you have to.”

Enzo sighed, looking up.  “You know they're gonna wake up eventually....”

“Yeah, but we don't have to be murderers!  We're better than that!”

“And what would you suggest?”

Miyu thought a moment, then snapped her fingers.  Not even a minute later, thanks to Twitchums manipulating the sand, the two unconscious guards were buried up to their necks in the sand, and thanks to a magic marker, each one bore three whisker marks on their cheeks.

“Perfect!”

“Happy?”

“Very.”

Miyu handed the marker back to Enzo, who put it back in his pocket.  Enzo procured an egg from his pocket, did his best to dust off the sand, then bit into it.  “So inside, there'll likely be a small leftover contingent of guards, but they're not on active duty, so we hit them hard...and after that'll just be the scientists.  We should be able to deal with them.”

“'Deal' how?” asked Miyu, squinting at Enzo.

“Just trust me.”

“No killing.”

“Trust me.”

“Muto trust!” offered Muto.

“Muto trusts me,” repeated Enzo.

“Mmmmm....” Miyu stayed squinting for a long moment, pointed to her eyes, then pointed to Enzo.

“Oh, stop that,” he said, carelessly waving her away and stepping past.  “I'm not a monster.”

“Muto is not monster either!”  He seemed eager to share that bit of information. “Am beast.  Is like monster, but with better manners.”

Going inside the wrecked watch box, Enzo found a keypad.  He unrolled the communique, then tapped in the code.

“Anything complicated?” asked Miyu.

“Just an alphanumeric code,” shrugged Enzo.  “It's literally 'G1234.'”

Hitting the final key, there was a heavy “ch-chunk” from the outside wall, a hiss, then the rock face slowly slid open, revealing the way inside. The interior was a mix of rock and metal with bright lights evenly spaced along the ceiling, with occasional signs marking the way to various areas.

“You take point, Muto,” instructed Enzo.

“Huh?”

“You stay in the front and protect us,” Miyu clarified.

“Okay!”

Muto unsheathed his axe, Miyu and Enzo opened their grimoires, and slowly they started down the hall.  They froze as they heard approaching footsteps.

“Nar,” came a sleepy grumble, “I swear, if you're coming in to use the can again—”

She emerged from a side door, where her eyes met Muto's.

Muto smiled.

The lady pulled her head back just in time to avoid the axe swinging down.  Se turned and started to run towards a security alcove.  Muto grabbed a hand axe from his belt and lobbed it at the retreating woman's head.  The axe whirled end over end, before it impacted into her head...with the handle.  She stumbled, which was further exacerbated by rising stones.  Twitchums was at Miyu's feet, hunched down, glowing, and growling.

The guard recovered just in time to see a charging Muto bearing down on her, and the last thing she saw was a fist the size of her head flying right at her face.  She was knocked back into a rack where a number of cards were hung, knocking them all to the floor, then fell to the floor herself.

There was a door next to the rack.  The large squad of guards within and the three adventurers saw each other.

“Uhh....” said everyone.

The guards grabbed their rifles and Muto slammed the metal door.  He pressed himself hard against it, while feeling the guards behind it hammering on and slamming into the door.

“Muto cannot hold forever!”  There was the sound of gunfire and divots appearing on the door.  “Muto does not want to get shot!”

Enzo's eyes went to the pile of cards on the floor.  “Help him with the door!” he ordered Miyu.

“Twitchums, go!” Her command sounded in the carbuncle's mind.  Twitchums turned red, a chunk of the bare rock wall came loose, then flew forward to help pin the door in place.

Sifting through the keycards, Enzo found the one he was looking for, slotted it into a nearby console, and his fingers danced across the keys.

Deet. Click-ck.

“There. You two can stop.”  He looked flatly to Miyu.  “And without killing.”

“Thank you,” she chirped.  Twitchums went from red to a light topaz, twitching his tails gleefully.

Enzo rolled his eyes, then began sifting through the pile of cards.  “You know, trying not to kill anyone is going to make going through here that much harder.  We're here to finish a mission, not make friends with literal villains.” He turned his mouth.  “...and how many bloody duplicate cards are there?!”

“Muto wouldn't mind making friends....”  He crouched near the unconscious lady. “Should Muto take her back?”  He started contemplating if it would be easy to add a new friend to the loot they would be taking back.

“Don't,” Enzo said, distractedly, “she probably has diseases.  There!” He was finding card after card with A, B, and D, but only then did he find C.

There was a lot of yelling behind the locked door.  Muto looked to it, then pointed his thumb to it.  “Should Muto open door and quiet them?”

Enzo groaned and started off.  “Come on,” coaxed Miyu, gently taking his wrist and leading him on.

~

As they walked the halls, it was rather obvious the place was unfinished.  Garlemald had sent what supplies they could, but when the supply route had been disrupted, those who were left there made due with what they could. The base had seemingly been integrated into a cave system, and many walls had been left exposed to the rock surfaces beneath.  A surprising number of halls ended up going to dead ends.

It helped with navigation, as construction had prioritized lighting in areas where people worked or traveled.  There were occasional maps posted, though most had been minorly vandalized, both because many of the places on there had never been built, the staff did get bored, and it wasn't like any Garlean officials were there to stop them.

“We're aiming to go...here.”  Enzo pointed to a large circular room.  “This's where their main project should be.”

“Wait, there's a project?” Miyu guffawed.

“Well, yeah.” Enzo raised an eyebrow.  “What, you thought it was just a no-name lab we were going to loot?  Take some cool science equipment, take the Garlean empire down a beg?”

“You didn't specify!”

“You didn't ask.”  Miyu made a strangled noise of frustration, with her tail shooting up behind her in annoyance, while Enzo went on unabated.  “It's a little bit of navigating, as you can see, but that shouldn't be too bad.  Thanks to my friends—”  He fanned out the key cards.  “—it'll be a straight shot through.   Here, though...we'll be passing by the main lab.  We'll likely be dealing with quite a few scientists then.”

“Muto need to deal with?”  He looked between Enzo and Miyu, unsure how he should define “deal with.”

“I've got this,” Enzo said coolly before confidently walking on.  Miyu squinted judgmentally from behind him while Muto looked about wide-eyed.  He'd never been in a secret base before!

Eventually, there was noise ahead.  Enzo looked around the corner, then sighed in frustration.  There were so many more down there than he had anticipated.

“The scientists?” asked Miyu.

“The scientists,” confirmed Enzo.  Miyu crossed her arms in thought, followed by Muto doing the same, imitating her.

“It would be a bad idea if we were to go in with weapons swinging,” Enzo sighed. “They could trigger an alarm or could fight back.  I'm sure there's plenty of Garlean fighting tactics in their heads....”

“Muto fight them all?” offered the Hrothgar.  “Muto is best at fighting!”

“No,” Enzo and Miyu said at the same time.

They stood there together in silence, thinking on how best to proceed.  As they did, Enzo noted Eos floating past his vision.

“Hmmm....”

Miyu was looking down at her feet and saw Twitchums staring up inquisitively at her.

“Hmmm....”

Muto looked between his companions, confused.

“Hmmm?”

~

It was an average day for the Garlean scientists.  They had several crystals hooked up to various electrodes, screens with graphs, and nearly incalculable amounts of data pouring through their system.  It was entirely normal.  Almost boring.

“WHY IS THAT IN HERE?!”

And then there was a fairy riding a carbuncle through the lab.

Twitchums burst through the door, running as hard as he could, while Eos did her best to steer him.  They specifically darted between and near people's legs, leaving a trail of chaos.  Under chairs, over tables, through carefully calibrated equipment.  One scientist went to bar their way, but Twitchums jumped on his face, then springboarded over a handful of others behind him.

Twitchums was having the time of his life.

Eos looked bored.

While the scientists had been going about their business in labs and walking in the halls, they were now clustering together, trying to capture this wild animal.  People were crowding into the lab, aiming to block the doors or to help catch the carbuncle.

Eos piloted Twitchums for the door, and with a kick of her heels, urged him to ride as hard as he could.

“Ready?” someone asked.  They had a labcoat spread out, ready to use as a makeshift net.  Twitchums and Eos drew closer, and they weren't stopping.

“Now!”

There was a fierce roar behind them.  They stumbled and turned back to see a Hrothgar towering over them, fangs bared, eyes fierce, and axe in hand. Twitchums jumped over the startled scientists onto Muto's shoulder. Looking to the crowd of people, he twitched his tails in satisfaction.

Deet.

The fire shutters slammed down across all windows and doors, trapping all the scientists within the lab.

Enzo shoved the keycard in his pocket, withdrew another hardboiled egg, then popped it entirely in his mouth.  “Tha' wash ee-ee....”

“Twitchums, you were so good!” Miyu cooed, walking over to him perched atop Muto's shoulder.  Eos took flight, dutifully resuming her place by Enzo's side.  Twitchums hopped down from Muto's shoulder to Miyu's awaiting arms, then eagerly licked her face.  Enzo, meanwhile, nodded to Eos and she nodded back.

After that, it was no problem continuing through the facility.  Behind the fire shutters, the trio could hear the trapped scientists banging and shouting.  Twitchums walked alongside Miyu with a proud step, satisfied with the chaos he had caused, while Eos hovered along stoically.  Muto followed along, though occasionally stopping and pressing his ear against one of the shutters.

At one point, he pulled back his fist, about to bang back, but Miyu caught his arm and lead him on.  “Leave them alone for now,” she gently goaded.

Cables and general wiring grew more and more condensed as they continued along the hall. Enzo's pace picked up as they grew closer.

“You never told us about what we're specifically trying to find....”

“It's condensed aether,” Enzo casually said.  “Pooled and experimented on. Basically, a certain crystal.  All I want from here is that, and literally everything else here can be yours.”

“Ohhhhh...!” Muto's eyes were wide.  “Muto get secret base...!”

“Probably...not,” Miyu corrected.  “Ul'dah is more than likely to come down hard on this place.  This is in their jurisdiction and is a matter of national security, so they'll likely have their army take it over and conduct a thorough investigation.”  She quirked a smile.  “However, before they get here, there's nothing saying that if it's not nailed down, you can't take it...!”

“It's mostly rivets here anyways...” Enzo observed.

“Muto get so much stuff...!”

The hallway wound around, until they arrived at a heavy industrial door with a console to the side.  Above the door in large, block letters was “INCUBATION CHAMBER.”

“In...in...innnnkoooo....”

“What...form is your aether?” Miyu asked hesitantly.

Enzo slid the D card through the console, his fingers danced across the keys, and the door hissed open, followed by two more doors.

The chamber within was enormous.  It was a large concrete dome.  The floor of the chamber was almost entirely sand, with raised platforms going around the perimeter and a walkway leading straight into the middle.

“There we are....” Enzo said, smiling to himself, confidently walking in and starting down the central walkway.

“Enzo, what's going on?” Miyu demanded.

“Just here for the aether is all.”

At the end of the walkway in the center of the chamber was something organic.  As they drew closer, they found it was...a creature.  It was short, fat, large, and fleshy.  It was reminiscent of a large brown toad, in that it's head seemed to take up most of its body.  In fact, the party wasn't sure where its arms and legs were.  It had brown skin, four deformed horns that wound about in random directions, and large bulbous eyes that stared in different directions.  It looked incredibly dumb.

“Hack!” it noised.

“What...is that?”

“Hack!”

“A massive repository of experimental aether,” Enzo said matter-of-factly. “Drawing upon the streams deep within the planet, they twisted and gave the energy form, and it's what you see here.”

“They created a creature?” Miyu leaned over, trying not to step on the sand.

“In a sense.”

“Hack!”

Twitchums leaned in and sniffed eagerly at the thing, nose to nose.  One eye briefly looked to the carbuncle, then back to staring at nothing in particular.

“Wait....” Miyu squinted at him.  “You want us to take this thing with us?  It's huge!  And, y'know, alive!”

“Oh, that won't be a problem.”  Enzo motioned to the creature.  “Muto, please kill it.”

“Okay!” Muto eagerly agreed.

“What?!” Miyu protested.  “No, don't!”

“Okay!” Muto eagerly agreed.

Enzo sighed, then turned to Miyu.  “I can tell you for a fact it's in pain.  It's not sentient, it's not a person, it's a thing that would be best for everyone if we were to end it here.”

“How do you know—?”

“You'll do no such thing!” came a voice over the speaker system.

The three immediately readied their weapons and looked around.

“Up here...up here...!”

“Oh!” Muto eagerly pointed to an observation room high up with large windows.  Inside was a tall Roegadyn lady in a lab coat speaking into a wall-mounted microphone.  Muto happily waved to her.

“What you're doing here is wrong,” Enzo shouted at her.

“Who are you to decide what is right and wrong?” the lady snarled.  “We gave PP0 life only technically speaking.  It has no idea what it is, nor does it care.  It knows nothing, feels nothing, except what we tell it to.  Sentient thought is beyond us to create anyways...which works out well for you bleeding heart types, doesn't it.”

“PP0?” Miyu asked Enzo.

“Oh...wait, you don't even know what it is?!”

“Not...exactly,” Miyu responded.

“Well!” The scientist paused, then hit a few keys on the nearby console. The multiple doors at the entrance slammed shut.  “In that case, I need to tell you! It's really exciting!  We haven't had visitors in years, so this is actually pretty nice to get to see somebody new for once!”

Enzo glared flatly at the Roegadyn, then sighed to himself.  He gestured for Miyu and Muto to come with him, then hopped off walkway to the sand and started towards a door at the opposite end of the room, presumably which led up to the Roegadyn.

“See, we were kinda stuck here, since Garlemald kinda got cut off from us, and we're all, 'What do we do?'  But then we found that with our set-up, we could hypothetically infuse aether energy from our reactor into something! Wasn't tough at all! So at that point, it's like, 'What can't we do, y'know?' Well...I mean, not much, we're all stuck here, but then, then we get this super cool idea, right? And we sent out a secret communique back to the empire asking for this one thing, and we didn't think they were going to, but they did!”

They got to the walkway in front of the door, then Enzo swiped a cardkey through the console.  He blinked when the display came up with the error “INCORRECT CLEARANCE.”  Confused, he tried again.  That was supposed to be the maximum clearance card.

“Things...okay?” Miyu asked.

Enzo just furrowed his brow and tried another card.  INCORRECT CLEARANCE.

“I mean, it took awhile, but they delivered it, and we were super excited!  A scale from Bahamut!  Like, who'd have thought, right? But, I mean, doing genetic stuff with Bahamut isn't anything new, but now we get to!”

Miyu's eyes went wide.  “Wait...Bahamut?!”

While Muto didn't entirely understand everything going on, he understood at least that. “Uh oh....”

INCORRECT CLEARANCE.

“So we have some cloning technology, which was kinda-sorta based off the Allagan process, and, c'mon, that stuff is ancient, and we only kinda-sorta understand it, but we were able to modify it and use the modified aether to infuse into Personal Project 0 – or PP0 – and that's where its nickname came from – and I know it's not the best acronym, but Garlemald isn't exactly here watching over our shoulders for the best naming conventions – but I guess he also has those giant peepers – but anyways—”

A small pile was forming at Enzo's feet.  There were a few suspiciously large money pouches, three full-sized books, a collapsible staff, a surprising number of keys, a melon, three cartons of boiled eggs, a light back-up robe, a few squirming malboro hatchlings, several keycards, a unicolt figurine, a wind-up soldier, and a few flowers with attached tags labeled “Corpse.”

“WHERE'S THE BLOODY KEY?!” he snarled.

~

The guards continued banging on the door of their barracks, hollering for help, shouting threats, and making noises of utter frustration.

In front of the door was the pile of keycards.  Towards the bottom was a key labeled “E.”

~

“—but anyways, it was nice to have visitors, but it's kiiiiiinda our policy that intruders aren't allowed to leave, or at least leave alive, and PP0 has never had proper combat testing, so this is probably where you're going to die. I'm sorry, but not really, but also am.”

She tapped a few keys and the entire room began to hum.  Moments later, the sand began to bubble.  Large amounts of air were getting pumped in beneath the sand, causing it to go from being a settled, solid mass to a liquid. Muto had been standing in the stand, quickly began sinking, then jumped up to the walkway.

His axe was immediately readied.  “No worries!” he said with an eager swish of his tail.  “Miyu and Enzo are safe!  Muto protect you all!”

What they thought had been a whole creature ended up being only its head.  It began to raise, attached to a long neck.  Massive claws burst through the sand, struggling to raise up its large body in full.  The tips of the wings were visible next, with one wing much smaller than the other. Thick cables emerged from the sand as well, plugged into the creature's arms and back.  The dragon's proportions were all wrong, with some muscles incredibly large, while others were noticeably underdeveloped.  Once it had climbed to the top and its body was fully visible, the sand stopped bubbling.  The artificial dragon stood nearly as tall as the dome.

The three stood there wide-eyed, ears lowered, and with bushed tails jetting out from behind them.  Twitchums had gone from growling and being a deep red to whimpering and turning white.

“Muto...maybe not able to protect...from that.”

Without the body moving, the head spun around on its neck to look down at the adventurers.  Its body then slowly lumbered around to face them. Energy flowed through the cables and its bulbous eyes went red.

“Behold!” the scientist bellowed into her microphone.  “PEEPO!!”

“HAAAAAAAHCK!!!” it roared, then blinked an eye.

“Mew...!” mewed Miyu.

“This could get messy, so if you'll excuse me.”  A fire shutter slammed in front of the large window.  A few cameras positioned around the room blinked to life.  “Make sure to have good deaths.   This is all getting recorded for our records! PEEPO, KILL!”

“MOVE!!”

Peepo's neck glowed before letting forth a jet of flame.  The group scattered, feeling the white-hot heat on their backs.  The wall where the flames had hit had partially melted the metal and crystallized the scattered sand.

“I can't believe we're about to get killed by something so stupid-looking!” Miyu yelled in aggravation.

“If you had just let Muto kill it, we wouldn't be here!” Enzo snapped.

“Whatever Muto did, Muto sorryyyyyy!” Muto wailed.

They were running across the sand for the exit door.  The exit may have been blocked by several locked doors, but with Enzo's keycards, they could at least escape.

Muto gasped.  “DOWN, NOW!!” He palmed the backs of Miyu and Enzo's heads, then fell forward, making them faceplant into the sand.  Peepo's tail whooshed just over them, then impacted heavily into the wall.  Enzo rubbed the sand out of his eyes, then his ears went limp.  The console in the wall near the door had been destroyed.

“It's him or us right now,” Miyu sighed defeatedly.  She looked back up to Peepo and whined to herself.  She always hated fighting dragons.  Twitchums pressed himself up against Miyu's side, both for comfort and seeking instruction.

“Muto choose us!”

Muto got to his feet, axe in hand, then charged Peepo.

“Muto, wait!” Miyu looked agog to the Hrothgar, then to Enzo.  “Does he seriously think he can beat that thing?!”

“Maybe....” Enzo took in the room.  “...but more importantly, he's keeping its attention off us.”

“HRAAAAAAA!!”

Muto rolled out of the way as Peepo went to smash down with its claws.  Muto swung down, his axe biting in deeply in the back of Peepo's hand.  In return, the artificial dragon's neck glowed again, then spewed down fire at Muto. The Hrothgar knew the creature had limited mobility when using its breath weapon and darted for Peepo's legs.  The stream of fire followed him, until it started to cook Peepo's feet.  Being right by the artifical dragon's backside, Muto swung back and took a couple hacks at Peepo's tail.  In response, the dragon went to heavily sit down, aiming to crush Muto.

Sand was tossed up and hung in the air briefly.  Silence had descended upon the cavern...until a fierce battle cry pierced the din and Peepo bucked. Muto had climbed several cables and was hacking at its back.

Enzo stood with Miyu, Twitchums, and Eos against the wall watching the fight ensue.

“Kinda impressive...” he mused.

“That's what you're thinking during all this?!” Miyu snapped.

Peepo flapped its mismatched wings desperately, trying to dislodge the attacker.  It craned its neck to see and possibly bite Muto, but couldn't quite reach.  It finally settled with launching itself back and slamming its back into the wall of the dome.  The room shook violently, with dust falling from the ceiling.

“Muto!”  Enzo called.  “Are you alive still?”

Peepo did not seem in distress anymore, and was repositioning itself to try and get a better view of what happened to Muto.

“Enzo, Muto hurt!” the Hrothgar called.  “Muto...really hurt!”

“Go.”  Eos flew.

The Hrothgar was lying in the sand, with his leg badly damaged.  His axe was just out of reach and he looked terrified.  Peepo, meanwhile, was waiting for the dust and sand in the air to settle, trying to spy Muto.

Eos found Muto, then flew in front of his face.

“Mmm?”

Eos slapped Muto across the face.  It was a tiny fairy, but she hit hard.

“Ow!”  He rubbed his face.  “Was mean!”

“Are you still hurt bad?” called Enzo.

“Huh?”  He looked down.  Any blood and damage to his leg was now gone.  Eos had channeled her healing energy when she had made contact.  “Ohhhh....”

“Keep fighting him!” Enzo called.

“Okay!”

“And don't die!” Miyu added.

“Okay!”

He grabbed his axe and rolled out of the way as another jet of flame scorched the sands.

“Its aethereal energy is too complex to hold steady on its own,” Enzo said, rubbing his chin.  “So the cables—”

“Attack the cables?” Miyu interrupted.

“Go for the connection ports.”

As Muto and Peepo battled, they could see that when it had rammed itself against the wall, several ports had been damaged and cables had fallen away. They briefly spewed aethereal mist before the emergency shut-offs initiated.  While the cables had been heavily insulated to keep in the aether, the ends were less so to allow for flexibility and movement.

“Get 'im, Twitchums!”

The carbuncle, while still scared, was bolstered by Miyu's command.  It gave a fearsome squeak before launching itself forward.  Sand began to gather in the air, hovering next to him, and coalescing into crude spears.

Muto was flung across the room and hit the wall hard enough to leave a crater in the concrete before falling to the sand.  He lied there groaning, bones shattered, life leaving him.

Eos flew over and kicked him.

Healed, Muto grabbed up his axe and charged again at Peepo.

Twitchums drew upon Peepo.  It was so, so much bigger than expected.  Miyu's voice directing him in his mind steeled his courage and pushed him on. With the artificial dragon's attention on Muto, Twitchums had a clear shot along Peepo's arm.  The sand spears launched forward.  Several missed, impaling into Peepo's arm, but a few hit home.  Cables came lose, briefly spewing aethereal mist, before stopping.

Peepo's head swiveled to look to Twitchums before a thrown hand axe hit it in the face.

“NO!” Muto scolded.  “Fight Muto!”

“HAAAAAAAHCK!!”

“Stop! STOP!!” pleaded the voice over the speaker system.  “You don't know what you're doing!”

“We're winning,” Enzo observed with a smirk.

“No, you don't understand!” The Roegadyn was in a panic.  “This is years' worth of research and experimentation! You'll destroy everything! And if you—”

Muto was airborne and Peepo plunged its hand at him.  The Hrothgar just barely missed it.  The artificial dragon's sword-like claws thrusted deeply into the concrete dome.  Unsure if it had grabbed him, Peepo squeezed, then yanked back, ripping out a huge boulder of concrete and wiring. The room's speakers went immediately silent, all camera lights dimmed, and the lights about the room began to flicker.

“Hit it faster!” Enzo instructed.  “Burn it down!”

Twitchum heard Miyu's command in its mind, and gave a mighty squeak.  Sandstone spears materialized and flew in violent waves at Peepo's back.  The creature's attention was divided between what was happening behind it and the very loud and angry Hrothgar.  Peepo's actions were also becoming more and more sluggish, as less aether was pumped into it.

A jet of flame followed Muto as he charged directly for Peepo.  He was barely staying ahead of it.

“Muto also have flame!” Muto roared.  “Flame is inside!”

Cable after cable was severed from Peepo's back.

“Flame is Muto!”

He jumped.

“Flame is friends!”

The final cable was severed.

“Flame is hotter than dragon's!”

His axe went straight into Peepo's chest.  The artificial dragon stood there stunned and wobbling as the last of its aether had dissipated. Muto's axe was lodged deeply in Peepo and refused to come out.  Muto took the opportunity to push his feet off the creature's chest, pivot off his axe handle, and launch himself upwards.  He reared back his fist and uppercutted Peepo in the chin.

The artificial dragon dissipated into aethereal mist.  A moment later, Muto's axe hit the sand, followed by Muto, landing in a crouch.  He stood to his full height, thumped his chest, then gave a bestial roar of victory.

“MUTO!!” he announced.  “WIN!!”

As the echo died down, Enzo muttered, “It was technically Twitchums who killed the thing....”

“Shhh,” Miyu whispered back.  “Let him have this....”

Enzo's attention went to the aethereal mist.  He squinted, waiting for it to start...and there it was.  It all began to come together to form a crystal.

...and then the lights went out.

“Ehh?”  Miyu looked around.  “Twitchums!  Light!”

The carbuncle's forehead gem lit up.  It was in the middle of the room, looking around confusedly.

“Everyone okay?”

“Muto is fine!” announced Muto, somewhere in the darkness.  “Muto and friends have great victory!  Oh!!  So many stars!!  Muto and friends level up for sure!”

The dome lit up in red.

Enzo was crouched in the middle, holding a crystal.  Miyu was against the back wall. Muto was on his hands and knees, looking in the sand for a trophy from the fight.

“That...can't be good,” muttered Enzo before shoving the crystal into his pocket. Miyu found herself wondering exactly how he had so much space in that pocket.

“AETHEREAL OVERLOAD,” came an announcement outside the room.  “UNABLE TO CONTAIN.  200 SECONDS UNTIL MELTDOWN.”

Something that many of the base's workers had feared was that many basic safety features had never been implemented into the base's hasty construction.  For example, there was the matter of being unable to access overrides for locked doors and fire shutters from within the affected rooms. Another big issue was that of the base's power.  Since the aether was not being pumped into the PP0 project anymore, it was instead getting pumped in massive quantities back into the reactor.  It couldn't handle it...and there was no way to either stop the flow of aether or shut down the reactor.

“Uhhhhhh....”

The exit doors made a noise, then despite being damaged, partially opened.  It was big enough for all of them to get through, if barely.  At least it had been built in the emergency systems that in the event of a catastrophic failure, everything would be automatically opened.

“GO GO GO GO!!” shrieked Enzo, making a mad dash for the exit.

All of them ran across the sand, kicking up clouds behind them.  Enzo, Miyu, Eos, and Twitchums had no problem getting through the gap.  Muto threw his axe through first, then went to squeeze past...and became stuck.  He struggled, but barely budged.  Instead of fear, he looked confused.

“Is Muto getting fat?”

Enzo had been running ahead, but stopped to run back.  He and Miyu grabbed Muto's wrist, and pulling together, got him dislodged.

“120...119...118,” counted the speakers.

Down the halls they ran, with Miyu glaring at Enzo.  “You have so much explaining to do,” she demanded.

“I didn't know this would happen!” Enzo insisted.  “In case you haven't noticed, I'm also fleeing for my life!”

“You're paying us double!” Miyu snapped.  “If I die, it'll be triple!”

“Oh!!” Muto had a revelation.  “Loot!!”

“Please, Muto, now is not the time for—”

He skidded to a halt in front of a computer console.

“No, leave it alo—!”

He grabbed the sides, groaned, and pulled.  Nothing happened...then with a terrible shriek of protest, the metal ripped from the wall.  He held the console over his head and started running again.  “Okay, Muto good!”

“70...69...68....”

Down the halls they ran.  Emergency lights pointed the proper directions to the exit. They passed the labs, which were now empty, as the shutters had retracted and the scientists had escaped.  A few tried to remain behind to rescue their data, but others had pulled them along, telling them their lives were worth more.

The halls wound round, until they could see daylight ahead, blocked partially by the last remnants of fleeing scientists.  “There!  There!” Miyu eagerly pointed forward.  “We're gonna make it!”

“15...14...13....”

“It's them!!”

Some scientists stopped, considering trying to fight them off in revenge for ruining all their research.  However, the prospect of remaining in an exploding base urged them to quickly leave.

Catching up with the scientists, the crowd fanned out into the Thanalan desert.

“4.”

People were running as hard as they could.

“3.”

They couldn't put enough space between themselves and the base.

“2.”

There was no shelter.

“1.”

Sand dunes were the best they could find.

“MELTDOWN COMMENCING.”

There were screams. Some dove for the ground and covered their heads.  This would be huge.

...

And then nothing happened.

What was to be anxiety and fear for their lives turned into confusion, then frustration.  There wasn't going to be an explosion.  The countdown system had been implemented, but must have been faulty.  There was no danger.  And it was a bit too perfect for there to have been a countdown with a round number like 200 seconds.  Everyone was safe.

And then all attention drew focused on the small party of adventurers in the middle of all of them.  Muto was still holding the ripped-out computer console above his head.  Then there came the noise of several rifles cocking.

Miyu nervously laughed, “Eh heh...!” then raised her hands.

Enzo, meanwhile, squinted at everyone.  A dark expression came over his features.

Miyu elbowed him, then hissed, “Do you wanna die today?  Put them up...!”

“No....”

“Muto's hands are up!” declared Muto cheerfully, still not putting down the console.

“Do you have any idea...” said a guard approaching them, gun pointed at them, “...what you have done?”  His cheeks still had the drawn-on whiskers.

“To be fair,” Miyu squeaked, “we were kinda hired to?  I-it was nothing personal?”

“Ready!”

Rifles were raised, safeties were removed.

SHOOM!!

A mushroom of fire erupted from the base, shooting debris and sand into the day sky, blocking out the sun.  A visible shockwave went out, kicking up sand and knocking a number of people over.  There was a climbing roar, which was then followed by an explosion of blue flame that erupted from the base's entrance.

Chaos had taken control of the crowd once again, before everyone had calmed once again.

“Wait...where—?”

“Buh-bye!”  Muto was up on his chocobo, alongside the others on theirs.  The console had been awkwardly shoved into the chocobo's pouch.

Enzo looked over the group and gave a smirk.  Not saying another word, he put on his goggles, pulled the reins, and headed off into the desert.

“You can fake your own deaths here if you want!” Miyu said with a wave.  “Start new lives!”

“Wait!!”

They didn't stop.  The chocobos were running.  Moments later, Enzo began the spell to again create a sandstorm.  Their tracks would be covered and hopefully, they would never see anyone from the base ever again.

Silence descended over the base's staff.

“I forgot my Triple Triad deck in there...” lamented a guard.

~

Standing in Ul'dah at the airship station, they gathered around their pilfered crystal.  The sky was darkening, as the sun was just disappearing behind the horizon.

“So in the end...it wasn't anything special,” lamented Enzo.

“It's just a normal fire crystal?!” groaned Miyu.

“Ehhhhh...yee-eahhhhhhh....”

“Anything special about it?” she demanded.

“I mean...it might have a bit more of aethereal concentration?” shrugged Enzo.  He passed over his scope.  “But if you look at the aethereal mapping on it, there's literally nothing out of the ordinary.  You could find this in anything.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he grumbled in aggravation, “but despite them altering the aether they were pumping into...that thing...it ended up having absolutely no effect on the crystal it left behind.”  He wiped his face frustratedly, then pushed the crystal away.  “Honestly, you two can keep it and turn it into the grand company, have more 'proof' of this whole misadventure.  Put it right beside that console Muto grabbed.”

“Thank you, Enzo,” Miyu said quietly.  “But you really don't have to.”

“I'm going to,” he insisted, “and I'm going to pay you too. Just as agreed.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Though...that might take a bit.  All my money was kinda left in the base....”

“Take whatever time you need, all right?”  Miyu gave a consoling smile.  “I'm sorry this all happened like it did, but we...made some kind of difference, right?  And this should get us some advancement, at least!  I mean, once we document it all.  Right, Muto?”

They both looked up to the Hrothgar, who was standing with the biggest smile on his face.

“Why're you so happy?” asked Enzo.

“Muto go on adventure with bestest friends!” declared Muto, barely able to contain his glee.  “Muto and friends fight bad guys!  Muto and friends defeat dragon! Muto and friends—”  He made an enthusiastic explosion noise. “—blow up secret base! Muto and friends real adventurers!  Real heroes!”

Enzo, despite his disappointment, smiled.  “Well...I'm glad you guys had such a great time.  Sorry you missed out on your other mission.”

“Is okay!” Muto said with a bright smile.  “Muto helped Au Ra!  Muto help community!  Oh!” He remembered something incredibly important.  “Muto now can have egg!”  The hard-boiled egg Enzo gave him hours ago had been sitting in his pocket the entire adventure...and was likely destroyed, but that didn't stop Muto's enthusiasm.  He reached in, then looked confused.  Grabbing a hold, he pulled out a wadded piece of paper.

~

While Enzo explained the job, Muto looked down at the two-star adventure.  If they were doing something else, then it would be a waste to hold onto it.  He saw a frustrated Au Ra wandering away from the building.  It was the telltale sign of a poor adventure...and Muto had the solution.  He wandered away, while Enzo continued his explanation.

“Are okay?” asked Muto.

“Ehhhh....”  She shrugged.  “My fifth week in a row with a zero-star.”

“What is rank?”

“I'm almost to my first level,” she shrugged, “which kinda is awful, because I was doing adventuring for years before. Just...it never got documented and there's such a backlog with level appeals.”

“Oh!”  Muto held out the paper with the two-star adventure. “Muto have solution!  Au Ra friend can have adventure!  Is two-star!”

She blinked, taken aback.  “Wait...really?”

“Uh huh!”

“You're sure?”

“Uh huh!”

“Because I know how hard it can be to get these kinds of missions if you're not leveled up...a-and if you don't want to, you really don't have to, it's okay!  I mean, of course I want the mission, but it's fine if you'd rather not—”

“Muto!” called Miyu.  “We're leaving!”

“Oh!!  Coming!!”  He absently shoved the mission in his pocket, then ran after the others, leaving a confused Au Ra behind.

“Umm....”

~

“Muto...have mission.”

“I'm sorry?” asked Miyu.

“Muto still have mission.”

“You what?”

“Muto still have two-star mission.”

“You what?”

“Muto not mean to!”  He held out the paper, crumpled up, covered in smashed hard-boiled egg and eggshell shards.  “Was accident!”

“That's—!”

“Muto screw up again?!”  He looked absolutely terrified.

“No, no!” soothed Miyu.  “It's okay!  Just—”

“Where is the mission again?” asked Enzo.

“Ummmm!!”  He opened the paper and did his best to read. “Um...um—”

“Gridania!” cut in Miyu.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so?”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah, sure!  Wh—?”

He shoved the fire crystal towards Miyu, who took it confusedly. Enzo's grimoire was thrown open.  He channeled his magic, then uttered the words, “Oovoo javer!”

Space folded around Miyu and Muto, and not even a moment later, Enzo was there on his own at the table.

They were only a little late.  Not even twenty minutes later, the two adventurers were on the merchant's carriage with Muto blowing a melody into a bone flute, serenading his companions and the darkening sky.  The mission was only beginning.

~

It was utterly still and dark.  There wasn't a single noise in the house.  It wasn't because it was abandoned, but because he chose for his footsteps to be silent.

A light source was approaching, illuminating the neighboring room. Instead of trying to hide from it, Enzo waited and crossed his arms confidently.

A young dark-skinned lady entered the room holding a lit lantern. She saw Enzo, then deeply frowned.

“Thanks for letting me know you're home...” grumbled Emory. “Where were you?”

“Oh, out,” Enzo shrugged.  “Nothing big.”

Emory scowled at him.  “I know that look.  What did you do?”  She sighed with frustration.  “Who did you kill?”

He put up his hands, palms out.  “Nobody this time!”

“Don't you lie to me!  How many was it?”

“Seriously, Em, it's not actually not a lie!”  He gave a wide grin.  His teeth were pointier than they had been earlier.  “You should tell your brother what a good boy he's been!”

“Oh, shove it...” she grumbled.  “What did you do?”

“Wanna see something amazing?”

She just raised an eyebrow.

He reached into his pocket, where he had a small portal to the Void, and withdrew a crystal, then set it on the nearby table.  It glowed a dull red and was lined with veins.  Emory looked at it, and moments later, recoiled.  The shadows cast behind her from the lantern twisted for a moment before resuming that of a normal lady.

“What did you do, Enzo?” she snapped.  “What is this?!”

“Aether!”  His grin widened.  “Can't you tell?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about!” she snarled.

“Oh, come on, Em!”  He nudged the crystal, making it spin in place.  “Just a little crystallized aether!”

He noted the shadows behind her were growing and darkening.  Spiky protrusions were twisting and forming in the dark.

“Fine, fine,” he lamented.  He flicked the crystal to spin it the opposite way.  “So I have to say the people of this plane can be absolutely brilliant and incredibly stupid.  They had no idea what they had.  They were taking aether from the planet and corrupting it.  Corrupted aether is nothing new, sure, but the way they were doing it was...certainly unique.  They absolutely ruined it, depriving it of being aspected, while maintaining the energy and refusing to adapt to any other aspect.  And then they channeled it through a remnant of Bahamut, who was able to amplify it so much more than I thought possible.  Even with just one of his scales.”

“How'd you get it?”

“Ohhhh, you know....”  His tail flicked playfully.

“Do not make me ask again.”  Emory glared.  “Or I will make you tell me.”

“My friends just helped me get into a Garlean base is all!”

“We don't have 'friends,'” she stated flatly.

“I like to think Miyu and Muto are.”  He received a withering glare from Emory.  “Oh, come on, I don't consider them as equals! They're just useful!  Entertaining too.”

He picked up the crystal and turned it about, so that both he and Emory could get a better look at it.

“Anyways, I don't entirely understand everything those mortals did to the crystal, but long story short, they basically created something that is outside the six elements.  And I'm not even talking about unaspected aether.  I'm talking about technically a seventh element....”  His smirk grew wider.  “...which should provide for some interesting possibilities.”

“Do whatever you want with it,” grumbled Emory.  “Just keep that thing away from me.”

“Oh, this thing?”  He held it out just a hair more.

Emory glowered at him, then turned and left in a huff, leaving the room.  It was pitch-black in the room once again...save for a glowing pair of red eyes.

~

Thanalan Desert.

“I have a suspicion...” murmured the gentleman to himself.

“What kind of suspicion?” asked an eager Miqo'te.

“I believe....”  Hildibrand suddenly gave a wide sweep with his arm.  “...that there was an explosion.”

The two of them were standing at the bottom of a crater, surrounded by debris.

“And where there are explosions, there are crimes.”

“What about Bahamut?”

A finger was thrust into the sky.  “He is the greatest criminal of them all!”

Some of the debris moved.  The finger was lowered and pointed to it.

“A clue!” both of them said together.

A hand eventually came forth from under the rubble, followed by a ragged sleeve.

“Nashu!”

“Yes, sir!”

“We must assist!”

They crouched next to the hand and pulled away concrete, stones, and all manner of debris.  A Roegadyn lady in a torn white lab coat lied underneath.

“Who...?” she croaked.  “What...?”

“My lady, you have stumbled into the authorities!”

“We have authority?” asked Nashu.

“Absolutely!  All of Eorzea is ours to patrol and to bring justice to!  And you, my lady!”  He dramatically pointed down to the scientist.

She just stared blankly at him.

He knelt next to her, then reached for her hand.  “...are most obviously the victim of a terrible, terrible crime. Pray, tell me...who did this to you?”

The Roegadyn looked at him blankly as her thoughts started to come together.  What were the names the Hrothgar said?

“Muto,” she finally managed.  “Muto, Miyu, and Enzo.”

Click!

[jamaisjoons]

bloom | pjm

Summary: Jimin grows flowers in the garden of your chest wrought from the pain of your unrequited love. Hanahaki AU.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff... lot’s of angst oh boy

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Park Jimin in general, switch!reader, switch!Jimin, light fingering, thigh riding, non-protective sex, creampies, and yet sweet, soft sex? 

A/N: I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t inspired by the lyrics ‘In this dream that won’t ever come true, I grew a flower that couldn’t be blossomed’ from Fake Love

Plant

def. put a seed in the ground so it can grow

It’s a cold winter day in Seoul, Korea. The streets are covered in a thick, soft blanket of snow that began settling as soon as the bustle of people that trudged through decreased. Now, there were barely any people outside, you were sure that if you looked out, you could count the number of people easily; which was completely different to what Seoul was usually like. Snowflakes still fall leisurely and the windows are frosted over, the icy glass showing warm scenes of children playing in the snow, or couples walking hand in hand through rows of plum blossom trees that have been stripped bare, instead covered in crystalline flowers made of ice.

You don’t really care to look out, instead you find yourself seated on a sofa, legs tucked under your butt, cup of hot chocolate in your hands, keeping you warm as you snuggle further into the warm quilt wrapped around you. You’re currently in the BTS household, enjoying a happy Christmas day as you sip your hot chocolate and leisurely read your book.

You had been introduced to BTS two and a half years ago, three years after their debut when you’d reconnected with your best friend, Hoseok. You say reconnected, when really you hadn’t lost touch. By reconnected, you just meant seeing each other and speaking a lot more regularly than the previous years. It had just been difficult keeping up regular correspondence with his busy schedule but the two of you had tried, speaking whenever he got some free time. Despite the change from hanging out with him almost twenty-four seven to only being able to speak to him for a few minutes a week, your friendship had somehow stayed strong. The two of you had grown up in Gwangju together and had always been as thick as thieves. Hoseok was like the brother you never had, the only real family you’d had left.

The first few years had been hard for them, you knew it. Hoseok would complain about the long nights and the less than pleasant sleeping arrangements. Sharing a single, cramped room with six other strangers was probably never going to be ‘pleasant’ but somehow it worked. You remembered nights when Hoseok would go on and on about each of the members, all their quirks and habits, things he loved about them and even things about them that annoyed him. Five years down the line however, those very same boys were practically family and you had never seen Hoseok smile as bright as he did when he was with them or even when he was performing.

A year ago, when you’d finally finished university and gained your doctorate, you’d moved to Seoul from Gwangju. Hoseok had been over the moon, bouncing around excitedly at how you’d finally be in the same city and be able to see each other more often. That is, as often as he could fit you in around his busy schedule. You had also finally met the boys, all of you laughing as if you’d known each other for years. Which, you supposed, you had. Hoseok had told you everything he could about them and vice versa. In turn, you had introduced Hoseok to your own best friends. The four girls who you had met during your time in university, who had become your sisters by choice.

So that brought you to today, two and a half years later, a Christmas day surrounded by the ones you loved the most. The smell of delicious food fills the air, Seokjin’s cooking making you salivate as he yells at his girlfriend, Sooji to stop touching things. You roll your eyes at that, wondering why she even bothers. She’s completely useless in the kitchen. You remember that one time she had tried cooking noodles at university but had somehow forgotten the actual noodles. You weren’t even sure how she’d managed that. You stifle a laugh when Seokjin finally kicks her out the kitchen, watching as she scowls before making her way to her other lover, sitting beside Yoongi as he plays the piano. Hae and Taehyung sit on the floor, the couple playing with Yeontan as the pup happily bounces about the two of them, enjoying the attention he’s receiving.

Hoseok’s raucous laughter joins the dulcet notes of the piano as he straddles his girlfriend, fingers wriggling across her sides and drawing out wild laughter from her. She hopelessly calls out to her other boyfriend, Namjoon, for help but her calls fall on the deaf years of the leader currently sitting opposite you; head so far buried into his book that he downs out the commotion around you. From the other side of you, Suri and Jungkook yell and swear, the two of them competing in what looks like a seriously intense match on Overwatch, Jungkook scowling at his girlfriend when she somehow beats him at his favourite game, accusing her of cheating with a pout.

“____?” Someone calls and you’re broken out of your thoughts as you turn around, smiling brightly at the newcomer. Park Jimin stands behind the sofa, peering at you with a large smile that has his eyes wrinkling.

“Jiminie! Hi, is there something you need? Where did you disappear off to?” You ask, shifting slightly when he sits right next to you.

“I actually went to go get my Christmas present for you” Jimin says and your eyes widen in surprise.

“You got me another present? You really didn’t have to” You said shyly, a small smile on your face. All of you had already exchanged gifts; and usually, all of you only exchange one gift between each other. You watched Jimin shrug as he handed you the beautifully wrapped present. the blue foil wrapping glistened in the warm light, gold glitter snowflakes imprinted on them twinkling as you took the present from him, eyeing the intricate bow on the top, wondering if he’d tied it himself. Jimin had always loved giving and wrapping presents.

“I just saw it, and it made me think of you” Jimin said with a shrug, urging you to open it. You carefully pulled the bow apart, peeling away the wrapping paper as you unwrapped the present. You felt your heart quicken slightly at the sight of the jewellery box, carefully opening it with shaky hands before letting out a soft gasp. There, nestled in the velvet box, was a delicate gold chain with a small flower pendant studded with incredibly small diamonds, that sparkled whenever it caught the light.

“Jimin, I-. This is too much” You choked out, trying to hand it back to him. Jimin simply shakes his head, refusing to take it back.

“____, it’s a gift! Like I said, I just saw it and it just made me think of you. Here, let me put it on” Jimin said, cautiously picking up the necklace, gesturing you to turn around. You slowly do so, pulling your hair into a high ponytail so it’s out of his way.

Jimin carefully places it around the column of your throat before lowering it slightly, so the pendant rests between your collarbones, at the base of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush softly against the bare skin of your neck as he clasps the necklace. You release a breath you weren’t sure you were holding when he finally backs away, smiling brightly as he takes in the sight of the pendant against your skin. He lets out a small nod of approval, smile widening until his slightly crooked teeth are showing.

“I knew it’d look good on you! As if it was just made for you” Jimin chimes, but you barely hear it. Instead, your thoughts are occupied with nothing but him. You had always known he was gorgeous, a male Adonis walking the earth.

But for the first time in two and a half years, you reallylook at Jimin.

His hair is back to its natural dark colouring and despite the amount of times it’s been bleached, it still shines with a certain soft silken quality that you almost find yourself becoming jealous. It currently has a slight curl to it, falling in waves into his eyes and you can just imagine the cute little birthmark that it’s currently hiding. Your eyes dart over his face, taking in his beautiful warm olive skin; he’s currently barefaced, his cheeks tinged a slight pale rose colour, cheekbones almost glowing in the warmth of the light. His eyes are a sharp almond shape and heavily lidded, deep dark coffee irises peep at you through them, eyes twinkling with joy.  You find yourself thinking you like them best when they turn into slits, eyes crinkling in his signature eye smile, because he looks best when he’s happy.

His slightly wide nose sits between his adorable cheeks. They’re currently raised high, like small little mochis under his eyes. You want to reach over and pinch them, because really, how could anyone resist wanting to squish Park Jimin’s cheeks? They’re the cutest thing known to man and even the hardest of criminals would coo at them. You’re sure of that. Your eyes trace down to his full, plush lips. His upper lip is a perfect cupid’s bow and somehow his bottom lip is even fuller than his top. They look incredibly soft and pillowy and you find yourself wanting to pull them between your teeth and nibble at them. But you can’t. So instead, you trail your gaze towards the angular and well-defined curve of his jawline.

When your perusal is done, you conclude that Park Jimin is the most beautiful human to ever walk the earth. Between his ethereal looks, handsome facial features and adorable expressions, he really is an angel.

And it’s like you’re seeing Park Jimin for the first time.

Your chest constricts with a slight discomfort, but you brush it off because you don’t realise the significance of the ache.

You don’t realise that the seeds of love have been planted deep within your ribcage.

Germinate

def. a seed beginning to grow

A week later is the next time you see Jimin. It’s at a New Year’s Party that the boys are throwing. There are a few idols around that you recognise, but many of them you don’t. Everyone is dressed to the nines and despite your own ensemble consisting of a beautifully crafted forest green floor length dress (a gift from Hoseok, because the man wouldn’t take no for an answer and lovedto spoil you) you can’t help but feel insecure.

Female idols are all around you, their slim and stunning bodies putting yours to shame. But it’s not only that. They look so put together, make up expertly done so you can’t even tell they’re wearing any, skin radiating with a youthful glow and hair falling in locks of silk down their backs. Somehow everything about them is flawless, from their nails, to their hair, to their laughs. Everything is somehow perfect, and they hold themselves with a certain grace you know you’d never have. Somehow, it feels as if you don’t belong here, as if you’re intruding in on a world that will never really accept you.

“____, are you okay? You zoned out a bit” Sooji calls, and you turn to one of your best friends. Her face is morphed into a look of concern but you simply brush her off.

“Oh sorry, I’m fine really. I just spaced out, where are Seokjin and Yoongi?” You ask but she shrugs, letting out a small huff.

“Seokjin is stuffing his face with whatever hors d’oeuvres he can find and you know Yoongi, these kinds of things aren’t exactly his cup of tea. There’s too many people and it’s too noisy” Sooji explains, face softening at the thought of her boyfriend locked away in his room and you nod, sympathising for Yoongi because really, he did try to mingle and interact with others. But sometimes, the crowds and loudness were too much and he needed quiet time to recuperate.

“Oh, damn it, I can see Seokjin and he looks like he’s about to take a bite out of the cake before it’s served. I’ll see you around” Sooji called, waving at you before running off to stop her boyfriend. You rolled your eyes as you watch her scold Seokjin, the latter’s cheeks full of food, making him look oddly like a hamster.

You let out a little sigh before looking around, trying to figure out who to join. There aren’t many people you know here other than your best friends and the seven boys hosting. But as usual, they’ve split into couples. Suri, Hae, Jungkook and Taehyung are speaking to some idols, laughing up a storm and your heart grips with envy at the way the boys hold their respective girlfriends, their fingers rubbing their backs soothingly every so often. It’s a mindless touch, you’re sure they don’t even realise they’re doing it. But you suppose that when you’re in a comfortable relationship, sometimes touches lose their shallow meaning and you do so for no other reason than the deeper comfort it provides you.

Sooyun is dancing with Hoseok and Namjoon and none of them are taking it seriously, you can tell by Hoseok’s highly exaggerated movements and the way Namjoon’s expressions change. Sooyun laughs out loud when Namjoon pulls a particularly racy face as he thrusts his hips, her body falling into Namjoon’s, shaking with giggles. You notice Namjoon’s slightly pink tinged cheeks, but watch as he brushes off his own embarrassment in keeping his girlfriend entertained.

“They’re a cute couple, right?” A voice chimed and you jumped slightly, startled out of your thoughts for the second time that night. You turn to Jimin, brows furrowed slightly before smacking him.

“Jimin! You terrified me, don’t just pop out of nowhere like that” You scolded, Jimin only giggling at you.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just staring really intensely at Sooyun-ah, Hobi-hyung and Namjoon-hyung” Jimin laughed and you shrugged.

“You’re not wrong, they do make a cute couple. But sometimes I really feel like I’m third wheeling this entire group… or well eleventh wheeling” You replied as you counted the couples, Jimin laughing loudly.

“Well then count me as the twelfth wheel. But I get your frustration, it’s annoying when everyone is paired up” Jimin grins and you feel your heart flutter slightly. He’s dressed in a dark blazer, embroidered with intricate patterns made of silver thread, the look finished with a simple but tight-fitting white shirt and black slacks. His hair is dyed white blonde, in preparation for their newest comeback, and his eyes sparkle, as if they hold a constellation of stars within them. He looks as amazing as he always does, kind of like a fairy-tale prince come to life.

“Yeah it does, especially when they all start trying to eat each other’s faces off” You joke and he grins at you brightly, covering his face with his small, slightly chubby hands before leaning into you slightly.

“____! Don’t let the hyungs or Taehyungie and Jungkookie hear you say that!” Jimin admonished and you feel your heart gripe slightly, the tinkling sound of his laugh filling your eardrums. You’re sure his laugh causes flowers to bloom and angels to sing. You don’t think you’ve ever heard something more beautiful.

“Damn, it’s getting loud! Let’s go outside” Jimin says and before you can protest, he grabs you by the hand and drags you towards the garden. You suppress a slight shiver, it’s still winter in Seoul and the night air is crisp, the hairs on your neck prickling as goosebumps crawl over your skin.

“Sorry for dragging you out here, it’s probably not the most ideal considering the weather but it means we can speak without having to yell. Here you go” Jimin says, shrugging off his blazer before wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Jimin wait, you’ll be cold” You began protesting, trying to hand it back to him, but Jimin just shrugs you off.

“It’s fine! You need it more than me and it’s the least I could do since I basically pulled you out here. That dress is really pretty by the way, I thought it’d look nice on you. The colour really flatters your skin tone” Jimin compliments; your body stiffens and you look at him with wide eyed curiosity.

“Seok bought me this dress, how would you have known it would look nice on me?” You inquire and even under the light dusting of his foundation, you can see his peeks tinge a beautiful pink, a shade of soft peony that has you wanting to reach out and squeeze them.

“Yeah, I was there when he bought it… he said he really needed help shopping for your Christmas present” Jimin confessed.

“I… thank you. It was a good pick” You thanked, your hair falling into your eyes slightly. But before you react, Jimin is already reaching over for you. His fingers brush your hair, tucking it behind your ears.

You suck in a sharp breath and this time, when you shiver, it’s not due to the cold. His fingers are warm against your skin and even that slight skimming of his skin against yours sends tingles down your nerves. Jimin has always been very touchy feely, skin ship is not something he avoids. In fact, you’ve lost count of the times he’s brushed your hair out of your eyes before, lost count of the amount of times you’ve cuddled up against each other or held hands. No, Jimin is very big on skin ship and it means nothing. Which is why you try not to over think the action.

But you can’t help yourself.

Once again, your chest aches, right where your heart should be. This time, it’s a sharp ache and you’re not sure what it means. It’s gone before you can think it over and you brush it off.

But once again, the significance of the ache is lost on you.

You don’t realise that the seed of love has begun to germinate.

Root

def. to grow roots

Over the next few months, it’s comeback season. The boys are everywhere promoting and yet despite how busy they are, you still see them more often than not. The girls are always dragging you to their promotions, standing in the back as you all watch them either perform on stage, or in a crowd during their tour. Each time, each performance, each interview, you find yourself drawn to Jimin. You hang off his every one of his words, almost squealing when he speaks English perfectly. He’s improved a lot, you note.

You find yourself enraptured by the way his body moves when he dances, each and every movement perfectly calculated. He’s incredibly graceful, moves with the fluidity of water and the sensuality of a seasoned salsa dancer. You’re completely mesmerised by him, your eyes always trained on him, no matter who is speaking. And after they’re done, you find even more of your time being taken up by him. The two of you tire of constantly eleventh and twelfth wheeling, so you find yourself spending more and more time together.

You have known Park Jimin for almost three years now. But it feels like you’re just getting to know him. He tells you about his love for dance, and how he used to excel in school, always the top of his class. You believe everything he tells you because you can see it. He’s always been a perfectionist, always wanting to better himself and somehow it just makes sense that he was a studious person. He tells you about his previous dream of being a police officer and changing the world for the better. You tell him he’s doing more to change the world as a member of BTS than he could have done as a police officer. He blushes, but you know it’s the truth. You wouldn’t lie. Not to him.

Another week later, and the comeback season is finally done, the boys getting to rest for a while before they have to do anything else. That is why you find yourself on the beach on Jeju Island. Everyone is here, Seokjin and Hoseok playing in the water with Suri and Sooji while Jungkook tries to drag Yoongi into the water; the Maknae very easily picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder until Yoongi has no option but to get wet, much to his chagrin. Taehyung and Hae have gone on a short walk down the coastline, Taehyung wanting to explore and find some scenery to practice his photography. A little further away from you are Sooyun and Namjoon, the two walking the rocky tidal zone looking for crabs.

Besides you sits Jimin. He’s the epitome of relaxed, dressed in some boardshorts and a loose short sleeved t-shirt, he lounges against the picnic blanket, body stretched out and legs crossed. He’s leaning on his elbow, wind rustling through his hair but he doesn’t care. His focus completely fixated on the book he’s reading, his eyes darting across the pages. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re once against studying him, your gaze intense as you take in every single detail of him.

“Is there something you need?” Jimin asks, his gaze flicking up to you and you let out a little gasp when you lock eyes. He’s smiling mischievously, the corners of his eyelids crinkling. But it’s the colour of his eyes that have you gasping, the usually earthy irises catch the sun at the perfect angle, causing them to lighten into a beautiful warm honey colour that draws you in. Vaguely, at the back of your mind, you think it feels like sunshine and home.

“I- what?” You ask, slightly dazed. His booming laugh is like being doused by cold water down your back and you shake your head slightly, snapping out of your reverie.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes, is there something on my face?” Jimin asks curiously, but you recognise the teasing tone. Your skin flushes and you feel your ears burn from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. I was just lost in my own thoughts” You murmured, looking away causing him to laugh at you again.

“That’s alright, you were probably blinded by my handsomeness. Wow, I sound like Jin-hyung” Jimin teased before catching himself, looking perturbed at the thought of becoming like Seokjin. You supress a small squeak, because even though he was joking, he had hit the nail on the head. You wereblinded by how handsome he was.

“Hey, you wanna go get some ice cream? It’s so hot, I feel like cooling down” Jimin asked all of a sudden as he spots the small café nearby and you nodded, accepting his invitation. Jimin quickly asks everyone if they’d want ice cream, but everyone refuses and so the two of you find yourself walking in a comfortable silence.

“Hey! Can I get a chocolate scoop for me and a cookie and cream, for ____? Oh, in a waffle cone! She loves waffle cones” Jimin requests kindly when you get to the little café. Your head snaps to him in amazement, his smile bright as he hands you the ice cream.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks, leading you to a table before helping you into the seat.

“You remembered my ice cream order and the fact that even though they’re really messy, I love waffle cones” You reply shyly, Jimin shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“I know more about you than you realise” Jimin says cheekily, a small knowing smile on his face. Your eyebrow quirks in response as you feed yourself some ice cream.

“Oh really? Like what?” You taunt, and Jimin chuckles.

“I know you hate Jin-hyung’s beef” Jimin deadpans and you choke on your ice cream, looking at him wide eyed.

“W-W-What makes you say that? I’ve never said anything bad about his beef” You cough and Jimin rolls his eyes, eyes dancing with mirth.

“You don’t have to. You find it dry and I can tell because you either always avoid his beef, saying you prefer pork when I know for a factyou hate pork, or you always seem to drink an entire litre of water when you eat his beef” Jimin explains knowingly and you try to supress a blush, but the sudden heat around your cheeks lets you know you fail.

“Please don’t tell him! I love Jin’s cooking, really. It’s just he tends to overcook the beef” You sigh, shoulders deflating and Jimin lets out a gentle laugh.

“Don’t worry your secret is safe with me” Jimin winks and you feel your heart flutter. You almost want to point out that he says he can’twink but you stop yourself.

“So, you know I don’t like Jin’s beef and somehow you know that I hate pork. What else does thePark Jimin know about me?” You ask curiously.

“Hmmm, good question. But that would reveal all my cards” Jimin says with a teasing smirk and you pout, letting out a soft whine.

“Aish, how can I refuse when you’re being so cute?” Jimin asks fondly and you immediately blush, looking down shyly at his compliment.

“Well, what else do I know about you? Well for starters I know you can’t sing” Jimin jokes and this time, you flush out of embarrassment, especially when he starts laughing.

“Hey! Not everyone has an angelic fucking voice” You grumble, crossing your arms and glaring at him. Really? How could he just mock you like that?

“Aish, don’t get so offended. It’s okay. Not everyone can but I know you took singing lessons because you love to sing. I also know you have ridiculous stage fright, but that doesn’t stop you singing. I like it when you sing” Jimin confesses and you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

“I can’t sing, as you so nicely pointed out” You pout and he nods before looking at you earnestly.

“Yes, but I still like it when you do. Because you only do it when you’re completely comfortable around the person you’re with, or when you think you’re alone. I like when you sing in the shower most. Don’t get me wrong, you’re tone deaf and really loud. Like reallyloud. Almost screaming. But it means you’re comfortable and relaxed, I like that. Sometimes you even sing around me without realising and it makes me happy” Jimin admits and you find yourself unable to control your blushing, mumbling out an apology. But he stops you, stating that he loves your voice, tone deaf and all. You pout slightly, sticking your tongue out at him and he laughs, his voice echoing across the almost deserted beach.  Once he’s done laughing at your misfortune, he continues, revealing everything he knows about you. And it’s a lot.

He tells you about how he can tell when you dislike something just from the way your nose slightly scrunches. He tells you that he’s noticed the small dimples on your cheeks, ones that almost never show because they’re not as prominent as Namjoon or Hoseok’s. He tells you he loves your dimples, because not only do they match his, but because whenever he sees them, he knows that you’re happy as they only show when you’re smiling really hard. He admits that he knows white lilies are your favourite flower, and that he was the one who sent bouquets of them to your house every week for two months after they put your dog down. He admits that he himself cried when he found out, wishing he could have been there to comfort you but knowing you would have wanted your space.

He tells you that he knows you love to fish, and that it was one of your favourite childhood memories, summers filled with boat rides out on a lake with your grandfather. He also knows that while you love to fish, you can never bring yourself to kill them and therefore always set them free, your grandfather scolding you lovingly for being too soft. He also admits that he knows you cried once again for two straight months after said grandfather passed away and how he wished he could make it so you wouldn’t ever lose anyone you loved again.

He continues revealing little details he knows about you and the two of you talk until the sun begins setting. You sit, completely enraptured as you listen to him list of little quirks and characteristics. You had never had anyone pay so much attention to you; never had anyone who knew you almost better than you know yourself. When he’s finally down, you have no words. So instead, you just look at him, eyes filled with words you simply cannotexpress.

You take in the sight of him, almost radiant with the beautiful backdrop of the setting sun. He glows a beautiful shade of amber, the light forming almost a halo around him. He looks relaxed, smiling at you with a slight tilt to his head.

And suddenly your chest lurches.

You let out a small gasp, bending over, clutching a hand to your chest as you breathe deeply. Vaguely, you hear Jimin jump out of his seat, rushing to your side; trying to make sure you’re okay. But you can’t respond. Instead, you close your eyes, wincing at the tell-tale stinging feel of tears as a sharp pain flares between your ribs. You let out a choked sob when your chest tightens, the pressure becoming almost too much. It felt like something was squeezing your lungs and wrapping around your heart.

“____! ____! Are you okay? What’s wrong” Jimin asks, shaking you slightly and after a couple more moments the sensation begins ebbing from a searing pain to a dull ache. You take in a deep breath, finally able to breathe again. You open your eyes, blinking away the tears before swallowing thickly.

“I’m fine, it’s okay. I don’t know what happened” You reply, your throat raspy and Jimin’s face contorts into a look of worry.

“I think we should get you to the hospital” Jimin says but you quickly shake your head.

“No! I’m okay really, it’s probably nothing. Don’t worry” You reply, sending him a small smile and Jimin goes to argue, but quickly stops himself, nodding at you tersely.

For the third time, you completely ignore the obvious warning.

You fail to realise that the seeds of love have deeply rooted into your chest.

Bud

def. form a growth for development into a flower

It’s two weeks after your trip to Jeju with the boys when you get a text from Jimin. You’ve been speaking almost non-stop the past two weeks, flirty texts making up the majority of your interactions. But you don’t think much of it, especially as you know Jimin’s a big flirt. You ignore the slight clench of your heart when his name pops up on your phone screen, instead unlocking your phone and opening up his latest message.

Jiminie: hey, you busy?

You: not particularly, what’s up?

Jiminie: I found this cute little ramen place about a ten-minute walk from your home. How quickly can you get here?

You: lmao, king of last-minute plans Park Jimin strikes again, I can be with you in twenty-minutes, are you already there?

Jiminie: you know it princess ;) I’ll grab us a table! Hurry, can’t wait to see you xo

You bite your lip, trying and failing to suppress your oncoming grin. You quickly begin getting dressed before rushing out of your apartment. You check your phone, using maps to navigate to the location Jimin had messaged you. Eventually, you find the place. A cute little family run restaurant, covered in brown wood with comfy cream booths and warm, low lighting. You quickly enter, locating Jimin fairly easily.

He’s tucked away in the corner, dust mask and black beanie on his head, light blue hair poking out; most likely worn in order to prevent anyone recognising him. You take in a deep breathe, smoothing out your wind swept hair and the non-existent wrinkles from your dress before nervously approaching him.

You’ve hung out with Jimin a lot lately, but this is the first time it’s felt so intimate. The atmosphere of the restaurant and the low lighting does nothing to help your nerves. A voice at the back of your head wonders if this is a date, and for a split second you entertain the thought before quashing it down. There was no way Park Jimin, Prince of Busan, would everask you on a date. You were just friends.

“Jimin-ah, hey!” You say, smiling brightly before sliding in opposite him. Jimin immediately perks up, back straightening as he pulls down his dust mask until it rests under his chin. The action does nothing but bring attention to his particularly soft cheeks, making your heart soften slightly.

“____! Hey, wow you look pretty!” Jimin compliments enthusiastically and you feel your ears heat up, shaking your head before opening your mouth to protest.

“Hey, no look at me” Jimin says, cutting you off and you your head stills, eyes locking with his, “I mean it, you look pretty, you always do” Jimin says earnestly. You take in a short, silent breath at the deep honesty in his eyes and words before ducking your head slightly, thanking him quietly.

“So, what’s good here?” You ask, changing the conversation and looking at the menu.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I just saw the place while I was walking by and remembered how much you loved ramen, so I invited you out. I think you mentioned wanting to try this place out a while ago but I’m not sure” Jimin replies with a shrug. Once again, you find yourself astounded by how much he knows about you, because you hadwanted to try this place and hadmentioned it… over a year ago. In fact, even you’d forgotten about it. But he had remembered, and you couldn’t help but feel touched by how thoughtful Jimin really could be.

“Well, I’ve heard the spicy chicken ramen with bok choy is good, we can try that” You suggest and Jimin nods.

“Whatever you want, I’m fine with. Oh! These are for you. The last time I sent you flowers was when your grandad died and before that was when your dog died. I thought maybe I had to rectify that. Can’t have all the flowers I send you be due to grief” Jimin says with a wink, handing you a bouquet of red roses and white lilies. Once again, a voice nags at the back of your head, because friendsdon’t treat each other like this. Friends don’t remember the restaurant you wanted to try a year ago, friendsdon’t buy you bouquets of your favourite flowers for no reason, and friendsdon’t flirt like Park Jimin does with you. But that’s exactly what you are. Friends.

“Oh wow, they’re beautiful. Thank you” You say, floored by the emotion bubbling in your chest. You take the bouquet from him, inhaling deeply, basking in the sweet scent of the roses and musky, heady scent of the lilies.

“Just like you” Jimin says once again with a wink and you almost have the mind to call him out for his constant lies about not being able to wink. But you don’t. Because you don’t want to ruin the moment. So instead, you fall into an easy conversation, talking about your days, the different projects the boys are running and more.

At some point, you order ramen but by the time it arrives the two of you are so absorbed in your conversation, you completely forget that the main reason you had come to the restaurant was because you had wanted to try the ramen in the first place. The two of you are barely eating, slurps of ramen few and far between the easy banter between the two of you. You feel completely comfortable with him, to the point where you don’t mind when a bit of soup dribbles down his chin or when you snort out of laughter, choking on some noodles.

By the time you’re done, it’s late at night and the two of you have exhausted any available conversation. But the silence isn’t awkward; instead you sit completely comfortably, just basking in the presence of each other. When you’re ready to leave, Jimin pays the bill, refusing to let you pay with a slight glare.

The two of you leave the restaurant, walking into the crisp late spring night. He walks you home, shoulders slightly bumping into each other as you walk, hands brushing against each other’s. Before you know it, you’re back at your apartment building and you regret how close the restaurant is to your apartment. You turn to Jimin, smiling shyly up at him. For the first time, you notice his height. He’s not particularly tall compared to the other boys, but he’s a good few inches taller than you.

Jimin smiles brightly at you before pulling you into a hug. You’re slightly surprised, although you’re not sure why because Jimin has hugged you goodbye countless of times before. This time however, it feels different. Somehow, he feels warmer, his touch feels more intimate. You bury your head into his neck ever so slightly, breathing the deep musky scent of his cologne over the tell-tale natural smell of chocolate and coffee that belonged solely to Jimin. Your arms automatically wrap around his neck, while his wrap around your waist and you simply stand in that position. At some point, you think he takes in a deep breath, nose buried in your hair. But you think you’ve imagined it. You’re unsure for how long you stand there, the street illuminated by the moon and soft glow street lamps, but all too soon, he’s pulling away giving you a soft smile before beckoning you upstairs.

You blush slightly, glad for the cover of the night before waving and walking away. You’re slightly dazed, his intoxicating scent still clouding your mind and before long, you’re in your apartment. You can’t even recollect even climbing the stairs, no opening your door. Rather than pondering it however, you begin getting ready for bed, a soft smile playing on your lips as you remember the night’s events instead. When you replay the hug in your mind however, you feel slightly choked up.

You begin coughing suddenly, wondering why it feels like something bulbous is lodged in the back of your throat. All of a sudden, you begin coughing violently, your throat raw as you try to dislodge whatever is stuck in your throat. Your eyes burn with tears but no matter how hard you cough, it simply won’t budge. You panic slightly and rush to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water before chugging it down.

You feel it go down slightly and quickly pour yourself a second before gulping that down too. Relief washes over you when it finally dislodges and you breathe deeply, hand on your throat, trying to soothe the slightly raw flesh with soft rubs. You’re unsure as to what happened, but you chalk it up to a freak accident. And looking back, you wished you had realised sooner. You wish you had noticed the signs early on.

But you don’t.

Instead as usual you stay oblivious to the flowers of love budding deep within your chest.

Effloresce

def. reach an optimal stage of development; bloom/blossom

It’s another week later when you find yourself standing in the Bangtan household once again. You haven’t been here since New Year’s Eve but now summer is on the horizon, the spring blossoms giving way to the summer blooms. Once again, you find yourself alone with Jimin. Tonight, is one of the last nights that the boys have off before being thrust back into their hectic schedule. Your best friends take advantage and drag their respective boyfriends out on dates in order to spend quality time with them.

Which is why you find yourself sitting next to Jimin on the sofa, your back against his chest and head resting in the crook of his shoulder as you both sip your wine, watching whatever Korean Drama that was playing. If you were being honest, you stopped paying attention after your third glass of wine. Although, your lack of attention had more to do with Jimin’s hands moving from your waist to your hips, drawing lazy circles on the slight exposed skin rather than the alcohol.

You shift yourself slightly, trying to distract yourself from his seemingly innocent ministrations but all you achieve is brushing the soft of your ass against his hardened, thick thighs and crotch. Jimin lets out an involuntary moan and your breath hitches when his fingers grip your waist tightens, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips. His head falls into the crook of your neck, soft lips brushing against the hot skin of your neck.

“Tell me to stop” Jimin breathes against your skin and you let out a shudder at the want in his voice. You’ve barely done anything and he’s just as breathless as you are.

“Tell me to stop or I won’t until this ends” Jimin whispers against and your throat goes dry at his words, his lips continue caressing your skin, pressing light kisses against the column of your throat.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s hard to think right now. But all you know is that you don’t wantto stop. You should.By god do you know that you should.This was certainly crossing boundaries and you were both walking into unchartered territory. It was wrong and you had no idea how this would affect your relationship. But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him to pick you up and carry you to his room before leaving you nothing but a quivering mess. So instead you press your hips further into his, straining your neck and giving him better access.

“Please don’t” You almost beg and Jimin groans against your skin.

“What do you want Princess?” Jimin asks, tongue swiping against the shell of your ear before sucking purple flowers against the sensitive skin just under your earlobe.

“You” is your only answer and Jimin immediately flips you over so you’re under him, smashing his lips against yours. As soon as you feel his lush lips against yours, you feel time stop. All you comprehend is the deep scent of him that clouds your sense and the sensation of his lips against yours. His tongue presses against your lips, begging for entrance and you allow it, your lips parting before moaning as your tongues entangle.

One of his hands trails down your side to your thigh before hooking it around his hips, his other hand bracing himself above you. His hips between your parted legs start moving, slowly grinding against your heat. You let out a strangled cry against his lips at the stimulation; your hands moving to his ass, gripping them as you tried to pull him closer to alleviate the heat between your legs.

“Fuck you’re so hot Princess” Jimin whispers against your lips when you finally part, looking down at your through lidded eyes. His lips moved to press soft kisses against your throat before trailing down to the slight exposed skin between your collar, on the pendant of the necklace he’d gifted you for Christmas. Deft fingers begin unbuttoning your shirt, his lips brushing and nipping at the skin slowly being exposed until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He pulls you up so that you’re sitting up before pushing your shirt of you, his hands pressing against your back and pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you senseless once again.

His hands quickly undo the clasp of your bra before removing it from your body, head dipping down to the valley of your breasts, lips sweeping against the soft globes before wrapping his lips around your nipple, laving until it hardens, suckling on the teat. Your hands move to his hair, tugging the locks as you push him further into your breast, whimpering above him. His hands move to your hips once again before he shifts so his back is against the sofa, your legs straddling him. Your hands move to the hem of his t-shirt, Jimin breaking away from your breast so you could divest him of his shirt before his lips attach to your other nipple.

While he continues lavishing attention upon your breasts, your hands dance against his shoulders, bracing yourself as you begin grinding down on his member. Jimin hisses against your chest as you smirk. You continue your actions, heat pressed right against his hardened shaft as you move slowly, drawing soft whimpers from the male. You tug at his hair making him detach from your breast before you get up, shimmying out of your jeans and underwear until you’re completely naked. Jimin’s eyes darken until they’re almost black, his gaze slowly trailing down every curve of your body before resting between your thighs, arousal dripping down the soft flesh.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful, come here Princess” Jimin calls peering up at you as he pulls you closer by the hips, one hand moving between your thighs and cupping your sex. You buck against his hand, throwing your head back with a soft cry as one of his thick fingers slides through your slit, parting the lips before pressing into your honeyed hole. He moans at the tight heat encasing his digits as he pumps into you slowly, stretching your walls. He pulls his hand away, groaning as a string of your arousal attaches to his fingers. His digits are completely soaked and you watch through lust filled eyes, gazes locked on each other as he flicks his tongue out, licking at the coating of slick on his fingers.

“Is that all for me Angel?” Jimin asks, tongue swirling around his finger.

“All for you baby boy” You replied with a nod, a playful smirk on your lips as you crawl back into his lap. Except this time, your legs are on either side of his left thigh. You decide you’ve had enough of being passive and lower your heat onto his jeans, groaning at the rough material against your sensitive clit. Jimin’s hands move to your hip and you tut, removing them off you before pinning them against the couch.

“Uh-uh baby boy, did I say you could touch? No, I want you to watch as I get off using your thighs” You mumble into his ear, pulling his earlobe between your teeth as you nibble on the soft flesh. He whimpers under you but obliges, a complete flip from the dominating personality he was showcasing earlier. You begin grinding against his thigh, throwing your head back and moaning as you stimulate yourself. Jimin can feel your searing heat on his thigh, his jeans quickly darkening with your dripping arousal.

“Fuck, you look so good” Jimin compliments, eyes trained on where your sex meets his thighs, watching in rapt fascination as the darkened patch gets darker and darker. You quiver above him, sucking in sharp but shaky breaths as you grind against him hard. Your fingers move to the nape of his neck, entangling in the thick locks there as you continued moving above him. Suddenly he begins flexing his thigh and you let out a soft shriek, as you’re stimulated further by the hardness of his muscles.

“Are you gonna cum for me Princess? Are you gonna cum and make a mess of my jeans? Look at them, they’re completely soaked but you can do better can’t you?” Jimin asks from under you and you tug at his hair, hissing slightly at him. He’s trying to take back dominance with his dirty talk and you’re having none of it. So instead, you locate the imprint of his dick, hard and straining against his jeans before sitting down until your pussy is pressed against his tip. Jimin lets out a whine and you smirk above him, sliding your cunt up and down his thigh, clit brushing against the head of his dick ever so slightly. You know it’s torturous, you can tell by the way he begins bucking underneath you, mewling softly.

“Be a good boy and play with my clit baby” You whimper above him, and Jimin immediately obliges, hand pressed against your abdomen as his thumb prods into your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves in hard, tight circles. You cry above him, throwing your head back and arching your back as you begin shuddering. Heat swells in the pit of your stomach, your thighs shaking on either side of Jimin’s. The coil of pleasure snaps when Jimin pinches your clit, bending over and taking your nipple back into his mouth. All of a sudden, your nerves are electrified with pleasure, toes curling from strength of your orgasm, thighs shaking as you cry in euphoria. Your body goes slack and you fall, unable to hold yourself up.

“Shhh, it’s okay Princess, you’re okay” Jimin says into your chest, his head between your breast. He catches you quickly before you can fall, arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you to him. Jimin presses soothing kisses into your shoulder, holding your trembling body as he rubs your back, waiting for you to come down from your high.

“Fuck me” You beg through laboured breaths. Your cunt continues clenching around nothing, your pussy sopping and dripping with your cum as you drench his jeans. They’re probably beyond repair at this point, considering how wet they are.

“Are you sure Princess? Will you be able to handle it?” Jimin asks in concern, not wanting to overstimulate you, but you couldn’t care less. Your heat aches, needing to be filled and you’re sure if he doesn’t fuck you, you’re going to lose your mind.

“Please Jimin, fuck me” You plead once again and immediately Jimin growls, he flips you over so your back is pressed against the couch. You pull your legs up, bracing your feet against the edge of the sofa as you spread your legs wide. Jimin groans at the sight, quickly undoing his jeans before pushing both them and his boxers off of his figure. You bite your lip when his dick is finally revealed, his of average length but absolutely thickand wet; drippingwith precum. You watch through a lustful haze as he pumps his member, wetting his dick with his own precum.

He shifts forward rubbing the head of his cock between your lips and making you moan, bucking your heat against him. He manoeuvres his dick until the head is pressing into you. You let out a soft whine when he pushes into you, hands moving to his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh, face scrunching up at the stretch. He’s impossibly thick and it feels like he’s splitting you open, his hard shaft fucking your walls open, forcing them to stretch and accommodate him. You breathe deeply, biting your lip until you draw blood as you feel him finally bottom out.

“Fucking shit, you’re so tight. I should have stretched you, I’m sorry Princess” Jimin says, bending over and kissing your closed eyes as he stills, waiting for you to adjust to the size of him.

“Fuck, it’s so full. Move Jimin, fuck me hard” You plead and Jimin lets out a soft growl, his hands move to your hips, fingers digging into your hipbones before pushing them down into the couch, holding you still. He pulls out before thrusting back in, in one swift motion before he begins rutting into you. You gasp, hands moving from his shoulders to wrap around his neck, clutching on desperately as he wrecks you underneath him.

“Don’t worry Princess, I’ll fuck this pretty little pussy open until you can’t walk anymore” Jimin grits out, punctuating each of his words with a hard thrust. His hips move in tantalising ways, his dancer’s hips aiding his motions.

“Shit, look at you. Look at that pussy stretching around my thick cock. You take my dick so well baby” Jimin praises, his eyes trained on the sight of his cock moving in and out of your cunt. You clench at his words, feeling your orgasm building once again and Jimin whines as you tighten further.

“Fuck, are you cumming again already baby? Gonna soak my cock in your cum?” Jimin asks and you nod underneath him, hands on his neck as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. Your lips move against each other as he continues fucking himself into you.

“Play with your clit for me Princess, let me see you get off” Jimin urges against your lips, his eyes watching as one of your hands moves to play with your clit. You rub your sensitive bundle of nerves, thighs shaking once again as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Shit… just like that baby, that’s so hot” Jimin groans as you begin shuddering under him, gasping for air as he fucking harder into you.

“I’m close… Jimin I’m so close please” You cry, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Cum. Cum for me Angel” Jimin orders and immediately your body seizes up, muscles locking as you cry out his name, thighs shaking and pussy quivering around him as your walls tighten. Jimin continues fucking into you, despite how tight you get, one of his hands joining yours as you both play with your clit.

“Jimin! FUCK” You scream and suddenly you cum, gushing around him and soaking his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks. He continues thrusting into you, loud squelching noises filling the air as your skin slaps against each other.

“Shit. Shit. Shit I’m cumming. Let me cum in you baby” Jimin pleads and you have no energy to respond, so you simply nod, silently pleading with him to finish and cease his assault of unadultered pleasure on your body.

“Fuck, ____” Jimin whines and then you feel his cum splash into you, coating your walls white with his thick semen. You groan, quivering underneath him as Jimin places soft kisses against your collarbone, slowly pumping his cum into you before stilling when the stimulation becomes painful. The two of you stay like that for a couple moments, coming down from your high before Jimin goes soft, pulling out of you. As soon as he pulls out, you feel him begin to drip out of you, groaning at the sensation.

“Damn, we made a mess. Hold on” Jimin says before standing up and walking into the kitchen. You stay where you are, unable to move, staring up at the ceiling. You had just fucked Park Jimin. Holy shit. What would happen now? Before you can overthink anything however, Jimin returns with a wet cloth as he slowly begins cleaning you up. When he’s done he returns to the kitchen to chuck the cloth into the washing machine before coming back to you. He peers at your completely fucked out form, breath still laboured and skin flushed.

“Can you walk?” Jimin asks and you don’t have it in you to answer, so you simply shake your head no. Jimin chuckles before approaching you and picking you up before carrying you to his room. He carefully places you on the bed before drawing the covers over you.

“I need to clean up the living room before everyone gets home. Get some rest” Jimin says softly and you nod before turning to your side, curling up as you drift off into sleep.

It’s a couple hours later when you wake up with a soft groan. The night’s events replay in your mind and you immediately sit up, wincing slightly when your sore body protests. You turn to your side, heart plummeting in your chest when you realise Jimin isn’t in his bed. You turn to the side, realising your clothes are neatly folded on the bed side table with your phone on the top. Your heart gripes at the sight. Did he want you to leave? You and Jimin had shared a bed before when you’d crashed after a long night with everyone. So why hadn’t he slept next to you after fucking you?

Did he want nothing to do with you anymore? Had you ruined your friendship? You had no idea. So instead, you quickly get out of bed, trying to ignore the ache in your muscles and between your legs as you quickly get dressed. You can feel tears pool in your eyes and you quickly rub them before slapping your cheeks, trying to get a hold of yourself. You grab your phone before you slowly begin sneaking out. When you’re leaving, you notice Jimin on the sofa, fast asleep and once again your heart breaks all over again. Had he really chosen the sofa over sharing a bed with you?

Fuck. You had to get out of here.

You tiptoe out of the Bangtan household, slowly shutting the door before quickly walking away. It’s almost 5am so you quickly call an Uber wanting nothing more than to be home and in bed. You embrace the chill of the summer night, the cool air distracting you from traitorous thoughts of Park Jimin.

You only wait a couple minutes before your Uber picks you up. You quickly slide into the car, arms wrapping around yourself as you will yourself not to cry. You’d had one night stands before so you have no idea why your heart feels like it’s breaking all over the place. Tears burn at your eyes and you choke out a sob, as you remember Jimin’s peaceful sleeping figure on the sofa. He’d obviously thought sleeping with you was a mistake, otherwise he’d have been in bed with you.

Suddenly, your sobs turn into choked cries as you begin coughing. You cough violently, your throat scratching as you feel something come up. The driver looks at you in question but you ignore him as you cough particularly hard. And then, it dislodges from your throat and falls into your hand.

But you wish it hadn’t.

You let out a small sniffle before breaking out into a full-blown sob, your sorrowful cries filling the car, your hand clutching desperately around the petal in your palm. The driver looks at you in alarm but you continue ignoring him.

You wish you had stayed oblivious.

Because then you wouldn’t know about your feelings for Park Jimin and you could brush it off as a one-night stand. But you can’t. Not now. All of a sudden, all the chest pains and coughing fits make sense. You think back to all the times your chest ached at the thought of Park Jimin, back to the first night on Christmas. You wish you had realised soon. But it’s too late now.

Because there in your hand, is a blood-stained white lily petal.

And now you know.

You know that the seeds of your unrequited love for Park Jimin have effloresced.

Wilt

def. become limp

It’s five months before you see Jimin again. After that night, you do your best to avoid him as best as you can. It’s not difficult as the boys are midst another comeback. You’re further aided by their world tour and hence, you are Jimin free for a few short blissful months. You try your best to forget him, but the constant ache in your chest lets you know that your feelings for him are undeniable. Each day the symptoms get worse and worse. As each day goes by, you’re coughing up more and more petals. A morbid side of you decides to clean the petals and dry them out, placing them in a jar. A handful of petals for each day you love him.

Today is the first time you’ll be seeing him in a while. The boys have finished their leg of the European part of the world tour and are due back in Seoul before starting the Asian part and you’re beyond nervous. But there’s no way you can avoid him tonight, because it’s Sooji’s birthday and you know for a fact that she’ll kill you before you even think of missing it. You’re beyond nervous, butterflies swimming in the pits of your belly and you feel like you may just throw up. Your phone rings and you pick up, taking a deep breath before answering.

“____! Are you ready? Sooyun, Suri and I are coming to pick you up” Hae asks and you groan slightly.

“Yeah, I’m ready” You whisper back, but it’s a lie and you know it is. Because you’re notready. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready to face Jimin after he so sneakily rejected you.

“Hey, you sound upset. What’s wrong?” Hae asks and you bite your lip, attempting to stifle the sob in your throat. You shake your head, trying to get a grip of your feelings.

“Nothing, I’m okay” You stutter back and Hae tuts disapprovingly and you know that she’s seen through the blatant lie despite being on the phone.

“You’re not. What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding all of us. You didn’t even come on tour with the boys, we were supposed to see Europe together, all five of us” Hae says quietly and you almost feel guilty. It hadbeen suspicious when you declined an all-expenses paid trip around America, Canada and Europe. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stomach being around Jimin for months, surrounded by beautiful cities and pretend you felt nothing for him. So, you had graciously declined, making up an excuse about work.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy” You lie through your teeth. Because there was no way you’d be able to confess that you’d slept with Jimin and were in love with him. You especially couldn’t bring yourself to tell her or any of them that the love was unrequited and as a result you had developed the Hanahaki disease, an illness that was slowly consuming your lifeforce and killing you in the most painful, heart-breaking way. You couldn’t tell them that he had bloomed beautiful florets of love in the midst of your lungs before leaving them to decay. Because if Hae knew, then Sooyun and the girls would know and then Hoseok and Namjoon would also know and they’d probably force Jimin into doing something he regretted. But you couldn’t have that. You didn’t want him to love you out of pity. You just wanted his happiness. Even if that happiness wasn’t with you.

“Listen ____, I can’t force you to tell me what’s wrong. If you don’t wanna speak about it, that’s okay. But don’t shut us out” Hae pleads and once again your heart grips with guilt.

“I know I’m sorry. I’ll try and be better. Thanks for understanding Hae” You whisper back.

“Anytime. Now, we should be with you soon, so let’s just have some fun tonight okay. It’s not every day that Sooji turns 24 so let’s forget about everything else yeah?” Hae says and despite yourself, you chuckle.

“Sure, let’s do it” You respond before hanging up. You take in a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes steeling with resolve. You won’t let tonight break you. You’re going out and you’re going to enjoy yourself and Park Jimin be damned because there was no way you’d be ruining your best friend’s 24thbirthday. You quickly fix your make up and once you’re done, the girls are at your door, grinning and thrusting a bottle of wine in your hand. You let out your own grin before taking a swig, Hae rolling her eyes before pouting.

“I hate that I can’t drink because I’m on call and because I’m your damn designated driver” Hae pouts and the three of you laugh. The four of you quickly get into the car and before you know it, you’re standing on a rooftop bar, overlooking the beautiful Seoul skyline. It’s mid November and the air is chilly but the party is in full swing and with the amount of people bustling about, the body heat swirling around the atmosphere keeps you warm enough.

“____! You’re here! God it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever” Sooji squeals before running up to you, hugging you tightly. Her words are true because you haven’t seen her in months considering she was touring the world with the boys and once again you feel guilt for neglecting your best friends.

“Sorry, I promise to be better. Happy birthday!” You wish cheerily and Sooji grins brightly, Yoongi and Seokjin smiling on either side of her. You greet the both of them before Suri drags you away to grab some more drinks. For the first time in months, you let out a real life, letting the girls drag you around. You meet each of the boys, striking up a small conversation with each of them. Jimin is far from your mind and your thankful for such amazing friends.

You think you may actually have a fun night.

You’re in the middle of a conversation with Hae and Taehyung, speaking about how much Taehyung enjoyed Europe, especially the various art galleries and even going to his favourite artist’s art exhibit. You’re thoroughly enjoying yourself. Taehyung has always had the most beautiful mind and his love for art and culture is almost unparalleled. However, all thoughts are ruined when you hear Taehyung let out a small groan, eyes narrowing behind you as Hae herself tuts. You wonder what’s got them both so annoyed and turn around, your eyes widening when Jimin enters the rooftop bar.

But he’s not alone.

“Can you believe he brought her here?” Hae lets out a moan, glaring openly at the girl next to Jimin.

“I honestly didn’t think he would. I thought he knew better than that. If Sooyun-ah finds her, she’ll go mad” Taehyung responds but you can barely hear them through the cloudy haze of your mind. Jimin immediately spots you and the two of you lock eyes, his own widening slightly. Time slows down and it’s as if the both of you are the only ones present on the beautiful lit up bar, surrounded by Sooji’s favourite flowers. It’s kind of fitting.

However, the moment is broken up immediately when the girl starts clinging onto Jimin. His gaze snaps away from yours and towards the girl tucked into his side. He looks down at her and she looks up at him, her eyes sparkling as if he’s the only man in the world. You can almost hear the sound of your heart break when he beams that  beautiful pearly white smile down at her, a smile that you wished was reserved for you and only you. Your eyes widen in fear slightly when they both start walking over to you. Your eyes dart around, trying to find a way to escape the inevitable, awkward conversation but before you can escape, Jimin and his new girl are already by your side.

“Hey, ____, I haven’t seen you in a while” Jimin says softly and you nod tersely, unsure what to say. But really, what could you? You had fucked five months ago and now here he was with another girl on his arms. Were you the only one affected by this? Clearly, considering he had so easily moved on to someone else. Then again, can you really move on from someone you only had sex with once, and had no feelings for?

“Hi Jimin, it has. I heard the tour went well, you guys did great” You comment easily, silently cheering at how steady your voice is. From the corner of your eyes you can see Hae narrow her own eyes, suspicious of the behaviour between the two of you. But you do your best to ignore her.

“Jimin-ah, who is this?” The girl asks and you cringe at the nasally, high pitch voiced. She was trying way too hard to be cute and you feel bad when you almost snicker as Taehyung fakes a gagging noise behind the girl’s back, Jimin glaring at his best friend.

“Ri-El, this is ____. ____ this is Ri-El, my date” Jimin responds thickly and you nod curtly, extending your hand to shake hers despite how much you want to run away from the situation. The five of you begin a conversation. Well, you say conversation when really, it’s just Ri-El talking at you, spewing nonsense and you’re not really sure what she’s talking about considering she’s changed topics at least five times within the same sentence. You hate that you find her annoying because she seems nice enough. But you can’t help but want to hate her, especially with how she clings to Jimin.

“Oh! Is that Taemin? The Taemin? I have to go say hi!” Ri-El finally finishes before running off like a star struck fan. The minute she’s gone, Sooyun stomps up to you guys, followed by her two boyfriends.

“Park Jimin! I cannotbelieve you brought her here” Sooyun hisses and Jimin immediately cringes. She’s younger than him, in fact, she’s the youngest out of all of you, Jungkook beating her by a couple of months. But that doesn’t mean that Jimin isn’t terrifiedof her, especially with the amount of times both she and Jungkook have pranked him for no reason other than the fact that he’s an easy target.

“Sooyun-ah please, she really wanted to come. I couldn’t say no” Jimin pleads and suddenly you wonder why the hell everyone seems to hate Ri-El so much.

“Jimin, you slept with her once! Once while on tour. Why are you suddenly so attached to her? Especially after she almost leaked your whereabouts to some ssaesangs” Sooyun hissed but you’d stopped listening by that point. He had slept with her. He had fucked her like he had fucked you and suddenly you felt like throwing up.

“She’s really nice once you get to know her, please Sooyun-ah” Jimin begs and you finally have had enough. He’s known her barely half a year and he’s already defending her after sleeping with her once, yet after knowing you for yearsand sleeping with you, he wants nothing to do with you? It’s more than your heart can take. Sooyun continues ripping into Jimin and you use the opportunity to make a quick escape.

“Hey guys, I’m going to grab another drink” You excuse yourself, your voice slightly quivering. It’s quiet and only Hae and Sooji notice, both of them looking at you in alarm, brows furrowing with concern. You shake your head at them before turning and walking away briskly. It takes every part of you to prevent yourself from running.

Once you’re far enough away from them you run out of the bar and into the bathroom, shutting yourself into a stall before dropping to the floor, head in your hands as you begin to cry into your knees. Your body wracks with sobs and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from being audible. You cry out when you feel a shift in your lungs, the roots in your chest tightening around your lungs before squeezing. You gasp out a breath, trying desperately to draw enough oxygen, but it’s counterproductive, causing the roots to grip tighter.

You wondered if love was always supposed to hurt like this. You hate him for planting his seeds into the garden of your chest before leaving them; letting them overgrow into a beautiful mess of nothing but weeds and thorns that encase your heart, which holds all the love you have for him. You try your hardest to weed them out, but the more you think about him, the stronger your chest aches, as if thoughts of him are the water your garden needs to continue growing.

For the second time in your life, you feel the familiar sensation of something bulbous stuck at the back of your throat. This time you don’t panic. Instead, you accept fate as you begin coughing, eyes tearing up as you continue gagging. You feel the bud slowly inch its way up your throat, slowly scratching its way up your oesophagus. When it finally dislodges you cough it out into the palm of your hand before breaking into another fit of sobs.

A wilted rose bud.

If petals were the first stage, you knew buds were the second stage.

There was no hope.

Your unrequited love for Park Jimin would be the death of you.

Wither

def. become dry or shrivelled

The next few times you see Jimin are probably the hardest. You can no longer avoid him without being suspicious, especially since you promised Hae you’d stop avoiding everyone. Hence, you see him more often than not and each time is worse than the other. He’s still dating Ri-El and every time you watch him interact with her, you can feel the thorned roots entangle further, gripping your lungs until you’re left breathless, lungs burning for air. It gets harder to breathe almost every day and you wonder how much longer you can survive this way.

There is a cure. You know there is. But you’re not sure if you can go through with it. Hanahaki is so rare that you’re not sure about the consequences. Some say you lose memories of the person you once loved, others say you just lose the love you had for them. Some even say that if you lose the flowers, you can never love the person again. Of course, there is the cure where the recipient of the feelings acknowledges and reciprocates, but you don’t have much hope for that. He seems happy with her and you can’t bear to come between that happiness. Even if it means death.

You’ve contemplated undergoing the surgery. But every time you think about it, you can’t seem to follow through. Despite every bit of hurt he’s caused you, you lovePark Jimin and you love your memories of him. You didn’t want to forget him, you didn’t want to not be able to love him ever again either. So, you reach an impasse, one that does worse for you than good considering you grow weaker every day. You look across your living room, to the shelf packed with glass jars filled to the brim with lily petals and rose buds.

Your love for Jimin had caused to you spew out flower petals and buds almost every day, slowly increasing in frequency as time passes. You wonder if maybe one day he’ll spot the jars and see the beautiful garden you had choked out, brought from both the pain and love he had caused you. You begin coughing again, the onslaught triggered by your thoughts of Jimin. You’re more than used to it now, it’s been more than half a year and you barely register the pain, wincing only slightly when the thorned rose stems scratch against the lining of your throat.

The last week, you had developed into the penultimate stage. Instead of simply choking out petals and buds, you were now throwing up entire flower stems. Your chances of survival were getting slimmer day by day and you knew that the final stage, throwing up entire bouquets, would mean your end. You scoff at yourself slightly, wondering when you’d become the type of person to die for love. But you would. You’d die if it meant preserving the happy memories of your love for Jimin.

You finally managed to choke out the flower, pulling out the withered rose before placing it in a vase along with the dozen other dead roses and lilies. As soon as you place it in the vase, there’s a knock at your door. Your brows furrow in question, wondering who that could be considering you weren’t expecting anyone. You answer your door, eyes widening when Hoseok, Namjoon and Sooyun smile brightly at you from the doorway.

“____! Hey, haven’t seen you in forever” Sooyun says as the three of them enter your apartment.

“We literally saw each other a couple days ago” You deadpan, wondering why the hell they were here.

“Woah, what’s with all the dead flowers?” Hoseok asks you, your childhood friend pointing at the dying bouquet on your countertop.

“Ah, I bought flowers a couple of weeks ago but I haven’t managed to throw them out. I completely forgot” You lie casually; he immediately raises an eyebrow at you and you know he’s caught your lie. But really, what else do you except from him? You’ve known each other since you were children, the two of you knew each other like the backs of your palms. There was nothing you could keep from each other.

“Uh huh, and what about those?” Hoseok asks, gesturing to the jars of petals and buds littering your shelves. You immediately stiffen, unsure of how to respond.

“____, what’s going on? We’re worried” Sooyun says softly and your mouth goes dry knowing you’ve been caught. You’re unsure of what to say, looking to Namjoon for help but he simply shakes his head, sending you his own worried glance.

“N-Nothing’s wrong” You try, stammering out your response and Sooyun sighs.

“Listen, I know we said we wouldn’t press if you didn’t want to talk about it. But this is getting ridiculous. Something is wrong, I know it, Seok knows it. Hell, even Joon noticed and you know he notices nothing. So, what’s going on?” Sooyun finally bursts out, looking at you for answers.

“What Sooyun is trying to say is that, we’re worried. You’ve lost so much weight, you look pale and you have these god-awful bags as if you haven’t slept in a month. Also, your voice is constantlyraspy, as if you’ve got the worst sore throat in the world and it’s been going on for too long. We just want to make sure you’re okay” Hoseok follows after his girlfriend, eyes brimming with concern.

“Is- is this about Jimin?” Sooyun questions ever so gently and your head snaps to her, eyes wide and from your reaction, you know she can tell that’s the exact issue.

“What happened? Don’t lie to me. Hae noticed something weird between the two of you at Sooji’s birthday and then recently you’ve been so awkward and stiff with each other. You used to spend so much time together before the last comeback and tour” Sooyun presses and you’re left stuttering. So they hadnoticed something, but just never said anything.

“I-I-” You stutter out, unsure of what to say. You can feel the flowers well up at the base of your throat and wonder if an attack is imminent. You take in a sharp breath when the roots move, constricting your airflow further.

“____? Are you okay? You don’t look so good” Namjoon says softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You let out a low whimper at the action and the soft touch is all it takes for the damn to burst. You begin sobbing, the weight of your emotions finally crashing as you sob your heart out. Namjoon jumps in alarm, Hoseok and Sooyun quickly rushing to you as the former pulls you in for a hug.

“I’m dying” You finally stutter out and everyone’s eyes widens at your confession.

“What? No. You’re not. Tell me you’re joking, please tell me you’re lying” Hoseok pleads, looking at you with tear filled eyes.

“You’re not dying. This is a prank, you’re pranking me to get back at Jeon and I because of all our pranks, right? This isn’t funny” Sooyun says, but her eyes are filled with fear and you know she’s two words from breaking apart.

“I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” You sob out and Sooyun lets out a little sob before crying softly with you.

“What? How? Why?” She stuttered out and you let out a rueful smile.

“I’m in love with Park Jimin. But he doesn’t love me, so I developed the Hanahaki disease. I’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone” You confess and Sooyun goes stiff, eyes wide while Namjoon sucks in a deep breath.

“You mean… the disease with the flowers? Is that where all the flowers came from?” Hoseok asks and you nod simply.

“Can’t… won’t it help if you get over him?” Sooyun asks softly and you shake your head, chuckling mirthlessly.

“I’ve tried. Believe me I’ve tried but my love for him is so deep that he’s planted within the dark recesses of my chest, the roots encasing my lungs. He makes roses bloom in my lungs and lilies blossom in my chest and granted they are beautiful but I cannot fucking breathe” You respond. You can already feel the early effects of an attack, flower buds at the top of your chest, ready to spill out your oesophagus due to the thoughts of him plaguing your mind. Once again you feel the roots constrict around your chest and you take in a sharp breath, before you begin choking.

“____? ____!” Hoseok calls in alarm but you push him away, instead heaving over. You begin gagging and this time, it’s unlike the times before. The flowers don’t come up as easily as they had before and you’re dry heaving. Tears sting at your eyes and you feel your throat burn, completely raw.

“Namjoon! Call the ambulance, we have to get her to a hospital” Sooyun calls frantically but you ignore the commotion surrounding you. You vaguely feel Hoseok’s presence behind you, rubbing and patting your back but it does little to help. You cry at the burn of the pain, sobs wracking your body as you claw at your throat, wondering why they won’t come out. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe and you wonder if this is how it ends.

Then Hoseok pats your back particularly hard and you lurch forward, retching out whatever was blocking your airway. Your eyes widen when dozens of flowers spew out your throat, blood stained and covered in saliva. There are enough flowers to create an entire bouquet, reminiscent of the one Jimin had given you when he’d taken you to the ramen restaurant.

You close your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks as you realise that you’ve reached stage four, the final one.

Then it goes dark.

Abscission

def. the natural detachment of parts of a plant

The next time you wake, all you see is a moving white ceiling. You turn around and notice that you’re on a hospital gurney, being rolled somewhere you have no idea. Sooyun, Hoseok and Namjoon are running behind while the doctors and nurses call out various codes that you can’t comprehend. In fact, there’s not much you can comprehend. You hear words like ‘critical’ and ‘surgery’ and wonder what is happening. And then you remember.

You remember heaving out an entire bouquet worth of flowers before it went dark. Ah. So you were on your way to surgery. They were going to remove the flowers and save you. You want to protest, but you don’t have the energy to do so. Namjoon is passive. His jaw is grit and you can tell he’s trying to keep calm and rational, always playing the role of the leader. Hoseok and Sooyun however, aren’t as calm. They’re both sobbing as they follow you into what you assume is the ER. Maybe this is for the best you think. Maybe if they operate and remove the flowers, you can go back to your normal life. You can forget Park Jimin and the love you had for him.

Your resolve shakes however, when you spot Park Jimin running up to you. He’s caught you just in time. He’s crying freely and you wonder why. You open your mouth, willing your body to say something, anything. If this is the last time you remember him, if this is the last time you remember your feelings for him. You want him to know. You want to thank him for being a beautiful human being and a wonderful friend, even if you had wanted more in the end.

“Jimin” You rasp out and he lets out a little sob, nodding as he grabs your hand. The nurses tut slightly, but allow you to continue. They probably know he’s the one who’s caused your illness and they’re probably sympathetic but you don’t care. Right now, all that matters is you and Jimin and you’re feelings for him. Because just once, you want to confess just once and then you can happily move on.

“Jimin I love you. I’m sorry” You rasp out and using the last of your energy smile at him, before it starts going dark once again. Jimin lets out a small a small cry, clutching your hand desperately.

“No! No I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I love you. Please, I love you. Come back please, just let me love you” Jimin cries, weeping as he presses a kiss to your hand, but you don’t respond.

“Mr. Park, please let her go. We have to operate” The nurse chides and Jimin simply shakes his head, holding onto you tighter.

“No! She needs to know! Please. Please” Jimin begs before he feels strong hands wrap around him and he tries to fight it, but Namjoon simply holds him tighter, pulling him away.

“Jimin, let her go” Namjoon says softly and he does. He watches with despair as you disappear through the doors and wonder if it’s the last time he’ll be able to hold you like that again, wonders if you’ll even remember his name or your memories or if you’ll ever be able to love him again the way he loves you.

“Hyung, I love her” Jimin cries, turning into Namjoon’s arms before collapsing. He cries into Namjoon’s chest, shoulders shaking as he runs fingers through his hair, wondering where the two of you went wrong. If only he had known. If only he hadn’t run away from you and his feelings the night you had slept together. Maybe then you’d still be in his arms, beside him.

“I know Chim, I know” Namjoon says softly, holding the younger tightly as he tries to soothe Jimin’s cries. Sooyun drops to he knees, pushing Jimin’s hair out of his face before looking at him with sad eyes, a small smile on her face.

“She loved you too. Right until the end, she loved you and only you” Sooyun says and she means it out of comfort, but all it does is make Jimin cry harder.

And then he coughs out a lily petal.

A/N: The alternative ending is now up! It’s not compulsory to read, but if you wanted to!

sequel: bloom II

Masterlist

[flyswhumpcenter]

For You, I Will Give Up My Wings [Whumptober 2019 - Day 17: “Stay With Me”]

Summary: Once upon a time were an angel and a mortal who wished nothing but to stay together despite the forbidden nature of their relationship.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V (mythology/angel AU) Ship: Moonblossom (Serena/Ruri)

Wordcount: 2.271 words

Content Warnings: Light religious theming (blasphemy, sin, angels, albeit not used in a Christian context). Secondary character death.

Notes: Another mythology-esque AU for this prompt, this time with Moonblossom and angels. I may not look like it because my Arc-V OTP is Peregrine, but I'm a sucker for Moonblossom's aesthetic, and I felt dirty writing a fic inspired by "Alluring Secret ~ Black Vow" (and its companion song White Vow) for an F/M ship. Again, this isn't whump and more like a story with some whumpy elements, but at this point who cares. Also, my apologies for the abrupt ending to it, I really wanted to finish it by tonight.

Oh, also: an important character in the show dies in this story. I haven't put the "Major Charcter Death" alert on "This Is Gonna Hurt" for this because they're a minor, nameless character in this, but in case you don't wanna read that... Here's your chance to look away. 

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

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Would an angel sell their soul to the devil in the name of love?

This was a question as old as time, she realized, as she stared at her own white wings full of feathers. She had heard of fallen angels before, of former comrades that had betrayed their kind’s guidelines to live with a mortal or, in the worst rumours, a demon. They had various names: the black-winged, the banished, the betrayers, the traitors, the fallen, the forgotten. All in all, they all had a common point: they were angels whose identity had been erased by the term, punished for their crimes by getting lost in the sands of times and fading memories.

For a long time, the Angel of the Moon, Selena assumed she was over asking herself that question. She was an exemplary angel amongst her peers, only doing what was right and what was allowed. She used her powers for the greater good and nothing else, defending the right, condemning the wrong, never stepping out of her zone. She had been promoted as an archangel as the result of her hard work, presented as an example for all other angels to follow. Her footsteps had been blessed by the gods, her halo shone brighter than most, a statue had been erected in her name in the place she assured the peace of minds and hearts of, Cordelia.

However, things changed on one fateful day.

 The Moon was lighting the territory of Cordelia in its cold, benevolent light. Not a word was to be heard in the peaceful streets of the city, the inhabitants either already asleep or taking care of the last tasks of the day: ends of dinners, children’s bedtime stories, the last words of a letter. The windows shut down one after the other, the walls losing colours, dark blues winning over yellows and whites.

In the dark of the night was Selena, Archangel of the Moon, flying around, ensuring the tranquillity of the city. This was a mere duty to her: she had never had to enforce anything before, merely making sure nobody was stepping out of line. Crime was absent from the streets, even when the sun had set down, because her watchful eyes were always there. She was but a well-meaning agent of peace and order, an agent sent by the gods to ensure serenity in the mortal minds they had given life to thousands and thousands of years before.

 However, and despite her best judgement, there were citizens she preferred watching over than others. One of them was a young girl trying to live by with her older brother. Her flower shop was one of the places Selena liked the most watching over during daytime, amazed by her talent at growing flowers and her crystalline voice who sang like the most beautiful of birds. She spent more time there than anywhere else, charmed by her kindness and dark locks of luscious hair falling to her hips.

Unbeknownst to her, one of her feathers once fell on the floor of the shop during the day. The girl picked it up as soon as she noticed it, intrigued by its pure white, and looked up. Unable to flee, back round against a corner of the shop’s roof, the angel’s eyes met hers as her smile melted her surprise away.

I see you, benevolent angel, she said, putting the feather in her hair and against her ear. Thank you for watching over my shop.

Selena was unable to reply, surprised that she could be seen, forbidden to talking to mortals no matter what; so she nodded along, her thoughts swirling around. This was nothing but wrong, she knew it with an undefeatable certainty; yet this felt right, too right, and her wings shivered as she flew away from the shop, leaving another feather behind her. Even in her panic, she wished for the girl to pick it up and wondered if she

 However, during a harsh winter that almost froze all of the city’s cultures, the brother of the girl eventually fell sick. Despite his condition and his sister’s pleas for him not to, he continued working to afford them to continue living as they always had. Ruri tried everything in her power to convince him not to, promising she’d go as far as selling the shop or finding a rich husband if it meant he’d rest. Alas, her brother valued her dreams above everything else on this earth and ended up refusing all of her offers, leaving her broken-hearted.

For a time, watching over the shop hurt Selena. As soon as he had collapsed from his illness, the girl spent most of her time at her brother’s side, her hand in his, as she told him stories to less his pain; only to tearfully beg him, in silence and when he’d be asleep, to stay with her. She’d try brewing healing concoctions with her knowledge of plants, to very little effect, until she had spared enough money to pay for a doctor. The verdict was decisive, falling upon the little family like a sword, as the boy was doomed to die soon; and poor Ruri was left even more heartbroken than she had been before.

For the first time, Selena wondered if she shouldn’t have made a deal with a mysterious force for the boy’s life to be spared, as the pain of her citizens pained her to witness. Alas, she was no healing force: her light did nothing to his ill, as the gods had decided for this mortal and no angel could go against the goddesses of life and death. His thread would soon get cut by a steady hand. There would be no benevolence or malevolence in her fingers and scissors as they’d execute their decision, only their mission to make sure the cycle was running properly.

On the day the boy died, the angel was watching over their house, mourning with the girl. His last words were of care and attention, asking her not to cry and not let herself get consumed with grief, for she needed to outlive him now that he’d be gone. He begged her in a voice breaking under its own weight to take care of herself and her dreams, now that he wouldn’t be there for her, promising he’d still keep an eye on her from wherever his soul would go next. Yet, even with his warm words and the smile she was forcing herself to give him, the girl broke down crying as soon as his hand went limp and his heart went cold.

Please, watch over my sister, his soul begged of the angel as soon as it left the body, eyes shining.

I promise, she replied. Now, you can join the skies above and reunite with all those that you have lost, you who spent his life caring for his dearest.

 From then on, Cordelia mourned the loss of one of its youngest inhabitants. People gave the grieving sister their condolences, bringing gifts with them, buying her flowers as support. The plants almost died because her tears prevented her from properly caring for them, leaving them to dry and wither away like her brother had in front of her eyes. Would no action be taken, desolation was soon to fall onto the small flower shop, life leaving it day after day, ivy growing and covering the façade.

As such, to honour her promise, Selena spent most of her time in the city taking care of the shop for the girl, feathers meddling with the roots. Her fingers gave their life back to the plants, slowly but surely, petals getting their colours back and the agreeable scent she had always known returned. Things were finally looking better, the light and warmth of the sun coming back: this wasn’t time of dying for the little shop and its owner.

She’d often get spotted by the girl, who’d then tell her some stories or, simply, talk to her about her day. Selena couldn’t answer her questions with words, but she could nod along, and that was more than enough for them. They’d spend a morning, an afternoon, an evening or even an entire day conversing like this. Before long, the mortal girl had earned her smile back, making her promise to her brother a reality. By all means, her mission was a success; but she didn’t leave, continued taking care of a mortal’s plants with her, and loved every second of it.

 On one day, the gods told the angel she had been assigned a new task. From then on, her status as an archangel would fully come into play: she’d be supervising other angels and never go back to the mortal’s soil. The news that should have warmed her spirit and gratified her instead made her feel nothing but resentment and hatred: she didn’t want this. She wanted to spend her days with the girl from the flower shop, the mortal that made more sense in her life than so many of the duties she owed to the gods.

She had but a few days to engrave images of Cordelia into her mind before leaving forever. Even if it wasn’t forever, who could promise her that Ruri would still be there by the time she’d come back? Her only wish was to remain with this mortal until the end of her life, nothing else; and yet, she gulped her pleas when faced by the goddess she depended of, for she could not go against the gods. Keeping her feelings concealed, she instead let herself weep in the night streets of Cordelia, finding over and over the words of departure she’d give to her dearest, her soulmate.

Their adieux went horribly wrong. She tried conveying the idea through moves, but it didn’t work, and the girl didn’t understand her. Eventually, the conscientious angel was obligated to explain with the words she had forbidden herself to ever use. Her tongue burned and her throat knotted, the sin puncturing her ribcage. Nevertheless, nothing could have prepared her for Ruri’s reaction to it, full of another wave of grief, anger and confusion all the same. Would have angels had a heart, she’d have broken Selena’s.

 Stay with me, she then pleaded with her mortal eyes and her mortal voice, hands tied in a prayer, her legs folding into a kneeling position.

The angel wavered in her certitudes and convictions, a foreign temptation invading her thoughts like poison flowing in its victim’s bloodstream.

I cannot, for I have a duty to serve, Selena replied. I am an angel, you are a mortal; this is not meant to be. I am so deeply sorry for it.

Please, stay with me! Ruri cried, youthful eyes filling with sorrow and misery. I don’t want to see you go, I can’t be without you!

Her halo’s light dimmed with each word she told the mortal, her wings twitching, urging her to stop the blasphemy and go back to her former idealistic self. The dilemma was eating away at her very soul, feathers falling from an anxiety foreign to her kind. That was when this sentence came back to her, the question she used never to wonder about.

Would an angel sell their soul to the devil in the name of love?

 Her mind repeated it over and over again, weighing pros and cons, meticulous and obedient spirit leaving place for a burning chest devoured by a very human passion. Her feelings were, for the very first time, sent into a turmoil unknown to her species, the one the gods would go through whenever they were faced by their own faults, and she realized how hypocritical the people commending her had been all along. Would angels have been able to cry, tears would have stained her porcelain face, rotting her luminous skin with the darkness and dirt of the pain she was currently experiencing.

That was, until the girl, whom until then had been nothing but an untouched paragon of pureness, committed the ultimate sin. She ran to an angel, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her with a furious passion, the kind no being could ignore no matter their kind or nature, and the angel found herself giving it back, purposely corrupting her own lips with the saliva of a mortal. On that, her wings turned black as the night, feathers falling and spreading far and wide, the excruciating pain almost locking her into an eternal agony.

To her surprise, and despite the forbidden nature of her acts, her wings didn’t fall; and, right as they turned black, she saw white feathers blossom in the back of the person she had just gladly given her angel righteousness to, her eyes watered for the first time. With a tearful smile, Selena embraced her nature, her feelings and her dearest person.

If the devil was the holder of her happiness, and that of her beloved, then she’d sell her angelic soul to Them; and there was no regret to be had there. There was no shame in being part of the Forgotten if she couldn’t enjoy her immortality with someone else and, as she embraced corruption herself, she gladly let go of her burden.

 Would an angel sell their soul to the devil in the name of love?

No, as there was no devil to sell angelhood to; instead, they’d give it to the goddess of love and make someone into an angel to her service. That was the answer that she had not been looking after enough until it had been almost too late.