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ve1vetyoongi · 4 years

Text

wherever you will go | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: actor!oc, director!jungkook, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 21k

Summary: Not much happens when you grow up by the coast. Tourists come and go, the theatre where you work shows the same shows over and over and there’s always sand and salt in the air. Your dreams of making it big in the city are exactly that: dreams. When your hopes of becoming an actress are shattered into a million pieces, you find yourself getting drawn to a captivating up-and-coming movie director by the name of Jeon Jungkook. With his bright eyes and charming smile, he seems determined to glue your pieces back together -- even if it means leaving Ocean City behind for good.

Warnings: themes of loss/grief, mentions of death of a parent, dom!jungkook, dom/sub themes, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving).

Rating: Mature.

A/N: Hello loves! HAPPY JK DAY!! This fic is a lil celebration of our golden boy Jungkook so I hope you enjoy!! This whole fic is sickeningly fluffy and reads like a pretentious YA novel but ya girl wrote this while she was stuck in quarantine a few weeks ago and I debated not posting this bc I lowkey love it lowkey hate it so pleasedonthateme if it’s bad LOL. Also -- just incase you haven’t read the warnings already there is a running theme that deals with the loss of a parent (a topic very close to my heart, hence why this piece was especially healing to write.) so reader discretion is advised if that is triggering to you in any way shape or form!!!! P.P.S Largely unedited so pls bare with any mistakes!

Prelude.

You're late for your work shift, you note, as you catch sight of your watch face glaring up at you menacingly from the arm clutching the handle bars of your bike. As if your mood couldn't get any more miserable -- the dreary morning drizzle that falls from the sky and drips icily down the back of your nape was bad enough.

Goddamn, you groan to yourself as you will your feet to pedal ever faster. Now my hair is gonna be frizzy.

It's a Saturday and the theatre where you work always opens earlier at the weekends. You promised you'd be on time today, but yet here you are, speeding down the worn in sandy sidewalks of your seaside town a whole block away when you should've been opening up half an hour ago.

It's a habit of yours, being late. And as hard as you try, you just can't change a habit. But it can't be helped you suppose. Continuity is all you've ever known. That's the thing about living in a tiny seaside town. Things never change.

The view from your bedroom window has been the same for as long as you can remember — Ocean City — Aka, block after block of rainbow coloured houses with flaky paint leading up to the harbour where boats bob nonchalantly and fishermen reel in their catches beneath the gull filled sky. Beyond it the beach; greyish rolling waves and upturned pebbles nestled atop of hard sand in the winter and clear water and brightly coloured beach towels and brave surfers in the summer.

Nobody ever leaves, and the tourists that arrive in summer never stay. Life becomes a predictable practice, just each day lived out to the next in an endless cycle of never ending continuity. It's suffocating and endless and sometimes you feel like you're just a pawn on a giant chess board, destined to move one agonising square forward at a time, never diagonally. It's hard to change directions when you've been taught to stick to what you know.

You didn't always live here, in this town of continuity. You lived in the big city for a while, where no day was the same as another. But after your mother died you and your older brother were shipped off to live with your dad, who wouldn't know the definition of adapting if it hit him square in the face. He's always been the same square shouldered, balding dude in his forties who never wanted kids and never quite got over losing your mother to the big buck actor she ran off with when you were two.

So that's how you ended up here. Late for work at your job in the country's most prized vacation spot. And your boring reality.

You roll past the beach huts on the shoreline that alternate between vibrant pink and muted blue, barely paying attention to the boardwalk with its little boat house that stretches out into the horizon like a crooked finger. When it gets dark, you can spot the pier carnival lights flashing in the distance from here as they dance across the reflection of the pale white moon and play among the waves.

Even now, the yellow lights of the ornate street lamps that line the water's front shine like tiger's eyes against the sky just like they always have when you turn down the familiar route that takes you past the winding lanes of trinket shops and the happy hour bars and the carnival that feels strangely empty at such an early hour, not a single rollercoaster ride in operation.

Before long you're skidding to a stop outside of the The Crestmont, the old theatre where you work. It's everything you'd expect from a vintage cinema; pink and blue neon lights and a gold trimmed ticket booth out front with a three-sided marquee that extends from the front of the building like a brightly lit airport runway. You hurry beneath it, grateful for the protection it provides from the rain that has started to come down in lashes now, before heading over to the rack around the back of the building where you can chain your bike.

The Crestmont used to be somewhat of a hotspot back in the day or so your told, but these days it only shows cartoons at a discounted price for the neighbourhood kids and the occasional local production of some worn out musical everyone has seen a hundred times before. It's lost all it's magic, everyone says. But you disagree; you probably spend more time here than anyone, and there's magic in every inch of this place.

From the red velvet curtains to the grand chandelier, The Crestmont is one of a kind. Sometimes you disappear into the theatre by yourself for a while unbeknownst to your manager. You can almost taste the laughter and the tears and the love that has been spilled and shared unapologetically amongst these seats. Pure magic.

Your mom left a piece of herself here, too. If you close your eyes you can hear her laughter spilling out into the theatre, or her lilting singing voice filling every nook and cranny like a haunting siren. She was the Crestmont's star. Ocean City's sweetheart.

There's a wall of fame in the lobby. It's covered in portraits crested with gold frames, all filled with pictures of the Crestmont's greatest performers. You've spent hours there — (turns out it's the perfect hiding spot from your manager) — fingers tracing the plaques beneath each one, all inscribed with names that townsfolk whisper with dreamy looks in their eyes. Some are black and white, some colour, but all of them depict pretty faces with beaming smiles that never seem to fade.

Not even your mom's. Her smile is pearly and bright, right above the plaque with her birthdate. And her death date.

And right there at the end, an empty frame. Your frame. You can feel it. You already know how you'll pose for your picture. Hair over one shoulder, hand on hip, smile so convincing that it'll be like every happiness in your heart is written right across your forehead proudly, and you won't have to dull it any longer.

You finish hooking a chain around the handlebars of your bike, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened windows. Staring back at you is a girl dressed in a maroon v-neck with a preppy dicky bow tied around her collar. You frown. The white shirt itches and the high waisted pants make your crotch look weird but the uniform is compulsory. The only thing uglier is the sour expression on your face, which you try to smooth out with your thumb, experimenting with plastering a sickly smile to your face instead. It might be convincing if your lips didn't strain and your eyes weren't so prone to rolling without your permission.

You need to learn to hide your emotions, your father said. You have your feelings written across your face. Customers don't like that.

It's true; customer's didn't usually like you, your unforgiving face or when you spilled cola down their blouse or spat in their popcorn. One more complaint and you were on the path to being fired once and for all, and although in some ways you would be glad to say goodbye to the stupid slushie machine that always gets stuck and the ungrateful customers and the goddamn uniform, you can't loose this job.

Not when it's your ticket to making it big. Then customers will point to your picture as they pass and clutch their chest with a snide superiority, Oh! Can you believe she served me a cola once? I always knew she was gonna make it! instead of Would it kill you to smile a little, honey?

So you swallow a sigh and make your smile as convincing as possible and march inside of the ornate theatre doors of The Crestmont, hoping that today may be the day where things finally change for once.

Where it begins

"I'm going to work!" You call as you you pull a baseball cap down over your hair to cover it's unbrushed wildness. "I won't be back for a while so don't wait up, okay Taehyung?"

You pause with your hand on the door, listening carefully for a response; the small house you live in pulsates with the bass of some indie rock album your brother and his friends are obsessed with at the moment, and your eyes roll when you peer up the staircase and find Taehyung's bedroom door firmly closed like always.

With a shake of your head you scribble out a message on a sticky note — GONE 2 WORK. — and leave it for him to read when he eventually emerges from his man cave in search of sustenance and finds you gone.

You brush away the funny ache that nestles in your stomach. This is nothing new. You're used to not being heard. Your dad is always gone for trips you suspect involve more play than work, and your older brother pretends he's not broken by hanging around with the neighbourhood cool kids and barraging himself in his room for days on end. Despite living under one roof it feels as though you're miles apart, an invisible barrier separating you indefinitely.

You weren't always like this; distant, always stepping on eggshells around each other. You were a family once. A happy one. But since the accident there's been an absence in this house, and nothing has been the same since.

Still, you know that beneath Taehyung's standoffish persona, he's still your big brother. He worries about you. So you tack the note to the fridge and make your way outside.

The lawn is already brown despite it only being late May, and summer is shaping up to be hot and sticky, though you live two blocks away from the beach so the coolness of the ocean still thankfully pervades against your perspiring skin, the gulls already calling you with their high pitched squaks from down at the shoreline.

You've barely made it to the end of the drive before there's the sound of knuckles rapping against glass. You look up and your heart jumps into your mouth. Staring back at you is a pair of dark eyes from behind the upstairs windowpane. Even from this distance you can see how they shine, deep and dark like a cup of black coffee, and you'd recognise the annoyingly cute smirk that matches them anywhere.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung's best friend, and, unfortunately, your crush for as long as you knew what the word love meant.

"Hey, Y/N!" Your heart sinks when the window slides open and a messy head of brown hair sticks out through the gap and points at you with a pout. "You're leaving already? Without me?"

Oh; another thing about Jeon Jungkook. He's also your co-worker, which means you spend 16 hours a week in his company, much to the glee of your heart and the dismay of your conscience.

You weren't exactly surprised when you turned up to the Crestmont theatre for your first shift and were left in the capable hands of none other than Jungkook to teach you the ins and the outs of the popcorn machine and the ticket booth.

For as long as you've known him he's been somewhat of a film buff. He practically grew up holding a camera. You always used watch him and your brother making home movies in the backyard, fit with ketchup sachets for blood and endless costumes from your mom's closet. And the one time you stayed at his house when your dad went away for a while after the accident, you saw all the classic movie posters on his bedroom wall; Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Jaws. So it made total sense for Jungkook to be at the Crestmont. In fact, you couldn't imagine him anywhere else.

That day you were mostly just surprised that he knew who you were at all. While you had spent years watching him from your bedroom window while he kicked a ball around with Taehyung or avoiding his eyes at the table when he stayed for dinner, he had never so much as glanced in your direction.

Deep down you think the reason he was so quick to take you under his wing is because he knew first hand how hard the accident hit your family. You suppose he feels he owes it to Taehyung to keep you in high spirits.

Although if you weren't you and he wasn't him, you'd swear Jungkook's attentions had become almost flirtatious as of late. He always goes the extra mile to spend time with you, and you even though you know it'll end up with you getting hurt you can't bring yourself to stop him.

You see, Jungkook has a gift for subtle charm. Like how he always sneaks you sodas out back on your lunch break, never forgetting the extra syrup — tooth rottingly sweet just how you like it — slipping one of his own dollars into the cash register to avoid a telling off from your manager. Or how he insists on helping you clean up after the theatre is empty, showing you the best secret places like down the back off seats to find misplaced trinkets and the creaky floorboard where your manager hides his cigarettes. How he insists on walking you home after the evening shift, even if he says he's going this way to see Taehyung anyway.

You've spent countless hours pondering over whether his sweet talking words mean as much to him as they do to you. And as much as you know it's unlikely for someone like Jeon Jungkook to ever have feelings for you, you can't help the way your heart speeds up every time he shoots you one of his signature bunny smiles that light up his whole face like he's happiness personified. And you can't bring yourself to hate him for it.

"I did call," you respond matter of factly, finally sucking in a breath of courage to turn around and squint up at him through the afternoon sun with a shrug. "But that trash you're listening too was too loud for you guys to hear me."

Jungkook's eyes widen as he fumbles around beneath the windowsill and pops up again holding up a shiny vinyl record sleeve. You recognise it instantly; it's from his favourite film — Submarine. He hardly ever shuts up about it.

"This is not trash. This is, like, the best movie soundtrack ever made!" He shakes his head as he takes the needle off of Taehyung's vintage record player, music ceasing with a scratch, and slips it into the sleeve with a grin. "Good thing I have it downloaded so we can listen to it on the way to work, hm?"

You roll your eyes and tap your foot impatiently, and at that, Taehyung appears behind him.

"You're leaving already?" He frowns, words directed at Jungkook even as he glances through narrowed eyes at you stood awkwardly on the front lawn.

"Yup. My shift starts in twenty." Jungkook shrugs, disappearing into the room for a second before he emerges again with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Sorry dude. I can come back afterwards though, if you want?"

Taehyung purses his lips. Even from here you can see the stress lines embedded in his forehead that make him look older than his humble age of nineteen, somehow weak unlike how you always saw him as a kid. Big and strong; untouchable; your brother.

His blunt eyes never quite meet Jungkook's as he shakes his head softly. "'S good. I was gonna try and sleep, anyway, before the sun goes down. Didn't get much shut eye last night. Not with the..."

Nightmares. Taehyung trails off, but you know that's what he's alluding to. The nightmares that turn your big strong brother into a sniffling mess in the dead of night, kicking around mercilessly until you sneak into his bed and whisper to him until he slips into slumber again. Not that you ever acknowledge it in the morning over your bowls of cereal and vacant good morning's.

"Okay." Jungkook's face momentarily falls; a rare occurrence from the boy who seems to be perpetually cheerful. He pats Taehyung on the shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"

Taehyung just nods, letting out a yawn as he rolls into a stretch. "See ya tomorrow."

You're jolted from your thoughts when Jungkook throws his left leg out of the window, then the other, arms bulging in just the right way where they poke out of the sleeves of his plain white tee as he climbs down the drainpipe and lands with a thump on the soles of his high top sneakers.

"Hey kiddo." He grins as he wipes the palms of his hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans, before messing up your hair despite your groan of protest.

"Don't call me that. You're only a year older than me."

You're startled when you meet the pair of warm eyes that glint golden brown in the summer evening light, chest contracting as you look away and break into a fast walk towards the street.

"And you know you can just use the front door right?"

You hear him snort behind you, neglecting to use the front gate and instead launching over the fence so he lands directly in front of you on the sidewalk.

"How am I supposed to impress my best friends little sister if I can't show off my guns?" He flexes his arm, but you just brush past him with a roll of your eyes.

"You're an idiot."

You hear the clunk of his bike chain unhooking from the gate, before a set of wheels pedal up on the sidewalk beside you. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Uh, to work?" You offer bluntly, squinting at him through the sun. "You should be too, we start in fifteen minutes."

"I mean why are you walking? What happened to your bike?"

You roll your eyes. "Some tourist kids slashed the wheels at the beach."

"Shit. Really?" Jungkook tuts, but you don't miss the glint in his eye as he nods towards the pegs on the back of his bike that were made for carrying a passenger."Then I guess it's my lucky day. Hop on, we can ride together."

You come to a standstill, arms crossed tightly. "I'd rather walk."

"Oh come on!" He wiggles his eyebrows. "It'll take double the time if we go on foot, and I recall it being you who got a final late warning last week."

"If we go on foot?" You laugh breathily, determined to stand your ground. "Just go on ahead, I'm good here."

"Well, I'm not exactly going to leave you here alone on the side of the road now am I? So I'll be forced to walk with you. And I'm older than you remember? Look, I'm already out of breath! My legs aren't what they used to be, y'know."

"Fine!" With a pout you take the helmet resting in his front basket and hook it underneath your chin, biting your lip to stop a smile from gracing your lips at the excitement that lights up Jungkook's features. "But only because I want you to shut up."

"Your wish is my command." He says with a pat to your head. "Hold on tight, okay?"

And as you wrap your arms around his waist, you're sure his ears heat up a deep shade of red, even it could just be the evening light playing tricks on you.

The theatre at the Crestmont feels eerily quiet when its empty.

You know that because even though your shift was supposed to end at 5, you offered to stick around to help clean up after today's performance. Phantom of the Opera.

"Jesus," You groan as you pick up another sticky soda cup that someone had kindly spilled all over the ground for you to clean up, dropping the offender into a black trash bag. "Doesn't anyone around here know how to use a trash can?"

You fall into one of the theatre seats with a sigh and run your fingers over the scarlet velvet, worn yet plush, the texture soothing you instantly. You tilt your head back and let the silence engulf you. No orchestra, no musical numbers, no stage crew shouting directions. No whirring cotton candy machine. Just you and the stage.

From here you can see every detail on the high ceiling littered with renaissance-style paintings of mermaids and babies armed with heart shaped bow and arrows. Your mom was an actress. When you were a kid you used to spent hours staring at them while she rehearsed. You were convinced they came alive once the theatre closed up for the night, their cheeky smiles evidence of a secret only you knew.

A trail of rainbows is cast by the grand chandelier hung in the center, and it draws your attention all the way down the aisles and up to the stage.

The Crestmont is only small, fitting perhaps 200 people at most. It's hardly Broadway. But the fire in your chest ignites as you glance side to side before sidling up the creaking wooden steps that wind up to the Crestmont's center stage. Your favourite part of the whole theatre.

It's not the first time you've done this. You often like to come up here after everyone has gone home, even though you technically aren't supposed to. There's a certain magic about being alone up here as you collect the lone roses that were thrown on stage by tonight's audience. Breathing in the musty smell of butter popcorn that lingers on the velvet curtains, feel the warmth of the bright stage lights glazing your skin. Something about it feels like home.

The first time you ever saw the Crestmont stage was on tv, watching a grainy camera shakily capture your mom in the very same spot you find yourself right now.

Your mom used to have a cardboard box filled with her old audition tapes. Everything from Hamlet to A Streetcar Named Desire, she'd starred in it, and you spent hours together in front of the television set trying to memorise the way she spoke your favourite lines and listening to her lilting voice recite backstage anecdotes about her rendezvous with foreign directors who dined on her in Paris or underground parties with celebrities you had never even heard of as she stroked your hair.

It wasn't until you got a little older that you realised that, just like you, your mom was a dreamer. Sure, she'd visited a couple different states and starred in some makeup commercials once, and that was enough to make her a celebrity in a town as small as this.

But really? She was just a small town actress with dreams larger than herself and way larger than the Crestmont where she made her name. And suddenly the gaps in time where she would disappear for weeks — sometimes months — on end no longer made sense to you. If she wasn't drinking cocktails with the prince of Monaco or clubbing in London, then where was she?

"Down town with those no good roadies," Taehyung told you once. "They made all these empty promises. Told her she'd make it big if she just did what they said. But look how that turned out."

That was the day you realised your mom was a better actress than you ever knew.

She always thought that her dreams would come true. She believed it so hard that you believed it too, naively. But who knows? Maybe they would have if she didn't get into an accident on her way to New York for her big break.

It's easy to imagine how your mom felt up here. She always looked so alive and free in those VHS tapes as she danced effortlessly across the stage with an ethereal weightlessness, the theatre silent except for the melodic sweetness of her monologues that drew tears to the eyes of those who listened eagerly.

If you close your eyes you can hear the roar of the crowd, hands clapping furiously. The orchestra tuning their brass in the pit, bows melodic against strings. Flowers landing at your feet. The deep breath of satisfaction as you take your final bow and the curtain closes.

Just like that you're moving across the stage, reciting the lines you know so well...

"You're gonna be a star like me some day," A voice whispers against your ear, soft and gentle. A memory. Your mom. "Just like me."

And just like that, she's there. In the audience, clapping. For you. And you feel invincible.

The sound of applause breaks you out of your trance. Real applause. You find yourself stood center stage, broom in hand, staring out at row after row of empty seats that gape with the same emptiness that was here when you arrived.

Except one of the velvet lined seats is filled now. Right at the front.

"Encore!" Jungkook whistles, the harsh thwacks of his palms clapping together clanging inside your ears. "Do it again! That was amazing!"

Your chest seizes painfully, a sudden bout of panic turning your blood cold. You feel the colour leave your face. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching?

Jungkook is watching you attentively, eyes soft at the edges with wonder. It makes bile rise in your throat. You can't be up here. Not when there's a pair of eyes looking at you, judging.

"I..." You begin, but the words get caught in your throat.

"I can't do this."

The way Jungkook's eyes widen and he lurches forward to catch you is the last thing you see before your vision goes black.

The boardwalk is strangely quiet for a summer evening. It's happy hour so you suppose most vacationers are already in the bars in their I LOVE OCEAN CITY T-shirts drinking cocktails or whatever. Not that you're complaining.

The smell of hotdogs and vinegar from the vans that line the strip still fill the air, snatches of conversations from children begging their parents to let them go on the waltzer one last time barely audible above the tinkling bells of the carousel. The ride operators drink soda's as they fan themselves with rolled up newspapers, grateful for the gentle hubbub on such a sticky evening, and then there's you, caught up in the middle of it all.

The wooden boards of the pier are warm against he backs of your thighs. You're sat with your legs dangling through the peeling guard rail that lines the strip. It was painted pastel blue at some point but years of sea spray and grubby hands made it fade to a sickly green tinge that matches the ocean.

Speaking of, the ocean would usually be directly below your feet, murky and wild, but today the tide has receded right back to reveal a large strip of sand. The stands suspending the pier rest on top of it so that you could walk right under and around them if you wanted to. You and Taehyung used to do that all the time when you were kids. Searching for barnacles. Exploring the dark places.

"Here. Eat up. You totally passed out on me back there. You could probably do with some sugar."

The soft voice beside you is the only thing loud enough to permeate your daydreams. You don't have look up to know who it belongs to. Jungkook.

He peers down at you, sun beating down against his back. He's holding two vanilla ice cream cones, double scooped, and he thrusts one into your hands before mirroring your position at the edge of the boardwalk.

The walk down here from the Crestmont was more or less silent, and your stomach twists now you realise Jungkook wants to talk.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You lie. The ice cream is cold and sweet and covers the bitterness. "I just think it's funny."

Jungkook's tongue sneaks out to lick up the melted cream dribbling down his cone. "What is?"

"How this place stays the same but I feel so different." You were born here, raised here. This place was your whole life once, with it's salty air and bustling casino's. But since the accident, something's been bubbling inside you, swelling and crashing like the ocean below that taunts you and you've never felt farther from home in your life as you do now, looking out over the town that just won't budge, just like the funny ache in your chest. "Forget I said it. I don't know why I'm even telling you this."

Jungkook fidgets beside you and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh."It's okay, y'know. To miss her."

Your mom. You know that's who he means. Just the mention of her stings.

"Mhm." You snort. "Tell that to my family. If we all carried on missing mom then we'd be in pretty hot shit by now."

"If it's Taehyung you're worried about, then don't be. He's stronger than he looks."

"Until he's not anymore. And we lose him again just like—" You pause. You hate how you can hear the pain in your voice so you smooth it out. "Just like before. And I can't let that happen. I won't."

Jungkook shifts. As Taehyung's oldest friend he was there for everything in the aftermath of the accident. He was there when you put on a brave face for the sake of your family. He was there when Taehyung couldn't be any more.

"That doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. Think about it this way. The ocean isn't always this calm right?" He gazes wistfully out over the ocean that swells and crashes against the shore, fingers twirling the gold chain around his neck. "Last winter when we had that huge storm, the waves were so big they smashed right through the pier support beams."

You furrow your brows. "What about it?"

"The ocean was just too much for the pier to bare and it would've come crashing down forever if half the neighborhood didn't come down to the beach in the dead of night, despite the rain, and hold it together until the storm calmed and the emergency repair boats could get to shore."

It's true. You remember how unforgiving the rain was as it pelted down against your back and froze you through to the bone that night as each and every familiar face from your neighborhood came down to the seafront to lend a hand, your family included.

Jungkook was there too. He was the one who knocked on your door in the early hours to spread the word. He got given free churros for life by one of the pier stall owners as a reward.

"What I'm trying to say Y/N, is that Taehyung has you to lean on, right? So who do you have?" Jungkook says, staring at you head on now. His sincerity almost makes you blush.

You bite your lip. Deep down you know that your beams are just as broken as Taehyung's and it's only a matter of time before they come crashing down into the water, and this time there'll be nobody to hold the pieces together.

"I don't need anyone. I'm just fine on my own. I can handle my ocean."

Jungkook brushes your hand. You flinch, so he pulls it back into his lap. "Well if you ever need a life boat, then you know where I am okay?"

You don't believe him, but he's staring at you so expectantly that you just tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at that.

"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."

Children's laughter bubbles up from the beach. You watch their distant silhouettes dancing among the waves. It's Jungkook who breaks the silence before it settles between you and becomes uncomfortable.

"Anyway, what were you doing up there on the stage today?" He smiles, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were having the time of your life before—"

You feel your cheeks start to burn. How long had Jungkook been watching you at the Crestmont? Had he seen the whole thing?

"It was nothing. I was just being dumb."

"Nothing?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side and punches you playfully. "It didn't seem like nothing."

"It just...it makes me feel close to my mom when I'm on the stage." You admit. "I loved watching her when I was a kid. She was always larger than life in my eyes. She had this way of making you really believe she was someone else. It was like she wasn't just acting -- she was becoming. Sometimes...sometimes I think I liked her better when she was in character."

You shake your head with a small smile. "I like me better when I'm in character. I used to dream about going to New York one day and becoming an actress just like she wanted to. Small town girl making it big in the city and all that." You scoff. "But I'm nothing like her. It's just fun to pretend sometimes."

"You're good. At performing. Like, really good." Jungkook's eyes are wide. When he places a hand on your forearm you don't shake it off this time. "You take after her. Everyone says it."

It's true. There's one photo of your mom in the house. It's in Taehyung's room. When you were younger you thought it was your face staring back at you from behind the glass. Sometimes you'll be walking down the boardwalk or serving soda's at work and you'll hear the whispers. See their heads turn. Is it her?

"Pfft. Looks mean nothing." You scoff. "She was fearless. I can't even speak in front of one person without passing out, let alone a crowd."

Realisation crosses Jungkook's face. "Oh. So that's what happened back there? Stage fright?"

"Uh huh." You roll your eyes. "So don't give me the follow your dreams spiel or whatever."

"Hmm." Jungkook uses his arms as a makeshift pillow so he can lay back against the ground. You mirror him, peering through your fingers to watch how the golden rays of the sun swallow his frame. "Remember that play they made us do in middle school?"

"The Nativity?" You raise your eyebrow. It was the first theatre production you were in, before the accident and way before you had stage fright.

"Yeah." He grins. "I was the sheep. Taehyung made fun of me for months afterwards because of that stupid costume my grandma made."

"Yeah." You snort. "You did look sorta dumb."

Jungkook bumps your arm with a playful pout that makes you giggle. "And do you remember how I forgot my lines on stage and nearly pissed myself with stage fright? God, I still remember how mad my dad looked in the front row. We'd practiced that part for weeks. I don't know why it happened. I just froze—" A small smile forms on his lips. "But you didn't. Next thing I know there's a kid in a gold star of Bethlehem costume running on stage to recite my lines for me. You stole the show, remember that? Everyone loved you."

"That was then." You murmur, but you can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners or your mouth. "I'm not the same person."

"You were a year younger than the rest of my class but you auditioned anyway, because you knew that you were the only person who could play the star. Because you were a star."

Jungkook turns so that his head rests on his elbow and you're suddenly so close you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek. Your heart pumps in your ears as you gaze dips down to his rosy lips and back up to his sparkling eyes which bore into yours.

"You still are a star."

The words echo in your ears, soft and sincere. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips. You lose your breath. And then you jump away, placing a safe distance between your bodies before you can do something you regret.

"And what about you. Are you still a sheep?" You tease, turning your face so he can't see how it burns rosy red.

"Nah. Figured out pretty quickly after that that I was better off behind the camera." He chuckles.

"Oh right. You still have that thing?" You nod to the camera in his lap. It's one of those old ones that looks like the type that needs a film reel and a projector, but it's been modified so there's a little viewfinder at the side to check the footage instead. "Can I see?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"

"Oh! Right!" It's his turn to flush now, scratching the back of his neck as he anxiously thrusts the camera into your hands and pays close attention to the hangnail at the edge of his thumb as you watch the footage.

Your eyes widen when a familiar scene rolls out on the tiny screen. You, on stage at the Crestmont. Jungkook filmed you.

"This is..."

"You." He rushes."Yeah, I know. Sorry if this is awkward—"

"No. Not at all. I just—" You watch in awe as the you inside the camera moves across the stage with an effortless grace. How the lights make your eyes shine and your skin brighter than you remember it being in the mirror this morning. "How did you do that?"

Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"

"Make me look like...that."

"I didn't do anything." Jungkook shrugs. "That's just how I see you."

You could listen to him say that all day, but you stop yourself mid swoon.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it. And I'll show you." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"How?"

He grabs your hand and squeezes it. Tight. "I don't know how yet but I will."

You roll your eyes. "Good luck, Jeon."

"You know I like a challenge." Jungkook laughs, and the melodic sound goes right to your chest. "I'll make you see yourself how I see you. Just wait."

"Since when did you have four wheels?" You call to Jungkook with a quirk of your brow, resting your elbows on the window ledge of the beat up truck he pulls up in outside the Crestmont.

It's a sticky August afternoon and the rusty red vehicle purrs— or more like splutters — in the parking lot as Jungkook untangles your bike from the rack and lifts it into the cargo bed like it's weightless. Just yesterday he came by with his pump and a patch to fix that goddamn slashed tyre, and now he's stealing it?

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?"

He is clad in nothing but a white vest and board shorts, and you can see perspiration glimmering at his temples as the salty breeze blowing from the beach ruffles the dark curls that flop over his forehead.

"This is my dad's truck," His eyes flash with pride as he hops into the open drivers side door and makes the engine growl. He nods to the empty seat beside him and pushes his dark round sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, fanning his face with his hands. "And you won't be needing your bike today. Now hurry up and get in, loser. I've been waiting ages for your shift to finish and the AC is broken."

You raise a brow. "We're going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Why else would I be waiting for you to get in my truck?"

"I mean, we're going somewhere in this?" You nod towards the truck's worn tires, the fumes that wisp from the exhaust pipe like a lit cigar. "Are you sure it's safe?"

Jungkook notices the way you bite your lip. You don't even have to tell him the worries that are running through your mind. It's as if he can read them like an open book.

"Are you still scared of riding in cars?" He questions, softly.

You nod. That's what an accident does to someone. Makes them scared of something they ordinarily wouldn't even question.

"A little." The breeze ruffles your hair and you hide behind it. "I'm getting better." You add, so he doesn't feel bad because you know he does. His face tells you as much.

"It's a short drive, if that helps." He rushes. "And I asked Taehyung and he said you'd be okay, but if you aren't then I can just walk you home—"

"No." You shake your head firmly. There's a funny fizzing in your stomach that's been there ever since that day on the boardwalk, and it's only growing stronger and stronger now you're inches away from Jungkook and his warm eyes and gentle smile. You don't want it to end just yet. It's enough to outweigh the wriggling fear that's always inside you just a little. "Where are we going?"

Jungkook's face lights up and your heart flips when you realise it's because of you.

"I told you I was gonna make you see what I see, didn't I?"

"Oh that was today?" You tease. "Must have missed it it in the calendar."

"Stop asking questions! Just get in. Please?"

"Fine." You walk around to the passenger door, sliding in beside him and throwing your bag into the back seat. "But I need to be home by midnight or Taehyung will worry."

"No problemo." Jungkook salutes as he switches on the engine and the truck roars to life. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap and breathe through your nose. You're okay. You're safe."Home by midnight. It's a promise."

You gaze out of the window to stop your thoughts from running wild. Jungkook turns left, away from town and the beach and everything familiar. You watch it get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, strangely relieved. Strangely excited.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" You ask.

"Nope." Jungkook chuckles when you pout. "Just sit back. Relax. Take in the view. Listen to the music."

He leans across the dash, making a point to keep his eyes on the road as he fiddles with the stereo. A familiar string of guitar chords fill the truck. You recognise them, even if vaguely. Probably from Taehyung's vast collection of records.

"The Beatles right?" You ask, resting your chin on your knee as you dare to take a peek at him, blushing when you find him already staring at you.

"Pfft, yeah. Of course it's The Beatles! Only their greatest soundtrack, like, ever."

You shrug. "I've never listened to them before, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on? You haven't seen A Hard Day's Night?" His eyes widen when you shake your head. "Super Fly? Pulp Fiction? Purple Rain?"

You stifle a giggle at the look of pure shock he's sending you. "Nope. Should I have?"

"Absolutely!" He splutters. Passion shines in his eyes. "You're missing out on some of the greatest cinematography known to man!"

"I guess you have a lot to fill me in on, then."

"I sure do." His eyes soften. "Open the glove box."

You open it. Inside you find an assortment of cassette tapes, old and new. You send him a curious look.

"Close your eyes and choose one." He nods. "Go on."

You do as he says and shut your lids tightly, feeling around until your fingers curl around a tape you're strangely drawn to. When you open your eyes you find a worn box in your palm, yellow at the edges, and you're momentarily disappointed until Jungkook hums in approval beside you.

"Good choice! Dirty Dancing. A classic." He takes it from you and slides the tape into the stereo. It crackles a little before the music starts. "Trust me, you'll love it."

The stereo tracklist flashes amber. 01: Do You Love Me?

"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance," Jungkook sings along in a deep voice, eyebrows bouncing as you loll your head to the side to send him an eye roll. "And now I'm back to let you know I can really shake 'em down!"

The song starts, all vibrant guitar and drums. It has a funky 60's groove, like it belongs in a swing dancing club instead of on the highway at sunset. It's a happy song and you think it suits Jungkook just right.

Speaking of Jungkook, he starts to bob his head in time with the beat, fingertips tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. He looks adorably dorky, losing himself to the song, like he's forgotten you're even sat beside him.

"You look like an idiot." You deadpan, though you can't cover the laugh that escapes you as he sings along louder.

"No, I look like I'm having fun!" Jungkook rolls down the window and turns up the music so loud he has to shout for you to hear him. "Don't you ever do this? Just give in to the music for a while? Let your body do what it wants?"

"Uh, no. I prefer to just listen." You shout back. "Besides, your body should be focused on driving this car right now--"

"Oh come on! Just try it."

"Try it?" You blink, stomach suddenly knotting."Like now? In front of you?"

"Well duh. Look. Copy me."

He starts to shake his shoulders from side to side, fingers clicking as he nods for you to do the same.

"I...okay." You start to copy, but you catch yourself in the rear view mirror and you just look stiff compared to how effortlessly Jungkook moves to the rhythm.

"See you're doing it!" Jungkook grins, throwing his head back. "Feels good huh?"

"Kinda..." You have to admit there is something liberating about just letting go. "Like this?"

Your knees volunteer themselves to the beat, and then your arms, and before you know it you've got your eyes closed, hair whipping around your face as you speed down the interstate

"That's it. Feel the music!"

Before you know it, the song ends and you realise all at once that you're laughing. Loud and free, enough to make your belly hurt. Jungkook is too, the sound better than any song you've ever heard, and neither of you can seem to stop.

"Oh my god." You pant, covering your face with your fingers, embarrassed. "Now we both look like idiots."

"Don't hide from me." Jungkook bites his lip. You're suddenly aware of how close he is. His arms grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face, but he doesn't drop the one closest to him. Instead he links your fingers and uses your shared grip to change the gear as he turns down a winding road.

"I'm shy." You say, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

"Why? You're beautiful." Jungkook puts the car into park. You realise all at once that you've been driving for ages and you didn't even panic once. "Besides, we've arrived. And you're not gonna wanna miss seeing this."

The destination Jungkook seems so excited about turns out to be a concrete parking lot.

"Where are we, Jungkook?" You ask, looking around but finding nothing but tyre tracks and dirt.

Jungkook has already hopped out of the drivers side, sliding over the hood of the car to tug open your door with a quirk of his brow.

He holds out his palm, upturned and calloused. "Do you trust me?"

You bite your lip, heart pounding. Do you trust him?

Your body speaks for you and you slide your hand into his. His thumb traces your knuckles reassuringly.

"Yes." You breathe. "I trust you."

"Good."

You yelp when an arm wraps around your waist and hoists you out of the car, tightly interlocked fingers blocking your vision like a makeshift blindfold. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."

"Okay." You giggle, feet stumbling as you try to find your balance with the help of a sturdy hand beneath your elbow.

Jungkook hums gently beneath his breath as he guides you up a path that turns from concrete to loose rock to dampened grass beneath the soles of your beat up sneakers. There's a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to be nervous; who knows where he could be taking you right now.

But as you breathe in the musty notes of his cologne and feel your heart flutter in your chest when he comes to a stop and rests his chin on your shoulder, just close enough to feel his laugh ghost across your neck, you don't care where in the world you are right now as long as it's beside him.

"Now, open."

The sun is startlingly bright when you open your eyes for the first time and see the vibrant meadow that stretches as far as you can see.

Wait — that's not the sun. It's sunflowers. Clusters of them, cheerfully waving with the breeze from where you stand on the path that continues for a few steps before it disappears among their stems.

The sunflowers are a burst of golden colour against the fading green of the meadow, and the horizon beyond that which boasts the silhouette of beach rock against the soft blue of the ocean at sunset. There's tracks here and there where the uncut grass is trampled, like some children had played hide and seek.

You reach out a hand and brush your fingertips over the velvety petals; breathe in the botanical scent of the fresh sunny blooms that dances through the meadow. It's breathtaking, you think. There's no coordination, just freedom choreographed by the wind as the tall stems sway back and forth in their gentle dance.

Before you know it you've taken off into a run, grinning with childlike glee when the tall grass tickles your nose and the sun whispers against your neck.

"Jungkook, this place is—"

"Beautiful right?" You nod breathlessly, blushing deeply when you come to a stop and find him staring right at you. He squeezes your hand and that's when you notice your fingers are still interlinked. "I come here a lot. When I need to think."

"How did you find this place?"

"Taehyung and I stumbled upon it a few summers ago by accident." He says. "Nobody knows about it. It's our secret."

"It's so beautiful." You whisper. "The whole world needs to see this."

Jungkook kicks at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I kinda like it being a secret. This place...is special to me."

"Then why...." The words get caught in your throat. You swallow and try again. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to show you the things I find most beautiful. Remember?"

"The sunflowers?"

"Well yeah..." He scratches the back of his neck. Swallows thickly, like he's preparing himself. "But I was thinking of something a little different..."

You close your eyes, a smile appearing on your lips as you let the crisp breeze caress your face. "Then what?"

There's a sharp click of a shutter, and when your lashes flutter open in surprise, Jungkook is shaking a Polaroid picture back and forth, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"Hey! Give me that—" You reach for the Polaroid, stomach churning with a sudden shyness that makes you hug your arms.

"Just — don't do that okay?" He holds it out of reach, pleading with his eyes. "Please."

"Do what?"

"Give up on what makes you happy just because you're scared." His palm cups your cheek. "You said it yourself. Being in front of the camera is where you belong. Don't you see that?"

"I'm not scared." You feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Jungkook sends you a knowing look. "Okay maybe I am scared. And so what if I am? You've already given me the face your fears spiel and I told you. I'm perfectly happy avoiding every camera known to man for the rest of my life if it means I never have to face them."

"But you've already faced one of your fears today. You got in my car, remember?" He raises an eyebrow, smug. "Well, two technically, 'cause you're here with me now and I know how nervous you used to get around me--"

"Did not!"

"Do too! Every time we talk outside of work you get all shy and--"

"Shut up."

"See! You're doing it right now!"

You don't know what compels you to do it. Maybe it's the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks or the way your heart quickens when Jungkook closes the gap between you, but before you can stop yourself you're reaching up and grasping his face with both hands.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me, doofus."

The smug smirk on Jungkook's face is replaced with wide eyed surprise, his lips falling still for a moment when yours crash against his. But then his steady hands find your waist and he supports you on your tip toes so he can pull you ever closer, melting into the plush press of your lips.

When you pull back, you're smiling. You can't help it. You've been dreaming of this moment since, like, middle school. And goddamn, he even tastes how you imagined. Like black coffee and toothpaste.

"See." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Happiness suits you."

"Whatever, Jeon." You smirk. "Don't let it go to your head, but it's thanks to you."

Jungkook flashes you the biggest bunny grin you've ever seen, eyes sparkling at your words.

"Wait...stay like that." He reaches for his camcorder in his backpack and points the lens at you. The smile falls from your lips. You place a hand on his arm, grip tighter than you intended.

"Jungkook stop."

"What's wrong? Just keep smiling like that, the shot was perfect—"

"I don't know what to do." You shrug, the lens boring into you like a judgy aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. "The camera makes me nervous."

"Just pretend I'm not here."

You sniff. "I don't want you to not be here..."

"Listen," Jungkook cups your face, thumbs tracing your cheeks fondly. "The reason I brought you here? It's because this place reminds me of you. Beautiful."

"Jungkook--"

"Just like you said, the world needs to see this place. Just like they need to see you."

"I..." Your heart is on the verge of exploding, you would swear it. "Okay." The word rolls off your tongue before you can stop it because somehow you trust him. And deep down, there's still that fizz of excitement mixing in with all the nervousness. The Jungkook Effect. You don't want to lose it to the darkness like everything else.

"I'll try. Just-- don't laugh at me okay?"

"You have my word, sarge." He salutes with a thoughtful grin. "Hold on a sec. I know exactly what you need to get you going."

Jungkook jumps to his feet and you watch with your chin tucked between your knees as he jogs down the rocky path and opens all four of the truck doors, even the trunk, before his head disappears into the vehicle and the same pumping bass from earlier starts blasting into the quiet serene of the sunflower field.

"There," He grins as he returns, out of breath, and sits back down beside you cross legged, holding his camcorder to his eye. "Now do what you were doing before again, but over there. Just pretend you're on stage at the Crestmont, okay?"

You feel the music wash over you and the urge to move hits you like a wave. Jungkook nods encouragingly and there's something in his eyes that flips a switch inside you. And for the first time in a long time, all the passion and spirit and feeling inside you fizzes up to the top and you can't contain it any longer.

"That's it!" Jungkook calls, shutter clicking uncontrollably. "I knew you could do it!"

An oak tree provides sun-flecked shade, a cool sanctuary from the sun that sets on the horizon and splashes the sky's canvas magenta.

Jungkook laid out a checkered blanket from the trunk of his truck which you both lay upon, shoulders pressed together as close as humanly possible, surrounded by your devoured picnic consisting of his mom's fruit punch and bags of snacks he took from the concession stand at the Crestmont when nobody was looking.

"Holy shit, Y/N." He says through a mouthful of popcorn, jabbing his finger at his favourite shot of you in front of the sunflowers. "This is what I've been saying! You're a natural in front of the camera."

"No, you're amazing, Jungkook." You feel for his hand. It's funny how natural it feels already when his pinky links with yours. "Behind the camera."

"You think?" He chews his lip, eyes searching yours for approval.

"I know. You should do something with these. People need to see them."

"I'm thinking of becoming a filmographer, actually"

"Like at the pier?" You think of the tacky photo booth that overlooks the sea in town, fit with all the silly cardboard cut outs that tourists come and take a photo with for a dollar.

"No, I mean a real filmographer." He shrugs, and you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Movies and stuff."

You nod. It makes sense for Jungkook to spend his life with a camera glued to his right hand. You can't imagine Jungkook anywhere else, and you have to ignore the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that he would eventually leave Ocean City -- and you -- behind for the big screen.

"Well you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.

"Always."

He must see the sadness brimming inside you, his body shuffling closer so your knees brush. It's reassuring somewhat.

"Actually...there's something I should tell you."

He shifts under your gaze. The nerves rush back. "What is it?"

"I guess I finished writing my first screenplay..."

"That's like a movie script, right?" You ask eagerly, and he nods. "That's great, Kook!"

"Yeah, it's great it's just --" He pauses, and clutches your hand tighter like he's scared what he says next will make you let go forever. "It's about you."

You pale. "M-me?"

"I mean, it's about you and...and Taehyung! And your mom." Jungkook rushes. "I was inspired by your story at the boardwalk and it just happened! I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now and think I'm crazy but--"

"Burn it." You deadpan.

Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"

"I said burn it." You pull his hand into your lap and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't hate you, Kook. I just think you were right earlier when you said I need to face my fears. And the only way I can do that is by forgetting my past. The last thing I need is a whole freaking movie about it."

He joins in with your strained chuckles. "Sure you aren't mad?"

"Not mad." You assure with a smile.

"Then I'll burn it."

You avoid his gaze shyly. "I'm kinda honoured you wrote about me, though." You admit.

"I guess...I guess I could call you my muse." Jungkook blurts hurriedly. His nose is a deep shade of pink and it makes you want to tease him forever.

"Yeah." You nod to yourself with a smile. "I like that. Your muse."

And then his lips are on yours again, like he can't quite help himself, and you start to forget where yours begin and his end.

This time it's not delicate and sweet. It's slow and languid, hot and heavy. The sunflowers break your fall, Jungkook's lips never leaving yours as he climbs on top of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other planted beside your head so that his chest hovers above yours. You're almost certain he can feel how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, but you don't care, too lost in the bliss of finally feeling Jungkook's plush lips against your own.

"Come to New York with me." He says breathlessly between kisses, and your heart stops.

"What?" You can hardly drag your lips away from his but you have to be sure you heard him right. New York?

"I mean, in the future. I'm gonna go to New York. Get a job at a film production company or something, I don't know--" He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Come with me."

"I...I can't."

"Why?" He frowns. "Is it me?"

"No! God no."

"Then why? You said it was your dream right?" You nod. "So what's stopping you?"

"I..I have to take care of Taehyung, and my job at the Crestmont and--"

"Okay. Lets pretend none of that exists. It's just you and me." His breath ghosts against your forehead. "Y/N, will you come to New York with me?"

"Yes." It comes out breathless, but you mean it. With every atom and nerve and fiber in your body. "Lets go to New York."

Where things change.

3 years later.

A postcard sits on the Welcome Home! Doormat you and Jungkook bought before you left for New York. You recognise the picture perfect image of Ocean City on the front, and Taehyung's messy scrawl on the back that tells you he's doing fine at his new management job at the Crestmont and he will be sending a housewarming gift imminently.

— Stay smiling, Y/N. Miss you already! Taehyung. :)

With a small smile you tack it onto the bare fridge. It brightens up the empty kitchen somewhat, a little piece of home and a reminder that you don't need to worry about leaving your brother behind to fend for himself so much any more. Since he pulled his life together and got a job at the theatre, it's like he came alive again. Found his purpose.

Speaking of purposes, you suppose that's how you found yourself here. In your very own apartment in a nice complex on the east side. The east side of New York City.

There's a pair of satin curtains hung over the balcony doors, probably left behind by the old tenant as it's the only form of furniture in the whole apartment. They rustle in the morning breeze and you tiptoe across the room barefoot to rip them open, letting your eyes flutter shut when the early morning sun filters through the glass and cascades over your face like a warm embrace.

You press a hand to the glass, studying your reflection; the messy lump of hair atop your head, the soft shadow of your lashes atop your cheeks. And beyond it, New York. Your new normal in all it's familiar glory from your dreams, yet still so deliciously foreign it makes your heart leap whenever a cab horn rings out in the distance or you breathe in the smell of fresh bagels from the shop down the street.

Home. You could finally call it that now. But New York is just a city and this apartment is just a house. The real reason you get to call this place home is because of who you came here with.

Jungkook.

You've been dating for two and a half years by now. He let you borrow one of his old much-too-big t-shirts to sleep in last night. There's a hole in the shoulder and the hem brushes your knees but it's warm and smells like his cologne and your heart expands when you close your eyes and remember this is just the beginning. You have so much to do, so many things to see here in New York. So many things to learn. And there's nobody you would want to explore life with more than Jungkook.

His camera equipment lays in a cardboard box by your feet, and something compels you to take out the old-school camcorder he loves. The leather strap tightens perfectly around your hand and the red RECORD button flashes as you open the doors wide and lift the lens to take in the view. Something tells you you're gonna want to remember this moment forever.

It's not long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked cheekily into your shoulder. "There you are." Jungkook husks, stilly groggy with sleep as his lips ghost across your cheek.

Turning around in his grasp, you find him still shirtless, sweatpants slung low around his hips. He's been working out recently, and you can't deny you don't love how firm his shoulders feel when you brace yourself on them to stand on your tip toes and leave a peck to his lips.

"Morning sleepyhead," you say, running your fingers through the strands of his silky bed hair. It's longer these days, whispering across the nape of his neck and falling across his round eyes sweetly. They flutter closed when you massage his scalp just how he likes it. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed."

"Missed you." His lips turn up when he sees the camera pointed at his face. "Whaddya doing with that?"

"Making memories." You say simply, zooming in on him as he rubs his sleepy eyes. "So we never forget this."

A cheeky smirk appears on his lips as he wraps you in his arms, a surprised giggle leaving you when he spins you around and grabs the camera so he can point it at the both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder now as his bare arm snugly wraps around your waist.

"Hey stop! I just woke up, I look bad!"

"Hello us of the future," Jungkook chuckles, pulling your fingers away from your face when you bury your face in his chest to hide from the lens. "It's our first day in New York and Y/N is being all camera shy--okay, okay fine, lets show them the view instead!"

Jungkook finally flips the lens around so it focuses on the distant silhouettes of tall skyscrapers skimming the blue skyline, before he turns it back onto you guys once more with a mischievous look this time.

"But we have to go now because we have far more interesting business to attend to..." He lowers the camera as his lips start to trail up your collar bone and he smiles when your eyes flutter shut and you gasp at the feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a pout when you wriggle out of his embrace with a stern look.

"Not now. Later."

"Mmf? Why?" He whines, making grabby hands towards you. "You're so warm, jus' wanna cuddle for a bit."

"No time!" You call over your shoulder as you grab him by the hand and drag his heavy feet behind you. "We've got an apartment to decorate."

Before you know it you've enlisted Jungkook's help in laying tarps across the living room floor, two pots of bright white paint plonked in the center. It's not like you could afford a decorator after all. You are two broke twenty-something's trying to make it big in New York, and all that cliche stuff. So you would just have to do it yourselves.

Jungkook's over in the corner, miming along to the guitar solo from some rock song playing from the radio balanced on the windowsill, the paint roller his instrument as he dances around the room with giddy impulse. There's paint all over his butt where he accidentally leaned against one of the wet walls and he's got his hair tied back into a bun at the crown of his head and you watch him out of the corner of your eye while an affectionate smile creeps onto your face no matter how hard you try to curb it.

That's when you notice the camera in his other hand. He zooms in on the stepladder in the corner, the paint spillage in the hall, the heart with Y/N + JUNGKOOK FOREVER written inside it on the back wall. Documenting everything as usual.

He was always filming you, too. Whether you were making coffee in the morning or drying your hair. He'd even slow down beside you on the sidewalk to get the perfect shot.

You find it cute, even though you pretend to hate it. It makes your heart flutter every time you catch him rewinding the footage with a contented smile on his face, like he just captured the whole world with his lens.

It's no surprise when you finish putting the final coat on the wall and step back to admire your handy work that you find him wandering around the apartment with his hand curved around the lens of one of his bigger cameras like it's natural to him. You always joke that thing is like an extra limb, but he looks so calm as he looks through his lens at the room that is now drunk on the afternoon sun pouring through the window, the golden rays like honey on his skin, that it's easy to see that the camera really is a part of him. Passion lies in the soft lines of concentration on his face, in the plump lip tugged between teeth as he fiddles with the settings.

Jungkook sees beauty where others don't, where others can't. It might as well pump through his veins. And it's one of the reasons you love him so much.

You shake your head when you see how a small smile finds his lips when he leans a shoulder against the door frame and lets the camera land on the thing he swears is most beautiful.

"Hey." You warn, shooting a side wards glare at the camera lens you spot Jungkook not so discreetly pointing in your direction. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He runs a hand through his hair, lips pulling back into a sly bunny smile when you bend down to reach a spot you missed at the bottom of the wall. "I'm not doing anything."

Your upper lip twitches. "Are you zooming in on my ass?"

"What? No!" Jungkook scrunches his nose with wide eyes, a habit you knew meant he was guilty, a pout forming on your lips as he snaps the viewfinder closed and shoves the offending piece of his equipment behind his back.

You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He blows a strand of hair out of his face innocently but there's a playful glint in his eyes and you can hardly keep a serious face as you plant your hands on your hips in what you hope is a menacing manner.

"Then lemme see it." You challenge with a nod to the camera behind him.

He feigns indifference, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy. "See what?"

"That's it!" You shake your head, charging towards and him making grabby motions towards the camera. Jungkook looks down at you fondly as he holds it above your head, out of reach, and it only makes you you pout harder. "Hey! Give it!

"Never!" You jump pitifully, fingers grasping around nothing. A melodic chuckle spills from Jungkook's lips when you cross your arms over your chest in defeat and blink up at him crossly. "You have to say the magic word first."

You scoff at the teasing look on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and waves the camera just above your head, before an idea strikes you and within seconds you're wielding a paintbrush, Jungkook's eyes widening when you point the paint coated bristles at his face.

"Give it up." You hold out your palm with a smug look. "Or the walls are not the only thing getting a fresh coat."

"You wouldn't." He smirks, despite being backed into a corner now.

"Oh yeah?" Without further ado you swipe the brush down the bridge of his nose, swallowing a giggle at the white smudge it leaves behind and his shocked expression beneath it. "You underestimate me, Jeon."

Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing up and down your body before they lock with yours daringly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Or what?" You taunt playfully, a laugh escaping you, but you quickly bite down on your lip when you see the glint in Jungkook's eyes as he submerges both his hands into the nearby bucket of paint.

You don't run when he steps closer. Instead your breathing quickens, heart doing a funny somersault when he brushes your hair to the side and clamps both of his wet hands on the sides of your jaw to bring your face up to his.

He tastes like coffee and desire when your lips crash together in a delicious tangle of teeth and tongue, all the thoughts racing through your mind dripping away like honey until all that's left is the thump of your heart against your chest and Jungkook's warmth as he backs you up against the wall.

When he pulls away he rubs his paint covered nose against yours, cocking his head and smiling sweetly when he leans back and admires his handy work.

"You have paint on your face." He looks down at his white hands innocently with a shrug. "Whoops?"

His hands trail down to your hips. You reach to your side and grab a fistful of paint, wiping it down the centre of his face and giggling when he groans and scrunches his eyes closed . "So do you."

"Okay, that's it. This means war!" Jungkook growls, strong arms wrapping around your waist, and before you know it you're stumbling over to the mattress in the corner, Jungkook's body hovering over yours.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" Desire-filled eyes trace your face, travelling down the expanse of your neck before zeroing in on your collar bones. You gasp when Jungkook's lips attach themselves to the sensitive skin, every inch of you set alight when his burning fingers slide beneath the hem of your tshirt and find your thighs. "Always being such a bad girl, huh?"

"So? What're you gonna do about it? Punish me?" You say teasingly, and he stiffens, lips leaving a mark behind on your neck with a pop. Jungkook's narrowed eyes meet yours and you feel your heart speed up with anticipation.

His lips twitch, like they're dying to turn up. "Brat."

With that, you're being flipped over onto your knees with a yelp. Jungkook's hands work quickly and before you know it your tshirt is over your head and the sudden breeze from the open balcony doors against your hardened nipples makes you gasp.

"You love it." You laugh breathily.

"Too much," Jungkook confirms, before his large palm presses you down into the bed firmly between the shoulder blades so that your ass is thrust up in the air. You wiggle is teasingly, though the breath catches in your throat when the first spank lands on your bare skin. Then a second, the sound ringing out through the empty room like an echo and making a damp spot appear on your panties.

"Hey!" You chastise when you remember the paint on his hands that just left two glaring handprints right across your ass.

Jungkook just smirks. "What? Now everyone knows it's mine."

A third slap and you have to bite the blanket to stop from groaning, then a fourth, and a fifth and by then your eyes are watering but in the best way. Calloused hands smooth over the burning area, soothing it.

"Good girl," A raspy voice whispers next to your ear. "Such a good girl for me, taking your punishment. I think you deserve your reward now, hm?"

"Please." You moan as he reaches around to grasp your breast, tweaking your nipples in a way that has you writhing beneath him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you though," Jungkook chuckles as he rips your panties down your legs, gasping at the sight of your dripping slit like it's the first time. He runs a finger down your folds, biting back a groan when it makes your legs fall open a little further, desperate for his touch. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"Jungkook, what do you-- oh!." Before you can finish, Jungkook is pushing your face back into the comforter, spreading your cheeks with his palms and licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your throbbing core. His tongue finds your clit easily, toying it with the tip playfully until you're gasping for air.

"Mmf, tastes so good." He murmurs against your folds, the vibrations of his chuckle making you moan so hard your legs start to shake. His tongue finds your hole, swirling around teasingly before it slips inside and you can't handle it anymore.

"Jungkook!" You gasp, reaching behind to grab his hair. "I..I can't-"

"You can." He says, almost a command, mouth leaving your pussy only so he can slide over onto his back and pull you back down onto his face by the hips.

"Oh g-god!" Your hand reaches for the headboard, landing on the wall to steady yourself when you remember you still haven't bought a bed frame yet. Your legs are starting to ache from holding yourself up but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of Jungkook's tongue lapping at your swollen folds as you grind in lazy circles on his face.

"C-close, Kook." You manage to splutter, head thrown back with pleasure when he slides two of his fingers inside you and starts to pump in time with his tongue, the sensation of being filled enough to send you over the edge into a shuddering climax that is unlike anything you've felt before, the only thought on your mind the way your hole clenches around your boyfriend's fingers.

It takes a few moments for your legs to stop shaking, your hearing slowly coming back into focus as you hear both of your heavy breaths intermingled. You look between your legs to find Jungkook staring up at you with a grin, eyes filled with wonder. His chin gleams with your juices, the front of his t-shirt damp as you realise with a gasp what just happened.

"Did I--?"

"Yup."

"Holy fuck." You swing your leg over his shoulder so you're beside him, Jungkook sitting up to look at you, still mesmerised. "I...I'm sorry, that was--"

"The hottest thing you've ever done." Jungkook finishes, grinning at you like he just won the lottery.

You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"

You can't help but laugh at his eager puppy dog eyes, hands practically twitching at his sides to touch you. A quick glance at his crotch confirms the biggest tent in his pants you've ever seen, and you crook a finger towards him with a sultry smile and a nod.

"Let's see if you can make me do that again."

"O-Okay!" Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, and then he's on top of you, burning skin meeting burning skin. Your palm runs down his chest, Jungkook's eyes falling shut when it reaches the hem of his sweatpants. You cant help but gasp when your fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, core already throbbing again to be filled. He shivers when your finger circles his tip, admiring the wet patch on his boxers.

"Eager?" You smirk.

"You squirted on my face, Y/N, of course I'm goddamn eager."

"Get these off then." You tug at his pants and he kicks them off without a second telling.

"Your wish is my command."

When he returns to hovering over you, both completely bare now, he pauses. His eyes meet yours, a gentle smile appearing on his lips as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and grips your jaw protectively.

"I love you, y'know."

You close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his but barely able to keep yourself from grinning with the elation swirling in your chest. "I love you too, doofus. Now hurry up or I'm gonna have to fuck myself."

"That sounds kinda awesome--"

"Kook!"

"Okay, okay, on it!"

Palms spread your legs, and you both gasp when Jungkook runs the blunt head of his leaking cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices before he lines it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He checks, thumb tracing circles into your inner thigh.

"As I'll ever be."

And with that, he pushes inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck with a sigh of relief at finally feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing length. The stretch of his girth stings, but it makes you feel so deliciously full, so perfectly whole to be connected to Jungkook like this that all you can get out is another soft I love you that earns a blissful smile from your boyfriend as he starts to move.

Each stroke makes you lose your breath, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. It's when Jungkook takes your nipple into his mouth that you feel a second orgasm start to build, one hand gripping the sheets as the other drags scratch marks down his muscular back in blissful agony.

It's not long before Jungkook spills inside you with a deep growl, your own high hitting you as you feel him coat your walls. He collapses onto your chest, breaths deep and exhausted, and wraps you in his arms before you can even catch your breath.

Jungkook pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and places a kiss to the top of your head. He's so warm you feel yourself start to drift off into a blissful sleep, the smile on your lips never faltering.

"I love you too." Is the last thing you hear him say before sleep takes you under, and you're safe wrapped up in each other's arms.

When you open your eyes, the room is warm with sunset's rose tinted blush, and Jungkook's body is no longer beside you. Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sit up on your elbow and find him on the ground in front of the freshly painted wall, intricate petals and stems flowing from the end of the paintbrush he delicately waves across the surface to paint the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen.

"I'm home!" You hear your boyfriend yell out as he shuffles into the apartment, quickly followed by a yelp. "Hey, Gureum, stop trying to lick my face!"

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your features when a ball of white fluff comes bounding into the living room, the puppy that excitedly jumps into your arms tracking a trail of muddy paw prints over the script in your hands.

"Hey Gureum," You coo, scratching him behind the ears where you know his sweet spot is. "You're such a good boy, huh?"

"Don't praise him! He totally ran away from me in Central Park and I had to chase him all the way home!" You can practically hear Jungkook's eye roll, shaking your head fondly at the mock annoyance in his voice. It was Jungkook who begged you to adopt a puppy for months in the first place, and they've been more or less inseparable ever since — the little guy hardly ever leaves his side. It's safe to say Jungkook is definitely Gureum's favourite.

The smell of coffee and fresh bagels wafts through the apartment, a warm sensation settling in your stomach as your boyfriend rounds the corner and waves a brown paper bag.

"Still got us enough coffee to stay up all night learning lines though." Jungkook grins, dumping the contents onto the coffee table and raising his eyebrows when your hands dart straight for the chocolate cookies. "Speaking of learning lines, how is it going, pretty?"

He nods towards the script in your hand. It's worn at the edges and ferociously dog eared from all the nights you have stayed up until sunrise reciting the words littered across the pages over and over, until it's like your lips are moving by muscle memory and the words are a part of you.

After what felt like hundreds of failed auditions, you had started to lose hope. With every letter that landed on the porch with another SORRY or MAYBE NEXT TIME, you felt all the confidence in the dream you worked so hard to uncover start to dwindle.

But Jungkook was always there, by your side no matter what. Encouraging you when you forgot your lines or holding you when you didn't get the callback. Reminding you to eat whenever you were too absorbed in your work to cook or cheering you on from the crowd at your weekly improv performances.

It was Jungkook who cried with you when the director of the small theatre downtown called and gave you the lead part in his upcoming stage production. Your big break. And you were determined to make sure everything ran smoothly at opening night tomorrow, which is how you find yourself snuggled up on the couch rewinding your VHS copy of Dirty Dancing over and over again until you have every word memorised by heart.

"Pretty good." You say as you pop a salted peanut into your mouth while Jungkook slips out of his tweed jacket. He's been trying to dress more New-York-ish these days, or so he says. More dress pants and less sweats. "Final rehearsals start at five."

"Aren't you nervous?" Jungkook squishes into the space beside you, Gureum cuddling up between your bodies.

Tomorrow night's show is sold out, along with every night after that for the next week. You heard there were going to be at least 700 people there each night.

"Terribly." You admit, stomach churning at the thought of 700 pairs of eyes staring right at you. You try to focus on the fizzing excitement that lingers there too, growing stronger and stronger. "But I think I'm more excited".

"I'm excited to see you up there doing what you love." Jungkook smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "My star."

"Well don't get too excited because I still keep messing up this one goddamn scene," You flip the script to a page covered in bright highlighter scribbles and run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. "I'm totally gonna mess it up and then I'll never get another job and—"

"Shhh," Jungkook takes the script from your hands and runs his eyes over it quickly. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be amazing — hold up..." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this...the kiss scene?"

You feel your cheeks redden, voice small. "Yes."

"Then you're in luck because who better to help you practice than the best kisser in all of New York?"

You snort. "Wow, I sure could use some of your expertise Good-Sir-Makes-Out-A-Lot."

"Then you're in the right place..." He runs his finger over the script, jabbing at one line in particular.

[Johnny and Baby kiss.]

"Let's start here, hm? For practice, obviously."

"For practice." Your eyes roll but your heart still beats a little faster as he closes the space between you, hand pressing into the wall so his sturdy body hovers over yours, hands instinctively pulling him closer by the collar.

"Come give me a kiss, m'lady..." Jungkook murmurs, but before he can tilt your chin up towards his lips there's a sudden series of frantic knocks at the front door.

"What the heck?"

You both jump out of your skin, Jungkook's eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder at the shadowy figure outside, fist pounding the glass fervently, like they're trying to break it down.

"Okay, damn, I'm coming!" He yells with a roll of his eyes. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders as he hops up from the couch with a sigh. "Probably just some dumb marketer again or something — dude, chill! I said I'm coming! — be right back."

The lock slides open and you hear Jungkook gasp. Your stomach drops. "Who is it?"

"Uh, Y/N..." You hear the door click shut and the sound of squeaky shoes shuffling inside. The anxiety in Jungkook's voice makes your heart skip. "You might wanna come see this."

"Huh?" Your legs feel shaky as you follow him out into the hall, chest seizing when you lay eyes on the dripping wet hair and chattering teeth of the shivering man stood before you, eyes dark and grave like they used to be.

"Taehyung?" You splutter, ripping the blanket from around your shoulders and swaddling him in it as quickly as you can, Jungkook already bounding into the other room to get dry clothes and towels after shooting you a terrified glance.

Taehyung grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace. His cheeks are wet against your shoulder, but you can't tell if it's because he's been crying or because he's been out in the freezing cold rain — hold on, did he walk here?

"Y/N," He murmurs frantically, eyes darting back and forth but never quite focusing on anything. You knew this look. This is how he looked that day you found out about the accident. Murky, far far away. Devastatingly sad. Something wasn't right.

"What is it?" You ask, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the couch before his shaking knees buckle beneath him. "What are you doing here, Tae?"

"It's...it's the Crestmont." He whispers.

"What about the Crestmont?" Jungkook appears behind Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it's like your brother doesn't even feel it.

"They're tearing it down." He mumbles. "They're tearing down the Crestmont. Forever."

"Okay, now let's start from the beginning."

Jungkook's calm voice lilts from beside Taehyung who, after a warm shower and two cups of cocoa, has stopped shivering and seems to be ready to talk.

A hand reaches across the coffee table to tug on your wrist mid-lift to your mouth, a reminder from Jungkook to stop biting your nails. An old nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in Ocean City but apparently more than just Taehyung showed up here unannounced tonight.

"I...I got a call this morning." Taehyung begins, pausing to take a sip from the mug he cradles in his lap. His hands are shaking so he places it on the coffee table for safe keeping, right beside your discarded script. "It was from a construction company."

"And?" You prod, somewhat impatiently, making Taehyung jump.

"And apparently the owner of the theatre is behind on rent and...and..." He swallows hard. "And they're buying the rights to tear it down and build an apartment complex in its place."

"What?" Both you and Jungkook exclaim at the same time.

Jungkook's fists clench. "I always knew that old man was shady."

Taehyung fumbles in the pocket of the coat he arrived with, retrieving a brochure which he thrusts towards you.

The image on the front is of a metal skyscraper, far too shiny and new to belong in a seaside town like Ocean City. Fusion Apartments — modern living.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair, eyes sorrowful as you pass it over to him. "This sucks. Big time." He murmurs. "The Crestmont is the heart of Ocean City. How can they just bulldoze it like it means nothing?"

"That's why..." Taehyung swallows. "That's why I came here. I thought maybe you guys could help me, and we could do something before they—"

"We?" You furrow your brows. "You want us to help stop them from tearing down the Crestmont?"

"I mean yeah, I guess? I figured you guys would understand how important it is—"

You bite your lip. Taehyung flinches when you place a hand on his knee. "Tae. It seems like they've already got it figured out I mean...what can we do about it? The Crestmont has had a long run and maybe it's time for something new in Ocean City..."

"Y/N?" Jungkook warns, but there's a betrayal in his voice. How could you say that? It pains you, but you continue anyway. "What are you saying?"

"I just...I think it's time to let the Crestmont go."

Taehyung stands up so abruptly his mug smashes onto the marble tile.

"How could you?" He roars, but his bottom lip trembles. "The Crestmont is mom's place! It's all we have left of her in that fucking town and you want to just let them burn it to the ground?"

You tut, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of china with a sharp glance at your brother. "For goodness sake, Taehyung. Mom isn't there anymore. She never was. She was always running off with some roadies and leaving us behind because she thought she was something special."

Taehyung scoffs. "What? Just like you?" He grabs the cocoa sodden script, crumpling it up in his shaking fist. "You are exactly the same as her. Running off to New York and leaving me behind to get your big break."

Jungkook steps forward warily. "Taehyung, you don't mean that—"

"Yes I do! If Y/N had just gotten in the car that day she wouldn't have died. It was all her fault. And now she's just gonna let them take what we have left of her."

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

Your stomach sinks. Is that really what Taehyung thinks? You wouldn't blame him. Deep down, his words strike a nerve. Because you know they're true.

Taehyung's eyes are hazy, unfocused. You reach for him dizzily, but he backs away into the hall.

"I shouldn't have come here." Taehyung whispers. He looks between you and Jungkook one last time before he's grabbing his coat and running down the steps to the first floor.

"Taehyung, wait!" You hear Jungkook's footsteps follow him out into the stairwell, but you're trapped on the ground, heaving for air.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself up to the window pane and watch Taehyung disappear into the gloom of the city, the sorrowful raindrops that lash against the glass mirroring the ones on your cheeks.

YOU: Taehyung??? YOU: [CALL IGNORED] YOU: please Tae YOU: can we at least talk about this? YOU: we're worried about you

It's been nearly 12 hours since you watched Taehyung disappear among the hustle and bustle of New York from your apartment window.

You and Jungkook were out all night searching for him. By the time you gave up the sun was rising and the birds were chirping and Jungkook somehow convinced your shivering form to return home to rest with a Taehyung shaped hole in your heart.

"It'll be okay. He'll be okay. He always is."

A phone call to your dad revealed he hadn't returned home that night; so where did he go exactly?

The weight of that question sits heavy in your chest as you sit backstage at the theatre, staring into your own vacant eyes in the dressing room mirror.

It's opening night. The show is due to start in fifteen minutes. Your lips are painted a deep shade of red, hair backcombed to perfection by one of the makeup artists. Beneath the harsh lights of the exposed bulbs that line the mirror, you look almost unrecognisable.

Confident, strong, successful.

Anyone would say your dreams had come true, or something sappy to that effect. But even as you sit among the hustle and bustle of the costume team and breathe in the fragrance of perfume and powder blush, you couldn't feel further away from the New York version of yourself if you tried.

Staring back at you is a reflection of the shy, terrified girl from Ocean City you worked so hard to forget. Yet here she is, mind whirring with worries for her brother instead of the lines she should be rehearsing to death before curtain call.

This should be your big moment. One which you will remember forever. But all you want to do right now is hold Taehyung close like you used to and tell him you're sorry and that you won't leave him again.

"Y/N!" You're snapped out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder. You cover it with your own, instantly eased somewhat when you glance up and lock eyes with Jungkook in the mirror.

"Y/N, I found him."

"What?!" You jump to your feet, chair scraping obscenely. It draws the eyes of the people around you who quickly register Jungkook's polite smile as their cue to shuffle out of the dressing room and leave you two to talk. "Where is he? I need to talk to him—"

"He's not coming."

"What?"

Jungkook sinks into the chair beside you, forehead creased. He runs a hand through his hair and momentarily you catch a glimpse of the old Jungkook. The Jungkook that always took care of his best friend Taehyung.

"I...I gave him a ticket for the show tonight and told him to come. To see how much this really means to you...but—"

Your finger nails press half moons into your palms. "But what, Kook?"

"He was already leaving for Ocean City."

A sob wracks your frame. "Do you think he hates me?"

Jungkook's arms engulf you before the first tear can roll down your cheek, his chin tucking perfectly into the cleft of your shoulder. "Of course not, he's just...he's hurting right now."

"I can't lose him — not like this, Kook..."

"Shh. It'll all be okay."

You jump back and start to pace. "But it's not okay! What he said last night is true!"

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"

Your knees buckle and you crumple. You can hardly breathe, shame washing over you as you admit the truth for the first time.

"I caused the accident! I'm the reason my mom's...she's..."

Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulder, voice soothing. "What are you talking about?"

"The night of the accident she got a call from some big buck director. She was cast in this huge movie. Her big break." You're speaking to fast, but Jungkook nods to tell you he's listening.

"So she told Taehyung and I we were leaving for New York that night. And we were packing our bags before my dad got home and...and I said I wasn't coming. I didn't wanna leave Ocean City behind."

"I kicked and cried and said I didn't want to go, so her and Taehyung took off by themselves and that's when they got into the crash. She was upset and going too fast. It was all because of me." You start to sob. You've never admitted this to anyone before. Not even yourself. It tears your heart in two to say it out loud. "I'm the reason Taehyung's broken."

"You can't think like that." Jungkook clasps your face in his hands, thumb wiping away a stray tear. He looks scared, but his voice stays calm and convincing. "What happened was an accident. You were a kid. None of this is your fault."

"That's why Taehyung must hate me so much." You choke. "I'm doing what mom always wanted to, but she never had the chance because of me."

"Y/N?" A crew member steps into the room awkwardly with a cough. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the show is about to start. The audience is getting restless."

"Go. I'll take care of Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook pulls you to your feet, engulfing you in a final hug before he pushes you towards the stage entrance at the small of your back. "You're needed out there. Show them what you're made of."

Your eyes widen. This can't be happening. Not now.

"I...I can't."

"You can." Jungkook grabs your face and captures your lips, hard. It tastes salty with tears. "You're my star remember?"

"I love you." You whisper when you pull back, fingers reaching for him weakly as a costume designer hurries you towards the door.

"I love you too." Jungkook calls. His smile is the last thing you see before the door slams shut and there's no going back. "Now go break a leg, pretty!"

Particles of dust float in and out of your vision beneath the blinding stage lights.

Everything feels different from side stage. Your heart races as you press your ear to the velvet curtain separating you from the world, listening to the hubbub of laughing children and chattering adults filtering into the theatre. You imagine them taking their seats, buying icecream from the vendors, alive with anticipation.

The lights dim. You hear the director behind you, shouting something about places please! but it's like you're underwater, limbs weighted as you move like a ghost to your position for the opening number.

Your palms are clammy and you wipe them on your dress.

Show starting in 5...

Your legs turn to jelly. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts.

4...

Taehyung. Is he okay? Why didn't he come tonight?

3...

Shit! What was your opening line again? Goddamnit, Y/N, think!

2...

Mom. Would she be proud?

1...

You open your eyes.

The curtain is gone, and a pair of hands pushes you out into the harsh white spotlight. You shield your eyes with your fingers, heart dropping when you look up and find hundreds of eyes staring. Staring right at you.

It's like you're on the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the cool water below. Or fall.

Everything starts to blur. You're a teenager again, stood on the stage at the Crestmont. Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you don't know whether to scream or to run.

Run. Run. Run.

Your mouth opens, then closes. There's an awkward cough from the audience. Words run your mind in circles, but none of them are right, and before they can reach your lips they evaporate on your tongue.

Your panicked eyes roam the sea of seats that zoom in and out of focus. Your knees buckle, and you're sure you are going to pass out right here in front of everyone, but then your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones that makes the room stop spinning for a moment.

Jungkook. He's smiling at you, fingers crossed in his lap. There's not a trace of nerves in his gaze as he nods for you to go ahead.

I believe in you.

Just then the door to the theatre flies open and every head in the audience turns towards the darkly clothed figure shuffling through the aisles, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's until he reaches the empty seat beside your boyfriend.

He lets down his hood, shakes free a head of blonde hair that's still damp from the rain. He's out of breath, like he ran here.

Taehyung.

Your brother looks up at you, frozen in place, and his eyes soften. He flashes you a thumbs up and his lips curl around the four words you needed to hear.

You can do this.

And just like that, the panic disappears. The words come flooding back, and your body flies into action, moving across the stage

You forget all about the fear, and the anxiety, and Taehyung and the Crestmont. For now it's just you and the stage, together in harmony.

And you've never felt more alive than when you take your final bow and the crowd roars to life, just like you always imagined it would.

Your jaw hurts from smiling, and before you know it you're crying. Because when you squint against the theatre lights, you see Taehyung and Jungkook in the front row, holding each other and shouting your name.

Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!

"Hey! Be careful!"

The bouquet of congratulatory geraniums cradled in your arms gets crushed between your body and your brother's. He practically tackled you as soon as you entered the dressing room, carried on the cheering shoulders of the other cast and crew members.

"Holy shit." Taehyung holds you at arms length. His eyes are ringed red around the edges. "You were amazing, Y/N."

"You really think so?" Tears start to well and you're so happy to see him that you throw your arms around his waist. "I'm so glad you came, Tae."

"Yeah. You were just like her." He smiles. "Just like mom."

You share a small, sad smile. You've heard those words all your life but it feels different when it comes from Taehyung.

Jungkook pops his head into the room. He catches your eye over Taehyung's shoulder, and flashes you a small smile when he sees you cradling him in your arms.

Talk to him. He mouths, and you're suddenly reminded of why Taehyung came here in the first place.

"Hey listen—"

"Taehyung—"

You both start to talk, bursting into easy laughter when the other stops, seemingly hit with the same idea at the same time.

"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.

"Okay." He pulls you over to the couch. "I'm just...I'm sorry for storming out last night. I shouldn't have come here and expected you to help me—"

"No, stop. I'm sorry." You place a hand over his. "I want to help." You hold an arm out to Jungkook, who crosses the room and slides his hand into yours. "We want to help. We want to save the Crestmont."

Taehyung's eyes bulge. His voice drops to a whisper. "Really?"

"You were right. The Crestmont was mom's place."

You think about how it felt to be out there on the stage, in front of a crowd cheering your name. The excitement, the exhilaration. Your first stage.

The Crestmont is your mom's first stage. It's where she felt those same emotions for the first time. You can't let it be demolished. Not for anything.

"She deserves a legacy. We can't let them tear it down. I don't know how yet, but we'll save it."

"Thank you." A tear streaks his cheek, and his arms pull you and Jungkook into a tight bear hug.

"Thank you. For showing me what really matters, Tae." You whisper. "Let's do this together, okay?"

"For mom."

Taehyung holds out his pinky finger, and you link yours with his.

"For mom."

Where things go wrong.

Six months later.

Every second that passes is marked by a deafening tick from the kitchen clock.

Jungkook was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. You're sat alone at the dinner table, a carefully presented meal for two spread across your mom's old polka dot table cloth. You even lit candles.

With a sigh you drop your chin into your hand, absentmindedly pushing your spaghetti around the dish while your eyes remain trained to the front door that will open any moment.

To be honest, it's been months since you and Jungkook shared a meal together. He spends most of his nights in his office, hunched over his laptop staring at the blinking cursor on some script he'll never finish. And ever since Jungkook's big script got rejected and he fell into a slump of no work, he had to get a job at a local convenience store all day for some spare cash to get you through the month.

You know he hates it. He hates the rude customers and how he can never shower the smell of grease out of his hair.

You know the bickering that turned into arguing that turned into fighting was just a result of his restless aggravation at being shot down too many times. Of watching his dream slip right through his fingers.

But you haven't exactly been as understanding as you should have been. You're overworked too, with the play, and The Crestmont, and you hate how easy it was to accept sleeping apart and missing dinner dates.

So you texted him to tell him you were making dinner tonight. A cease fire of sorts, or maybe just a feeble attempt at glueing back together the cracks that have appeared between you recently with pasta sauce and meatballs.

But he's late. Again.

And it makes you wonder whether there was any point in trying.

"Y/N?"

A gravelly voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Keys jangle onto the counter, shoes are slipped from feet and thrown into the storage cupboard with the creaky door.

"I'm in here." Your voice sounds meek, but you straighten and muster up a smile. To show at least one of you is making an effort.

Jungkook appears in the doorway, clad in his ugly traffic cone orange uniform. His shoulders are slumped, bangs limply stuck to his forehead. He looks tired, exhausted.

"What's all this?" He nods disinterestedly towards your untouched homemade buffet before heading to the sink to fix himself a glass of water.

"Dinner." You cough. He stiffens. "Remember?"

"Oh." He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flash with something close to guilt momentarily, but then he smoothes it out. "Yeah. Dinner."

"It's okay, you're not too late. We can just heat this up in the microwave—"

"I already ate, Y/N." The glass in his hand slams onto the counter a little too loudly. "At the store."

You can't hide the way your face drops.

"Please." You whisper. "For me?"

Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, unblinking, before he exhales shakily and pulls out the seat opposite you.

"What's on the menu?" He asks, hands already grabbing for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table without so much as a glance at the food you worked so hard to prepare.

"Pasta."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence settles. Jungkook nibbles at a meatball, and you suddenly feel too sick to the stomach to keep anything down.

You jump when Jungkook's fork clatters to the table. He wipes pasta sauce from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and you're sure you can see a slight tremor in his grasp.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His words ring out into the deafening silence that shrouds the apartment. You train your eyes to the candle in the middle of the table that flickers back and forth and carefully place down your own cutlery.

"Should I be worried?"

"No...I mean, I don't know. Maybe." Jungkook waves his hands around and when his eyes meet yours they're distant. Like the table that separates you spans oceans. "Just promise not to freak out."

"I'm not promising anything. Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shifts and the cheap flat pack dining chairs you bought when you moved in creak like they always do. "I...I got a movie deal. They loved the script I told them I've been working on and they want me to direct it."

Your heart fills with something sweet; pride. Even despite your downs recently this is still incredible news. You knew your boyfriend should be ecstatic...so why is he staring intently at the table cloth like it killed his whole family? "That's awesome, Kook. So what's the problem?"

"I gave them a different script."

Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.

"Huh?"

"The script. The one you told me to burn before we came to New York. The one about you...your life."

Your blood runs cold and it's like your frozen. Just searching through the never ending blackness behind Jungkook's eyes that fails to falter, no matter how hard you pinch your inner thigh and hope you're about to wake up from a bad dream.

"You wouldn't." Your voice sounds strained and Jungkook doesn't even flinch. "You...I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry." He runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's just that they hated the first one and I wanted this deal so bad. It's a once in a lifetime chance Y/N, don't you see?"

The boy staring back at you isn't the sweet and sensitive Jungkook from Ocean City or the strong and passionate man from New York. His words get all mixed up in your head as you repeat them over and over and it's as if you don't even know him at all. All you can feel now is betrayal. And just like that all the anger that has been building inside you for months explodes.

"So my life is just a fucking plot for one of your indie movies, Jungkook?"

"It's always your life isn't it? Never mine." He slams his hands on the table hard enough to make your insides shake. "Ever since we came to New York I've supported you, sat back and watched as you achieved all your dreams. And it hurts, Y/N. To come home from my dead end job, and write another goddamn script that nobody wants to even read."

"I came to New York because of you!" You don't even realise you're crying until you taste the hot salty tears that won't seem to stop. "I came here so you could make it big! You're the one who encouraged me to audition for the play in the first place!"

"God, are you really that naive? Don't you see? I came to New York because I saw how much it meant to you." Jungkook lowers his voice, and there's something in his words that makes your heart twist. Pain. His eyes look watery and you long to reach out for him. Like the skin on skin contact will somehow make all of this okay. "And not once have you ever considered how it might feel for me to sit back in your shadow."

"So that's what this is? Jealousy?" You shake your head and get up from the table and turn to leave, but Jungkook grasps your wrist.

"Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am happy for you Jungkook. And I always will be." Your heart softens and you're reminded of the boyfriend you know. The boyfriend you love. You want to believe he's in there somewhere so you place your hand over his, and for a second he looks hopeful. "But this was never your story to tell. That's what hurts."

He drops your arm, gaze cold and distant. "Then I guess that's it then."

"What?"

The room starts to spin.

"If you can't accept my decision to go ahead with the project then I guess we can't do this anymore."

"This?" You whisper.

"Us."

"Jungkook...Are you saying we're over?"

He drops his head into his hands and lets out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?" You chuckle but it's hollow, empty. "You don't know if you love me any more?"

Jungkook's face drops and he lurches towards you, but you step back.

"No, shit Y/N I didn't mean it like that!" He looks scared. "I was just angry and it slipped out."

"Don't." His arms reach for you again but the brush of his fingertips feels scalding hot, wrong. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't lie to me Jungkook." Your vision is blurred with tears as you rip open the closet and yank out a suitcase. "You're not sorry. I was never your muse. I was just a stepping stool to the top."

"Where are you going?" Jungkook's crying now too. It comes out as a sob.

"Home." You say as you rip open your shared closet door and start throwing your things into the case. "I'm going home. Where I belong."

"I can't lose you like this. Please." He reaches for your wrist again but you're already half way to the door.

"Too late." You say. "I'm going home. And I'm never coming back."

The familiar scent of burned popcorn and candyfloss soothes you as you creep through the backdoor of the Crestmont. It always had a broken hinge which opened just enough for a body to squeeze through. Seems not a lot has changed since you left Ocean City.

It's dark inside. Silent too, without the popcorn machine running and the movie trailers playing on LED screens. You don't know what you expected. It's gone midnight by the time you get back to Ocean City, but you don't want to go home just yet.

Comfort washes over you as you run your fingers over the gilded edges of the counter, and slip beneath the hatch on auto pilot. It feels strange to be back here without the starched shirt and bow tie you used to hate. You've swapped out worn sneakers for heels that click against the tiles and you've performed on stages for crowd's bigger than the Crestmont's but here and now, you feel like yourself. Even though everything in your life has changed, you're still the same small town girl underneath it all.

Without thinking your legs carry you to the wall of fame. The faces smile up at you, like they're saying welcome back.

"Hey mom," You whisper, stopping momentarily in front of her portrait. You stared at it for so long as a kid that you have every detail committed to memory but seeing it up this close makes your breath hitch. "It's me."

With a sigh you force yourself past into the hall. Your hands tremble as you push open the door to the theatre. It's just how you remember it, sparkling gold and red velvet and mystery. But there's yellow tape strung up across all the seats and a sign has been propped up on the stage, red glaring letters burning a hole in your heart as you read them.

DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.

All you can do is let your legs buckle, back sliding down the wall as you hug your knees to your chest and let out a throaty sob that echoes from the high ceiling.

When did everything go so wrong? You must be cursed. Everything you touch gets destroyed.

"Y/N?"

The lights flicker on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. You wipe your tears, but that doesn't stop them from coming.

"Over here."

Your voice is small but a few seconds later Taehyung's face appears from behind one of the velvet seats. His eyes soften when he sees you curled up in the corner.

"What are you doing down here?" He clambers over the seat to join you, his long legs folded awkwardly in the small space.

"Having a one man party." You snort and point to your tear stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His hand covers yours and the contact makes you jump.

"Yes..." You sniff. He raises a brow. "No. Jungkook broke up with me."

Taehyung chokes. "What?!"

"I mean, we fought and then he...he said we were over." Your heart stabs painfully but you shrug. "So I came here. Didn't know where else to go."

He places an encouraging hand on your shoulder. "Listen...I know I haven't always been there for you when I should've. Hell, you always took care of me and I never even asked how you were doing." He offers a small smile. "But I'm here now. And you can tell me anything. If...if you want to."

A few seconds tick by in silence. You try to form a sentence but everything just comes back to the same three words.

"I miss mom." You blurt.

It echoes through the theatre, and you can practically hear the mermaids and the cupids painted on the ceiling gasp. It surprises you too, the combination of grief and relief that washes over you at finally admitting it.

"I know." Taehyung pulls you into his chest, lips whispering against your hair as you let out a sob and it's like all the sadness and denial is rushing out of you like a faucet, filling the whole room up like a water tank. You're terrified of the moment it gets too full, and you stop being able to breathe. "But you're a lot like her, y'know."

"That's exactly the problem!" Your words come out as a yell and it makes you both jump. "Everyone always says I look like her, I talk like her, I act like her. And I hated it for the longest time because I hated her for leaving us!"

"But without even realising it I became her, Tae. I did what I always said I wouldn't and became selfish. I hurt you, and Jungkook and even the Crestmont."

"That's not true."

"It is! And the worst part is I don't even hate her any more. I need her. To hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. But she isn't here!"

"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"

"Jungkook wrote a script. A long time ago. About mom. And you and I. And everything that happened." You swallow, Taehyung's eyebrow raises though he doesn't look at all surprised by this information, nor as horrified as you that a record of your bleak shortcomings exists for anyone to read. "He got a movie deal. That's why we fought."

Taehyung hums. "You don't want him to make the movie?"

"It's not that I...I want to be happy for him. But I can't." You choke. "It's too painful. Remembering."

Accepting.

"When I said you were a lot like mom, I meant that you are headstrong." Taehyung pauses. "I felt that way once too. Like I hated mom and the goddamn world for taking her too soon. But in the end, the only person I hated was myself. Like however hard I tried I could never get over her, and all the pain I was pushing down into a dark place kept taunting me through the nightmares." He shivers, and you grip his hand tighter. "But one day I realised I don't have to be afraid of that pain any more. That pain is a part of me. But that doesn't mean I have to let it win."

"So what did you do?"

"I let myself feel it . I faced it. The only way I could let mom go was to stop running away." He pats your shoulder. "You need to set the girl in that script free, so you can move on."

And just like that, you're swimming...up, up, up, until you reach the surface of the water tank and you can take a heaving breath for the first time.

You throw your arms around his neck. It feels weird to hug him like this, but it's nice. "I missed you, Tae. Thank you.”

"I didn't do anything." He says. "The strength is inside you, you just need to find it. Just like you need to stop holding on to the past and let the new you shine for once."

You shake your head. "I need to talk to Jungkook. I don't know why I stormed off like that and..." You trail off. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

Taehyung grins. "I didn't. I got called in to sort some paperwork and I noticed the back door ajar. Good thing it was you and not some crazy with a baseball bat, right?"

"At this time?" You nod to his still pyjama clad state. "Is it important?"

"Y/N," He laughs lightly. There's excitement shining in his eyes. "Someone just bought the Crestmont."

You scramble to your knees. "What?"

"We're staying open, and I get to keep my job."

And then you're hugging again, and laughing and crying because the Crestmont is going to be okay. You're going to be okay.

"That's incredible, Tae! Who is it? Who bought the Crestmont?"

"I don't know, it was an anonymous transaction. But the guy said he would be here...." He glances at his wrist watch, and as he does, the door creaks open. "Around now."

"Hello? Anyone here?" A familiar voice calls out.

"Jungkook?" Both of your jaws drop as you poke up from behind the seats. Sure enough your heart flutters when you see him, all wind swept and out of breath like he ran here.

"I thought you might be here." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can we talk?"

The car ride to the pier was mostly silent. Jungkook borrowed his dad's old beat up truck -- it was that or his old bike with the pegs on the back -- and it still smelled like leather and petrol like it used to.

Everything about Ocean City is the same as you remember it. The pier stands strong atop the rocky sand, sea air deliciously fresh as it fills your lungs. The rolling waves shimmer like gold dust below the wisps of pink clouds that greet the rising sun. The beach is a peaceful view at this time. No tourists, all of yesterdays sandcastles swallowed by the sea spray. It took a couple hours to work through the paperwork so by now it's early morning — 5:30am according to your phone lockscreen.

It's chilly, and your skin is covered with goose bumps even despite Jungkook's suede jacket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. But you don't mind.

You've missed this. You've missed Ocean City.

"No ice cream, I'm afraid." The breeze ruffles Jungkook's hair as he emerges from the fairground and settles beside you with his legs poking through the rails. He flashes you an apologetic smile. "I guess the parlour doesn't open until 9..."

You feel a pang in your chest. Being here is like a serious case of deja vu. Countless hours spent in this very spot, eating vanilla scoops with rainbow sprinkles beside Jungkook used to be so normal. When did you grow so far apart that you're surprised he even remembers?

"Jungkook..." You swallow hard when you meet his eyes, hands longing to reach out and stroke the stream of sunrise on his cheek that makes his dark eyes sparkle. "We...we need to talk. About everything."

There's a moment of silence filled only by the calls of seagulls greeting the morning before he speaks. "I sold the script."

He sounds nervous. Like he's not quite sure what your reaction will be.

You swallow. "And you used the money to buy the Crestmont?"

"Yeah." He says matter of factly, scratching a phantom itch at his nape. "I guess I did."

"Why?" Your voice is small.

"I can't loose you, Y/N." He murmurs. "Just like you can't loose your mom. The Crestmont was her everything. But you are mine. And loosing the Crestmont would be loosing a piece of you, and I couldn't stand that."

The breeze ruffles his hair as he reaches for your hand and links your fingers and squeezes hard. You don't make any move to stop him. You know what it means, so you squeeze back and return the sentiment. I'm sorry.

Before you can stop yourself you lurch forward, arms curling around his neck and it's like coming home. His hands pull you flush to his chest, hearts beating in sync and you know everything is going to be okay now.

"Thank you." You whisper against his nape. A tear rolls down your cheek and soaks into his collar and before you know it you're blubbering. "Thank you so much, Kook."

"You aren't mad?" His voice is muffled but you can hear the quirk of his brow.

"Mad? No..no..." You lean back and wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "But what about the movie? And your dream to be a director and--"

Jungkook grabs your shoulders. His own eyes are glassy as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"That was never what mattered to me, Y/N. Not even a little bit. There's one reason I went to New York and it's the same reason I came back to Ocean City tonight. You."

"But--"

"No but's. As long as we're together, I'm already living my dream." His lips turn up into a smile, his eyes tracing your face like it's the first time and he can't get enough. "And I never ever want to wake up."

You shift in your spot to face him properly for the first time, and emotion hits you like a tidal wave. It's like all of a sudden you realize how stupid you've been; to fight with the man before you, a man who only knows kindness, about the trivial when the things that mattered the most were always right here, in front of you. The things that mattered most were always in Ocean City.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and lean up so your lips are inches apart. His eyes fall shut naturally, and you can't help but laugh with what you can only describe as one thing: happiness.

"I love you." You whisper against his lips. A warm palm cups your jaw and closes the distance between them and you're almost too lost in the way Jungkook's kiss takes your breath away to hear his response.

"I love you too."

"Sooo..." You bite your lip with a coy smile when Jungkook pulls away, the blush upon his cheeks scarlet beneath the sun which is rapidly rising. "I take it we're no longer broken up?"

"Well duh," He swats you playfully. "You think I'd do all this just to dump your ass?"

"Hey!" You pout. "I dumped your ass."

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.

"Besides," He glances out over the horizon nonchalantly and shrugs. "I'm gonna need help if I'm gonna start my own film company and run the Crestmont."

Your jaw drops. "A what now?"

"A film company." He explains. "A different type of film company, right here in Ocean City. For the outcasts like me who have a vision that even the biggest names in New York can't see yet." He smiles, so big and bright it makes your heart leap. "I'm gonna show them, Y/N. And everything I need to do it is right here in Ocean City."

"I know you will. I never doubted you for a second." You take his hand and link your fingers, squeezing hard. "And you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

Epilogue.

"Just keep your eyes shut!"

"I already know where we're going, so why can't I look?" You laugh, attempting and failing to tug Jungkook's interlocked fingers away from your eyes.

"Shush, it's a surprise! Just roll with it."

A surprise. That's what Jungkook said earlier too when he woke you up at the crack of dawn by throwing a dress at your head and telling you to meet him outside in the truck in 10 minutes or else.

By the time you pulled up into the familiar parking lot of your not-so-mysterious destination, the sky was already aflame with the glow of morning skimming the horizon, and Jungkook practically leapt out of the truck, palms unusually sweaty as he grasped your hand and pulled you towards the path quicker than your feet could carry you.

"What's the hurry, Kook?" You get out between heavy breaths, quads burning as the path gets steeper beneath your feet.

Come to think of it, your boyfriend has been acting strangely all week. Like hiding things behind his back when you walk into a room or talking in hushed whispers on the phone to Taehyung when he thought you were sleeping.

"You'll see." The path levels out and you stop. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, chin tucked into the cleft of your shoulder like a perfect puzzle piece. "Okay. Now you can look."

You round the corner, heart racing when your eyes flutter open and your vision is filled with a sea of yellow flowers. Your place.

The meadow is just how you left it, tall grass and sunny blooms dancing beneath the rays of morning sun peeking out from between the clouds. A warmth spreads through your chest and you both laugh when Gureum lets out an excited yelp, before bounding off between the stems playfully.

"I think the little guy wants us to follow him." Jungkook raises a brow and throws you a knowing shrug.

Excitement flutters in your stomach like a butterfly trapped between cupped palms. "How could I refuse?"

Fingers interlinked, you part the sunflowers and jog after the ball off fluff bouncing across the meadow, the breeze cool and forgiving as it ruffles the strands of hair that billow behind you.

Eventually you reach the clearing, and Gureum wags his tail at you proudly when you stoop down to scratch him behind his ears.

The sun reflects in Jungkook's eyes, turning them a warm golden brown. "Turn around."

You spin on your heels with a questioning glance. "Why?" That's when you see it. The spot where everything began. The tree where Jungkook kissed you all those years ago has bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and twinkle lights glow like tiny stars around it's branches. A blanket is laid out in the sun flecked shade beneath it, littered with feather cushions and lanterns and a trail of sunflower petals that begin at your feet.

"You did this?" You take his chin in your palms, face beaming despite the tears that have started to blur your vision. "Oh, Kook."

"Surprise." He smiles knowingly, grabbing you from behind and spinning you round and round until you both land with a soft thump in the middle of the outdoor cushion fort. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." He says with a nod to his right.

It's then that you notice the white sheet that's strung up a couple meters away between the trunks of two trees, Jungkook's vintage projector set up in front of it.

"What is this?" You ask, bewilderment evident in your voice.

"Gureum, would you do the honours?" Jungkook chuckles, extending a finger to point at a remote that your puppy obediently picks up with his teeth and drops into your lap with a wag of his tail.

Jungkook tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and takes a deep breath, like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Go ahead. Press play and find out."

Your head shakes fondly, but your fingers tremble with anticipation as they find the PLAY button. You press it and the projector starts turning, a light flicking on at the top that makes a grainy image appear on the sheet.

The first scene is you. A teenager, dancing through the sunflower field, laughter spilling from your lips. The first time you hung out. And then it switches. You, again. Cleaning up a spill at the Crestmont, unaware of the camera. You. Paint in your hair as Jungkook chases you around the apartment in New York. You. Tears in your eyes as you hold baby Gureum for the first time. You. Asleep on Jungkook's shoulder on the subway, the camera panning to his face which lights up in a big grin, lips mouthing three words.

I love you.

Tears are hot on your cheeks, laughing as you remember the good moments and the bad, the funny and the sad, all immortalized forever through Jungkook's eyes.

The film fades out, and you throw your arms around your boyfriends neck. He chuckles when you tackle him to the ground, throwing a leg over his lap so that you can lean down and capture his lips between yours in a kiss that says all the words you want to say but you don't know how to. I love you too.

"I take it you liked it, then?" Jungkook says coyly, thumb stroking your cheek.

"It was beautiful Jungkook." You place your hand over his. "Now I know why you're always goddamn filming me."

"What can I say? You're my muse."

"Shut up." You punch him playfully. "You're gonna make me blush."

It's Jungkook's cheeks that flush pink. "Actually..." He starts to sit up, fumbling around in his back pocket. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

He clears his throat. "The first time we came to this place I knew I loved you. Back then, I said I wanted to show you what I found most beautiful. And it was you. It's always been you." He takes your hand, grip tight. "When we met we were just kids with big dreams. We might be older now but heck -- I still don't know what I'm doing. All I know is dreams come and go but you never left. You always stayed by my side. Which is why I want to promise you something."

"What, Kook?" You manage to whisper. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute in your ears. Is this what you think it is?

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.

"That I'll go wherever you go. New York, across oceans, up mountains -- you name it. As long as we're together, everything will be okay. So that's why I wanted to ask..." His fingers tremble as he produces a tiny black box, flicking it open to reveal a ring that sparkles see through in the sun. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jungkook," You throw your arms around his neck, overcome with emotion now as you capture his lips with your own. "Of course I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask."

He lets out a sigh of relief, and then he's spinning you around in circles until you're both dizzy with love and belly laughter.

"I love you." He whispers, eyes shiny. His hand gently grasps your wrist as he slides the ring onto your finger.

You've heard him say it a hundred times before, but this time it's different. This time it's forever. Your heart flutters.

"I love you too, Kook."

Where there are new beginnings

Ocean City is the same as it always was.

You wake up each morning to the distant crash or waves, and you fall asleep each night to the tinkling fairground music that makes your heart sing. Tourists come and go, flooding the casinos and eating churros on the beach.

The Crestmont is doing better than ever. Once Taehyung took over as owner, the theatre became the heart of the city, attracting visitors from near and far to see the renowned plays directed by none other than Jeon Jungkook, the most sought after playwright and filmographer in all of the East Coast.

And then there's you. Ever since you starred in one of Jungkook's plays, about a girl from a seaside city moving to New York with big dreams, there's been no shortage of movie deals and acting opportunities thrown your way.

But in the end, you always find yourself coming back to Ocean City.

Tonight the Crestmont reopens for business after some much needed renovations. Taehyung is throwing a party, and there will be plenty of big Hollywood faces attending to see the brand new theatre and the updated __.

But one thing will always remain the same. The picture of your mom hung in the gallery. Her big smile is the heart of the Crestmont, greeting each and every visitor with pride.

And in the empty frame at the end of the wall of fame, there's a new picture.

You. Smiling, with your hair over one shoulder, just how you imagined. And beside you is Jungkook, with his arm wrapped around your waist and Taehyung holding Gureum and making a silly peace sign behind your head.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay so hi if you’re still here!! I decided to put this at the end because I didn’t wanna spoil the ending so please send love to @brekkiejeon !! They sent me the request for the ending of this fic all the way back in January and i’m trash and took like 7 months to finish writing it so i hope you enjoyed it even so lovely !!! <3 thank you for the request and sorry for the wait, this one really got me creative lol!

Also I’d like to dedicate the smut in this fic to @atastefulwonderland because I know you love some good ole JK loving!! Hehe, ily~~

Also lemme know if this was bad because I never usually give OC so much backstory because I want it to be as relatable to the reader as poss obvi but these characters wrote themselves lmao like i’m just the writer i had no control okay???? I just do what these mfkers say. LOL.

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

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My Little Cub (Klaus x Reader)

Requested by anon. I didn’t really understand what you meant when you said “scooby gang” but I hope this is what you wanted. Enjoy!

Stefan had turned (y/n) back in the 80s, she had developed an illness that unfortunately was at it’s last state... cancer. Stefan had met her while she was completing her bucket list, however when she crossed the last thing on the list he saw the real her, hurt, scared, she started crying in front of him, he felt like she had so much potential, he had seen her bring joy and being so strong so he turned her.

He saw her flourish into a confident strong individual, she was safe from harms way and illnesses, immortality suited her, a woman that cheated death and became addicted to the feeling of power.

“Stefan I’m fine”

When Stefan said “safe from harms way” what he had not calculated was a nasty werewolf bite, she tried to protect Elena- even though she always nagged about how everyone's life's were crumbling just to make sure she is fine- and as she pushed her out of the way the werewolf sunk it’s teeth into her arm. “I’m really sorry (y/n), I didn’t mean to-”

“I know Elena, you never mean to do anything really”

She didn’t realize she was snapping at the mortal girl, that looked at the laying (y/n) with her big brown doe eyes. She knew her chances of surviving are slim to nothing, Elena was hiding from Klaus, she was what he wanted so there was no chance he would come in her aid when she stood up to conceal what he wanted to have.

“We need to find Klaus, he can heal you”

“Bonnie with all due respect but Klaus giving me his blood is as likely to happen as you becoming the queen of England”

“Oh come on (y/nickn), we all know the big bad hybrid has a soft spot for you”

Damon commented as he sat calmly on the other side of the room, in the chair staring at the view of everyone panicking and surrounding (y/n). He was the only one to have witnessed a very intimate scene between Klaus and (Y/n) one night, basically he had walked in on her and Klaus banging in the bathroom of one of his parties.

“I protected your little innocent doubleganger, do you think he will be gracious to heal someone that stood against him?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try now would it?”

Caroline chimed in. Caroline was one of the few that understood her frustration with Elena, probably because she had been a victim to the whole situation and was in her shadow 90% per cent of the time. (Y/n) looked up at Stefan, she didn’t want to die, Stefan could see it in her eyes, a hint of the same fear he had seen before he turned her, it made him feel even more strongly about going to look for Klaus.

“Me and Damon will go, the girls can stay with you”

“No, if you go looking for him then go together... I want to stay alone for a minute”

She whispered to him even thought everyone could hear her. The situation she was in was just starting to kick in, she was just counting down hours, maybe she could get 24 hours before she caved in to the poison. She felt so grateful when she escaped death before, still she got used to her power and now reality settled in once again, death was a continuous concept for her.

“Fine, Caroline can come and Bonnie will take Elena back to her house”

“What? No! I want to make sure she is alright”

“If Klaus actually comes to help me then it’s not a good idea for you two to meet Elena”

This time her voice was a bit more calm, the pain was so intense she started go numb, as well as her mind racing into so many different things she could have done differently so yelling at Elena did not really occur to her.

“She is right Elena. Come on we’ll go to my house”

Bonnie took Elena and left first from the house. As the others prepared a plan to go look for the vicious hybrid and ask for a favor, if you asked her it was just a suicided mission and a waste of damn time. Yet something inside of her begged to be proved wrong, to be stand corrected by Klaus and be saved.

“You’ll be alright (y/n), we’ll get you that blood”

“Go Stefan, I promise to not leave”

She cracked a smile as she watched them leave. Then she heard it... absolutely nothing, silence, the only thing that could be heard was a few leaf's that the wind blew, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes to relax and focus.

“Am I interrupting your beauty sleep little cub?”

His voice took her out of her thoughts, her head snapping towards the window where he stood, leaning against the window frame and smirking at her.

“Came to finish me off?”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your one and only medicine”

“Well... I was supposed to be dead by now so I can say I had a good run”

“Come on little cub, you don’t want to die”

His tone was soft and gentle, his accent oozing out some sensuality that made her almost forget the pain she was under. As he approached the bed, he took in her state, the wound was very intense, her clothes dirty and her face was extremely pale. He hated seeing her like this, fragile and scared, he was used to seeing her walk around like a supermodel with her head held up high, enchanting every man in the room, her intense gaze bringing everyone to their knees.

“Why are you calling me cub?”

“Cubs are not just werewolves (y/n), you remind me of a little tiger or a lion cub, so young with such thirst to learn and prove themselves to their tribe, eager to... sink their teeth into some meat”

“Like your little minions did to me”

She spat back, bitterly. Klaus could only let a soft cackle at her remark, she was still trying to act tough and unfaced, she was staring death in the eyes for the second time yet she acted like she was fine. He sat down close to her and reached over to tuck back a few strands of hair that were in front of her face, closing her eyes at the touch and taking in the delicate act of affection.

“Did you really think I would let my little cub die?”

“I stood against you, I protected her”

“You are loyal to your friends”

“Why are you so nice to me? Anyone else you would have killed them before the venom got the chance”

Of course she would question the only man that could save her, the only way she could still live and now she was acting like she didn’t want it. He kept his calm, understanding that her walls she had so proudly build were the ones talking.

“Cause you are my little cub, I can’t let you die before I make you the queen of the tribe”

“Did you just find out the discovery channel?”

He chose to not respond, he only just sunk his teeth to his wrist and offered her blood to her, that she gladly took in and started getting it on her system. When she felt like it was enough she pulled away and licked her lips, as she looked up at him she didn’t need to say how grateful she felt, nor say thank you out loud, it was all said in her eyes. Nonetheless he was caught off guard when she started getting closer and nuzzled in his neck, their bodies touching as his arm wrapped around her.

“They are still looking for you”

“More alone time for us, how are you feeling little cub?”

“I’ll live”

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@akshi8278

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vampiremansionpoolboy-moved · 3 years

Text

sk8 au week - day 2: royalty and soulmate

reki kyan was nearing his eighteenth birthday and he had yet to meet his soulmate. reki has heard the whispers of the people in the town about people who don’t find their soulmates. it’s not that he didn’t have one -he did, for your information, thank you very much- but because reki was from a royal family, and therefore a prince, he was to be married off and did not have the luxury of being with his soulmate. unless his soulmate was from another royal family, but reki had seen where his red string lead: straight into the center of the town below. so no such luck for another noble as his soulmate.

reki’s mother had tried to let him build friendships and hopefully relationships with the other royal children around his age, but reki had dreams about meeting his soulmate and never developed anything more than friendship with the other royals.

reki stared at his red string, eyes tracing its path down into the village, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone. sometimes when he sleep he caught glimpses of a tall, pale, slender figure and bright blue eyes. reki wondered what those eyes would look like mere inches from his own.

suddenly a book smacked into the back of reki’s head, startling him from his daydream.

“what the fuck-“ reki’s head whipped around.

“hey there slime.” said a voice.

reki groaned at the sight of the boy sitting atop his desk.

“hello miya.” he grumbled.

“what’re you looking at?” the young prince asked, a catlike smirk breaking out on his face.

“nothing,” reki said pushing himself up and walking over to miya.

“so is your mom still making you meet that prince for dinner tonight?” miya hummed as he twirled a pen in his hands.

reki’s mother was much more kind with her son and his romantic predicament, compared to reki’s father who was ready to marry his son off without a meeting between the spouses. but after his father ran away with the sevrant girl he impregnated no one stuck to his old rules.

“yes, but i have a plan to escape and i need your help.” reki said placing his hands on miya’s shoulders.

“i’m all ears,” miya said leaning forward as if reki’s mother was outside the door and eavesdropping this very moment.

“ok so i need you to mix up joe and shadow’s schedules so they’re both in the great hall at the same time. we cant have a fancy dinner set up if the cook and florist are in there at the same time now can we?”

“i like what i’m hearing.”

“and then i need you and koyomi to either distract the stable hand while i sneak through the barn.”

“done. is that all you need?”

“yep. the rest is up to me. joe accidentally let it slip that his soulmate is the craftsman in town and that he sneaks out at the exit behind the greenhouses to meet him. so thanks to joe i’ve got my escape route all planned.”

“well look at this, prince reki ditching the feast planned just for him. who would have thought?” miya asked with a laugh.

“well after how the last dinner ended it’s not that surprising.” reki said with a shudder as he remembered the glazed goat falling onto the poor princess who was just looking for a potential marriage partner.

miya let out snicker at the memory. “well now that you say that...”

“anyways i have to hurry if i wanna make it before my mom sends a servant to make sure i’m ready.”

“oh right right let’s go. i’ll go get koyomi and head to the stables. see you soon.” and with a wink miya slipped out the door and was gone. grabbing a cloak from his bed, reki fastened the clasp and dashed out the room after miya.

he was sick of all this arranged marriage bullshit, he was sick of it all. reki just wanted to meet his soulmate and fall in love. he knew his thoughts were selfish though. he was the eldest of the four kyan children and his mom was doing her best to rule a kingdom by herself, so by default his marriage was bound to be political. it was very unlikely he would end up with his soulmate.

and so that’s why reki was going to meet his soulmate tonight. he would meet them and apologize for being a lousy soulmate before heading back to the castle to meet the prince who he was supposed to be dinning with.

for most of reki’s life he soulmate had lead to a place up in the snowy mountains. but within the past few years the string moved into the town below the castle reki lived in. just like fate his soulmate moved to his home town. but it was someone else’s fate, not his. so reki made up his mind weeks ago: meet his soulmate, apologize, then finally agree to a political marriage. his plan would take away his curiously about his soulmate, it would hopefully lessen his guilt about not being able to be with said soulmate, and it would make his mom happy. so why didn’t he like what he was about to do?

ignoring the heavy feeling in his stomach reki pushed on. running quietly through the halls reki hid behind stone pillars and over large plant pots when he needed too. finally reaching the barn reki slipped into there to see miya and koyomi talking away with the stable hand over a loaf of bread and some pieces of cheese.

slipping past the trio and out into the courtyard beyond reki doesn’t make a noise. he holds his breath all the way to the green house, and doesn’t let it out until he’s well into the tunnel behind it. some time ago a tunnel was dug in the large wall protecting the castle, the entrance was hidden by vines on both sides. the cave was known only to a select few.

as reki hurried through the cave he began to think back to some of his earlier suitors. he remembers his best friend who he could have seen himself marrying despite not being soulmates. but his friend got sick and went back to his kingdom and reki never heard from him again.

but tonight was about his soulmate. so reki trudged on, squinting for the cave opening.

before long the prince was stumbling out of the vines and onto the street. luckily it was mostly empty. empty except for a tall man with long pink hair and glasses.

at the sound of someone falling through the leaves he looked up but seemed shocked to see a teenager.

“your not kojiro.” the stranger blurted.

“and your not- actually i wasn’t waiting for anyone and i have no idea who you are...or who kojiro is.”

the man stared at reki for a minute before recognition flashed in his eyes.

“prince reki! what are you doing outside of the castle?”

“i um...well you see-“ but reki was cut off by a rustling behind the vines and a large figure falling out of said vines.

“kaoru you will never believe the day i had...” joe trailed off, eyes catching sight of a panicked reki and surprised kaoru.

“joe?” reki blurted at the same time joe said “reki?”

the two stared at each other before reki made a run for it.

but joe caught him by his hood so reki didn’t get far.

“kid what the hell are you doing here?” joe said apparently forgetting all formalities one should talk to their prince with.

“not of your business! and i could ask you the same!” reki yelled as he struggled to get free from joe’s grip.

“i’m meeting my soulmate. and i’m going to ask you again, what are you doing here?”

reki sagged, giving up the struggle. “same here,”

“you’re meeting your soulmate?” kaoru asked.

“yes, what about it?” reki said crossing his arms. it had all gone so good until now.

“aren’t you supposed to be in a arranged marriage?”

“yes so i’m going to meet my soulmate and apologize before agreeing to an arranged marriage.”

“what?” joe said, surprise causing him to loosen his grip. taking the chance reki dashed away. ignoring the yells behind him reki kept on running. nothing can stop me now, reki thought, i’ve come this far.

eyeing his string, reki ran through the streets watching it get tighter and tighter. reki was too focused on the string that he didn’t see the boy in front of himself until it was too late.

the boys slammed into each other hard, the medicinal products in the other boy’s hands clattering to the ground.

“oh shit sorry-“

“sorry-“

they both spoke at the same time causing the boys to look up at each other abruptly. the boy had bright blue hair that went down past his ears. he was tall and lanky, his skin almost as pale as snow. bright blue eyes that reki had sworn he had seen before. but when reki’s gaze meet the boy‘s hands, his heart stopped. a thin red string connecting reki’s own finger to this mystery boy’s, hung in the air. a red string of fate; a soulmate string. this boy was his soulmate.

eyes snapping back to the bright blue ones reki knew his soulmate saw it too.

“well shit.” reki blurted and the boy began to laugh. it was a sweet noise, like the chime of heavenly bells. and so reki began to laugh too.

“well i guess you’re my soulmate. that makes this search a lot easier then.” standing up and reaching out a hand to his soulmate, reki began to speak. “so you probably know who i am and therefore i can’t marry you -or be with you quite frankly- and i’m very sorry for that and it’s selfish of me but i have the responsibility of the kingdom on my shoulders and i can’t fail my people.”

“what? ‘kingdom’? what are you talking about?” the boy‘s blank stare bored into reki.

“...i’m the prince. and i’m going to be king someday. and as much i want to be with my soulmate -you-, i have to be responsible for my people -which includes you-.”

realization dawned on his face. “ooh, i see.”

“and honestly i don’t care about the difference of ‘rank’ between noble and townsfolk but other royalty do.”

“well my moms a doctor if that means anything.”

“a prominent roll indeed but unfortunately not enough for the in-law of a prince. well not in my eyes, but in the eyes of others.”

the boy hummed in though. “well she was the queen of the kingdom in the mountains before my father fell to illness and some corrupt politician overthrew her and had us banished. do that mean anything?”

“you- you mean you were a prince?”

the boy nods.

“oh my god. oh my god! this may just work then! i may be able to be with my soulmate and still have a marriage that pleases the royal court!” reki’s eyes light up in happiness. “that’s only if you do want to be with me i mean.” he added.

“well you’re my soulmate, are you not? so we’re meant to be together, no?”

“well yes of course. but i wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it and all...”

“of course reki.” the boy said sweetly while reaching out and clasping reki’s hands in his own.

reki almost melted at the use of his given name spoken by his soulmate.

“oh wait can i call you that? is that ok?”

all reki could do was dumbly nod.

“my names langa by the way.”

“langa,” reki said testing out the way the name felt on his tongue. “i like it!” he smiled and watched as langa’s face turned red.

“well should we head to the castle or something to relay the news?” langa asked, turning to reki.

“hmmm i think we can wait a minute. wanna show me around the town?”

“it would be my honor.”

and so the two boys disappeared into the lively bustle of the town as the laughed away and held each other’s hand like a lifeline.

~ ~ ~

@sk8-au-week

#we’re not gonna talk abt how i forgot to post the writing for the day i was most excited abt #toad talks #sk8 au week #soulmates #royalty au #toad writes

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shimmershae · 3 years

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My thoughts on Episode 6--On the Inside

Very appropriate title by the way. Works in a multitude of ways.

As always, my randomness is going beneath a cut again to spare the eyeballs of those of you that don’t want to see it at all and also? Help those of you that have somehow stayed spoiler-free in this brand-new age of early release episodes. It is still so wild to me that I’m a full episode ahead of half the fandom. I don’t know what I’m going to do when we get to the final episode and they decide to make us all suffer together--because somehow I do feel they will do exactly that after spoiling us for the first 23 episodes. It is going to be agonizing.

Anyway. Without further ado, Shae’s stream of consciousness review (of sorts).

Not fair, Angela. Opening the episode with that shot of that big ass spider. I hate those suckers. So naturally, they’re an easy sell for setting the horror scene to me, lol.

Okay. Who the hell’s chasing Virgil and Connie? Walker No-See-Ums?

Barely a minute in and the atmosphere for this episode is moody AF.

What is this? Tara Jr. The Walking Dead? LOL. Where’s the Scarlett for this mini plantation house? Anyway. First three minutes of this episode? Just as attention grabbing as the first five episode openings this season. I don’t think people out there are giving our writers enough love for that. Every episode so far has opened like a mini movie.

With the way the Walking Dead logo keeps crumbling away with each successive episode, somehow it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the Carol and Daryl spinoff was eventually titled The Living and had flowers growing out of each letter, lol. I mean, there would be a certain sort of life-affirming symmetry in a show that’s been promised to be much lighter in tone doing just that.

More Carol and Aaron? Yes, please. I don’t necessarily like Carol staying at home and sitting the sidelines like a figurative happy little homemaker in the B story while the rest of the mains are trying like hell to sell the A story, but if she’s going to be totally prohibited from the main storyline until it’s time to blow shit up? I’m going to continue enjoy getting to see her do what she should have been doing for seasons--interacting with others in the community, especially Aaron and the ladies.

Truly. I really am loving my girl getting some quality Aaron and Rosita time. It’s so long overdue.

Bless sweet Kelly. Riding off to her sister’s rescue.

Why isn’t Lydia shown as part of these plans? For someone that could barely read last season, I doubt that big ass map was a piece of cake for her and it’s all just guesswork anyway without her guidance. I mean, why does it feel like they are cutting some of this stuff that might not seem like much plot-wise but would go a long way toward establishing different character beats? Personally, I would have loved to see her involved in the search and sharing scenes again with Carol and bonding with Kelly.

Virgil be having that “I always feel like somebody’s watching me” feeling. Don’t you hate that, lol?

“You haven’t slept in days.” But how many days, Virgil? I’m going to need a number because I’m confused AF about this timeline at this point. What we’re seeing and what different pieces of dialogue is telling us is not exactly lining up. I’m going to find it awful hilarious if it hasn’t even been two weeks since the cave in. For reasons.

Connie’s spidey senses are clearly tingling.

Alrighty, then. She’s clearly got PTSD. Understandable. They’ve all had it. Some have been treated more sympathetically than others, though.

I mean, it never seems to cross anybody’s mind how Carol probably sees Henry’s head on that pike, Mika’s pale and bloody body, Lizzie crumpled face down in a bed of yellow flowers, Sophia with a smoking bullet hole through her undead head whenever she closes her eyes but whatever.

Okay though. But what if Connie had really shitty, impossible to read handwriting? AKA doctor’s handwriting. What then?

Leah’s face honestly twists my insides whenever I see it, lol. It’s quiet a visceral thing. No, that does not make me a horrible person. Not everybody wants or has to drink the awesome, great, redeemable villainess Kool-Aid. IMHO, she’s got a face meant for a Walker. Perfect makeover idea. Eh. Mostly it’s her expression and the deadness of her eyes.

Anyway. Why is it always the fingers? Eff that.

Listen. If ya’ll can’t tell Daryl’s conflicted AF with the situation he’s landed in, you don’t know how to read NR’s face and eyes. He’s not a masterclass like MMB but he’s pretty darn good when he wants to be.

I honestly feel sorry for Redshirt Frost.

“You do what you gotta do.” Frost knows what’s what and he’s willing to walk the walk for Maggie. Impressive loyalty. I’m left wondering how the current, colder incarnation of Maggie inspired it because I’m still struggling to see it. Anywho. My point is the dude knows the score and just gave Daryl the okay.

Daryl taking off his angel vest before stepping into the role of torturer/interrogator=him shedding the persona/the man Judith and RJ and Lydia and Carol know him to be. Pushing away his man of honor status so he can just survive somehow.

Pope never quits chewing whatever the hell he’s got in his mouth. It’s kind of distracting.

Ohhh. We’re back to the Haunted Mansion. I mean house. Where are the Hitchhiking Ghosts?

All the eyes scratched out of those creepy pictures=spooky.

The good old fogged up bathroom mirror shot. Somebody’s been watching and studying their horror movies, lol. Not gonna lie though. I’m legit bracing myself for the jump scares I know have to be coming.

I’m loving the music/score in these scenes.

Truthfully, I could care less about these Reapers. But they are hella attractive, lol. Listen. Angela knows what she’s doing.

Kelly’s horse is so pretty. Prayer chain for that baby.

More dead horses? Why?

Connie’s slingshot? Sorry. I maintain, no matter how much I like these two, that they have the lamest weapons ever. Endless supply of Virginia rocks or not.

So. Did Virgil and Connie enjoy a little equine for dinner? Did they kill it before the Walkers fed? What monsters! Yeah, no. Not if they were starving even if I personally could not have. The more probable story is they fled the camp in a panic and left the horse behind and then it went down. Sorry. I didn’t exactly study the wounds on the poor animal because it is so traumatizing to me to continue to see them meet such dastardly ends on this show. I don’t know who the hell has such a score to settle with horses but stop it.

Days. It’s only been days. Not weeks. So many times with all that Daryl and Company have had to contend with since the cave in? Those do not exist, lol. They’re just a convenient, appeasing piece of dialogue thrown at a fanbase primed and ready to read everything into not much of anything. There’s just not been enough time for it to happen unless Daryl has literally been up 24/7 for all of them. You know, strategizing how to attack the remainders of Alpha’s horde, figuring out how to defend Hilltop before it fell, healing from the wound he sustained at Alpha’s hand, sitting on that log all damn night with Negan waiting on Carol to come home, having a lover’s quarrel with his best damn everything, taking care of the Grimes babies and Lydia, being the reluctant leader. Kang, why you playing them like that? Daryl’s a super guy but he’s not a superhuman with clones. So many times my ass.

Seriously. Who been watching Connie and Virgil? The MIA Oceansiders? Beta’s Fee Fi Fo Fum Ghost?

Nice. A Michonne mention. Maybe the truth will start to trickle out.

LMAO at Connie’s “I’m not staying here.” Me neither, girl. I would be outta that house so fast.

They really “Quiet Placing” this episode. Honestly? I’m kinda loving it.

WTF was that? I know she can’t hear but you telling me all the little hairs on her arms, legs, and neck didn’t stand the fuck up and say fuck this shit, I’m gone? Pardon my language, lovelies, but that moment had my heart kicking up several beats.

Okay, okay. To be fair to Connie, every hair on her body been doing that since the front door closed. Maybe they’re desensitized.

Gollum’s chasing Connie!!! He/She wants their Precious!!!

The knee jerk reactions about this episode sight unseen are OTT, honestly. And I mean no disrespect by saying that. I can understand completely where they’re coming from because we’ve been burned so long in this fandom. But it’s obvious the spoiler source has their particular biases and reads into things in such a way that don’t line up with what’s actually being shown onscreen. Daryl’s loyalty in this episode and all along quite clearly lies with his family and his community. He’s been playing Leah since the start and is truly just trying to survive somehow.

Awful thought. The Reaper that’s so suspish of Daryl--haven’t quite caught his name or really cared to. I feel like he might try to get to Daryl somehow. When he realizes that Daryl cares no more for Leah than any human would care for somebody (they thought) they used to know? He’s going after Dog. Or Carol should she finally join this story.

I refuse to believe Carol isn’t going to be a part of this story. Because they messing with her mans, lol.

“You’re ever with us or you’re not.” Now where have I heard those words before? I wish I could find that Daryl gif because that had to be one of the funniest things ever, lol.

Unrealistic suggestion to Daryl, Leah? Breathing oxygen seems to piss off Carver. Oh look. He finally has a name for me, lol.

I love how all three of the ladies--Carol, Magna, and Rosita--look at Kelly with such indulgent, adoring “little sis, you alright?” eyes.

They are seriously the most beautiful quartet of characters. I mean all of them are lovely but Carol and Rosita this season? Ugh. The unfairness of the pretty.

Human bones. Terminus callback, lovelies. How it all would have eventually gone down if Gareth and Co. hadn’t met the business end of Rick’s red machete.

So many horror movie homages in this one.

Virgil’s like “let’s leave this Texas Chainsaw Massacre behind.”

Connie and Virgil have obviously bonded, ya’ll. I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying their scenes together when the character mostly got on my nerves with Michonne. He’s a good actor and the core of his character is sympathetic, but I’m not going to lie. I wasn’t super enthused when he was the one that rescued Connie because I didn’t know how their scenes would play out. But there’s a nice synergy there.

Okay. Does Carver want Leah for himself? Because I’m sure Daryl at this point would love to scream “take her, I know where I fucking belong!”

Daryl’s digging in deep because Carver has shown him Leah’s potential weak spot. Nuance is truly lost on some people, LMAO. He cares about Leah as a human being probably. He’s Daryl, after all. The sweet one. But he sees her as his way outta this and he’s going to exploit it.

It’s nice to have a silent Negan for once, lol. I can pretend he didn’t take my baby Glenn away from me and enjoy JDM’s pretty.

So. These cannibal people were the watchers? Hmm.

I’m really digging Virgil 2.0. Yeah. Nobody’s surprised more than me.

Sweet, sweet scene between Virgil and Connie. His determination to reunite her with her family brings back the sympathy I felt for him when he told Michonne “I promised her flowers. Every day.”

Damn. How many of those creepy crawly cannibals are there?

How brave of Connie to confront her fears to save someone she’s obviously grown to care about.

The Kelly/Connie reunion gave me chills and made me cry. Thank fuck Angela didn’t cheapen that moment by having it focus on literally anybody else. Kelly is the most important person in the whole world to Connie and vice versa. Just like Carol is the most important person in the whole world to Daryl and vice versa. Angela fucking knows. Everybody does. Except the people busy building castles out of sand while the waves of Carol’s and Daryl’s converging stories keep crashing closer and closer to shore.

Such a beautiful moment given to us by Angel Theory and Lauren Ridloff. So authentic and sweet. Kelly and Connie are home to each other.

Poor Frost. That’s all I gotta say about that.

WTF, though. Was Mel just not available or what? I want to see more of the ASZ characters that I care about, not the Reapers. Like I’d be fine with the story if all the characters not named Maggie, Negan, or Daryl weren’t surviving on crumbs during it. Especially the 2nd billed actress on the entire show. Angela. Please. Fix this.

One last WTF. Seriously. WTF has Maggie done to inspire Pope’s obsession? It better be juicy after all this shit.

Overall impression of the episode--

One of my favorites of the season so far. The horror aspects were fantastic, IMHO. I truly didn’t expect to like Connie and Virgil’s scenes as much together so that was a nice surprise. She got the reunion that felt most true and earned for the character and her story and I thank Angela from the bottom of my heart for that.

I would have loved more Carol but I always want more Carol. I’m okay with her taking a backseat because ultimately? This was Kelly’s moment with her sister. Carol and Connie will eventually have their time to sit down and talk. And pick back up their blossoming friendship because I truly do not feel Connie blames Carol at all.

I do wish Lydia had been included with the girl group. Last episode felt like it was leading up to that.

The Reaper storyline continues to be the weakest link because every time we see them the dialogue and interactions feel totally recycled from the time previous. I feel like it would have totally been helped by a tighter focus and less stretching out because 8 episodes of this is really diluting what I feel like Angela and Co. are going for. I’m not here for Leah being redeemed or being a bigger focus in any of the episodes because she does nothing of interest for me. I’m just peeking in on that story for the Daryl of it all.

Speaking of the Daryl? You lovelies out there gotta stop taking that spoiler source’s recaps at face value because it’s obvious to me at least that there’ some bias at work. Every action and word coming from Daryl is coming from a place of loyalty to his family and wanting to protect them, no matter how he has to dirty his hands. Leah is just a means to his ultimate end. She’s not his future. She never was. His future’s already spoken for and 2023 can’t get here soon enough. But like Daryl, we have to just survive somehow.

Oh goodie. More Maggie and Negan next episode and looks like no real follow up on Connie and the ASZ reunions. Hopefully, this is yet another instance of the previews being deceiving but I’m not holding my breath.

Until later, lovelies.

Hope my word vomit didn’t bore you too much.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons #ignore all the typos #with something this longwinded?#LOL #there's bound to be plenty

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rockthistowninsideout · 3 years

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DigiWeek 2021

Day 4 - Dark/Light

The Story

part 1 part 2 part 4

We woke up early the next morning as the sunlight sent its rays into the cave.

When we had reached it yesterday, dusk had fallen already and the temperatures had dropped significantly. So I had helped Kamemon gather wood which Ryudamon had set ablaze with its fiery breathe. As the fire illuminated the cave, it peeled out archaically drawn illustrations out of the dark. With them, Ryudamon explained to us the history of the Digital World and its most prominent landmarks. File Island, Spiral Mountain, Primary Village, the ocean, the jungle, the ice wastelands, and so much more.

How darkness and light had always lived side by side because one couldn’t exist without the other, but repeatedly dark forces had tried to overthrow this balance and spread gloominess across the Digital and also the human world. When that happened, ancient powers had called humans for help – those children were called the DigiDestined. Usually they were younger than us, aged sixteen we were old hands. In terms of Digimon, though, we were nearly completely ignorant.

Ryudamon couldn’t explain why we had been chosen. Both Digimon had simply felt the urge to go to the meadow where they’d met each other for the first time and waited for their partners to arrive. They didn’t know it would be us specifically but they felt an undeniable connection the moment we had stepped off the trolley.

We had discussed why the other DigiDestined hadn’t been with us but we hadn’t reached a satisfying conclusion so we had decided to go to sleep and see what the new day would bring us.

Now we had breakfast with the remainders of our lunch and with frost berries Kamemon had picked in a small piece of forest around the corner of the cave. It didn’t look like it but it knew the ice wastelands inside out.

“I’m a passionate traveller”, it explained. “The other Kamemon like to stay in our village their whole life – and that’s fine. But I have an adventurous soul that needs to roam free. What about you, Ryudamon?”

“I also rather stay put but this force that dragged me here like a magnet had been too strong and important to ignore. Thank the Digi Gods I have thick fur and my armour, otherwise I would be freezing.”

“Just like me!” Taki chimed in. “But Miko is like a portable heater. I always rely on her.” She smiled brightly at me.

I smiled back because I didn’t mind. On the contrary, I was happy when she was comfortable. Then I asked “How far is it to the place Frezamon indicated yesterday?”

“At least half a day’s march”, Kamemon said.

I grimaced. What was it with me and endurance sports again? “You’re not, by any chance, a flying Digimon when you evolve, Kamemon?”

It shrugged. “I have never evolved before but I don’t think so.”

“And I wouldn’t recommend riding on my back when I’m DexDorugamon”, Ryudamon said.

“A pity.”

So we had no choice but to set off on foot. Immediately as we stepped out of the cave, a beastly wind nearly swept us off our feet.

Taki and I huddled together as we marched through the snow. Kamemon was leading us up an ever ascending slope while Ryudamon was our rearguard. There was no point in stopping, all around there was only snow and wind – and more snow and more wind.

When I thought I couldn’t possibly take it any more, Kamemon announced “Look, up there!”

Taki surprisingly had been holding up pretty well but now that I looked at her I discovered just how tired she was. Then we both looked up to the point Kamemon indicated, and gasped. A round hut, not unlike a yurt, squatted in a nook of the rocks. Smoke rose out of a chimney. “Let’s go up there!”, Taki called, her exhaustion having vanished all of a sudden.

We began to move again but only had climbed a few metres higher when we all froze simultaneously. There wasn’t smoke rising from the chimney anymore, it had been replaced by the deepest, darkest black I had ever seen. It curled and writhed like a single tentacle, until it split itself into at least a dozen tentacles, they all had the same thickness for some reason even though that was physically impossible. Then again we were in the Digital World, and even though there was lots that resembled our world that didn’t mean it adhered to the same laws of physics.

The tentacles stretched until they tore themselves out of the chimney, transforming into solid spikes as soon as they left it. Swishing, they flew through the air in all directions. They disappeared from our view except for one that came straight racing towards Kamemon. It stood there transfixed, the spike coming ever closer, until it became clear to me that it would be pierced by it. Even though we only knew each other for barely a day I had grown quite fond of the little fellow and also I had sworn to be its partner. So just when Kamemon was about to be hit by the spike, I stepped forward and yanked it away. The spike drove itself into the stone with a nasty crack.

“Thank you! Oh thank you!”, Kamemon yelled and hugged me tightly which was easy because I was still holding it in the air.

“Of course”, I said in a casually but I still had to smile. Though only for a second until the cold of our surroundings started to seep into my collar and let me remember why Kamemon had been in hugging distance in the first place. I looked up to the yurt. “We gotta be careful”, I said before I started to walk again.

“You’re right. I don’t what’s wrong, if the other DigiDestined has been kidnapped by that evil force or if they’re even in there”, Ryudamon confirmed and adopted leadership. Kamemon was still shaking from the attack.

We ascended in crouched positions, ducking behind ledges and when there was nowhere to hide we were crawling up the mountain on all fours. Finally we reached the ledge closest to the yurt. I dared to peak over, only to shirk away again when another black spike came flying from the entrance door.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see there, creeping up the mountain like insects!”, someone shouted. It was a pearly voice, it sounded as if it wasn’t actually made to transport the resentment dripping from the words it had said.

We communicated with each other using our hands and decided, despite all curiosity, that it was best to stay low. Then Ryudamon indicated a sheet of ice wedged at an angle between two rocks. It reflected its surroundings somewhat distorted – but it reflected them. That way we were able to see who was standing in the entrance of the yurt. It was a blonde girl, about our age, though she looked Caucasian in the makeshift mirror, neither Japanese like me nor Afro-Japanese like Taki.

We were anxiously watching her moves, in fact we were transfixed on the image in the ice that we didn’t notice something was drawing near until it was too late.

With a roar, a bear-like Digimon with purple-blueish fur and red and silver claws jumped up from behind our ledge. The world seemed to move in slow motion for a second. The bear Digimon – I learned from a quick glance on my DigiVice that it was called Grizzlymon – sailed above our heads and time resumed its natural flow when it landed in the snow, merely a two metres away from us.

“Uh-oh”, Kamemon gulped.

I could only second that. Uh-oh.

Grizzlymon

What if the villains “see the new light”?

“Come on! It’s only a small step!”, Iori urged. He tried to hoist Yukio Oikawa higher up his small shoulders.

“I can’t.” Oikawa’s voice was barely audible. He looked drained, his already pale face had now lost all its colour. He resembled a ghost more than a human being.

Suddenly a light appeared in front of them but behind the border between the intermediate world both were still in, and the Digital World. A round light-green Digimon with a halo of leaves on its head was born from the light. It smiled cheekily at Oikawa. “Finally we meet! I’m so glad, I’ve waited for so long”, it squeaked.

A spark of hope flashed across OIkawa’s face. “What do you mean, you’ve waited for me?”

“Isn’t that obious?” the Digimon said in a tone as if it was talking to a small child. “I’m Datirimon, your Digimon partner.”

Iori smiled desperately at Oikawa. “Isn’t that something? Come on, it’s only another step.”

Oikawa didn’t move and Iori feared that he would lose him right here but then Oikawa put his limp arm down. His hand groped around for support until it crossed the border. Now he dug his fingers deep into the soil of the Digital World. He pulled himself forward, and Iori pushed him.

Pull and push, pulll and push, until only his feet were still in the intermediate world. Oikawa’s face was flush with Datirimon, all remaining strength had been consumed by his way into the Digital World and his limp weight was too much for Iori to carry now. He knelt beside Oikawa, both were panting.

“I knew you would make it!”, Datirimon happily exclaimed. It hopped forward and bumped Oikawa’s nose.

Tears streamed down Oikawa’s face. His eyes were transfixed on the small Digimon before him. “I... have made it”, he whispered. He had no eyes for his surroundings, only for his partner, it was all he could still muster. That’s why he missed the rebirth of the Digital World.

Daisuke pointed his DigiVice at the spot MaloMyotismon had been standing on until its defeat. A new ray of light shot from it, representing the never-ending resolve he had proven to possess in the past hours. His friends followed him, Miyako, Hikari, Takeru, and the older DigiDestined sent rays of their own, and they were joined by all the children who were in the Digital World right now.

From the point where the rays touched, a soft golden glow started to spread as if the surface of the Digital World was cracking up. Where the old and lifeless soil had been torn away, the first bit of greenery started to grow. Butterflies rose and set off to shed the light all around the world.

@digiweek (didn’t tag it right the first time so it probably slipped through)

#digiweek2021 #dark/light #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #iori hida #yukio oikawa #my oc #my stories #digimon

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

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Oktoberfest Effect

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: Teen (for drunkenness)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mandelion82 for lending me her beta services, and being a generally awesome cheerleader! Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt, I hope it brings you joy! Thank y’all for reading!

Oktoberfest, originally from Munich, Germany, is a two week folkloric festival, celebrated between the third Sunday of September and the first Sunday of October. Copious amounts of beer get served worldwide to celebrate Oktoberfest…👀this fic doesn’t reflected the cultural richness of the festival and or what it represents!👀

Tags: In Panem AU; No Games AU; Not representative of Oktoberfest; Drunken Shenanigans; Thunder storms; Snarky!Everlark; Humor; Blink-and-you-Miss-it fluff. One Shot.

———————

Oktoberfest is one of my least favorite festivals in the small repertory of celebrations my District is allowed.

It’s usually held in the beginning of October, after the first showers of Fall, and tends to last all day long, severely cutting into my hunting time in the woods, which comprises the bulk of my family’s livelihood. My mother is a healer, but people used to struggle to pay for her services back in the day, so she stopped charging anyone; people gave her what they could: rations, produce from their squalid gardens, old clothes and such. You’d think people would pay with coins, now that things have improved for common folks, but some habits die hard.

It’s probably the same reason we keep observing a holiday that’s real meaning has been lost to Panem since before the Dark Days; people just know that at some point, Oktoberfest was celebrated around this time, and people ate and drank ale by the bucketfuls, so that’s what they do today.

By the same token, it’s the most popular festivity in District 12, since it’s the only day of the year in which drinking is sanctioned and even encouraged by the higher-ups of government. Trains come carrying ale, spiked ciders, and even hard liquor for the celebration. People like Ms. Ripper, who sells moonshine and white liquor in our black market, better known as The Hob, have free range to sell their wares openly, without suffering repercussions.

The meek, dull denizens of District 12 drink the spirits by the gallons, just for the one day, and pass out in the most unseemly places around town, like savages. If something had become clear to me with the passing years, it’s that people tend to enjoy drunkenness to soothe their woes away, so it’s natural everyone embraces Oktoberfest.

But, as with everything, things aren’t as bleak as I tend to see them myself.

“Katniss!” My sister, Prim, calls breathlessly from the maypole circle, beckoning me over with one hand, while holding a bright, yellow ribbon in her other, “There still are a few ribbons left!” She shouts excitedly, her meaning plain: she wants me to join in the festivities.

Normally I’d shy away from any and all activities that would have me interacting directly with the townsfolk. It’s nothing personal against them, I’m just not used to being touched by anyone, except for my family, and weaving ribbons around the maypole practically ensures I’d be brushing up against any number of strangers …but, there are worse games to play, and I could never deny my sister anything, not even this.

I make my way to Prim and reluctantly snatch up a pale blue ribbon from the ground. My sister’s smile is so bright I almost relax when the music starts, and the dancers take to moving in and out around the pole.

It isn’t as bad as I was dreading it to be. The music is lively; the fiddler follows the dancers while the rest of the band plays on the makeshift stage a few feet away, and the pole is relatively short and moderately wide, so we make quick work of braiding a pretty pattern in one go. Also, people are at a respectable distance from one another, and most everyone feels as awkward around me as I feel around them, so they just give a wide berth when they pass me by.

Prim and I are laughing when the song comes to an end, and we take a minute to admire the pole’s multicolored design.

There’s a line of smiling people waiting in the fringes to take the ribbons the opposite direction to unravel them and weave them together again.

I pull Prim into a hug and kiss her blonde head, fondly. “Let’s give somebody else a turn, Little Duck.” Prim narrows her eyes just a smidge; she’s almost 16 and doesn’t appreciate the nickname as much anymore. “Let’s put some warm apple cider into you, yes?”

Joy returns to her baby blues immediately. “Yes! We should go find Mother as well!” she says excitedly.

“Let’s go then!”

After finding our mother in the crowd, and haggling over three cups of cider and one bag of boiled peanuts, our mother suggests we go home early, before the party gets rowdy.

An unfortunate byproduct of Oktoberfest with all the unchecked drinking is men get loud, bold and stupid. Better to clear out before that happens, because while crimes aren’t tolerated— under the influence or sober—people tend to get belligerent when alcohol is involved.

President Snow died years ago, when I was Prim’s age. Many things changed drastically, like the abolishment of the Hunger Games, and a slightly better salary for miners, but the seemingly tolerant new government of Panem gives men a strange leave to criticize the Capitol while drunk…which technically, is still a crime in today’s Panem, just not as mortally dangerous anymore. Still, women try to haul their spouses home before they can say something incriminating and land themselves in prison.

Nothing can be done about the youngsters, though.

With women trying to keep a leash and muzzle over the men, the teenagers have unhindered access to alcohol and close to no supervision; although spirits are supposedly only served to people 17 and older, I wouldn’t put it past the vendors to look the other way if a group of merchant kids pass a few extra coins across the table, when nobody is watching.

If grown up men are loud, bold and stupid while drunk, teen and young adult men are even worse, and that’s without a gaggle of equally intoxicated girls egging them on.

This year— as in every Oktoberfest— the electric fence surrounding the district lays dormant and harmless, lest one of the hundreds of inebriated fools roaming the meadow fall into the wires and fry themselves upon accident.

Not that the Capitol cares if a few malnourished— probably discontented— miners fall dead during a district festival; people in 12 used to keel over from starvation all the time back under Snow’s regime, but those deaths were usually chalked up to any number of unrelated causes: pneumonia, heart weakness, black lung disease…anything, except starvation. But dying electrocuted on the very fence that’s supposed to keep us safe in our little district is unthinkable! The fence is there to keep dangerous beasts— and nutritious game alike— away from us.

District 12 remains that enduring jewel of Panem, where you can starve in safety! All we need is to drink the memory of our empty pantries away for another year, and everyone is happy. I sigh. At least they did away with the Hunger Games; now we have singing contests and trivia challenges playing on national television instead of the blood shed of innocent teenagers, which is certainly an improvement. Somehow it’s still not a fair bargain, but district folk will never complain about this particular trade; our children are safe, and we get to watch Capitol people make fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Mother, Prim and I make it home early enough to make a quick supper of roasted potatoes, salted fish and the last of the bakery bread I traded for this week. I make a mental note to bring down a couple squirrels to trade with the baker for more bread. The man is one of the few I can regularly count on to trade fairly with, so I always save him the best of my squirrels.

By the time dinner is being cleared off the table, I can hear the murmur of families returning home from the meadow. A surge of nervous energy takes over me. I start bouncing my leg restlessly, peeking at the old clock hanging on the wall.

“Are you going out again?” asks my mother. Her tone is light and her eyes focused on the heap of plates and forks she’s balancing in her hands. I know better than to believe she’s alright with me leaving again.

“For a while,” I answer.

“You could get stuck out there!” says Prim, clearly displeased.

“I’ve been working on a shelter, just in case. I’ll be back before dawn if I can help it,” I say, brokering no arguments.

“Be careful,” Prim mumbles, her blue eyes pleading.

I stand up from my chair and plant a kiss on the crown of her blonde head. “I promise. Now, go make sure Lady is secured before I leave. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas seeing a goat loose out there.” Not that anyone would cross me knowingly, but people get a lot dumber while drunk.

The sun set on the horizon long ago, but all my years sneaking around urge me to blend instantly with the river of dark-haired children trailing their dark-haired mothers and fathers all over The Seam. It certainly is an entertaining sight; the children are immensely happier than their parents, of course, bouncing and giggling, carrying in their spindly arms their Oktoberfest bounty of apples and freshly picked ears of corn stuffed into old burlap sacks, prizes given to them by the Capitol for every one of those silly games they played at the festival. At least they know supper won’t consist of tesserae bread tonight.

Reaching the fence will be trickier now that the meadow is crawling with blond merchants and peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter of the fence ‘for our safety’. A few miners remain, helping with the cleanup process to earn some extra money, but they are so few I can’t use our physical similarities to hide in plain sight. The merchants, meandering around the meadow, throwing nervous glances at the fence every so often, pretending they don’t care the thing is off, certainly hinders my ability to sneak around.

I wasn’t the only person who ventured outside the fence by any means. Historically, people have snuck under the barbed wire links in the past to steal apples and berries, when the hunger pains were scarier than the bears and wild dogs roaming the woods; necessity is a great incentive, it either makes you very brave or very reckless…but the few merchants still hanging out here only linger ‘cause an alcohol-fueled thrill holds them captive. Tomorrow, when they’re home nursing a head-splitting hangover, they’ll go back to cowering at the sight of the fence.

There’s a group of towheaded youngsters, singing obnoxiously, near the edge of the meadow.

I roll my eyes and try to ignore them for the time being. Meanwhile, I skirt around the maypole, pretending I’m admiring the workers’ effort, pulling the pole out of the ground to haul it into storage until next year. It’s a massive effort, but all I can do is lament how now there’s gonna be a soft spot in the ground for a while there, even after they fill it back with dirt and rocks.

I curse darkly under my breath when I startle at the sight of two peacekeepers passing by the merchant boys.

The singing stops while the townies nod politely at the albino buzzards. The boys stare at the peacekeepers until they disappear at a bend behind a big, tall retention wall where the fence stops into a jagged corner, and then the young merchants do something very peculiar…they start a round of ‘Row Your Boat’, holding up their fingers in some sort of countdown. Their voices are so shrill and out of tune, everyone around covers their ears and looks the opposite way.

I cock my head, studying the boys. They’re clearly intoxicated: red noses and ears, laughing at nonsense, and the biggest telltale, a bottle of white liquor passing around their misshapen circle. I realize, they’re not all teenagers. A few of them I recognize from my days in school, and I know for a fact two of them are married, and at least one of them has a child on the way already.

I roll my eyes at their childish behavior.

The peacekeepers appear again in the distance, and the singers stop their song abruptly. One of the older guys lifts his fingers up, showing all ten digits; he closes his fists quickly and opens them again, now showing seven fingers. They all giggle like lunatics, and I lose interest in them.

I round the cleaning crew closest to the fence, but suddenly, one of the townies stands up and starts calling at the top of his lungs, startling me.

“Hey, you! The girl with the braid!”

I whip around, because I’m 99% sure he’s talking to me! I’ve worn my dark, Seam hair in a single braid down my back for the last 8 years or so; it’s practical, really, to keep it that way. But that’s besides the point.

I wear my fiercest scowl on my face, and I get an uncomfortable jolt to the stomach when I realize I know this guy, the one waving at me while his companions guffaw around him, still intoning their childish ditty.

Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son, a boy I owe the biggest debt of my entire life, and for the first time since I can remember, he’s meeting my gaze without wavering.

Debt or not, I have half a mind to stomp his way, grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest tree in retaliation. My mouth opens to ask him what his problem is, when out of nowhere a pair of peacekeepers pop up from behind the retention wall, walking in the opposite direction of the previous set of guards.

“Did you know it takes about a minute and a half to sing ‘Row Your Boat’ seventeen times?” Peeta Mellark chuckles, pink cheeks and nose, tilting his head towards the fence, and then his blue, sparkly eyes flit to the peacekeepers passing by; all the boys stop singing and nod at them in greeting. “Then, it takes like five minutes to sing something else, until we go back to Row Your Boat!”

These guards must’ve crossed the other ones at some point while out of sight without me noticing. If I hadn’t been distracted by Peeta calling out to me, I would’ve run right into them on my way to the fence, if not flat out caught red-handed crossing into the woods, and how would I explain myself then?! Everyone in District 12 knows of my poaching proclivities, peacekeepers included, but that doesn’t mean I should go flaunting around my intention to trespass. Panem is still not completely free and whether people should have the right to escape into the woods for sustenance is still a murky topic…I’m not too keen on finding out if hunting is still a punishable crime by today’s parameters.

I turn my eyes back to Peeta, but he’s already singing and joking with his buddies, and although he seems to be invested in whatever shenanigans they’re doing, I’m not too sure he’s oblivious to me. After all, he had to be watching me pretty closely to accurately guess I was close to being discovered.

I huff. My debt to Peeta just increased, and I have no idea how to start paying him back for it.

The peacekeepers are again out of sight; the merchants are singing again, and like before, people look away from their ruckus. There’s one boy with his fingers up…counting.

Peeta’s watching me; he lifts 4 fingers offhandedly and turns to face his friends.

Clever!

It’s a code, I gather.

They’re timing the passing of the peacekeepers into the ‘blind spot’ with one song, then start a different one to predict when the keepers will be back on the retention wall.

I shake my head to clear off the hint of a smile taking over my face. The silly drunks aren’t as stupid as I thought, I guess.

I make sure no one is looking my way; I also check the kid counting how many boats they’ve rowed, and leap closer to the spot I know there’s a loose link. I only have ten rows before the peacekeepers come back, so I make quick work out of the wires and slip to the other side fast.

The drunk boys break into hoots and cheers once I’m in the woods, and despite myself, I look in their direction just to make sure nobody saw me scurrying out. I’m partially hidden by a tree, and should be safe now.

The cheering isn’t because I slipped out of the districteffectively; the boys are either harshly ruffling Peeta’s hair, or slapping him on the back. They’re all laughing and crowing something I can’t make out, but soon I see the glint of white uniforms out of the corner of my eyes, and hide deeper into the woods.

I decide to check on my snares around here and head home right away. This was perhaps the worst entrance I’ve made into the woods, and too many know I’m out here as it is, but, if the townies are gonna act as a siren of sorts, better to use their system to my advantage.

Then…I need to figure out how to finally speak to Peeta Mellark and start getting my ledger even with him.

It’s completely dark by the time I reach my snares. I look at the sky and scowl. The stars are obscured, and the moon has a hazy ring around it. Clouds are rolling in too fast for my liking. Rain is coming, soon. So I make haste and run my fingers along the first wire I find.

My snare wields two rabbits, and I bag them without resetting the traps. I figure one of these will be enough to hold my family over for a couple of days. I can make some coins out of the second rabbit, which should be enough until Oktoberfest has died down and business resumes as normal. It’s a good plan if I say so myself.

A peal of thunder breaks in the distance, and I grunt lowly. This night keeps getting worse by the minute; it’s good that I’m almost back to my entry point. I head back to the fence, where I can still hear the faint howls of laughter of the merchant boys.

I’m 30 yards from the fence when another clap of thunder roars overhead, loud enough to reverberate in my bones; people beyond the fence shriek. I’ve only taken a step forward when lightning strikes, and I know the storm is hot on my heels.

The chanting of the merchants is getting louder. I never thought I’d think this, but it’s a relief, knowing I can count on them to distract the patrols while I sneak back into the district.

They’re egging and heckling each other like a bunch of rowdy hoodlums.

“Go on! Ten coins says you won’t last a second!”

“I say fifteen, if he brings back proof he was there!”

Somebody belches loudly, making the rest giggle like school kids.

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on finding my loose wire in the distance. I’m only a few feet away from the fence, but it’s dark and windy.

“Seeriouslee, though,” hiccups another, mispronouncing his words. “Gwhat should he…” hiccup, “bring?” Hiccup.

“Don’t know. A berry maybe,”

“Or a bear bite!” cackles another. They all laugh boisterously.

I wonder what they’re up to now. The fools! Don’t they know they should be running home for cover? The first raindrops are already falling.

“Fine! Okay…I’ll do it! But I wanna see all that money now!” slurs a voice I recognize, because I heard it calling me less than twenty minutes ago. “Pay up!”

No! Not him! I think, feeling my stomach drop. Whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t sound very smart.

“Dis it?!” Peeta Mellark groans, “I’m taking all your money, so I can buy me a hen house! Dis not even ‘nough to buy me chicken feed!”

I hear grumbling nearby, and the clicking of metal, suspiciously similar to how coins sound falling on each other. I assume they’re shedding the rest of their money for Peeta to see.

“‘Kay…‘Kay…better now. Okay. Imma go now. Hold me money, Rye…and don’t spend any of it! I counted it… it’s me money! Don’t steal it, or I tell Lavender you were smooching girls a week before you got married!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t steal me money!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! And don’t tell father ‘bout dis either!”

Somebody yells, “Mellark, stop stalling!”

“Yeah! Get—“ hiccup, “on with it al—“ hiccup, “…ready!”

“Goin’, I’m goin’!” I hear a few murmurs.

I swear, Peeta Mellark! If you set foot in my woods, I’ll shoot you in the toes!

I’m close enough to the fence to see a few lights flicking close by, but then another thunder drums, with a lightning to boot, and the rain droplets fall heavier.

“Wait! White helmets!” hisses someone, and even I drop to the ground to hide.

“Evenin,’ officers!” says Peeta.

I can picture him in my mind’s eye, smiling the same way he used to in school when covering for one of his friends to the teachers.

“Evening? It’s almost nine o’clock, boys!” says a woman. I’m not quite familiar with her voice, but I can surmise she’s one of the peacekeepers on patrol. “Curfew starts in 30 minutes, and a storm’s on its way. I suggest you all head to your houses.”

“Yeah, we will finish pickin’ up our garbage and head right home, officer!” says Peeta, all polite and pleasant like.

“Very well. You better clear out by the time we return, or we’ll have you spend the night in a cozy cell at the Justice Building,” says a gruff male voice, most likely the second peacekeeper. “Now, get on with the cleaning, gentlemen.”

There’s a chorus of voices murmuring stuff like “Right away, sir!” and “Of course, officer.” A lot of movement and hushed conversations go on for a minute or so while I lay on my stomach like an idiot.

I can only assume the peacekeepers are out of earshot when Peeta exclaims happily, “Aight! I’m goin’ in!”

The others start fussing and protesting, talking over each other frantically: “You can’t go in!”, “Are you crazy?! You heard them, there’s a storm coming!”, “Stop being a damned hero, Mellark! You already showed us up, by speaking to Everdeen!”

Peeta calls out, “Guys! Shut up! She’s the reason I wanna go in there! She ain’t back yet!”

I frown.

“Everdeen? Dude, she’s probably stalking a deer or somethin’…she’s fine!” says who I believe is his brother.

“Well…but what if she needs help? Shouldn’t some’ne go get ‘er?” He sounds concerned and strangely hopeful.

My stomach does a strange little flip at Peeta’s words, and then I have to shake my head to stop myself from being grateful for his concern. Outside of my family, Peeta Mellark seems to be the only person in this entire district who cares about me.

“No! That girl’s half feral! All them wild things in the woods are probably more afraid of her than we are!” says Peeta’s brother.

I find myself nodding in agreement, but scowling at the same time, because I’m not feral! I just hunt and enjoy the respect— bordering on fear— people have for me.

It doesn’t matter, though! Right now I feel almost as silly as they sound, and I just want them to take Peeta home, so I can climb back into the district and go home myself.

“I’m still goin’ in!” I realize Peeta is looking for the spot I used to come into the woods, and I hear muttering and hissing trying to dissuade him from coming in, but he’s already pulling the wire the same way I did, and a moment later, he’s wiggling his broad frame under the fence like an inchworm rolling on salt.

“No!” I huff under my breath, scrambling to get up, to push him back in the other direction, but then somebody is whispering harshly.

“White helmets!”

I’m not even surprised to hear Peeta’s so-called friends run away then. Coward merchants the lot of them!

A thunder booms above us, and I see Peeta struggling to pull through under the flash of the lightning that follows. It’s a miracle the peacekeepers haven’t seen him, splashing in the muddy pool forming rapidly under his body.

“Ugh!” I finally find my feet and practically throw myself on top of his arms, to pull him in.

Peeta shrieks, startled by my sudden appearance, so I slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Hush! Or they’ll find us!”

I pull him further out from under the wire. He seems to realize what I’m trying to do and relaxes his muscles, letting me guide him forward while propelling himself with the toe of his boots.

There’s a bush just two feet away from us. I drag him with me on all fours and crouch behind it until the peacekeepers’ flashlights disappear.

“Hi!” says Peeta.

“Shush!”

“Sorry!” he whispers…loudly.

“Quiet!” I hiss, bringing a finger to my mouth, as if I was dealing with a toddler instead of a 20-year-old man.

“‘Kay,” he responds, this time in an actual whisper.

I still roll my eyes at him.

Thunder and lightning and cold, stabbing rain fall from the sky unrelenting.

“Listen, we can’t stay here too long; we need to crawl back into the district!” I tell him, peeking from behind our hiding spot to make sure we are alone. I can’t see very far ahead, but it’s obvious the meadow is empty now.

“What?!” he calls loudly.

“For goodness sakes!” I mutter in frustration. “We need to crawl back into the district, or we’re gonna drown out here!” I’m having to yell so he can hear me over the rain.

“Oh! O-kay!” he says, smiling beguilingly at me. “I came to get you!” he yells.

I look at him, trying to convey all the annoyance I’m feeling towards him right now with just my facial expression, but I guess the moonlight is so minimal he can’t see me, because all he does is smile back at me.

“You’re welcome!” he yells after a second in a self-satisfied tone.

“For what?” I snap.

“For rescuing you, of course!”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Rescuing— you… what?!” I screech.

More thunder and lighting make it impossible to keep doing this where we are. And thanks to the storm, it’s too risky trying to crawl under the fence, too. Negotiating Peeta’s humongous body back under the railings in these conditions is just calling for trouble; we’ll either get found by the peacekeepers— if they’re still patrolling— or get hit by lightning; after all, the fence is meant to conduct electricity and fry whatever touches it.

I’m lost in my head, thinking about our options at this point, when a bright flash cracks overhead, so strong, it makes everything look like it’s day time, and I fall back on my butt for how close Peeta’s face is to mine.

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Wow! Has anyone ever told you, you have freckles over the bridge of your nose?” He asks, placing his two paw-like hands on my shoulders, pulling me back onto my haunches. “From close up, your face is as pretty as the night sky with all its coteslations!”

“Hmm…no—nobody’s ever said…” I huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” I tell him, pulling him by the hem of his coat’s sleeve. “I think you meant ‘constellations’ by the way. Alcohol really messes up your speech, you know.”

I think he says something, but I’m not sure, since the storm is swallowing up all the sounds around us.

The going is slow, because we have to wait for lightning to illuminate our way, and once, I realized we were straying onto a different path from the place I have in mind. Plus, I have to keep trying to untangle myself from Peeta’s grasp, so I can feel around the way with my feet. Peeta talks too much…nonstop, and I think it’s mostly the alcohol talking, but ugh! Would it kill him to just be quiet for a second?!

He’s awfully clingy for such a big man. I mean, he’s grown a few inches since we were in school, and he used to be stocky and broad-shouldered, even as a teenager, on account of him being wrestling champion two years in a row, plus having to handle those heavy trays in the bakery and whatnot.

I forgot where I was going with this?

Anyway, I hope the alcohol clears his system soon. He seems like an overgrown puppy at times, the way he trails after me and touches the end of my braid, which I guess he might be using as some kind of leash or rope to tether himself to me. Surprisingly, I don’t find it as annoying as I should. In fact, I find the warmth of his fingers… reassuring.

“Stop!” I tell him, when I hear rustling nearby I know isn’t from the rain.

A wild dog jumps in front of us, and I curse loudly. I should’ve grabbed my bow on our way out here, but I didn’t want Peeta to see my hiding spot; not that he’ll remember how to get to it, but he was able to find my loose chain in the fence, so…

I think the dog is coming after us. But before I can tell Peeta to run, he pulls me flush with his chest and somehow lifts me over his head like I weigh nothing. The dog is momentarily confused, and I take the chance to chuck one of my rabbits past it. The dumb animal looks at us curiously, but after a second, loses interest and goes for the easier, smaller prey.

I just got reminded of how strong Peeta is.

“Thank you!” I call out when he lowers me back to his chest. “You can let go of me now. The dog’s gone, but there might be more around.”

Peeta nods. His blue eyes are wide and alarmed, his cheeks, ruddy with booze just a few minutes ago, are drained of color. “Alright!” he gasps, clearly shaken.

I grab his arm and squeeze, leading him away from the spot.

It’s times like these when I miss my old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne; for starters, he would’ve had a bow on him…he would’ve shot and killed the dog. He would’ve had my back… but Peeta had my back this time, and he surely is no seasoned hunter, not even an outdoorsman, yet it was his quick thinking and sheer brute strength that saved my hide.

It’s also the reason Gale and I broke our partnership to begin with. Given the chance, he would’ve left Peeta stranded out here, instead of finding him shelter. But that’s his style, not mine, and Peeta has shown his worth twice tonight, inebriated as he is.

I release a sigh of relief when I see the opening of a burrow on the side of a small hill. It’s not truly a cave; it’s much too shallow to be called that, but, I found it about a year ago, and have been carving it out little by little for these kinds of emergencies, when I need shelter on the run, and the concrete little shack by the lake is too far, and I want to stay close to the fence, anyway.

“Oooh! Is this a cave? Is it abandoned? We ain’t gonna walk into some bear den or somethin’?” Peeta asks, bumping into my back when I stop to remove a few branches from the entrance of my little hiding spot.

“Get in!” I command him, and he obeys at once.

I take a few minutes to rearrange the branches at the mouth of the cave, just to keep the water from splashing inside, although we are soaked through our jackets.

“Sit,” I tell him, bumping into him again when I turn to feel round the wall of the cave for my provisions. The little hollow is only 5 ft wide by 6 feet deep, so there isn’t much room to wiggle for two people even if we were both my size.

Peeta has to hunch down as it is.

He’s quiet for the time being. My fingers touch the cool glass of the oil lamp I was feeling for, and right next to it, is a box of matches. I can finally breathe!

I make quick work of the lamp, and we are finally in better shape than we were a moment ago. Peeta blinks owlishly at the lamp, and I can tell he’s surprised, but blinded by the sudden light.

“Where are we?” Peeta asks in awe.

“It’s my emergency shelter,” I tell him, kicking a log from the back of the cave towards him. “Here, you don’t have to sit on the ground.” I tell him, watching him sitting almost directly in front of the entrance with his legs crossed.

“You have a shelter out here? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were a genius!”

My cheeks heat up for some reason. “Nah. It’s just common sense. Too many experiences out there without one. Whatever. Intelligence has nothing to do with this, really.”

“So…do animals come in here?” he asks, turning his head around to study the place, not as nervously as before.

“No. It’s too small for a big animal’s den, and too big for a small critter’s burrow. It’s ‘me’ size because I’ve been digging it out little by little, and putting stuff in it for when I find myself in the same predicament we are in right now.”

Peeta shifts to his knees and slowly stands up, hunching a smidge, ‘cause the cave ceiling is too low for him. He lumbers to the log I offered him earlier and sits on it heavily.

“This place is great!” he states, looking at the crude shelving carved into the dirt where I keep the lamp, matches, a couple of cans of food I’ve agonized about leaving here because it feels like a waste, and things like spare arrowheads and fletchings; things that’d be useful in a pinch.

I have a knife hidden inside the very log Peeta’s sitting on, but I’m not about to divulge that secret. It’s my last line of defense, and since I don’t have my bow on me, I feel safer knowing there’s at least one weapon in the cave I can count on. I need to bring a bow here at some point; I just haven’t found a good way to camouflage…yet.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Um, you can sit here,” says Peeta after a long moment passes in silence. “Plenty of room!” He motions to the log, scooting to free up some space.

It looks ridiculous, because there truly isn’t any room left on that log for me to sit. Peeta looks like a smushed rag-doll, sitting on a match box, and all the room he’s leaving next to him, is only big enough to accommodate a toothpick.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, with a reluctant smile. “I’ll stand for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip guiltily.

“Yeah. Let me be a generous host.”

His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “You wouldn’t have to be playing host in your lovely cave if it wasn’t for me. Sorry I was so stupid,” he says sheepishly, “I should’ve known you had it under control before I tried coming in after you.”

“Oh…it’s alright. It was…touching. All those things you said back there.” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he says, sounding almost sober.

Another long minute goes by in silence. “Was that a wolf out there?” he asks suddenly. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought about kicking it, but I was afraid it would mangle up my leg, and then I’d get blood poisoned and since medicine is hard to come by, I probably would’ve lost my leg, and I’m not sure I’d be able to master a fake one…unless it was like a Capitol grade thing with robotic nerve connectors and the such… I read some man in District 3 figured out how to make prosthetics that you can control with a chip implanted in your brain!”

I find myself laughing at his nonsense. And he seems to enjoy my laugh, because he keeps saying outrageous things, I can’t tell if he’s just making them up on the fly, or if he really read about them somewhere.

I slide against the wall after a while, until I’m crouching close to the wet floor. Our clothes cling to our bodies, but most of the water has leaked off of us already, which is good, since I can’t light a fire inside the cave.

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, interrupting his musings about how chewing gum is inherently evil, since we don’t have dentistry accessible in the districts. The boy really talks too much!

Peeta cranes his neck to glare at my game bag, which I recently placed by my feet.

“What do you have there?” He asks, interested.

“A rabbit. But we can’t eat that raw. We’d get sick with fever if we try. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I tell him. “But I have canned fruit we can share,” I offer.

He makes an agreeing noise at the back of his throat. “I could eat.”

“Fine. Um…close your eyes for a second. And don’t peek!” I chide.

As with everything else I’ve commanded today, Peeta obeys without questioning, and soon I’m darting my hand into the end of the log, retrieving my knife.

“Open your eyes,” I say.

“Where did you get that from?!” he screeches, staring open-mouthed at my knife.

“Secret compartment,” I deadpan.

“Well…I hope you’re not planning on stabbing me with that thing. That blade is bound to be dull now that you hacked into that can with it.”

“What does it matter if the blade’s dull?” I ask, exasperated.

“It’ll tear up my skin if you try stabbing me with it!” Peeta answers, arms moving in exaggerated arches, “I much rather get a clean cut through, thank you very much!”

What’s wrong with this boy?! He’s acting like discussing his own potential stabbing is an everyday thing.

“For your information, I’m pretty adept at sharpening things! And…Eww! Gross! Why would I wanna stab you?” I shudder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do wounds, and I don’t do blood.” I pull a face, shivering.

“You kill things for a living!” He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Why, the inside of your bag is covered in dried blood from those bunnies right now!”

“Animals! I hunt animals! I don’t do people’s blood and stuff…gross!”

“You’re kinda squeamish for such a lethal thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up and eat your pears!” I shove the open can into his hands, and he stares suspiciously at me for a minute before digging in.

Peeta moves over a few more inches, and the toothpick space widens to a Katniss’-rearside-size spot. This time, I take his offer gratefully and sit down next to him. He passes the can to me when he’s done.

“You know…this is the first time we’ve done something normal together,” he says, pensive.

“It’s the first time we’ve done anything together, Peeta, period!”

Peeta gasps, and there’s silence for a second. “You’re amazing!” He says, staring and blinking at me while I chew, as if I truly was some extraordinary sight to behold.

I scowl. “Why? Because I fed you canned food in a torrential storm in the middle of the woods?” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic.

“Yeah…” he says dreamily, then scowls, then shakes his head. “Nah! You’re just…amazing! Even my mother says that you’re a survivor and the only thing District 12 has of worth…a better version of Haymitch Abernathy!”

Haymitch Abernathy is District 12’s one, and only living, Hunger Games Victor. He’s also a grumpy hermit, and a drunk, and the richest person in the district. Like me, he was born in the miners’ sector, nicknamed the Seam. People say Haymitch used to be smart as a whip, and a looker too, but now he’s just a paunchy, middle aged man, with anger issues.

“Well, that’s not much of a compliment, is it?” I wrinkle my nose.

Peeta laughs, brushing his shoulder against mine…but that’s to be expected, he’s a giant after all, and the cave is practically a tall dresser.

“No, I guess it’s not. But father always gushes about your squirrels. Says you never hit the pelt. You always shoot them right through the eye!”

“Well, anyone can do that with enough practice.” I shrug.

Peeta snorts, and his knee presses against mine. “I wish I could do even half of the stuff you do. You’re an amazing hunter, and smart, and so pretty, and you can bring down deer, and the way you are with your sister…well, my big brothers have never been doting with me as you are with Primrose.” He sighs, looking at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. “You are something else!”

“I— that’s not…” I’m frustrated and embarrassed, so I snap, “I wouldn’t have been able to do, or be, any of those things without your help, so…there!”

He scoots closer to me. His body is strangely warm, even under the layers of wet clothes. There’s bewilderment in his blue eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away from the way his hair is all matted to his forehead. He looks boyish. Kinda cute.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice.

I chuff. “Well, it was like today,” I start, leaning back, averting my eyes. He smells of spirits, but weirdly enough, I’m not repulsed by the scent. “You called out to me in the meadow, and I was about to rip you a new one, but then I realized you were trying to help me. Then, you save me from a wild dog, by doing something as simple as lifting me over your head, like I weighed nothing.” I feel small, all of eleven years old, and the fact that I’m wet to the bone and cold to the marrow doesn’t help my case. My voice comes out tiny, “You fed me when we were kids. I’ve never been able to even thank you for that!” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling, and blink some 28 times to keep from crying.

Peeta sidles up against me. “Oh, Katniss,” he says low and reverently. I realize with a jolt, that it’s the first time he’s said my name. “You’re talking about the bread when we were kids?” His eyes glass over. “You can let that go now… after saving my ass tonight from the storm and the peacekeepers, I think you can count us even.”

“How can you say that?” I demand, “You keep saving me, and I don’t know why?!”

“Really?” he asks, cocking his head sideways, scrunching his face, and shutting one eye like he can’t quite see me clearly with both eyes open; his tone isn’t malicious, just surprised. “You know why…at least, I think you should,” he says, shrugging and leaning closer. “I thought you’d notice how all of my friends were roasting me because I finally said something to you, and all I said was something lame about Row Your Boat.” He chuckles. “Fifteen years I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when I finally do, I call you ‘ Hey, girl with the braid’ like an idiot!” He practically leans into me.

“Fifteen years?” I ask, bewildered.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his ears turning cherry red. “I seem to have harbored a crush on you since the first day of school, when we were five.” He slumps back against the wall, and suddenly I wish he was still draped over me, warming me up.

“Really?” I ask, because this story seems far-fetched.

“Oh yes! It’s a whole thing! Me being a goner from the moment I heard you singing that very first day…remind me to tell you all the gory details some day.”

“You betcha,” I say, amused.

“I’m sorry I’m such a dork, but hey! At least imma buy me some chickens to sell eggs, and save, to buy my father’s bakery one day, and then I’m gonna ask you out on a date or somethin’.”

“Uh— what? Really?!” I chuckle.

Peeta yawns. “Yeah, Imma take you somewhere nice for a picnic, like Victor’s Village or something, and I’m gonna bring good bread this time! None of that burnt, soggy crap I threw at you when we were kids, but real, freshly baked bread. With butter. And probably canned pears, ‘cause those are my favorites now!”

“Okay,” I tell him, not completely sure why I’m agreeing to this. After all, I decided a long time ago I was never getting married or having any children, at least, not as long as the Hunger Games loomed over me; I won’t be stringing Peeta along either. Gale accused me of doing just that once, which I don’t think I did? The accusation still stung.

Right now, it feels nice to think I could go on a date with this crazy merchant boy; and who knows?!

“Buttered bread sounds nice,” I say, sinking next to him.

“This is nice!” Says Peeta, sleepily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah…it is,” I agree, realizing just how steady and warm his arms are, even encased in wet clothing.

“Will you go out on a picnic with me, then?” He asks hopefully, yawning again. His eyes drooping with sleep.

“I think I might,” I tell him. I haven’t felt this safe in anyone’s embrace since my father died when I was 11 and I stopped trusting my mother. “I think I will,”

I’m beginning to think that the alcohol fumes clinging to Peeta have gone to my head, and left me as simple minded as all the intoxicated people back home, maybe I have it wrong, and Oktoberfest does have its charm, because despite myself, it feels right to indulge in that fantasy tonight. After all, Peeta was the only person in the district back then, that cared enough about me and my family dying of hunger, to do anything about it. He gave me bread he purposely burned for me, all he gained was a bruised eye from his mother, and my inability to repay his kindness, for his generous gesture.

“Good! Just a heads up, though, I’ll prolly propose to you at that picnic, ” he says. His eyes are already closed, and I roll mine in response. “What you think my odds are of you saying yes?” He snuggles up to me, his head falls onto my shoulder.

“The odds might be in your favor,” I tell him softly; I’m not so sure I say that to humor him, though. I am really tired, and sleeping in his arms does sound like a luxury right now, so I’m gonna blame it on the ‘Oktoberfest effect’ in the morning. Plead sleep depravation insanity or something. “Night, Peeta,”

He mumbles a response, which turns into a slow snore.

I close my eyes, smiling.

I’ll indulge in the drunken ramblings of Peeta tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and if the saying is right, the sun shines brightest after a storm…maybe it’s time I bask in the rays.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #autumn #prompt

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catxsnow · 4 years

Note

6."I'm not going into that haunted house" (comics!Tim Drake, please and thank you. Stay safe 😘)

6."I'm not going into that haunted house" + 7."So the little girl was here before or we have to start running?" + 13."I'm not getting into that abandoned house" I figured this request could have been combined lol. Not really sure what this turned into but here we are I guess

Warning: mentions of blood

Tim had been working on a case for two days straight. His eyes were droopy as he looked at the screen and he had trouble staying awake. You knew him well enough by now that he wasn't going to rest until he had solved it. As bad as he was at taking care of himself, you knew it to be good reason.

Families disappearing with no signs of struggle or reason. He dedicated himself to finding out why these people were being taken at the expense of his own health. This wasn't the first time he had done it, and it surely wouldn't be the last. So, you had taken it upon yourself to help him in anyway you could.

Which meant, that as soon as he found a suspected place to where these families were being taken, you were meant to go with him to check it out. You just hadn't expected it to be the night of Halloween and the creepiest looking house in Gotham. A house that you didn't even know existed until now.

It was evident no one had lived there for years. Plants overgrown and scaling up the house. Trees surrounded the entire place making it perfect to stay hidden from the public. There were no lights, but from the way the moon shone on the house you could see the broken windows that were half boarded up.

You looked over to Tim with raised eyebrows. "I'm not going in there," you shook your head. There were a lot of places that you were willing to go with your vigilante life. Sewers, the top of skyscrapers, even space. But that house sent chills down your spine. "Look at it! That place is haunted, I'm not going in."

"Are you serious right now," Tim looked at you as if you were crazy. The two of you had seen a lot of messed up, scary things together - but now you were scared of a house? A clap of thunder rang out, followed by the sudden drowning of rainfall. "It's not haunted, it's abandoned. You're being ridiculous."

Just as he finished speaking, a flash of lightning struck down on the old chimney of the home. It brightened the inside of the home, showing eerie shadows that seemed too similar to ghosts. The place screamed American Horror Story. The fact that Tim wanted to drag you in there? Not a chance.

"Fine, I'm not going in that abandoned house," You crossed your arms over your chest. Rain drenched your clothes and hair, making Tim even more antsy to get inside. He dragged a hand down his face, wishing that you weren't being so problematic at the moment.

"I'm not dealing with this right now," he shook his head. "Lives are at stake. Either come with me or go back to the cave. I never asked for your help." HIs mood quickly changed for the night. Families were at stake and you were out here joking around because of some spooky house on Halloween. He was right, lives were in danger.

With a huff, you followed him inside the house. Both your masks were in night vision but you didn't risk leaving his side. Even with agreeing to come in with him, it was evident that Tim was still annoyed at you. You silently followed him through the house, looking for any signs of the missing families.

One of the floor boards behind you creaked. However, when turning around, there was nothing there. Tim looked over at you, gesturing for you to go follow the noise while he kept on going. Not wanting to frustrate him anymore, you did as you were told. Reluctantly, you followed where the sound had come from, leaving Tim's side.

The creak sounded again as you got closer. You forced yourself to hold back a scream as the shine of a raccoon's eyes glared up at you upon rounding the corner of the room. That must have been what made the sound. Satisfied, you hurried back to Tim.

He stood at the top of the stairs to the basement. You shook your head, telling him that you had found nothing. Just as he was about to open the door to go downstairs, the same creak echoed through the room. The two of you looked back, expecting to see that same raccoon that you had early. Instead, there was a little girl in it's place.

She had bright blonde pigtails and a white dress that was stained. Whoever she was, she couldn't have been much older than eight. You looked over at Tim before kneeling down to the little girl. She must have been one of the ones from the missing families.

"Hey, it's okay," You kept your voice low in hopes not to scare her. Slowly, you reached out to her to see if she was okay. "We're going to get you out of here. You're gonna be just fine, is there anyone else here with you?" She didn't say anything, just looked at you with cold eyes. Hesitantly, you inched forward.

Before you could grab her arm, the one hiding from behind her back suddenly lashed out and she swung a knife down on your wrist. The blade cut through your suit and skin. You retracted your hand and stumbled back towards Tim. The two of you were shocked by the occurrence, and in the millisecond that you both looked to your wound, the girl had disappeared.

"She's gone."

"People don't just vanish, where the fuck did she go?" You scowled, holding onto your arm. "I knew it was a bad idea coming in here." The door that Tim had cracked open had slammed shut. You both jumped around to see what the cause was - just like before there was nothing there.

"Robin..." You trailed off, looking back to where the little girl once stood. A second one stood beside the first - same pigtails, same dress. The only difference was this one had been stained entirely red. It looked as if they had come right out of The Shining. "There's two of them now... can we start running?"

"We're not running from two little..." He stopped himself. Right before your eyes, both girls quite literally vanished. These weren't regular girls - and truth be told you weren't really ready to find out what they were. The cut on your arm was aching and you could feel yourself getting woozy from the blood loss.

"Red," You grabbed Tim's shoulder. He could see the paleness in your face - both from fear and the wound. You had gotten worse than this before, so why was this one cut effecting you so much? The house? The girl? Maybe the knife was poisoned. Either way, Tim wasn't going to risk it.

He swung your arm over his shoulder and kept his on your waist. The two of you rushed out of the house, glad to be back in the soaking rain instead of that horrifying house. Tim set you down on his bike, grabbing your wrist to see the cut. As he did so, you looked back to the abandoned home.

Lightning lit up the sky once more, illuminating the window perfectly to see the two little girls staring down at you. The sky became completely dark - moon hidden behind the clouds and the stars dimmed from the storm. You couldn't even see Tim directly in front of you. However, as lightning struck again - the house was completely gone.

"There's no cut-"

"There's no house," you cut him off. Tim looked back towards the house, shocked to see that you were right. The creepy, abandoned house was completely vanished and an empty lot sat in it's place. There was no sign that there was ever a structure there. Just as there were no sign that you had ever been cut by the knife - except the rip in your suit. "What the fuck."

"What the fuck," Tim mimicked. He couldn't understand how it just vanished - or how your cut did as well. What happened to the two little girls? Were they even actual girls? Ghosts? Tim couldn't figure it out, nothing made any logical sense. "It was right there. How could it just disappear?"

"I told you we should have never gone in there!"

"I'm not arguing with you about this right now, let's go home and figure it out," Tim muttered. You were sure that he was going to be up all night trying to learn how an entire house could just vanish in the blink of an eye. It was impossible.

"I'm telling you, It's the Halloween spirit," You argued with him while getting on the back of his bike. There was no other reason - not even magic could explain why the cut you had gotten suddenly healed as soon as you left the house. "Those little girls were ghosts in a ghost house."

"You're being ridiculous, there's no such thing," Tim put his helmet on and pushed up the kickstand. His bike revved in the night as thunder rumbled across the sky. "There's probably some mystical reason. I'll take to Zatanna about it, I'm sure that she can explain what happened."

"Halloween spirit, Timmy," you repeated. "You don't think that it was just coincidence that you found this place on Halloween and it disappeared literally at midnight? I mean come on, the signs are right there."

Tim looked down to check the time to see that you were indeed correct. It was only just past midnight, meaning the house would have disappeared right as the clock struck twelve. The correlation was creepy - he could admit that - but Halloween spirit? Not a chance.

"Let's just go home."

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake one shot #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin imagine #dc one shot #dc imagine #dc #halloween prompts

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thicctails · 3 years

Text

Summer Of Whump Day 23 [Sick/Survivor’s Guilt]

Crosshair cursed as Cal went limp in his arms, the boy slumping lifelessly. Omega was right behind him, her eyes slipping closed as she wheezed in pain. Both kids needed his attention, but he could only focus on one of them at a time.

‘Damn it! This is why I need my vode here, then we could make sure they were both getting the help they need right now.’ He cursed mentally.

He laid Cal on the ground and pressed his hand against the boy’s stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. Part of him seethed with anger at the fact that he had given that wretched creature a quick death. Keeping one hand on the wound, he leaned over and started checking Omega over. Spots of crimson bled through her clothes, soaking into the fabric and spreading further as the seconds ticked by. The bite on her leg concerned him the most, as the animal’s fangs were quite long.

“What happened here-!”

A woman’s voice had his head snapping up. There was a woman and a few kids now standing before him, horrified expressions on their faces. He moved in front of the downed children, bristling with protective fury. The woman, a Togruta dressed in familiar brown robes, moved into a defensive stance, lightsaber in hand but not yet ignited.

“Easy,” She started, raising one hand, “I just want to help them.”

“They would not need your help if you hadn’t stolen them.” He spat venomously.

A flash of guilt came over the woman’s face. “I know, and I’m sorry. We thought that you were working with the Empire.” She inched a bit closer, and Crosshair’s hands twitched towards his rifle. “But I can help them. If you let me, I can save their lives, but we have to be fast.”

Crosshair’s eyes flicked towards the wounded children, mentally calculating how much medical supplies they had and if he could even carry both of them back in time to use the supplies before they passed away. His decision was made for him when Omega started shaking and sounding like she was choking. He nodded quickly and scooped Omega and Cal up into his arms. The woman and an older teenage Bothan rushed forward, grabbing the other teens who had been injured during the fight.

“Follow me.” The Jedi said, and he obeyed without argument.

They ran through a network of caves until finally stopping in a pristine chamber. A pool of water sat in the middle, surrounded by thick white cots. Crosshair placed each of the kids in his arms on their own cot, turning Omega over on her side. She coughed up a horrible mix of foamy saliva and stomach acid, her sides heaving as she vomited. The sight disturbed Crosshair greatly. Clones didn’t get sick, so if someone was puking their guts out, it was usually because of one of three reasons.

One, the person had had a bit too much to drink.

Two, they’d seen something so bad it had turned their stomach.

Or three, the person was dying.

Judging by how Omega hadn’t been drinking and had been face down in the dirt for most of the ordeal, that left only the third option.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster ad’ika.” He whispered, rubbing Omega’s back.

Suddenly, the Jedi was beside him, her hand pressing against Omega’s leg.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked.

“The same disease that drove that animal mad is coursing through her bloodstream. I must remove it before it reaches her heart.” The woman said, closing her eyes.

Omega whimpered under her touch, and the sound was almost enough to make him turn and attack the Jedi to make her stop touching the girl. But he resisted the urge, knowing that Omega needed this Jedi’s help. Not wanting to be useless, he turned his attention to Cal, peeling up his shirt to examine the wound on his stomach. It was a large laceration, going from the tip of his left hip to the start of the right side of his ribcage. Blood spurted from the wound, sticking to the boy’s clothes and sliding down his pale skin. Crosshair cursed and looked around the room, searching for something to wrap the cut with.

“Bandages are on the left side of the room. Top drawer.” The Jedi murmured.

Crosshair got up and retrieved the bandages as quickly as possible, grabbing some clothes as well. He dipped the clothes in the water and began to clean Cal’s wound. Once the blood had been wiped away, he could see that it wasn’t as deep as he had originally feared. It would scar, but the boy wouldn’t need stitches. He carefully wrapped the gauze around Cal’s torso, making sure that it was tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that it would restrict his breathing.

He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, unsure of what to do now.

“I didn’t know clones could have children.” The Jedi mused, her voice startling Crosshair out of his own thoughts.

“They’re- they’re not mine. I’m just looking after them.” He said, a bit shocked that she had thought that he was their father. Had he really gone that soft?

“I knew that Cal wasn’t yours, but with how quickly you moved to protect them, I thought perhaps young Omega here might have been related to you. She has your ferocity.” The woman replied, frowning. “I can sense that she would be willing to kill to protect those she loves.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Crosshair questioned, eyeing her but not fully turning to look at her.

“For someone like her, it can be. She is strong in the Force, unusually so, but she is inexperienced. She has no way of fighting off the temptations of the Dark side, and if she uses her abilities to hurt or kill, she may end up Falling.”

“Falling?”

“Falling means you’ve given in to the Dark side. She’s a wildcard, and her raw power makes her dangerous. There are those who would seek her out and drag her down into the dark with them. In the wrong hands, she could become the Galaxy’s worst nightmare.”

“That won’t happen.” Crosshair growled.

“I had a feeling you might say that.” The woman smiled. “You’re welcome to stay here while they recover, if you’d like.”

“Thank you.” He said, knowing that she was taking a risk by having him there.

She nodded. “I am Crèshe Master Azeu Mirthver, but please just call me Azeu. There are spare rooms available, or if you’d like, I can set up a bed in here.”

“I want to stay with them. I need to make sure that they’re okay.” Crosshair said immediately.

Azeu nodded again. “Omega will need monitoring. Her Force signature is radiating a sense of illness and exhaustion, and I fear that a fever may soon set in.”

“A fever?” Crosshair arched an eyebrow. “This quickly?”

“Her immune system is incredibly weak, and she’s practically bleeding stress and pain. This has been a long time coming.” The Jedi sighed, getting to her feet. “I’ve managed to remove the disease, but the puncture wounds are deep. They are the highest risk points for infection, so they’ll need to be checked regularly. I must go check on Tiger and Chex, can you finish applying her bandages?”

“Sure.” Crosshair said, taking Azeu’s place at Omega’s side.

“I’ll be back with a fresh set of clothes soon. I’ll be right down the tunnel if you need me.” Azeu said, quietly leaving the cave.

Crosshair made a noise of acknowledgement as he started to clean the bites on Omega’s leg and ankle. Azeu had cut away part of her pant leg, making it seem like she was wearing shorts on one half and pants on the other. He dabbed at the puncture wounds until his cloth no longer came away bloody, hating how, for most of the time Omega had been around him, she’d been seriously injured or recovering from a major injury.

“We need to get you some armor, eh shiny?” He joked softly, wrapping the bites gently in gauze. “Where would we even find armor that little, huh?”

He ran a hand through her hair, smiling when she made a small noise and unconsciously shifted closer to him. Silently, he gently worked out any knots in her hair, occasionally plucking a stray flower petal from her hair. He glanced at them, a small twinge of sadness rippling through him. There had been two flower crowns on the ground when he had leaped down from his vantage point, well made and still mostly intact, if a bit dusty. He hadn’t payed them any mind at the time, too wrapped up in his panic as he tried to save Omega and Cal from bleeding out on the dirt. Thinking on it now, they were probably Omega’s handiwork, as there weren’t any flowers where he had first heard Cal’s voice coming from.

“We’ll go pick some new ones once you’re better, okay?” He whispered. “But you’ve got to get well first. No running off ‘til we’ve got all of that nastiness out of your system.”

He turned and looked at Cal, his voice still quiet as he spoke. “And that goes for you too, little jetii.”

Maker he is going soft.

It unnerves him slightly; how easily the two children in his care have made him drop his cold exterior. He hasn’t been this open, this vulnerable, since he’d been a small cadet, just barely beginning to learn what his purpose was. Back when he’d been shiny and wide-eyed and new, just like the rest of his vode. Back before the gruelling tests and painful experiments. Back when he had simply been CT-9904, although he didn’t miss the number designation. He’d worn the name his brothers had given him like a badge of honor, as it was something that had been freely given to him, the first thing that had really belonged to him.

He thinks about that, about names. Omega, although it is not a traditional designation, is still the identifier the Kaminoans had stamped on her medical charts. It’s a name, but is it truly hers? Does she even know that, if she wanted, they would help her find a new name? Would she want a new name? What would it be? Something soft in nature, he thinks. Hunter and Tech had picked picked their names based on their enhancements, but he doesn’t think Force or Sensitive would make a very good name.

Flower, maybe?

No, that’s too soft.

She’s good with her bow, so maybe Sharpshot or… just Bow?

No, he doesn’t want her to have to be named after her fighting skills or a weapon like so many of his vode are. They were made for war, but he will do everything in his power to keep Omega as far away from it as possible.

Omega shifts again, and the movement makes him realize that she’s shivering. Crosshair looked around, searching for a blanket. He can’t see any, so he moves to stand up and go look for the Jedi master to ask her where they are. Omega whines pitifully when he moves away, and the sound has him sitting back down right quick. Her face scrunches up in discomfort, and he can hear her murmuring under her breath.

“Mnh… Wrecker, snap out of it…” She whimpered softly, and Crosshair’s heart breaks.

He can’t leave her, not when she seems to be getting some form of comfort out of him being there, but he also doesn’t want her to be cold. There’s only two sources of heat in this room, and he’s not going to put her near Cal, not when he’s injured like he is. That left only himself.

He’s never been the best cuddle buddy, too gangly and thin to be very comfortable to lay on. Tech had been the only one who could ever find him suitable to use as a pillow, the smaller clone curling up near his stomach. However, he’d been told that he ran warmer than his brothers, sometimes reaching fever-levels of heat after a particularly intense combat training session. So if warmth was what Omega needed right now, he’d simply have to make himself as comfortable as possible.

He shed his armor and set aside his rifle, leaving himself in only his blacks. As if sensing his sudden increase in softness, Omega lunged for his stomach, pressing her face into the taunt muscles. Crosshair coughed quietly, wrapping an arm around her as he eased himself down to the floor. The area around eye was still bruised from when that damnable trooper hit her with his blaster, so he gently nudged her face so that she was resting with her bad eye off of his stomach. She snuggled down into him, sighing softly. Slowly, her shivers subsided, leaving her smiling as she slipped into a more peaceful state.

Crosshair huffed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The floor was far from comfortable, but he’d slept on worse. Shifting, just slightly, making sure that no sharp points were poking Omega, he settled down to sleep. The weight was so familiar, so comforting, he found that, for the first time in years, sleep was coming easily. He blinked tiredly, his breathing slowing down as he relaxed. Lulled by the exhaustion of the day and his own heartbeat, he let his eyelids slip shut.

Cal’s vision was blurred as he cracked his eyes open, groaning. His torso burned, a thin stripe of agony that stretched across his body. Bleary eyed, he reached out to the Force, searching for Omega. Her Force signature glowed warmly, drawing him in. Pushing himself up, he stumbled over to where she was, letting the Force be his guide. As his eyes adjusted to the now dim light, he spotted Crosshair and Omega lying on the ground, Omega’s face buried in the older clone’s stomach. Still groggy from sleep and unwilling to go looking for Master Mirthver, he laid down on Crosshair’s free side, leaning against his chest as he snuggled up to him. An arm fell over his back, pulling him closer. Cal yawned and closed his eyes again. For as long as he could remember, he’d slept alone, no matter if he had been sick or hurt or afraid. He’d always felt like asking to sleep with his Master would have been against the Code, even if he had just awoken from a terrible nightmare and really needed the comfort.

Now, as he lay in this cave, cuddled up to a clone that, a few days ago, would have killed him for comfort, he found himself wishing that he had sought out that comfort, taken that time to experience the closeness that he only now realizes that he’s been desperately craving. Tears well in his eyes as he fists part of Crosshair’s outfit, and he knows it’s not because of his wound.

He misses his Master so much that it hurts. It hurts more than any of his previous injuries combined. The guilt had made him feel like he was made of stone, but for the past few days he hadn’t had a moment to feel guilty, to preoccupied with either being terrified for his and Omega’s life or so filled with joy and warmth that he had been fit to burst. But now? In the stillness and quiet? The gnawing feeling came back, making him curl up into a little ball.

What was he doing? He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to be comforted. He’d been a terrible padawan, possibly the worst padawan! He’d let his Master die, what kind of person did that? All he’d had to do was be faster, move quicker, think quicker, and yet he’d failed. He’d failed, and then he had been alone, lost and left to mourn amidst the wreckage of a war that would soon come to an end in the worst possible way. When he’d been captured, a part of him had wanted to simply attack, to get them to end his life the same they had ended his Master’s. But the fear that had been coursing through his veins had made him freeze up, to not call to his Master’s lightsaber, which was safely tucked away out of sight.

He thinks, bleakly, that he might have overcome his fear if he had been thrown into that cell alone.

Omega had been a burst of starlight in his life, the Force around her curious and untameable. She was unlike any padawan or Jedi he’d ever met, so open and bright. She projected her emotions and made no move to shield her thoughts, having no secrets to keep locked away. Being around her was overwhelming but it was good. It was good because he was so focuses on her that there was no time to think about what had happened, what he’d done. She’d saved him, kept his mind from going back to the dark place it had been in during his time alone on Bracca. A dark place that was slowly dragging him back, its sharp claws digging into his mind.

“Cal?”

Master Mirthver’s voice was quiet as she stepped into the cave, a bundle of blankets in one arm and a cot tucked the other. Cal sniffed and peered at her, his green eyes wet with tears. The Togruta gave him a sad look, moving over to kneel beside him.

“What is troubling you, young Ketsis?” She whispered.

“ ‘m a bad padawan.” He croaked, his voice trembling. “I let Master Tapal die.”

“Oh Cal,” The Crèshe Master crooned, draping a blanket over him, “that isn’t true in the slightest. No one would ever blame you for what happened that day. Jedi Masters that had been training for longer than you’ve been alive couldn’t stop the clones. Master Tapal’s death was not your fault.”

“Yes it was!” He sobbed, the tears falling freely now.

His raw emotions and sorrowful cry woke the two clones he had been resting with. Crosshair jolted a bit, his military upbringing making him snap to alertness. Omega was a different story, all slow movements and hazy questioning over their bond. Crosshair drew Cal into a hug, understanding that the youngster was upset but not yet knowing why.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rubbing Cal’s back. “It it your cut?”

Cal pressed his face into the clone’s chest, making a noise of disagreement.

“He feels guilt.” The Togruta explained. “He blames himself for something out of his control.”

The Jedi’s words did nothing but make Cal cry harder. Crosshair looked hopelessly confused, unsure of what to do or how to make things better. Omega, now very much awake and practically being suffocated by Cal’s emotions, wiggled her way over Crosshair’s body and pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible.

“Let it out.” She whispered. “Let it all out. You’ll never be really alright if you don’t get everything out when it starts to be too much.”

The redhead shuddered, clinging to her like his life depended on it. Omega winced as she moved her leg, letting Cal cry into her shoulder. Her own tears slipped down her face as she shared his misery and pain, and she leaned against Crosshair for support. The man brought both her and Cal into a hug easily, wishing that he could help more.

“You’ll be okay.” She rasped. “I promise.”

Crosshair and Azeu looked at each other, neither one quite knowing what to say or what to do. Omega seemed to be the only one who could truly understand what Cal was going through, but neither adult wanted such pressure to fall on the shoulders of a young child. Azeu tentatively reached out with the Force, but quickly pulled back when she felt a sharp, almost electrical feeling. It was like a force-field, protecting those within and keeping any others out. She couldn’t tell if Cal had put it up in an attempt to shield his broken psyche, or if Omega was, in her exhaustion, was trying her best to protect her friend.

Unable to do anything other than simply hug the distraught kids, Crosshair murmured quiet comforting words, both in Basic and in Mando’a. After a while, the sobs died down as the children fell back asleep, still holding onto each other. Silently, Azeu and Crosshair constructed a plush bed for them. Crosshair held Cal and Omega close, not wanting them to wake up and start stumbling around in the dark. There was a pool of water near by, after all, and he didn’t want them falling into it. There was no resistance on their end, the duo easily finding a comfortable spot on his chest and in the crux of his elbow.

“I’ll be back to check on them in the morning.” Azeu whispered.

Crosshair nodded, laying his head down. The blankets made sleep come even easier, and he quickly found himself back in the darkness of sleep.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

Crosshair smoothed Omega’s hair down, the blonde locks dampened by sweat. The girl’s face was flushed, reddened by a fever that had taken over her body. Her brown eyes were glassy, fogged over by illness. The sight was distressing, both for Crosshair and Cal. The freckled boy was in his cot, staying there only because Azeu had threatened to move him into a different room if he kept trying to check up on Omega. Crosshair wasn’t looking towards him right now, but he was sure that, if he looked, he’d see Cal sulking. He sympathized with him, but the clone knew that he needed to rest.

“I‘m cold.” Omega whined, shuddering.

“You might feel cold, but I assure you, you’re warm as an oven, little verd.” Crosshair replied.

“Lil’ wha?” Omega questioned.

“Verd. It means warrior.” The man responded fondly.

“Oh.” She said, glancing up at Crosshair. “Whatsa warrior?”

“Someone brave who fights for the good of others.”

“Y’think I’m brave?”

Crosshair gave her a kind smile. “Of course. Bravest little clone to ever grace this wretched Galaxy.”

“Awww.” She giggled, leaning into his hand. “You’re so nice, Crosshair.”

“I think you’re the first person to ever say that.” He said, ruffling her hair.

“That’s ‘cause you act too much like a cactus.” Omega replied.

“What?” Crosshair looked at her, confused.

“Prickly on the outside, soft on the inside.” She said, sounding very sage.

“Oh, quiet you.” Crosshair snipped, no heat behind his words.

“Crosshair?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

A bucket was swiftly handed to Omega, and the poor girl clutched it as she emptied her stomach of its contents. Crosshair awkwardly rubbed her back, wincing when she started coughing. He himself had never thrown up, but he’d heard stories from Echo about the time he and his twin, Fives, had gotten blackout drunk. Apparently, it was one of the worst feelings you could experience.

Once she was done, he offered her a cup of water and helped her get comfortable again. Omega groaned as she lay back down, her face contorting in displeasure.

“I don’t like being sick.” She whined.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Crosshair said sympathetically.

“I wanna go home.” Omega sighed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“Me too, ad’ika. I’m going to try and contact the Havoc Marauder as soon as you’re better.” The older clone said.

“Why not before?” The young girl asked softly.

“I don’t want to leave you here while I go look for a signal. You can both come with me once you’ve recovered.” He explained.

“Why can’t we stay here?” Omega asked innocently.

“I don’t exactly trust the people who kidnapped you and Cal to be the best babysitters.” Crosshair muttered.

“They’re not bad people, Crosshair. They thought that you had kidnapped us. They’re all really nice.” Omega glanced down. “Except for Chex, he’s kinda mean.”

“Kinda?” Cal lifted his head off his cot. “He nearly cut you in half!”

“What?!” Crosshair growled, sitting up straighter.

“He thought I was like the chipped clones!” Omega explained quickly “He just wanted to protect his family.”

“That’s not an excuse for attacking you. Nothing is an excuse for attacking you.” He hissed, pulling Omega closer, as if to defend her from some unseen threat. “You’re a child. You didn’t do anything.”

“He didn’t know that.” Omega said softly.

Crosshair hugged her closer, and Omega could hear his rising heartbeat thundering in his chest. She nuzzled his stomach, trying to calm his anger before he did something stupid.

“Please don’t hurt him.” The blonde haired clone gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t want you to start a fight you can’t win.”

“I can win any fight.” He muttered, but made no move to get up and hunt Chex down, so Omega counted it as a success.

“He’s still a jerk though.” Cal piped up again. “I kinda want to see Crosshair scare the daylights out of him.”

“Cal!” Omega scolded, leaning over to glare disapprovingly at him.

“What?” He asked teasingly. “Don’t pretend that you don’t want to see that.”

Omega puffed her cheeks out, but her sickness-induced flushness and ruffled hair robbed her of any semblance of intimidation. “Where is he anyways? I lost track of him once things got crazy.”

“Forming an apology, I hope. He owes you his life.” Cal huffed, before closing his eyes. Omega lifted her head slightly, sensing him reach out with the Force.

“Oho, he is miserable! He’s as sick as you!” Cal chuckled, before hissing and clutching at his chest. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“Laughing at someone’s pain? That can’t be something Jedi do.” Omega teased.

“Not a Jedi yet, still got time to make mistakes.” Cal argued, lying back down.

Omega huffed, feeling sleep creep up on her. She yawned, stretching her arms.

“I just woke up, how am I already tired?” She complained, rubbing at her uninjured eye.

“You’re healing. Sleep, ad’ika.” Crosshair said, pulling a blanket up over her shoulders.

“One day, I will figure out what you keep calling me.” Omega yawned again, letting sleep bring her into it’s gentle hold.

Blaster fire, yelling, the smell of smoke.

Omega cowered, staring up at the uncaring face of the man before her. Steel blue eyes look down at her with disdain, the man’s lip curling with disgust.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little defective. You’ve caused quite a stir, what with your escape on Verbrick. You know, the Kamnioans want you back, but since there are so many little Force users here, I see no reason why we can’t just take one of them instead.” He smirks, and Omega feels very cold. “Kill her, and grab one of the children. Not the redhead, though, that one is to be exterminated.”

NONONONONONONO!

The Force becomes alight with her rage and fear, and she calls out to someone, anyone.

She finds someone. She finds them, and the world explodes with noise.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[23]#omega bad batch #cal ketsis #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch #star wars #star wars the bad batch #whump prompt #writing challenge

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veliseraptor · 4 years

Text

this place could be beautiful

[READ ON AO3]

@mdzsnet told me that it was Xue Yang’s birthday today and to my immense surprise I actually managed to finish writing something for it! possibly the fastest 4k I’ve ever written, I don’t know, nobody check me on that.

The summary here is “five steps taken by Xue Yang toward domestic living, and one time he really wanted it.” A big thank you to @paradife-loft for the prompt and @ameliarating for an extremely quick beta-ing job. Remaining fuckups mine.

content warning: allusions to sex that’s inherently dubious on account of identity issues, semi-graphic descriptions of violence both actual and imagined, canonically character death/suicide, I didn’t fix anything and I’m sorry.

---

Xue Yang sometimes wondered if Xiao Xingchen was aware of a-Qing’s little expeditions and just pretending he wasn’t, or if he genuinely thought she was just that good a scavenger. He leaned a little toward the former, because while Xiao Xingchen was an idiot in a lot of ways he wasn’t actually stupid, and a-Qing was only a middling liar at best.

He’d followed her the first time she’d gone out collecting scraps, mostly because he didn’t trust her as far as she could’ve thrown him and had smelled the lie on her the second she gave it. He told Xiao Xingchen he was going to take a nap and then slipped out, following after her as she pickpocketed her way through Yi City with the expertise of a great deal of experience.

His respect for her rose a notch. Though he did have to wonder how she knew which targets to hit, without being able to see.

Xue Yang was pretty sure she couldn’t. Pretty sure.

He left her to it, deciding that she wasn’t up to anything that needed to concern him. When she came back bearing a not insubstantial amount of money, claiming she’d traded fruits of her scavenging for it, Xue Yang just barely managed not to laugh.

He followed her a couple more times, just to make sure that she wasn’t up to anything other than petty theft. As far as Xue Yang could tell, she wasn’t.

Fine, then. Wasn’t like they didn’t need the money, and he wasn’t going to judge.

Xue Yang actually wasn’t following her when he heard her shrill voice saying, “are you really going to come after a blind girl? Shame on you!” And then, shriller, “let me go!”

Huh.

Xue Yang considered. If she’d gotten herself caught in some trouble, she could get herself out of it, or not. Didn’t make a lot of difference to him, really. Maybe she’d get herself killed, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with having her around all the time. If a-Qing couldn’t help herself then she didn’t deserve Xue Yang doing it.

Just out of curiosity, though, he turned and headed in the direction of her raised voice, following it into a narrow alley between buildings. A-Qing was boxed in at the end of it, three boys cornering her, laughing. One of them had her stick and was poking her with it. She didn’t look hurt yet, just spooked, at least so far.

He leaned against one of the walls and watched, head cocked.

It occurred to him that Xiao Xingchen would probably be disappointed if a-Qing didn’t show up for dinner.

One of them must’ve felt him looking and turned around. “Get lost, cripple,” he said.

“Why?” Xue Yang said lazily. That question seemed to stump him, and Xue Yang laughed. He flushed.

“Get out of here,” he said again.

“Don’t want to. Go ahead. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” The other two turned around. Xue Yang grinned at them. “Seriously,” he said. “Keep going. I’m curious what you’re going to do to her. There’s so many options.”

A-Qing was frozen. Xue Yang tapped his fingers against his leg. The good one. The other one was almost all the way healed now, if still frustratingly weak. Good enough for them, though.

“You know what someone’s skull sounds like when it cracks?” he said. The idiot who talked first looked blank, and Xue Yang let his grin widen. “Really? No?”

“What,” idiot number one said. Or started to.

“Like this,” Xue Yang said.

It was a nice crunch, the sound of bone meeting the wall with the kind of force he put into it. Good, satisfying. The second time caved in the side of his head.

The other two bolted, which was really too bad.

A-Qing was taking quick, panicky sounding breaths. Xue Yang dropped the corpse-in-process he was holding - still twitching, he’d be gone in a minute or so - and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Wow,” he said. “Idiots, right? Thinking they can fuck with you and not get in trouble.”

She didn’t say anything.

“See you when you get back,” he said. “Steal something nice for me.”

He walked back to the yizhuang with a bit of a spring in his step. A-Qing did not bring him anything nice. It was a good thing he hadn’t really expected her to.

Well. There was his good deed for the next five years. He hoped she was grateful.

II.

Xiao Xingchen might be a famous cultivator who had poems written about him, might be a capable fighter who had suppressed countless monsters and ghosts, but, Xue Yang quickly learned, he didn’t know shit about dealing with money.

He overpaid for everything. When Xue Yang pointed it out, he smiled and said if they’re asking that much then they must need it.

Mother of fuck, it was a miracle he hadn’t starved to death after giving away everything he had.

It was funny, the first couple times he went out shopping with him. The first time he didn’t even technically go with him, just watched from a distance as Xiao Xingchen got himself fleeced and cheated, the naive idiot.

It was less funny when he came back to the yizhuang apologetic about the lack of food, and he had to go to sleep if not hungry then at least less than satisfied.

The next time, Xue Yang went with him. That went a little better, though mostly Xiao Xingchen ignored his attempts to push the prices down. At least he could keep them from giving him bad produce.

By the third time, he was genuinely annoyed by the whole process, and the hungry, anticipatory way that the shopkeepers eyed Xiao Xingchen like he was easy prey, which of course he was, but not theirs.

Mostly, though, he just let Xiao Xingchen deal with it. He never asked, anyway.

The next time Xiao Xingchen picked up a basket and announced he was going shopping, and did they want anything, Xue Yang got up and tugged it away from him. “I’ll go,” he said.

Xiao Xingchen seemed startled. A-Qing sat up, expression immediately turning suspicious. “You’re offering to do something?” she said. “Something helpful?”

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said. “Turns out. World’s full of surprises, isn’t it?” He kept his eyes on Xiao Xingchen, who paused and then smiled.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“Course I don’t,” Xue Yang said. “You think I’d do anything I didn’t want to, Daozhang?”

A-Qing was still frowning at him like she thought he was up to something. Xue Yang had no idea what she thought he was up to, and kind of wanted to ask, but he didn’t care enough to do it.

“I really don’t mind going myself,” Xiao Xingchen said.

“Uh huh,” Xue Yang said. “What, you don’t trust me?” He pitched his voice light and teasing, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head with another smile.

“All right,” he said. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Xue Yang said, hooking the basket over his arm, and waltzed out toward the street.

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen called after him, and Xue Yang’s stride hitched a little. He paused, just for a moment, then called back over his shoulder, “you’re welcome, Daozhang!” and left.

Yi City’s merchants were not ready for him. It was great. It was the most fun he’d had in a while.

It wasn’t until he was on his way back that he realized that the most fun he’d had in a while was shopping for groceries. That he’d enjoyed it. Admittedly, the enjoyment had mostly come out of terrorizing the people who’d been cheating Xiao Xingchen for weeks, but still.

And he was looking forward to bringing the fruits of his work back, and dropping them on Xiao Xingchen’s lap, and the smile that would curve his lips. Thank you, my friend, he’d say.

He shook himself. It was funny, wasn’t it? Nobody else got the joke, at least not so far, but he knew.

Thank you, my friend, Xiao Xingchen would say, smiling. He’d scream if he knew the truth. Xue Yang looked forward to hearing it.

III.

Today was a nothing day.

Nobody else called them that, but that was how Xue Yang thought of them. There was one every ten days where Xiao Xingchen decided that nobody was working - Xue Yang didn’t know why, something about how it was important to take time to rest and be still. They were quiet and lazy and dull and Xue Yang had begun to really enjoy them.

Not just because it meant Xiao Xingchen didn’t make him get up early, and often the chance to do other things in bed in the morning.

(That was new. New-ish. Sort of unexpected, but the good kind of unexpected. Xue Yang was pretty sure he’d never fucked the same person this many times before, and he was getting to like it - the learning what got to him, what he liked, what made him cry, how much pressure it took to leave bruises on Xiao Xingchen’s pale skin.)

Today was this week’s nothing day, so Xue Yang nuzzled up to Xiao Xingchen and scraped his teeth against the skin of his neck, hand sliding down over his stomach.

Xiao Xingchen hummed and caught his hand before it went far.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “Not this morning.”

Xue Yang frowned against his neck where he knew Xiao Xingchen would feel it. “Why not?”

“I have to go out today,” Xiao Xingchen said. His frown deepened.

“Out?”

“Wang-furen told me yesterday that her sister is having trouble with the ghost of their grandmother,” he said. “I told her I would take care of it as soon as I was able.” Xue Yang pulled back and stared at him.

“You didn’t say anything about this,” he said.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said. “I expect it’ll be a simple matter - it doesn’t seem the ghost is malicious. But it is several hours journey, so I need to leave soon.”

“But it’s a nothing day,” Xue Yang blurted out. Xiao Xingchen’s eyebrows knitted together.

“What?”

“You know,” Xue Yang said. “The day where we don’t work and go out and help people, or whatever. That’s ours, you and me. And a-Qing.” A prickle of irritation started under his skin, at Wang-furen and her sister, for putting this on Xiao Xingchen, dragging him out, making him take care of their problems and they probably wouldn’t even pay. Or Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t let them.

Xiao Xingchen’s frown deepened.

“Once a week,” Xue Yang insisted. “There’s always one a week. It’s supposed to be today.”

Xiao Xingchen was quiet for a moment, and then let out a bit of a laugh. “It isn’t a rule,” he said.

“But-”

Xue Yang broke off. But it should be, he was thinking, irritation edging toward anger. But it’s supposed to be. This is part of how things go. We have a routine and Wang-furen and her ghost grandmother are ruining it.

He pulled away, sharply, and rolled out of bed. “Fine,” he said sulkily. “Better get going, then.”

The frown in Xiao Xingchen’s voice was audible. “This is...important to you?”

Xue Yang said nothing. He could feel his face getting hot. This, he thought, was why you didn’t expect things from people. They’d up and decide that some stranger’s stupid problem mattered more than his good day.

“It is,” Xiao Xingchen said slowly.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang muttered. He started collecting his clothes from where he’d thrown them on the floor.

“I won’t be gone all day.”

Just most of it. Besides, it was the principle of the thing.

He heard the rustle of Xiao Xingchen rising, his quiet footsteps, and fell still, tensing. His fingers brushed Xue Yang’s shoulder.

“I said I would go,” he said. “I can’t go back on my word.”

Of course not. Xue Yang’s lips twisted and didn’t answer.

“Tomorrow,” Xiao Xingchen said after another couple moments, his voice firm. “Would you mind...tomorrow, for a...nothing day...instead?”

Xue Yang turned to look at Xiao Xingchen, eyes narrowed. He was being mocked, he thought, or worse, humored. But Xiao Xingchen looked serious.

“You don’t have to,” Xue Yang said. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“No,” Xiao Xingchen said. “It’s a good idea. I hadn’t meant for it to be...but now that you’ve pointed it out, I think it would be nice. To have a day marked specifically for ourselves.”

Xue Yang blinked at him. Xiao Xingchen smiled.

“Tomorrow,” he said, slowly.

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen said. “If it’s fair weather we can go to the river and swim. I think I would like that.”

Xue Yang could feel the tension starting to bleed out of him, almost against his will. “Hm,” he said. And then, cautiously, “yeah, all right.”

Xiao Xingchen smiled at him, then bent his head down and kissed him in that horribly gentle way he had sometimes. He pulled back too fast for Xue Yang to turn it into something else. “If you want something,” he said, “please feel you can ask.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. The bizarre urge to laugh rose up and he let it happen. “Aw, Daozhang,” he said. “You’re sweet.”

“I know,” Xiao Xingchen said brightly. He paused, and then said, turning just a bit pink, “and I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

Xue Yang felt himself grin. “That right?”

Xiao Xingchen’s flush deepened, but his smile stayed. “I’ll certainly see what I can do.”

You make it so easy, Xue Yang thought, and he wasn’t even entirely sure what it was.

IV.

A-Qing was sick.

Coughing, puking, dripping snot, the works. It was disgusting. Xue Yang had been wrist deep in someone’s entrails, sure, but he could deal with that. This? Much worse.

It was actually a relief that Xiao Xingchen had sent him off with a list of herbs he wanted.

“Or you could just let her die,” he’d said.

“No,” Xiao Xingchen said firmly, though with a flicker of his lips like he thought that’d been a joke, which it had, sort of, but also not really.

Xue Yang was pleased by the wary glances he got from the merchants as he walked through the market. They knew by now that he wasn’t someone they could fuck with, and these days didn’t even try. Sometimes he pitched insultingly low prices just to check, smiling with all his teeth.

Nobody’d tried to argue with him in a while.

He sauntered over to an herbalist and started looking over her wares for the things on Xiao Xingchen’s list. Nothing particularly rare or expensive, at least. A few things he didn’t recognize and had needed to ask Xiao Xingchen to describe.

Maybe he’d pick up something nasty and pretend he’d made an innocent mistake. Wouldn’t have to be fatal, or anything. Xiao Xingchen would catch it before she actually took anything, though, so it’d be pointless.

“On your own today?”

Xue Yang glanced up, a little surprised at being addressed, and the shopkeeper did look a little like she regretted speaking up. Xue Yang grinned at her, bright and friendly, and she relaxed. “Looks like,” he said.

“Is your family well?” Xue Yang blinked at her, and she gestured at the herbs he was collecting. “I only ask because of your choice of purchases.”

“They’re fine,” Xue Yang said automatically, and then, “my what?”

“Your...family?” The shopkeeper began to look nervous again. “That daoshi and the little blind girl.”

Xue Yang stared. And then burst out laughing. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, you think-”

She looked baffled, which just made him laugh harder.

“They’re not my family,” Xue Yang said. “That’s - I’m going to tell a-Qing you said that. She’ll hate it.”

“Then…” she looked even more confused. Xue Yang was tempted to reach out and pat her on the cheek. He just shook his head and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

He paid something almost approximating a fair price for the herbs and walked away, still laughing to himself. He made it halfway back to the yizhuang before it stopped, very suddenly.

Caught on that ridiculous word - family - he’d missed the other thing.

On your own today? Like that was a surprise. Like he wasn’t supposed to be, or wasn’t expected to be. Incomplete in himself, like people saw him and looked next to him for someone else. Someones, apparently.

Xue Yang stopped. Obviously Xiao Xingchen was his and it was good that people knew that and could see it, and if anyone was going to kill a-Qing it was going to be him, so.

An eel wriggled through his guts and then curled around his stomach.

It wasn’t...exactly a bad feeling.

He wasn’t sure it was a good one, either.

Whatever, he told himself, and picked up his pace again, heading-

(Home.)

He ended up not mentioning the conversation at all.

Xue Yang was watching Xiao Xingchen weaving a basket when it happened.

The three of them huddled around a fire, a-Qing shivering even wrapped in a blanket, and he was tempted to throw something at her and tell her that if she couldn’t handle the cold she should just go inside. She wouldn’t, though. Stubborn idiot.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his hand, just thinking, just - watching. A smile pulling at his mouth. Xiao Xingchen wasn’t smiling, his expression serious and focused the way he got when he was concentrating on something.

It wasn’t his favorite Xiao Xingchen expression, but it was a good one. Up there with the one he made when Xue Yang made him laugh, helpless and unrestrained, and the one he made when Xue Yang had his mouth on his cock and he was coming apart.

His eyes dropped to Xiao Xingchen’s hands, watching the sure and confident way they moved, and he wondered if they got enough materials if Xiao Xingchen could sell his work. Maybe he’d put the idea to him. Might be able to bring in some extra money, get another blanket for the winter. Maybe next year-

Xue Yang’s thoughts hitched.

Next year.

Typically, Xue Yang did not plan very far ahead. He kept his expectations for the future relatively low, and his plans fairly immediate. There was no point in anticipating a future that might never come, or might come in a shape that you could never foresee. Better to just be able to react, to improvise and adapt and change course as necessary.

The past two and a half years, he’d been biding his time, he’d been waiting and playing things out as they came. Knowing he could move on whenever he wanted, could end this whenever he wanted.

Next year.

Xue Yang dropped his hand from his chin and sat up, an alarm shrilling at the back of his head. You’ve settled, it said. You’ve been leashed, you’ve been tamed.

Get out. Get out now.

His fingers itched. The back of his neck itched. His breath caught in his chest and he rocked back like he’d been shoved.

Xiao Xingchen stopped weaving and turned his head in his direction.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” Xue Yang said automatically. “No, I’m good.”

The alarm went quiet. His thoughts went quiet. Slowly, the tension bled out of him.

So what?

So what if I stay? So what if I keep this? Isn’t it mine? Don’t I deserve it?

Besides. Next year was next year. Why worry about it now? It was just thinking. It wasn’t like he was ruling out anything else. It wasn’t like he couldn’t change his mind later. Wasn’t like he was committing to anything. And even if he was - so what?

This life was his, now. Why should he have to let it go?

“Are you sure?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said. “I’m sure.”

ONE.

Okay. Okay.

So that hadn’t ended up going as planned, but it was fine. He hadn’t expected Xiao Xingchen to do that, the idiot - why, why would he do that, why turn his sword on himself, why did he have to go and-

But it was fine. Xue Yang knew how to bring him back. And yes, all right, he’d be dead and not the same as he’d been before, but that was fine, too. They’d figure it out. And Xiao Xingchen would make a glorious fierce corpse.

As soon as he woke up, they’d start over.

He washed him up carefully. Cleaned the blood off his hands, washed his face and changed the bandage over his eyes to a clean one.

(Xiao Xingchen hadn’t liked him doing that. He got so self-conscious about it. Xue Yang brushed his fingers against his eyelids, collapsed into empty sockets, and reminded himself to mention that he thought they were beautiful.)

Xue Yang’s hands stuttered a little cleaning the open wound across his throat. It didn’t look too bad, really. Shuanghua’s edge was very sharp, the edges neat and clean.

He pulled his eyes away and checked the talismans again; they were right, obviously. Xue Yang knew what he was doing here, better than anyone still alive. Now he just had to wait.

Everything should be perfect for when he woke up, though. That’d been - a bad argument, ugly, Xiao Xingchen had said some nasty things that’d hurt but it didn’t matter now, it wasn’t important now. He’d have to figure out what to do about a-Qing. Xue Yang wanted her dead, but Xiao Xingchen liked her. Maybe it’d make him happy, having her around still.

He’d just carve her eyes out, make her blind for real. Settle for that.

Xue Yang cleaned up the house - their house, the house they’d shared, repaired together. He started with just the coffin home itself and then moved on to the courtyard, because Xiao Xingchen hadn’t woken up yet and he’d be happy to see that, too; he always liked it when things were clean.

He’d always liked it when-

Xue Yang’s thoughts stuttered, like his hands.

He cleaned and polished Shuanghua and then placed it carefully out of reach - he’d give it back, of course, eventually, but not until he was sure that Xiao Xingchen could be trusted with it, that he would be good.

And he would be. This was - this was better, really, than before. Xiao Xingchen knew him, now, and as a fierce corpse Xue Yang would be able to control him and keep him from doing anything stupid, like - like cutting his own throat, say. Xiao Xingchen would only do what he wanted-

He wanted Xiao Xingchen to give him that look, the amused-but-frustrated one that he got when Xue Yang said something a little too outrageous, where he felt like he shouldn’t laugh but still sort of wanted to. He’d still do that, right?

He won’t. You know he won’t.

Xue Yang bit his tongue and went to make dinner. Automatically, he started out making it for three, but he caught himself quickly enough and cut down the portions. Keeping his ears tuned for any sound, for movement, for Xiao Xingchen waking up and realizing that he wasn’t dead, that he still had his life and still could have his life, the one he’d been happy with before Song Lan had to come along and ruin everything.

Because he was going to wake up. Any minute now. It was taking longer than normal but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work. It had to work, there was no reason it shouldn’t work.

He laid out the food and sat down. It was dark out, it’d been hours, but that was okay. It was good that it’d taken this long, actually, since it’d given Xue Yang all this time to get ready, to make everything ready, everything in place the way that Xiao Xingchen would want it. Remind him that really, Song Lan had left him, everyone else had left him, but Xue Yang was still here and wasn’t leaving, would never leave.

Any minute now.

Everything was going to be all right.

#xue yang #xuexiao #xiao xingchen #the sad queer cultivators show #a wild fic appeared #the untamed #mdzs #mdzsnet

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years

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This is a bit random but if characters from your fics lived in the Atla universe what element would they bend? Personally I think Lily would still have all her powers which would result in people thinking she's the avatar even though she's not, Obito would be a firebender, Minato an airbender and Lenin dearest would be a waterbender/bloodbender/maybe the avatar?. This is just the vibe I get tho-

Who needs bullet points when we can do a far too thought out AU that spans multiple fandoms/recursive works that will never happen?

More to the point, elements in AtLA is a mix of personality (we see earth benders as often brash and stubborn, water benders as adaptive, etc.) but also simply genetics. So, while I get that’s kind of the point of this post, it’s a bit weird to me to assign an element solely on personality.

So with that, let’s get started.

The Setting

Just to make things fun let’s make our AU take place sometime between Sozin’s first comet and Roku’s death and Aang awakening from that iceberg. The air benders have been wiped out, seemingly with no survivors, the South Pole has been invaded and the water benders from there captured and brought back to the Fire Nation, many of the colonies in the Earth Kingdom have been established, but the North Pole and great cities in the Earth Kingdom still stand.

The Avatar hasn’t been missing for one-hundred years yet, but he’s been missing for decades and people are coming around to the idea that maybe he’s really not going to show up.

Wizard Lenin/Tom Riddle

In this AU we’ll give Tom Riddle a slightly more traditional shitty background. Since we can’t really have a Tom in the AtLA universe he’s going to have the AtLA generic equivalent name that canon even jokes about: Lee. Lee is the mixed heritage son of a Fire Nation lord and a water bender from the south pole who grows up in a Fire Nation orphanage. And yes, this does happen in the absolute worst way you can possibly imagine, one of the imprisoned water benders from the south pole is raped.

As for Tom (Lee, you get the idea) arriving at an orphanage instead of being imprisoned/taken in as a son, well I’ll leave that to imagination but we can imagine a relatively compassionate guard, a dash of luck, or perhaps someone being an idiot and thinking “oh just dump it in an orphanage, there’s no way it will turn into a water bender too”

So, Tom grows up in an orphanage and looks just a bit... different from everyone else and is clearly not purely from the fire nation. I’m imagining much darker skin (and POC Tom Riddle is the weirdest thing in the world to contemplate, but here we are) and the pale blue eyes.

Tom grows up, dreaming probably of entering the military and winning himself glory, prestige, honor, and clawing out of this impoverished life he was born into. He undoubtedly desperately hopes he’s a fire bender, as not only is it cool but they have the best chance of making it in the world, and probably stays up late for many nights fruitlessly attempting to shoot fire out of his hands.

Unfortunately for Tom, sometime when he’s probably around eight or so, turns out he’s actually a water bender. Naturally, Tom has a huge meltdown and existential crisis as this means something’s terribly terribly wrong. More, all his hopes are ruined, as while a non-bender can make it a bender who is not a fire bender is a foreigner and traitor to the state.

Tom runs away and being a precocious child is able to make it on his own and about the country probably pulling off Toph-like scams. Eventually he runs into a much younger Hama who has just escaped prison and not yet started on her scary old lady adventures of imprisoning random villagers in caves. Hama goes, “of course, yes my child, I knew your mother” and gives Tom the whole horrible rape tale along with “I will teach you everything I know including my scary blood bending”. So Tom learns scary blood bending, probably stays with Hama a few years, and then realizes Hama isn’t going anywhere.

Hama’s content kidnapping random people into caves. At this point, angry and suddenly very pro-water bender Tom wants to murder the Fire Lord and his entire goddamn family and put himself in charge. Go big or go home, am I right?

So Tom leaves, Hama probably saying, “Come back any time, my beautiful murder child” and probably goes exploring the world in search of how the hell he’s going to bring down the Fire Lord. He also probably murders his entire father’s family and steals all his money, but that’s a different story. I imagine he goes to the North Pole where he learns that, as much of a water bender as he is, that he’s the son of someone from the Fire Nation closes pretty much every door to him. He’ll always be an outsider and the North Pole is very frosty towards him.

According to Hama, the South Pole is in shambles, so Tom probably doesn’t even bother going.

So Tom probably goes and bums around the Earth Kingdom, loitering in Ba Sing Se and Omashu, looking for that damned Spirit Library in the desert, etc. for a good number of years as he works to perfect his water bending and make himself an instrument of death.

And then he meets an alien and everything changes.

Lily

Tom probably manages to wander around the spirit world at one point in his late teens and probably almost gets eaten by something terrifying. While he learns much it’s not really anything useful and is more in the “too cosmic horror for Tom” variety. More than that though, something follows him back out.

When he comes to back in the real world there’s this thing sitting next to him that looks enough like a person but also like someone told a gifted artist what humans look like and they got it mostly right but also went a little nuts. It’s a girl, a few years younger than him, who has flaming red hair, absurdly green eyes, pale skin, and facial features he can’t recognize for the life of him (Lily still looking western in this to up the ante of ‘she’s an alien folks’).

Tom sacrifices his dinner to it and hopes it doesn’t eat him.

It explains that it’s a tourist from another dimension, beyond even the Spirit World, and that it’s come to see what the mortal world is all about. Tom is naturally very weirded out but at this point decides to roll with it.

Except it doesn’t leave and clearly expects Tom to play tour guide.

He does, reluctantly, because he doesn’t want to be eaten but he also sort of gets used to the thing. Then, one day, it starts bending multiple elements with utter ease and Tom is at first flabbergasted and horrified (only to remember that spirits can do what they want and aren’t like lowly mortals who can only bend one element) and then he gets the idea.

The Avatar, lazy bastard that he is (and Tom might be a little more than slightly bitter that he himself is not the Avatar), appears to be MIA and not coming back any time soon. The entire world it seems is waiting for the Avatar to come and save them. But, Tom says to himself, who needs the Avatar when you can just have an Avatar. An Avatar and, of course, her water bending master.

Thus, the scheme is set, Tom will teach this weird alien thing how to a) act like a goddamn human in public and b) water bending and together they will pretend she’s the Avatar and got lost in the spirit world a few decades ago (which accounts for the youthful age and the weird appearance) and use this to gain allies, topple the Fire Nation, and eventually give the throne to Tom.

Lily, who doesn’t know the difference between being a tourist and taking over a nation, goes along but is basically this story’s answer to Uncle Iroh always getting distracted by Pai Sho.

Haru/Dead Last

Given that they’re in the Earth Kingdom, and that Lee picks up water bending insultingly quickly which makes Tom fume in rage, they go to pick up an earth bending master/spread the word that the Avatar has returned from her multiple decades long vacation.

Along the way they probably run into Haru, who is the world’s most useless excuse for an Earth Bender. As always, he’s so average looking you can barely remember what he looks like beyond “generic earth bender”.

They probably watch him for two seconds, Lily asks if this is it, and Tom Riddle says, “what a joke”.

Minato Namikaze

Given that all the air benders are dead we’re going to make Minato a very talented earth bender (it is also very weird to imagine a dark haired/dark eyed Minato, but I suppose we’re going to roll with it). This also, to me, does fit his personality a little better as while he is a leaf on the wind kind of guy he also does dig his heels in and get very stubborn now and then.

Minato’s young, younger than Tom (Lee), but he’s incredibly talented and clever. To keep his shinobi background mostly in tact I imagine that Minato is a swiftly rising member of the Dai Li, stationed in Ba Sing Se, but who occasionally goes on intelligence missions to the other feudal powers in the Earth Kingdom.

So I imagine Lily and Tom run into him unnervingly frequently, probably first meeting him off duty in Omashu where he does his “extremely polite and friendly local guide” routine to show the pair the city (never mind that Tom insists he’s been to Omashu plenty of times goddammit). Despite this, Lily and Minato become friends, Lily easily confessing she’s the Avatar (which Minato at first thinks is a joke, even if she looks strange, then goes ‘oh my god, it’s not a joke).

Eventually Minato is stationed to spy on them under the guise of teaching Lily earth bending. So he joins the gang. Tom, who knows exactly what’s going on, is not amused while Lily is just happy to collect another friend who will actually play Pai Sho with her.

Kushina Uzumaki

Kushina is a earth bender, hands down. I debated making her a water bender (because whirlpool) but that personality is just pure earth bender material. Besides, I can just picture her so easily coming from Kyoshi.

So Kushina’s an earth bending Kyoshi warrior, who while ten times as powerful as Minato, also lacks any of his control or cleverness. Kushina has undoubtedly left Kyoshi, abandoning their neutrality, to join the war and kick some fire bender ass.

She does this but along the way frequently runs into the gang where she annoys the ever loving shit out of Minato (her new rival) and claims that Avatar Lily is her new idol.

Rabbit

Rabbit is a mysterious spirit from Lily’s past that she refuses to talk about except in the darkest of terms promising doom and destruction the likes of which the world has never seen.

No one knows how to react to this. Or what a plain old ‘rabbit’ even is.

Tobirama Senju

Because no story’s not complete without Tobirama, I imagine he’s a stuffy waterbender and scholar from the North Pole who Tom is miffed at as the man refused to teach him even more water bending. Tobirama naturally feels that the day he teaches a blatant spy is the day he goes and drowns himself.

Later, when Tom has picked up the Avatar and Tom rubs it in his face, Tobirama probably reluctantly spends a day or so teaching them something/fighting off the hordes of Fire Nation soldiers on their tale (it’s not Avatar if the gang isn’t constantly chased by fire benders).

Obito Uchiha

Obito is the answer to a fire bending instructor. Obito’s a firebender and the youngest son of a wealthy Fire Nation lord. However, Obito’s the black sheep of the family that everyone hates, a late bloomer when it comes to his bending, and is seen as bringing dishonor on the family.

Itching to prove himself, Obito becomes a soldier and goes to the Earth Kingdom, and eventually decides the best way to earn recognition and restore his honor is to capture the newly resurrected Avatar. Congratulations, Obito, you’re this story’s Zuko.

Obito, while not the most talented fire bender at first (though as he gets older he gets dangerously good at it) is extremely clever and becomes the largest threat to the gang.

That said, Obito actually does grow to like Lily quite a bit and begins to realize honor doesn’t actually mean that much to him and he doesn’t even really like his family. He doesn’t even dislike the concept of the Avatar and thinks the world probably does need one right about now.

So after a whole bunch of chasing them around the globe, thinking about his family, and being forced to almost kill the Avatar now and then he eventually defects and volunteers himself as fire bending instructor.

This is met with suspicion on all sides but he and Lily are bros so he wins.

Avatar Roku

Needing to pick up air bending, Lily probably fakes it until she makes it for a while, but eventually runs into Avatar Roku’s wandering spirit taking vacation from an ice cube.

He’s alarmed, but Aang’s trapped in ice, so if someone’s going to substitute then great.

To everyone else it just looks like Lily’s constantly talking to herself, playing Pai Sho with herself, and miraculously picks up air bending out of absolutely nowhere.

Also anyone close to Lee probably figures out she’s not really human/the avatar at this point, but they’ll take what they can get.

And This All Results In

Lily learns all the elements, there’s probably some big battle, then Lily gives some ridiculous speech about world peace that has nothing to do with anything and while the Fire Nation is defeated, Tom is not in fact made Fire Lord and remains merely the Avatar’s humble water bending instructor.

Instead, if he’s alive at this point, the crown goes to Iroh and he’s given a council of angry Earth Kingdom people who tell him to behave or else. We can give Iroh niceish things sometimes. That, or, hilariously, Obito becomes hokage/Fire Lord being distantly in line for the throne and doesn’t even know how that happened or what his life even is right now.

The colonies are the same mess in canon so something like Republic City probably eventually comes about.

Still, there’s peace, and probably statues to the gang all over the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes (while the Fire Nation grumbles and remembers the good old days when they controlled the world).

And then Aang eventually wakes up extremely confused and confronts Avatar Lily noting, “Hey, I’m the actual Avatar” and Lily after a suspiciously blank pause explains, “I said an Avatar, never said I was the Avatar”

So, that’s that. If anyone wants other specific characters added into this mess feel free to comment.

#ask #anon #avatar the last airbender #lily and the art of being sisyphus #minato namikaze and the destroyer of worlds #crossover #fusion

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vampiremansionpoolboy-moved · 3 years

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sk8 au week - day 2: royalty and soulmates

reki kyan was nearing his eighteenth birthday and he had yet to meet his soulmate. reki has heard the whispers of the people in the town about people who don’t fine their soulmates. it’s not that he didn’t have one -he did, for your information, thank you very much- but because reki was from a royal family, and therefore a prince, he was to be married off and did not have the luxury of being with his soulmate. unless his soulmate was from another royal family, but reki had seen where his red string lead: straight into the center of the town below. so no such luck for another noble as his soulmate.

suddenly a book smacked into the back of reki’s head, startling him from his daydream.

“what the fuck-“ reki’s head whipped around.

“hey there slime.” said a voice.

reki groaned at the sight of the boy sitting atop his desk.

“hello miya.” he grumbled.

“what’re you looking at?” the young prince asked, a catlike smirk breaking out on his face.

“nothing,” reki said pushing himself up and walking over to miya.

“so is your mom still making you meet that prince for dinner tonight?” miya hummed as he twirled a pen in his hands.

reki’s mother was much more kind with her son and his romantic predicament, compared to reki’s father who was ready to married his son off without a meeting between the spouses. but after his father ran away with the sevrant girl he impregnated no one stuck to his old rules.

“yes, but i have a plan to escape and i need your help.” reki said placing his hands on miya’s shoulders.

“i’m all ears,” miya said leaning forward as if reki’s mother was outside the door and eavesdropping this very moment.

“i like what i’m hearing.”

“and then i need you and koyomi to either distract the stable hand while sneak through the barn.”

“done. is that all you need?”

“yep. the rest is up to me. joe accidentally let it slip that his soulmate is the craftsman in town and that he sneaks out at the exit

behind the greenhouses to meet him. so thanks to joe i’ve got my escape route all planned.”

“well look at this, prince reki ditching the feast planned just for him. who would have thought?” miya asked with a laugh.

miya let out snicker at the memory. “well now that you say that...”

“anyways i have to hurry if i wanna make it before my mom sends a servant to make sure i’m ready.”

but tonight was about his soulmate. so reki trudged on, squinting for the cave opening.

before long the prince was stumbling out of the vines and onto the street. luckily it was mostly empty. empty except for a tall man with long pink hair and glasses.

at the sound of someone falling through the leaves he looked up but seemed shocked to see a teenager.

“your not kojiro.” the stranger blurted.

“and your not- actually i wasn’t waiting for anyone and i have no idea who you are...or who kojiro is.”

the man stared at reki for a minute before recognition flashed in his eyes.

“prince reki! what are you doing outside of the castle?”

“i um...well you see-“ but reki was cut off by a rustling behind the vines and a large figure falling out of said vines.

“kaoru you will never believe the day i had...” joe trailed off, eyes catching sight of a panicked reki and surprised kaoru.

“joe?” reki blurted at the same time joe said “reki?”

the two stared at each other before reki made a run for it.

but joe caught him by his hood so reki didn’t get far.

“kid what the hell are you doing here?” joe said apparently forgetting all formalities one should talk to their prince with.

“not of your business! and i could ask you the same!” reki yelled as he struggled to get free from joe’s grip.

“i’m meeting my soulmate. and i’m going to ask you again, what are you doing here?”

reki sagged, giving up the struggle. “same here,”

“you’re meeting your soulmate?” kaoru asked.

“yes, what about it?” reki said crossing his arms. it had all gone so good until now.

“aren’t you supposed to be in a arranged marriage?”

“yes so i’m going to meet my soulmate and apologize before agreeing to an arranged marriage.”

“what?” joe said, surprise causing him to loosen his grip. taking the chance reki dashed away. ignoring the yells behind him reki

kept on running. nothing can stop me now, reki thought, i’ve come this far.

eyeing his string, reki ran through the street watching it get tighter and tighter. reki was too focused on the string that he didn’t see the boy in front of himself until it was too late.

the boys slammed into each other hard, the medicinal products in the other boy’s hands clattering to the ground.

“oh shit sorry-“

“sorry-“

they both spoke at the same time causing the boys to look up at each other abruptly. the boy had bright blue hair that went down past his ears. he was tall and lanky, his skin almost as pale as snow. bright blue eyes that reki had sworn he had seen before. but when reki’s gaze meet the boys hands, his heart stopped. a thin red string connecting reki’s own finger to this mystery boy’s, hung in the air. a red string of fate; a soulmate string. this boy was his soulmate.

eyes snapping back to the bright blue ones reki knew his soulmate saw it too.

“well shit.” reki blurted and the boy began to laugh. it was a sweet noise, like the chime of heavenly bells. and so reki began to laugh too.

“well i guess your my soulmate. that makes this search a lot easier then.” standing up and reaching out a hand to his soulmate, reki began to speak. “so you probably know who i am and therefore i can’t marry you -or be with you quite frankly- and i’m very sorry for that and it’s selfish of me but i have the responsibility of the kingdom on my shoulders and i can’t fail my people.”

“what? ‘kingdom’? what are you talking about?” the boys blank stare bored into reki.

“...i’m the prince. and i’m going to be king someday. and as much i want to be with my soulmate -you-, i have to be responsible for my people -which includes you-.”

realization dawned on his face. “ooh, i see.”

“and honestly i don’t care about the difference of ‘rank’ between noble and townsfolk but other royalty do.”

“well my moms a doctor if that means anything.”

“a prominent roll indeed but unfortunately not enough for the in-law of a prince. well not in my eyes, but in the eyes of others.”

“you- you mean you were a prince?”

the boy nods.

“well you’re my soulmate, are you not? so we’re meant to be together, no?”

“well yes of course. but i wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it and all...”

“of course reki.” the boy said sweetly while reaching out and clasping reki’s hands in his own.

reki almost melted at the use of his given name spoken by his soulmate.

“oh wait can i call you that? is that ok?”

all reki could do was dumbly nod.

“my names langa by the way.”

“langa,” reki said testing out the way the name felt on his tongue. “i like it!” he smiled and watched as langa’s face turned red.

“well should we head to the castle or something to relay the news?” langa asked, turning to reki.

“hmmm i think we can wait a minute. wanna show me around the town?”

“it would be my honor.”

and so the two boys disappeared into the lively bustle of the town as the laughed away and held each other’s hand like a lifeline.

~ ~ ~

@sk8-au-week

#sorry this is a day late tumblr was being a bitch and wouldn’t let me post it #sk8 the infinity #sk8 au week #toad talks #toad writes too #renga #matcha blossom

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lavendertwilight89 · 4 years

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Untitled

For @hnnwnchstr. Better times are ahead.

And of course there’s smoots for her :)

Here is the link to AO3

Tag wall:

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Sometimes life got him down… But he’d had hundreds of years to cope with that. His human companions, however, always seemed to take their failure harder. Even when the blame should always fall on him.

He was the strongest and oldest in the pack. It made him the alpha. Their setbacks were his own.

Yea, don’t get him wrong. He took defeat and loss hard. But there’d always be a new day. Unless you were dead. And if you lived to tell the tale, then fuck, why stay depressed about it?

What killed him more than anything though was seeing a young woman that had stolen his heart upset about anything. She blamed herself for shattering the jewel, causing all the death, destruction…

But it wasn’t her fault. Not really. Sure he blamed her, called her names, made her feel guilty about the whole mess; but in reality, it was his fault. If he hadn’t had been such a jackass to her, calling her names, making her feel ugly, being an immature asshole--she wouldn’t have run away. She wouldn’t have been caught, and the crow demon wouldn’t have gotten a hold of the jewel. Even then, if he had been more encouraging, patient, maybe they would have been able to recover the jewel together before she shot it out of the sky.

But no. He was a fucking jerk. He should have seen from the moment she crashed down in front of him when she was being chased by the nasty ass centipede that she wasn’t Kikyo. She was nothing like her in terms of spirit, spunk, demeanor, and even as time went on--she looked less and less like her. Her beauty was far more natural; just like she was. She wasn’t overbearingly poised, stiff, cold. Kagome overflowed radiance and kindness. Kikyo had been a beautiful, untouchable woman… But Kagome was gorgeous. Kind. Warm. Everything Kikyo had not been, Kagome was.

He thought he had loved Kikyo; but he was a fool. He had no idea what love really was after traveling with Kagome. Having her care for him. Talk to him. Touch him as if he wasn’t tainted. No one had ever tried to rub his ears, hold his clawed hands, hold him when he was ready to cave in on himself… that was until Kagome came along. She made it bearable to be a half-demon in this fucked up world. She made it alright to be himself.

Seeing her hang her head down from another destroyed village they hadn’t made it in time to save, her likely hearing Sango’s quiet comments about how she was glad she never saw her village in such disarray, Miroku’s musings about how anyone would do anything to get the jewel shards…

He wanted to fucking strangle them, but no--she wouldn’t let him. Originally he growled at them, but she soothed him and plastered her fake caring smile on her face. Then proceeded to ask him to help them lay the villagers to rest. He was hopeless to tell her no--well, after a few mutters of annoyance. He had an image to maintain, after all.

It wasn’t until into the night when the fire burned low, the stars shined brightly, and the full moon illuminated the land from high in the sky that he heard her sleeping bag ruffle. He looked down to see his delicate pale beauty look around the campsite. What was she looking for?

He caught her shift her gaze up to him. Since he was a coward, he pretended to be asleep. Some more shuffling sounds followed by footsteps had him open his eyes. Seriously, what the fuck was she doing??

Jumping from tree to tree as quietly as possible, he saw her walk out into an open field and sit. She was just gazing up at the stars…

He remembered one of the first times they did that together. The idea of staring at them was stupid--why bother? They didn’t move. They held no real purpose.

But Kagome said they learned a lot about them in her time; how they change from season to season, how they can be used for directions when they knew what season it was. Some had special names, different stories. Legends. Myths. She said after learning demons were real, who knows if those stories were actually as fictional as they had originally been meant to be?

The fascination was still slightly lost on him until she mentioned with the pollution of her time that it made them harder to see unless you were out in more ‘rural’ areas. Places without villages. Like here. She said she loved to look at them--with people who were special to her.

The speech wasn’t lost on him, even though he acted like it was. He knew he was important to her. How could he not be? She didn’t go to school as much, spent most of her time here even though she had a life on the other side of the well…

Even though she said it was to fix her mistakes, he knew that wasn’t the only reason. Or at least he had hoped it wasn’t until he heard her cry out for him when Hakudoshi held her heart.

Confirming, definitely a good piece of it belonged to him. But… he still had no idea what he could offer her? His harsh words and attitude? The fire-rat robe off his back? His father’s sword that held in his demonic blood?

She deserved to have a choice. If she did so happen to choose to stay with him once the jewel was once again complete, without knowledge of his feelings, he’d tell her. He’d build her a hut--if the village accepted them. Fuck, even if they had to live in a cave, he’d still consider himself the luckiest man in all the lands.

He’d do anything for her; and that was why he had to remain silent until there was no jewel driving her mission.

Looking at the back of her didn’t help him figure out what was wrong with her, though. The wind shifted and stirred those wavy ebony locks. Along with the scent that was so Kagome, he smelled a twinge of salt…

She was crying.

Of course she snuck away, so she didn’t wake up her friends… or him.

He jumped down from his tree and walked over to her. She didn’t flinch or move her position from staring up at the sky. Obviously she had been aware of his presence. Her power has certainly grown since she first arrived now. She could clearly pick out different reiki, youki, jyaki, and the jewel shards.

What couldn’t his girl do? Of course he referred to her as his girl; who else would be his? Even if she happened to choose to leave, he doubted he would ever find another as giving, kind, caring, loving, and beautiful as Kagome. Maybe in a couple centuries; but even then he’d likely try and find his way back to her when she was born. See when she grew up if she’d want to try again… But he would also just be happy to be her friend. Why would he get in the way of her happiness? Of her life? He may have been a selfish bastard for now, keeping her from her friends and family, but they had a mission. He had the right to be an ass… Demand the time from her until it was over. Because God forbid she did choose to leave, he’d die from not having spent more time with her.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hey… what’s uh--what’s going on?”

“Just thinking,” she sighed, closing her eyes. Fuck. Why was she so goddamn pretty? Even sitting there, tears trickling down her flushed cheeks, hair blowing with the breeze, and he couldn’t stop looking at her. She was mesmerizing.

“Yea? Care to elaborate? Or ya just gonna keep cryin’ over nothing?” He asked as he plopped down next to her. Jerkface on. Ready to push her to fight with him so that the tears would stop. Maybe even let his face eat the dirt. After a good sit she was usually somehow in a better mood from releasing her anger.

“Sigh…” She opened her eyes and looked at the stars again before she finally shifted her eyes back to him. “I just… I’m stupid. That’s all.”

“Why you say that? You’re the one with all the book learning and crap. You’re probably one of the smarter ones out of our group,” he pointed out. Then he realized he said something nice. Fuck. He was deviating from his plan… But she just looked so broken. Damn. Shit. He had to comfort her; at least that’s what the demon demanded. The human in him was screaming to run and hide and protect her from himself.

Nice. Two very opposing sides fighting in his mind. No wonder being a confusing asshole came so naturally.

“It’s just… You all have lost so much. Some because of me, some not. But still, I feel like I let this get to me… More than it should. I’m able to go home and see my family. Separate myself from all of this and you guys--can’t.

“I’m just pathetic for letting this get to me. I’m just so useless and.. Weak. You were right.”

Before he could think the better of it, he stretched his arm out and hugged her shoulders tightly. “No. I was wrong. So far from wrong. You’re probably the strongest out of all of us, Kagome.”

“Do-Don’t--”

“Don’t what?? Just say shit? I’m not for once. Yea, I know I don’t always think. Especially back then when we first met, first starting traveling together… I know, Kagome. I know I was an asshat. The biggest bastard of them all. I just…”

“Inuyasha, I understand,” she soothed, turning to face him. Her calves were pressed to his thigh now. Without thinking, he pulled her up into his lap.

“Inu--”

“I’m sorry.”

“W-What??”

“Your insecurities--your fears… They’re my fault. I’m to blame.”

“No--stop. Inuyasha I understand why you said those things… It wasn’t because you meant them--not exactly, anyway. You said them out of malice. You were hurt. You were scared to be hurt again by someone who looked exactly like the woman who had literally ripped your heart in two. I get it. I learned you didn’t mean half of what you said. You just said that stuff to protect yourself…”

“Kagome…” How was it possible this woman knew him better than anyone? Was that even fair? Did he know her just as well?

“I know you had a rough life. I’ve seen it. You’ve only warned me time and time again when we’ve gone into villages, stayed out in the woods at night, hunted the jewel shards, even asked our friends to join us. I get it. In the sense that you are the way you are because of it. But I also see through to the real you. I see you for who you really are Inuyasha.”

“You don’t gotta tell me. I know you do…” His claws brushed through her hair and she started to relax further into his hold.

“Inuyasha?”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know… Am I not doing something right?”

Her giggle emerged and he felt the tension in his own body leave. Clearly he was doing okay making her feel better, “I think you’re doing just fine--you just have never… I mean you don’t usually--”

“Everyone needs a different form of comfort, Kagome. Sango usually just needs a pep talk or she needs to just not be groped by that fucking pervert. Miroku has to be joked with or threatened. Shippo… well there ain’t much that gets him down that your fuckin’ pokey won’t fix. Kirara is never sad unless she doesn’t get fish.”

“What about you? How can I--” she turned to face him and her lip snuck its way in between her teeth. “How can I comfort you?”

“By being you. You’ve stayed by my side when you shouldn’t have. You’ve held me even after I slaughtered humans without a second thought. It’s second nature to you, Kagome… You--You don’t know how grateful I am to have you here… even though I don’t show it like I should,” he mumbled the last words hoping she wouldn’t hear the mushy words exit his mouth.

“And you… comfort me how…?” Her eyes with glistening and twinkling like the damn stars. Fuck. Did he mention how beautiful she was? And how unfair her proximity fucked with his head? Was she… what was she asking for? He heard her heart beating erratically. Her face was blushing--but not from crying now. Her scent told a different story. It was one of desire. Want. Need. Fuck.

He wasn’t thinking as he leaned in and closed the distance between their mouths. His lips brushed hers lightly at first, testing to see if she would ultimately reject him like everyone else. But fuck--no, she pressed back harder. Damn; she was ruining his plans.

He pulled back slightly before the kiss got more heated and looked deeply into her lust covered eyes. Damnit. He felt a particular body part rising with her scent and the nonverbal cues she was sending out.

“Kagome--”

“Please--just for tonight--I don’t want to be second. Tomorrow we can just move on but tonight can it just be us?”

“What?” And his dick was under control again. Her words triggered something in his brain to settle the fuck down. “What do you mean ‘second’?”

“I know--I know you don’t care about me like that. And that’s okay. You don’t have to. I know you’re in love with Kikyo. I know you want the jewel. I know you want to avenge Kikyo’s death and the betrayal Naraku caused between the two of you. I get it. I understand. I just-- for tonight can it just be us? No Kikyo? No Naraku? No jewel?”

“Kagome that’s not--”

“Inuyasha--” She leaned in and tried to kiss him again but he pulled back. Here he said she was smart and she actually was the dumbest of them all…

What kind of horse shit was she spewing?

“No--what the fuck, Kagome?! You think you’re fucking second to all those things?!?!”

“Inuyasha shush! We’re not that far from--”

“Shut up! Answer me! You honestly think I put those other things first before you?!”

“Well obviously!! The minute there’s a soul collector you’re out of here! The moment you catch Naraku’s scent, you’re gone! And don’t forget why I’m even here to begin with!! I shattered the jewel! The jewel you want!!”

“Don’t give me that crap Kagome; you and I both know while yea, we kinda need help being able to see and sense the jewel shards I need you. I. Need. You. You. Not Kikyo, not Miroku, not Sango… YOU. Do you have any idea what kind of person I would be--fuck--what kind of person I was before you came along?! I only have friends because of you. I only have been trusted by villages because of you. Kagome… God you’re everything for me. You’ve given me so much without even fucking trying.

“I get I am a bastard. I know I’m an asshole through and though but come on--you have to know by now, after everything we’ve fucking been through that I want you by my side. That when you aren’t here--it’s just empty. Don’t even act like you don’t know what I do when you’re gone. I’ve heard the slayer and monk tell you. Even fucking Shippo rats me out for the right price. Kagome--how can you be so fuckin’ blind??”

“Inuyasha--”

“I’m not done talking, wench; so shut the fuck up and listen. Kikyo--Kikyo is dead. I know that. I know there honestly isn’t a way to save her. The feelings I have for her--they revolve around guilt and remorse. But even looking back at what could have been--it never would have worked Kagome. We didn’t trust each other. We were two of loneliest people in the world and drew on each other for comfort.

“What you and I have… Fuck Kagome. Even just as friends, we have such a--shit. Kagome, I’ve never had friends. Even my only family hates my guts. You were my first friend. The first person to trust me with your life. Do you even know what that means to me??”

“Inuyasha…” Luckily she was drawn out of her little spiraling depressive shell she had put around herself. Maybe they should have had this talk years ago…

“Kagome--with Naraku--fuck. He wants to hurt me. He wants me to die mentally; physically he probably couldn’t give a shit. But he wants me to suffer for whatever reason. Do you know how he would succeed in that?”

“I--”

“By taking you away from me. Kagome--don’t you get it?”

“Inuyasha--just--just say it. Please,” she whispered.

“I love you, dumbass,” he finally said. Breathlessly. Because the air from his lungs had whooshed out of his body. Because every fucking promise he made to her, made himself just went out the window. Typical. His mouth always did end up running away from him. But he couldn’t believe she had thought she was so low on the totem pole… how could she honestly believe that he didn’t care about her? That he’d fucking use her body like that?

Mating was a serious thing in inuyoukai culture. Fuck--even in this era women didn’t typically go opening their legs to just anyone. Yea, things were different in her time but goddamn--he was not going to allow her to do that to him. To her even. If she wanted to be with him, it would be a lifetime commitment. Once he had her, he was too selfish to ever let her go.

“Inuyasha--I--”

“I’m not gonna just rut you and leave you. That’s not how this would go, Kagome. That’s not who I am. Don’t you think I have a little more honor than that? Don’t you think even as a friend I care about you more than that??”

“I’m sorry…” she said, her voice disheartened.

“Damn right you should be sorry! If we do this--this is a lifetime commitment. Not your lifetime; mine.”

“What??” She said looking up at him in shock.

“Inuyoukai mate for life--”

“But your dad--”

“My old man rutted Sesshomaru’s mom for a powerful heir. I’m not lookin’ for someone to take over my land. Fuck--I have a fucking forest the villagers named after me in fear that I would one day wake.”

“But--”

“Yea, he mated with my mom and he died. Shit happens. But she had me to love and protect and raise. The mate bond only affects the demon in the relationship as far as if you got hurt and died, then I would. Not the inverse. What would happen for you is that it would wear off and you’d begin to age like normal.”

“Are you… Are you asking me to be your mate?”

“God, you’re slow,” he smirked lightheartedly.

She glared at him, “Inuyasha… This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m aware of that; it also isn’t a tryst.”

“Touche… So… Uhm--where--where would we live? When this was all over?”

“Whatever village would take us. Or a cave. Wilderness. Seems like the more likely option.”

“What about my era?” He gave her a look of ‘Yea--with my ears?’ “Oh, you’re-you’re right. It wouldn’t work…”

“Look, I wasn’t--I wasn’t trying to make you choose. You can take all the time you need. I wasn’t gonna say anything until the jewel was whole and we figured out what to do with it. We can just go slow--I can court you and--”

“Inuyasha; I love you too. I don’t want to ever be without you. If I didn’t want to be here, yes it would eat me up inside because I was the one who broke the jewel but I want to be with you; by your side. Kikyo could have taken my spot… If--If we had to live in a cave, forest, wherever I’d be alright. I’d still be with you.”

“Are you sure about this Kagome? There aren't any take backs on this kind of thing…”

“Now who is doubting whom?” She tilted her head frowning slightly.

“Whatever, wench,” he replied with no bite. “Forever is just a long time to not think about this. I swore I’d protect you; that includes myself. You might not realize what being mated to half-breed means.”

“I don’t understand what you mean; is there… other stuff we’d have to do or--”

“You’ll be called the demon’s bitch. The half-demon’s slut. Anything you’ve ever heard thrown at me, they’ll be hurled at you.”

“I don’t care about what people think about me. I care about what you think… Will you think those things of me?”

“Kagome!! What the fuck--?!”

“See? Of course you won’t. Neither will our friends…” She trailed off and looked slightly uncomfortable and her scent shifted.

“What are you worried about?”

“You--You may not love Kikyo like you used to… but--”

“Sigh… it’s been a long time coming for that conversation. She does know how I feel about you. That’s another reason she doesn’t press to travel with us. The last time we met, she had asked if I had told you yet, that was awkward,” he said blushing, letting his ears fall flat on his head. The embarrassment was worth it when he heard laugh lightly and felt her cold hand on his ear. Fuck. He secretly loved it when she would just brush his ears in passing. But it seemed the secret was out… Because an unbridled rumble erupted from his chest. Damnit.

“Are you purring?” She asked, smiling mischievously.

“NO! I DO NOT PURR!”

“Sure--sure,” she agreed with undeniable amusement laced in her voice as she continued to rub his ears. Feeling the other effects it was having on him, he reached up and paused her ministrations.

“You’re--You’re gonna have to stop.”

“Why?” Oh, poor sweet innocent Kagome… He conveyed a face that hopefully told her what he honestly didn’t want to confess out loud. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure the piece of anatomy that was now poking into her side. It had the inverse effect though; her scent spiked again.

Fuck she was like a drug. He already knew he had no hope in separating from her; but she obviously held no reservations. She wanted what he did. Even more so maybe. She had been willing to just have him for a night. Claiming she was being the selfish one. Bullshit. If anyone was selfish, it was him.

He slowly leaned in again but paused just a breath away to wait for her to close the distance. While he was selfish, he wanted this to ultimately be her choice. He had already made his. It was her. Always her.

Luckily, or thankfully, whichever it was, she closed the gap between them and kissed him. Fuck he was a goner. He loved her. Everything about her. From her eyes, to her voice, to her sweet honey flavored tongue shoved into his mouth brushing against his fangs, her breasts he was squeezing through her sleep shirt, her kind personality, her overflowing love-- he could go on and on.

When she pulled back he was taken by surprise, which wasn’t an easy feat. Especially when her legs were straddling his hips. He opened his eyes which he hadn’t even realized had closed and saw her shred her pink tank top that had already barely contained her large round mounds.

From the time she had first come to his era to now Kagome had grown from a girl to a woman. She was now eighteen and her figure was more apparent, more enticing and womanly. While she was still a head shorter than he was, her bust had grown, her hips had expanded in preparation for bearing children, muscles were developed from years of running, walking, fighting, and fuck best of all, her gorgeous blue eyes just seemed to have gotten darker to match the ocean she loved to visit. That was one of her favorite places to go when they had a moment and while he bitched, he secretly loved taking her there to explore.

Without thinking, because when did he ever, he swallowed her nipple whole and swirled his tongue around it until he felt it point from excitement. Once he thoroughly ravished one side, he moved to the other. He felt her nimble fingers untying the strings to his haori and aided her in her efforts to remove it. Once she started to shove it down his arms, he pulled away and laid down his kosode and robe of the fire rat. He turned back to her and twisted to lay her down upon the makeshift bed he had made.

After she was fully on her back, he started kissing her again, his hands restless as they studied every curve she possessed more thoroughly than he had with his eyes. Even though their mouths were battling for dominance, his ears caught every sigh, moan, and gasp her voice made.

Once his hands hit the waistline of her pants, she stilled him. Shifting beneath him, she encouraged him to remove her pants. Who was he to refuse what she desired?

Once her pants and underwear were pulled down, he acted without thinking and moved his mouth down her body. Without his mouth swallowing her moans he soon realized how loud she was. He smirked at the idea of seeing how far he could push her--to see what would come out of that smart mouth of hers.

He reached her raven curls and nudged her legs apart. She hesitated slightly and he looked up to see nervousness in her eyes. Swiftly he moved back to look directly into her eyes and grasped her face in his hands as he straddled her.

“You’re beautiful, Kagome. You’re mine. We don’t have to continue though--we can stop and go slowly.”

“N-No. Sorry--I just-- I was kind of nervous about how I smell. It’s been a little bit since we’ve hit a hot spring or river to bathe off in,” she said bashfully.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her reasonings, “Oh Kagome. Trust me; you smell like a fucking buffet. I can’t wait to taste you.” He licked his lips teasingly as he watched her flush and swallow. He kissed her again hard to try and coax out the woman who originally pleaded to take her for one night. That confidence was what she needed.

Once she was fervent in her kisses again, he dove back down to what his instincts were calling for; a taste of her nether regions. That time when he reached it she didn’t fight him when he spread her legs and laid between them. He initially shoved his nose between her folds. He was slightly tickled by the black hairs that hid her sex from him but fuck, if it was pleasureable with the scent that was so Kagome surrounding every inch of him. He dipped his tongue into her lips and goddamn--he almost lost consciousness. It was better than he had ever fucking dreamed of.

He may have gone a little mad with arousal when he dove in and began eating her out. Control was something he obviously lacked as he lapped up her juices and explored every inch of her sex with his mouth. Not that she seemed like she was complaining at all. No, if anything the cry of his name, the writhing of her body from the sensations he was giving her, and her grabbing his head (thankfully not his ears) pulling him closer only made him want to dive in more.

She had a nub that seemed to really make her wail out louder when he played with that. He decided to focus on that area, thinking he teased her enough, especially from her begging him brokenly for--well he assumed completion. But she didn’t direct him to verbally do anything, only push his head to the nub. Again, who was he to tell her no?

He carefully took two fingers and placed them slightly at her opening, still not confident enough to insert them without some practice, and teased her. She seemed like she was losing her mind in the throes of passion. To be fair, so was he. He was grinding himself on the fucking grass to eleviate some of the pain of his hardened cock.

He realized she was coming when she yelled out his name and her body released more liquid onto his fingers, which he happily licked up. Once she had stilled from her convulsions, he slunk his way back up her body and laughed deeply at her blissed out expression.

“Inuyasha that was--”

“I got just as much out of it as you did--if not more,” he smirked and leaned down to kiss her. She hungirly accepted and reached for his hakama ties. He didn’t stop her and felt her foot come up and hook around it to help ease it down. Without removing his mouth from hers, he kicked off his pants and then hovered over her briefly to just take in the moment. Her flushed cheeks, the glistening sweat on her forehead, the glazed-over look of lust in her dark blue eyes…

“I love you, Inuyasha,” she told him as he sank himself down over her body and lined himself up to enter her.

He kissed her soundly as he dipped his tip to her entrance and his hair fell around them to envelope them in a silver curtain of privacy. As she wrapped her arms around him and spread her legs wider to open herself more to him, he whimpered. The tight heat that consumed his throbbing hardened cock was literally something he never thought he would feel; even in his dream he had never felt so much desperation. But he refused to move in fear of hurting her further.

"Inuyashaaa,” she moaned once he was fully seated inside of her.

“Are you alright?” He asked through gritted teeth. Fuck, he wasn’t a teenager anymore but at this rate he was gonna--

“Yes; stretched but-- it’s like we belong together. You fit perfectly,” she sighed as she brushed her fingers through his hair out of his face to look into his eyes.

She was right though. They did belong together. Then. There. Forever.

He was tentative when he first started pumping inside her but her cries and panting encouraged him. While she said she loved him for who he was, he was still scared he may hurt her. But her mews, pleas for more, and movements from her hips to return his thrusts, fuck, his bitch was amazing.

“Inu-Ya--” she said brokenly as those beautiful sapphire orbs closed and she whimpered.

He ground his hips in circles and brushed his pelvis against her sensitive clit, earning a high pitched cry, “What do you want Kagome? Do you want to be fucked by a demon?”

“Y-yes,” she pleaded using her hands to pull him by his hips closer if that was even possible. He pulled away and she whined, trying to pull him back, but once she figured out what he was doing she moaned his name in impatience.

He threw her legs upon his shoulders and reentered her hard. His cock was in deeper now, his hand was free from holding her leg close to his waist. He reached around and started pinching her very stimulated nub. She began mewling uncontrolablly and it was fucking glorious. To hear such pleasures he was bringing her only made his cock harder if that was even possible.

“Is that what you want Kagome?? To be with a demon?”

“Ahhhh,” she cried as he felt her walls tighten around him. God. Damn. “Yashhhhh,” she ground out flailing her head back and forth. Her breasts were bouncing with every hard and quick pound he gave her. His dick was just at the tip of her womb and he silently thanked Kami she wasn’t in fucking heat otherwise this night would have ended very differently.

He dipped his head to her ear and exhaled making her writhe further under him, “Are you gonna cum for me, Ka-Go-Me?”

“Gods--” he heard her swear before she wailed out her release into the night. Riding out her orgasm it took everything not to explode right then. He slowly eased himself back between her spread legs and sat her up. She was fucking gorgeous; her face was still glistening in sweat, her breathing was starting to calm from her orgasm but still audible to his demonic hearing--scratch that, even a mortal would be able to her her subtle groan and sigh, and her hair was wilder than normal.

He cradled the back of her head to bring her into a kiss as he pumped into her before he couldn’t stave off his own release any longer. He broke the kiss when he felt his youki rising, his fangs growing--

Her hands brushing his cheeks and her accepting eyes calmed his initial panic. She pulled his face to be at her shoulder; she was silently asking him to mark her. He didn’t even mention that to her; he needed to make a note to thank Sango for likely educating her about mating behind his back.

His fangs bit down into her shoulder and she winced at the initial pain but relaxed into it as he spilled his seed inside her. Once he was completely drained, he unclamped his jaw and laved the spot on her neck he had marked then gave it a kiss. She was his. Forever.

“Kagome?”

“Mmmmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve never been better,” she said, taking his face into her hands again as she leaned in to kiss him.

“I meant--about you coming out here--”

“Oh… Yes and no. I think there’ll always be rougher days; but I have you to lean on. We’ll make it through together.”

He smiled and nuzzled her cheek as he wrapped her up in his haori. He threw his hakama back on along with his kosode and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Keeping her close, he just allowed her to snuggle into his chest for comfort over the long and tiring day. Her breathing evened out but he didn’t dare move. He wanted this moment to last forever.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #inu x kag #hurt comfort #smut

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