#but we're being Brave and doing it anyways ✌🏻

[kindahoping4forever]

Hello friends! Just a quick kh4f programming note: I'll be out of commission for most of, if not all of today, as I'm having a minor medical procedure done. (Outpatient, everything's fine, dw! 🫶🏻) So if anything notable happens (fully expecting Ash to announce ai2 the second I'm sedated 😌) and I'm MIA... that's why lol. Try not to have too much fun without me! 😘💙

[always-andromeda]

Hi! Could I please have the World Ender prompt for Jay from Okja? Thank you and congrats on 500!

Author’s Note | ahahaha, I didn't expect for this one to make me wanna cry but lmao, I almost did ✌🏻🥲✌🏻

Jay thought every kink had been worked out of the plan. Impulsivity puts him on edge when you're in the field. He hates the deep unease that settles into his bones when you're on your own, fulfilling your own part of the mission. He knows full well that you can take care of yourself, of course. But there are always surprises. That's why improvisation is always key. 

At the very least, you escaped with your life. That's what he reassures himself with as soon as he gets his team out of the botched mission. Housed in a basement of ALF sympathizers, the base that he and his crew flee to isn't one of the more popular ones.

The ceiling is low and dust falls from the rafters, filling the lungs of all the inhabitants and making their throats raspy for days. But Jay is still grateful for even the smallest escape. He helps you lie back on the bottom bed of one of the bunks.

Across the room is the rest of the team. Silver and Blond sit together on a bottom bunk, talking quietly with one another. Red lies on the top bunk, reading one of the many novels she is obsessed with; it's one of the few things that calms her nerves. K is kicked back on the single cot in the room, merely closing his eyes for a second of rest. 

Though Jay knows his whole crew is reeling from the surprise attack by the Black Chalk, the only one on his mind is you. You and the way you've been holding your side ever since one of the Black Chalk men had beaten you with his baton. Jay's jaw goes tight at the memory. Seeing you crumple to the ground, hearing you cry out in pain.

He's reminded of it again when he gently attempts to lift your shirt to inspect the area. Because that's when you wince. You don't even have to make a sound for him to know the pain you're in. In a way, he's proud of you for being able to put on a brave face. At the same time, he wants to rip something apart.

Jay squints through the dim lighting of the basement, only to see faint bruising already beginning to bloom over your delicate skin. The sight fills him with an insurmountable rage. Suddenly, the room is too small to contain him. His breathing gets uneven as he stares, zeroing into the bruises so hard that they begin to go blurry in his vision. I should've gotten to you sooner.

Then you grab his wrist. His fist trembles slightly from how hard he's clenching it. Your first assumption is that he's just disappointed in himself. Though the attack isn't one that he could've planned ahead for, Jay still expects himself to be able to achieve the impossible.

You murmur, "Are you okay, Jay? Do you want me to give you some space?" You try to sit up, holding back the yelp that threatens to escape you when you put pressure on the wound.

In a voice so quiet and calm that it's almost frightening, Jay says bluntly, "I don't want space. That's the last thing I want from you."

Nonetheless, it reassures you. So you settle once more on the thin mattress, staring at the bunk above and only occasionally letting yourself glance over at him for the next minute.

Jay sits on a folding chair at your bedside. And his gaze still hasn't left that spot on your side.

You're hesitant to break the silence but you do it anyway, wanting to give him comfort in whatever way you can. "At least we got out of there." Is all you can manage.

Jay rubs his face frustratedly, "We should have known that the Black Chalk would be waiting. It was naive of us to believe otherwise."

You lay a hand on his knee firmly. "Jay, we used the information we had and did what we thought was best. What matters is that we're safe."

He finally looks you in the eye, his green eyes a blazing forest fire. "If I had lost you–"

"But you didn't," you interrupt quickly, stopping the spiral dead in its tracks. "You didn't. That's all that matters, right?"

He remembers his breathing exercises and puts them to use. You smile slightly and rub his knee when you notice the tension fade with each of his measured breaths. Being so important to a person as passionate as Jay can be bittersweet. His love and his wrath seem to be intrinsically linked with each other, both intense and addicting. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

"That's all that matters." He repeats your words, more to himself than to you. Because sometimes he hates having this life. He believes in his morals with every fiber of his being. But if they ever came at the cost of your life, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

But that day wasn't today. He will adapt. He will get better at trying to predict the end before it comes. He will make protecting you into an art, one that he has perfected. He'll do anything and everything to make sure that nothing like this happens again. That's all that matters.