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tiredmamaissy · 14 days

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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V

Something is Brewing

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20)

Warnings: explicit pregnancy smut, pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst [for the plot], pregnancy [this chapter is entirely about pregnancy if you haven't caught my drift, just giving you guys a proper warning], age gap, mood swings, cravings, nausea, vomiting, reader is very clumsy, intimate/invasive medical treatment, rut cycle, sexual tension, pregnant sex, p in v, titty fucking, cum eating (m and f), oral sex (m and f), masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda, not really), lactation kink

Word Count: 17.5k (this takes the cake, i apologize)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient with me as usual. I had planned to post this chapter earlier, but with the help of @zestys-stuff, we made a last minute change to the chapter. This will definitely cause some changes in the next chapter, so I’m going to work on that right away. I won’t lie, I’m really nervous to publish this one. It's been a while and I’ve ventured into some new territory where I’ve introduced a couple of new themes and -drumroll- a new character. There are parts of this chapter that can possibly cause discomfort (technically, all of this could), so I urge you guys to proceed with caution and click off if you do feel uncomfortable in any way. Aside from that, it’s good to be back (again, lol) and I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A timeline of your pregnancy with Ralak’s child, shown through a series of flashbacks of your most prominent milestones—some of which foreshadow something bigger to come…

<- Previous -> Next

Pregnancy is tough.

A beautiful blessing, but tough nonetheless. With its own set of hardships, uniquely tailored to your own being. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. A sore back, chest, ankles…the list is seemingly endless. The shift in moods, the fatigue. Adjusting to an entire new being growing inside you—one that sucks the nutrients straight from your bones and blood—has your body overcompensating.

At first it was a dream.

No life-changing symptoms. It was smooth sailing for the first few weeks. Life went on as usual. If anything, others were more reactive to your pregnancy than you were. Your skimwing became aggressive towards Ralak, snapping at him and whipping her tail, treating him as a threat rather than a companion. He was more than understanding, as it’s common for the protective instinct to kick in when the tsurak senses their rider is with child.

More importantly, it was an urge that Ralak shared with the beast.

—

You watch as your tendrils intertwine with your skimwing, and how they come together with a rough tug. You let out a rugged breath and the beast beneath you starts to writhe. Ralak instinctively grasps at the harness to steady you and—

Slash.

Your trsuak whips her spiked tail at your mate, who blocks it with his strake.

“Shit.” You gasp, tugging at the leather strap and patting her neck to subdue her. “I thought I was in control. Are you alright?”

Ralak nods, his hair now soaked and plastered to his chest. He simply chuckles, respectfully and cautiously approaching the beast with an open hand. Despite this, your tsurak continues to thrash, repeatedly snapping her snout open and shut. Ralak clicks melodically a few times, and her pupils blow and constrict as she calms down. He strokes her snout with one hand, and lays his other on your thigh, gripping it lightly.

“She senses that you are with child.”

“She does?”

“Yes. That is why she protects you. I understand the feeling.” His accent is thick on his tongue.

——

Then the nausea came. It was… unbearable. Insufferable. It was almost frightful, actually. Not being able to stomach anything really brought down a sense of dread upon your shoulders. Most days, you found yourself worried about the budding life inside you more than yourself.

Was he getting enough? Would he develop properly if you went another day without eating?

Ralak was more worried about you, of course. Going to great lengths to find something you could stomach. Spoon feeding you as you laid down all day from the gut churning nausea. Washing the sick out of your hair when you missed the bucket at your bedside. Detangling and braiding it for you to keep it clean and out of your face. Releasing his pheromones—your only relief—just to put you to sleep at night.

—

t.w. nausea, vomiting.

In the crisp night, a wave of nausea washes over you, waking you from your sleep. Typically, this is the only time you have a break from the nausea—your slumber. That, and the first ten minutes after throwing up.

You quickly hurl over, grabbing and heaving into your bedside bucket, something that's rightfully earned its spot at your side. Ralak jolts awake, sitting up behind you to gather your hair into his fist, rubbing your back as you retch.

“Alrigght.” He hums lengthily. “Get it up.”

Finally, you stop. You gasp and pant for air, sitting up only to collapse back into him. “I h-hate this–haah.”

“I do, too.” He grits, reaching over you for the rag at your bedside, and wiping your mouth.

He hates seeing you so sick. He’s tried it all, and though he’s found a few foods that you can stomach, nothing seems stops the nausea. Well, that’s not entirely true.

Ralak relaxes his body, focusing on opening his scent glands to release his his pheromones. They slowly become stronger, calming you down and dulling the waves of nausea. He pulls you close to his warm body, reaching behind him for his kuru.

“Tsaheylu.” He whispers yearningly, making the bond slowly. He sets a steady breathing pattern, slipping his hand over your tiny bump to caress it. The sickening feeling eases up enough for you to drift back to sleep, Ralak along with you.

——

Thankfully, Eywa lifted you of your säspxin [sickness] when you were about to come upon your third month of pregnancy. Cravings increased ten-fold almost instantly. On the occasion where you couldn’t keep it down—when the desperation was too much—you’d volunteer Ralak to eat it for you so that you could satisfy the craving vicariously through him.

—

“Eywa, that’s so good. One more bite.”

“Tanhí. Enough now.” He grumbles, feeling overly stuffed and almost queasy.

You glance down at the purple hue of your connected kurus.

“Please...” Your eyes burn as they threaten to well with tears, and your bottom lip quivers, “…last one, promise.”

Ralak sighs, shoveling in another bite of boiled squid, chewing it slowly so you can savor the taste. You keep your eyes closed as he eats, tongue swirling in your mouth to swish your pooling saliva in your cheeks. And when he swallows, you swallow too, gulping down your spit.

“Thank you.” You say shyly as you open your eyes, feeling bad for making him overeat now that you can really feel his fullness.

It is my pleasure. Never feel bad. His accented voice tickles your brain. A smile spreads across your face, just as one does on his.

——

And when you could keep it down, they were delightful when satiated. Keyword being satiated. It posed an issue when they were what Ralak called, ‘forest food’, or on a more rare occasion—‘sky people food’. Those were the insatiable ones. The ones he couldn’t just whip up for you. The times he'd come to you with his ears laid flat to his skull, admitting his defeat. Those were the moments where you felt something stronger than just disappointment.

It left you gutted.

—

You can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. They’re hot and leave a sticky film on your skin, clumping your eyelashes together. It’s stupid. They’re stupid. Stupid tears, from a stupid cause. All because you want your grandmother’s stupid soup. Another thing the blessing of pregnancy has bestowed on you—big, intense feelings.

As you soak in your bath, Ralak cooks dinner and you just know that whatever is in the pot is something that will make your stomach churn. You bury your face in the palms of your hands, trying to keep your snotty sobs to a minimum. It’s ridiculous, sobbing over something like this. It’s shameful, even. How can you be so ungrateful when this man goes to such lengths to care for you?

“Tanhì!” You hear his rough voice echo from the pod.

You quickly wipe your face clean, and scramble for your loincloth and top, slipping them back onto your body. Finally, you fix your hair and force a smile to your face. As you get up to the marui, you’re met with the sight of Ralak stirring the soup pot over the firepit. Then the smell hits you. Typically the first thing to set off your nausea to begin with. It smells like—

Grandmother’s soup.

You stare at your mate wide eyed, taking a deep breath to savour it in your lungs. Outside of Ralak’s scent, nothing has smelled this good in months. And you swear you can already taste it on your tongue, the savoury flavour with the sweet aftertaste.

“I asked your mother. Hope that is okay.” Ralak speaks casually as he serves you a bowl.

As you let out a harsh breath, your eyes burn as the tears come back with a vengeance. You sniffle once, twice—thrice, whimpering quietly as they roll down your cheeks. Ralak looks up at you, concern and honestly a smidge of confusion fixed to his face. Putting the bowl down, he stands and comes over to you, enveloping you in his arms.

“I do not like to see you cry.” He hums, kissing the crown of your head. “Is it the smell? I will make you something different.”

“N-No, no. It’s… it smells great. I’m sorry. I—I” You sputter, burying your face into his chest.

“Then what is it, tìyawn [love]? What do you need?” Ralak cups your face and gently tilts your head upwards so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me and it is yours.”

“Thank you.” You croak, feeling your bottom lip curl over and kiss your chin. Now his facial expression is just pure confusion. He tuts in a comforting manner, pulling you back in close to his chest as he waits for you to settle, rocking side to side.

“Alright, my little one. Shh–shh.”

——

Soon after, that soup pot made quite an appearance. It became your favourite dish, your favourite craving. Ralak made it just like grandmother, for the most part. There were a few omaticayan herbs missing, but outside of that it tasted like…home. At that point, you felt like you had this pregnancy thing down pat and could return to a semi-normal life.

Everything was relatively the same, except a few obvious things—your growing bump and lack of heats. That was also a blessing, not having to go through a torturous heat every month. Though, you couldn’t say that for Ralak.

As you neared the end of your third month of pregnancy, his pheromones grew stronger, wafting by you at random times of the day. At first you thought he was just doing it for you. Or, perhaps it was your heightened sense of smell.

But the day came when his scent was so potent, it was as if it had stained your lips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t smell the scent of your mate under your nose. That was the night you realised it was out of his control. That it was his rut coming. That was the night you confronted him at the bonfire.

The night he looked at you like you were something to eat.

—

Right…there.

You catch the flicker of his eyes just before he lowers his head, shifting to that deep shade of blue. He keeps stealing a glance or two. Maybe even three, or more. It’s hard to keep count when he’s looking at you like this.

is piercing eyes, sultry and alluring, tempting you to crawl through these roaring flames just to get to him quicker. His demeanour. His stance and posture. His domineering leer. Whatever he—or his body—is doing, is working.

He sits on the boulder, elbow perched on one thick thigh and a hand propped on the other. His hair covers his chestpiece, curled ends barely brushing against his defined ribcage. His bioluminescent freckles dance under the moonlight, his turquoise skin almost golden from the cast of the fire. It’s all so intimidating. He’s exuding dominance, practically looming over you despite him being seated. But there’s something about his aura, something darker.

“I can feel it, you know.” You speak casually, uncrossing your legs.

Ralak’s eyes snap up, boring into yours. He cocks a brow, keeping his eyes locked on you as you stand and walk towards him.

“Your rut. It’s close, isn’t it?”

This would be your first, real rut with him. Without the influence of your own heat. Ralak huffs a sigh, his eyes falling to the small bump that’s in his direct line of sight. Ralak watches as it seemingly grows bigger the closer you get.

“You are showing.” His hands gently rest on your lower abdomen. Holding his shoulders, you slowly straddle him.

“Answer me.” You whisper as you cup his face, tilting it upwards to make him look at you. “I want to be with you… and before you say it—” Ralak grits his teeth as he turns his head away, out of your hands.

“No.”

“Ralak. I am your mate.” You retaliate through tight lips. You knew this would pose an issue.

“Y/n.” He growls, turning his head to look you in the eyes. “You know my rut. Must I remind you that you are with child? It is final.”

“I do know, and that’s why I won’t let you go through that alone, ever again.” Though your voice is stern, he can hear the tenderness in it. That this comes from a place of concern and love.

“I will not be in control.” Ralak admits as he shakes his head firmly, flicking his gaze back down to your belly.

“Look…I made a plan.” You basically confess that you’ve been conjuring up ideas on how to endure this together all day. Although his eyes and hands remain fixed on your tummy, Ralaks ears perk up. He’s listening.

“How do you feel about…being tied up?”

Now you’ve got his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours. The idea of being tied up isn’t entirely foreign to him. It’s something that his people use as a punishment for those who do wrong. He’s not opposed to it. Having a rut so intense is probably something to be punished for, anyways.

“Hands behind your back…bound to the marui stilt. I will be the one in control. I will take care of you.”

You take his hands from your stomach and tuck them behind his back, your face now millimeters from his. Ralak fights the urge to kiss you. To free his hands from his back to grab your hips and shove your further down onto his growing bulge.

“...feed you…water you…bathe you.” Your voice falters as you swallow your spit. “...fuck you.”

“...that so?” He whispers against your lips, heart thudding wildly behind his ribcage.

You look in his eyes, and see that they tremble with constraint. He can’t hide it, the look on his face gives it away. He’s really struggling to think straight. To keep his answer as a firm no. And it doesn’t help that he’s on the cusp of his rut. He yearns to accept. Every fibre of his being wants this–wants you. You see it in his eyes, as they flicker like the flame behind you.

He just needs a little push.

“We’ll take it slow…gently.” You roll your hips into him and feel his cock straining against his tewng. You lean in close, lips brushing against his as you speak into his mouth. “And, if anything happens… we’ll stop. No knotting.”

His ears twitch. He’s considering it. Really, actually considering this. But how could he? How could he expect this of you in your state? He squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and conflicted. And aroused. So fucking aroused that when he feels your lips drag against his cheek, your tongue tasting the lobe of his ear…your breathy whisper, “Pänutìng [Promise].”, he lets out a heated, shaky breath of defeat. Of surrender.

That seals the deal.

—

Not now. Not yet. Ralak thinks to himself, fighting his urges.

The urge to mate—to pin you down and drive himself inside you. He must remain in control. For you. For your unborn. He sits on the floor, slumped against the stilt of the marui, bowed shoulders and a heavy, hung head. His skin, flushed, and eyes swollen—glowing a vibrant mauve. His hair haphazardly sticks to his sweltering skin as his hands lethargically twiddle with the braided twine behind his back.

Groggy, you strain to open your eyes and quickly scan your surroundings. Ralaks pheromones cloud the room, engulfing you with their overpowering scent. As you sit up, the bed creaks and Ralak lifts his head, allowing it to flump limply back into the stilt. Extra lidded eyes and tensed brows, he breathes through his mouth. He wills himself to speak, but he’s heavy and sluggish as if he were three bottles deep.

“Ralak.” Your voice is wary and full of concern. Your eyes continue to trail down his body, landing on the undeniable, taut bulge in his loincloth. His cock strains against the fabric, precum completely soaking it through. “How long have you been like this?”

“Few hours.” He croaks out a dry throat.

“And you didn’t wake me?” You hastily make your way behind him, slipping to your knees to take the twine from him.

Fuck. There it is. Your scent...driving him over the edge. Wafting past his nose and making him woozy in the head.

“Tie me.” He demands. For a moment, you’re frozen in place by his tone, unable to move your hands and fingers. “Quickly.”

The edginess in his voice startles you, causing you to fumble with the twine. You take a breath and begin tying the knot as he taught you, weaving the twine with itself, tugging at the ends to close it.

“Tighter.” He snaps at you, making your ears lay flat. You pull the ends even tauter, witnessing the twine pinch the thin skin on his wrists.

“Shit—sorry. Didthat hurt?” You go to loosen the knot, but he pulls at the restraints, making it even tighter.

“Leave it.” He grumbles, tugging yet again, ensuring it’s unyielding.

Because the closer you get, the harder he finds it to resist. He needs to know that he can’t get out—that he can’t hurt you—before he loses it completely. And with that delicious scent seeping from your neck, he feels himself slipping under.

“Are you sure? I can tie you after you drink some water and have a—”

“No...haah—now.” He growls, dropping his head causing the rest of his hair to flow forward and cover his face. “…need you now.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up and flushing them over. You can even feel your heart pumping it harder–faster. It’s hot in here, but even hotter now that you feel yourself heating up too. It’s his rut, influencing you like some sort of drug. You can barely control your breathing, much less think straight. But you told him that you’d be the one in control, the one to care for him.

“Mawey, ma’ muntxatan [Calm, my husband].” You whisper close to his ear, giving the knot a final tug. “What kind of mate would I be if I did not care for you first? Hm?”

You shuffle to your feet, and walk away, newly widened hips swaying side to side with temptation. He’s taking in the show through the cracks of space between his clumped together strands of hair, unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. Knowing this, you bend over, lifting your tail to expose your clothed mound to him. You swear you can hear a hiss seep from his lips, and that brings a smile to yours.

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do.

You scoop up some water into the cup, and bring it over to him. Using two fingers to his chin, you tilt his head back, revealing the famine in his inebriated eyes. They’re glossy with need and desperation, begging you to take his ache away.

“Alright, alright.” You coo softly, sinking back to your knees. “I’m going to make it go away. Now, drink for me.” You bring the cup to his lips, tilting it carefully as he gulps it down thirstily. A few drops dribble down his chin and onto his already glistening chest, rolling down his unflexed stomach.

Tossing the empty cup to the side, you bend forward and lick the beads of water up his stomach, to his throat, to his lips. His arms jerk reflexively, wanting to cup your face as your lips lock with his.

Throwing a leg over his lap, you straddle him, pressing against the bulge in his sticky tewng. You cup his face instead, deepening the kiss to have a taste of the potent desperation on his tongue.

When you pull away, your noses brush against one another and you feel woozy in the head. His rut is beginning to affect you now. Which isn’t all a bad thing if you want to be able to keep up with him for the next couple days.

Your hand smoothes over his jawbone to the nape of his neck, where you gently grip the base of his kuru. His ears immediately lay flat to his head, reddening at just the tips. Running your hand along its length, you bring the end of his kuru in front of him.

“Going to make the bond.” You warn him breathily, bringing forth your queue as well.

At this point, Ralak is huffing for air and sweating profusely. It looks as if he’s nearing his peak already. This only reaffirms that you’re making the right decision by making tsaheylu—you need the direct influence of his tìsom [heat].

When the tendrils intertwine, you come together with a sharp tug and gasp. Instantaneously, you sink into a hazy state, heating up from within. Your breath syncs with his, and suddenly you’re panting too.

“Ralak.” You moan softly, grinding into him for a bit of friction.

You can’t stop your hips from snapping, and your loincloth is almost completely soaked. He throws his head back into the wooden stilt, looking at you through lidded eyes as he lets loose subtle groans. He looks more than hungry. He looks starved.

With trembling hands, you search for the knot of his loincloth at the base of his tail. After a bit of scuffling, you untether it and shimmy his tewng down his hips and off of him. Up springs his aching cock, veiny and swollen. It’s so obviously neglected, glossy and sticky with his slick, so uncomfortably hard that it’s already pulsing as it stands firmly pressed against your clothed cunt.

“Fuck. It’s… even bigger.” You’re taken aback, unsure of how exactly you managed to take this inside you last time he was in rut. Then you notice the red tinge of colour on his cockhead, especially where his ridges stand erect. “D-Does that hurt, karyu?” Bump in the way, you shift your hips back to reveal what exactly you’re talking about. “Need your numeyu to take away the pain?”

The giant remains silent, but his cock jumps in response, oozing out another large bead of precum. Using your pointer finger, you trace the length of his cock, swollen balls to his pointed tip, collecting that fresh bead of slick on the pad of your digit. He watches intently as you pop your finger into your mouth and suckle, swallowing his semi-sweet essence. His brows knit tightly together.

You know this is nothing short of torture to him. And though you have every intention to take the ache away… when would you get another opportunity like this? Where this giant is tied down and unable to resist the pleasure you bring him. Where you’re completely… in control. Fuck, you’ve never felt like this before. It's exhilarating. It’s a feeling of power. Of dominance.

A smirk pulls at your lips.

You begin to pull yourself to your knees, brushing your swollen breasts against his lips. His tongue darts out, eager for a taste. Looking down, you cup one breast with your hand, and guide your stiff nipple into his mouth. His lips pucker over it, closing once they make contact for a vacuum seal.

Your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tickle the sensitive tip of your nipple. His teeth graze against them as he tries to do this handsfree, and you let out a low hiss. Soon his movements grow erratic, being bound to the marui stilt is starting to frustrate him.

“Ah-ah. What do you need, karyu? Just tell me.” Your voice is feigned with innocence. He breathes heavy against your chest, keeping quiet as his focus is purely on getting his fill. “You won’t get anything from them.” You tsk, tugging away little by little, until eventually you pop off his mouth.

You continue to rise to your feet, dragging his lips along your swelling tummy, until he’s eye level to the band of your tewng. You can feel his eyes pierce into you, his stare is anything but discreet. It’s intimidating. Your hand flies to the back of your loincloth, fiddling with the knot to untie it.

“Is it this?”

The cloth drops to your ankles, exposing your flushed cunt to him. It’s pink and hot to the touch, undeniably aroused. Your scent grows stronger with each passing second, filling his lungs. It’s driving him insane—being able to see and smell, but not touch. His rut is only making him more irritable. He just needs to fuck into something and spill himself inside.

His eyes glisten over an even brighter shade of purple, locking onto their meal. He wets his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue as you take a step closer. You cup his jawbone, tilting it upwards to look down at him. The sight is… intoxicating. His lidded eyes, blown pupils that are threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tensed brow bones and damped, slightly parted lips—not a drop of composure left in his features.

That new feeling rushes through you again, making you take two more steps forward. Your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his nose, officially branding it with your scent. He leans into you, closing his eyes and straining his neck to indulge himself.

Your thumb smoothes over his jaw before your hand slips to the back of his head. You fist his hair and yank his head back, sending his eyes flying open. With your free hand, you spread your pussy lips, exposing your swollen clit. It’s sticky and in need of attention, throbbing occasionally as you tug your hood back.

“Now, suck.” You demand breathily, slowly guiding him by the head to bring his lips to your clit.

You clench around nothing when you feel his heated, slippery lips pucker over the stiffened nub, sucking gently. Sharp eyes bore into yours before they roll back, leaving nothing but the whites exposed. Lids finally fluttering closed, he sucks a little harder, tips of his canines accidentally nipping your supple skin.

“Ss—fuck.” You hiss, hips snapping back with force, popping off his mouth with a sharp sting. Frantic fingers rub away the tingling sensation as you grit your teeth. You shuffle your feet to ground yourself as you tighten your grip on his hair and hold his head still.

“I know you’re in rut, but be good to your muntxate [wife].” You warn through your teeth before shoving his face back into your cunt.

This time he feasts with greed, groaning like a starved man. Eating, like a starved man. He’s slurping and sucking, lapping up your slick as it coats his tongue and lips, enjoying every second of your reign.

“Oh—oh shit. Fuck. Right there—” You moan breathlessly, free hand flying to his head to fist his hair, using it as leverage to keep him just where he is.

Before you know it your hips are moving on their own, humping at his face as you hold him tightly with both hands. With each thrust you shove him further back into the stilt, until the back of your hand is repeatedly hitting its surface.

Until you’re hunched over him, looking him deep in the eyes as you grind into whatever part of him your clit is rubbing against. He expertly holds his breath as he allows you full control to fuck his face as if you were the one in heat.

Because with each roll of your hips he feels it too.

He feels the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you when his tongue hits your clit in that special spot. When the tips of his canines graze your swollen folds. The feeling is all consuming and he’s whining into your cunt from the over—and under—stimulation. His cock shifts to a shade of purple, jumping each time you thrust into his mouth.

‘Sorry, Ralak. ‘m sorry.’ You think to him through tsaheylu, feeling the burn in your own lungs now.

“Haa—ah, fuck. Thrust. Fuck. Thrust. F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum—in your—ngh!” Your voice quavers as you come suddenly undone in his mouth, holding him firm and still as you rock your body into him.

His eyes slam shut and his brows knit tightly together as he grunts repeatedly into your cunt. He tugs harshly at his restraints and his heels dig into the woven floor. Yet still, you hold onto him even tighter until your pussy stops fluttering.

With a loud, shaky gasp, you yank him away, letting go of his hair to grab the marui stilt to stop your trembling legs from giving out beneath you. Ralak wheezes loudly, shoulders heaving harshly as he frantically pants for air. His face is bright pink, flushed and glazed in a layer of sweat. He opens his eyes but they’re so heavy that you can barely see the colour in them.

“Rutxe [please].” Ralak begs through a desperate groan, flicking his stare downwards. And when you look, you’re met with the sight of his still-throbbing cock, covered in his sticky, thick cum. Shiney beads still ooze out and dribble down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls.

His first word was a plea of help.

Your heart aches in your chest. How could you let yourself go so far with your little bit of power? To be so selfish. And here he was, in so much discomfort and yet you put your needs first. Leaving him so neglected to the point his body makes the release for him. Is this how he felt after he unleashed six pent up years on you in a couple days?

Pent up years of suffering.

“Shh. You’re okay, my love. You’re okay.” You whisper as you slowly squat down. “I got you. I’m going to make it…” you hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto his cock, aligning his tip with your sopping entrance, “…all better now.”

You wince when his cock slowly penetrates you, mewling a little higher with every inch you manage to take. The stretch is almost unbearable. This is the first rut you’ve spent with him without being in heat.

No foggy haze to dull the ache.

No emptiness to be filled.

And it doesn’t help that your womb is already so full.

Your mewl quickly turns into a whimper when your bodies become flush to one another. Ralaks head slumps back into the marui stilt and he heaves a loud, lengthy moan of relief from being buried deep inside your warm cunt. You feel so good around him, making his cock heat up and twitch inside of you.

Snaking your arms around his neck, you hold onto him as you frantically try to adjust to his size. It’s dawning on you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and that you’ve seriously underestimated his rut. A sense of uncertainty begins to tighten your stomach but it quickly dissipates when you hear Ralak’s second plea.

“Rutxe, ma’ tanhì..” Ralak mutters with a pained, gravelly voice.

Without another word, you move your hips up and down, dragging his length along your gummy, slick walls. Your movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, you’re not used to doing most of the work much less all of it. With his hands tied behind his back, you can already feel the burn in your thighs and the throb in the tips of your toes.

Regardless, you keep moving your hips.

Bouncing up and down on his cock, pressing your forehead into his in a poor attempt to steady your position. That little sting slowly morphs into something of pleasure the more your hips meet his with a slap. And soon all you can hear is smack, after smack, after smack. The noises that split his lips tell you all you need to know. He’s feeling good and that’s all that matters.

But exhaustion hits you quickly—unexpectedly. His cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and the more tired your legs get, the deeper it drills inside you, pressing harshly into your cervix. Your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath, leaving you no choice but to lazily rock back and forth on his cock.

Ralak lets out a grunt and bucks his hips.

“Haah!” You yelp.

Ralaks ears lay flat, lips pursed tightly into a thin line. He can’t hold back his frustration any longer. He’s growing impatient. If he didn’t get his real release soon he may really lose it. He’s grunting through his nose and tugging at his restraints, bruising his wrists. You feel him shift his hips up and shove his cock as far as he can inside you.

“Ngh! I-It won’t go any deeper!” Your voice strains as you try to lift yourself up. But he just keeps pushing until his feet are grounded. And then his hips drop, pulling his cock half way out of you.

Thrust.

Ralak slams his cock back inside you, drilling deeper than he was before. Your mouth falls open as all the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. As you suck in a gasp of air he thrusts inside you again. And again. And again. Until he’s rutting into you in a feverish frenzy, chasing his climax as if it were prey. His thrusts turn relentless, leaving you breathless with each buck of his hips.

“Fuck—fuck—fu—” Your voice bounces with his thrusts.

You look down, met with eyes that are empty yet heavy with appetite. He’s in the thick of it and he’s no longer all there. He’s purely instinct now and the only thing holding him back from pinning you down and having his way with you is the twine wrapped around his wrists.

You can’t lie and say that you aren’t enjoying the look on his face and the break from the burn in your thighs. Stars sprinkle your vision as you’re overwhelmed with the immense pleasure he’s slamming into you. He’s fucking you into submission and you’re mind is borderline blank. His groans are primal and guttural, and they grow louder with each hysteric thrust.

“Want to knot.” He huffs suddenly—desperately. You can feel his thick knot poke and prod at your entrance, his thrusts now sloppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I—” You know you shouldn’t, no matter how hazy his rut is making you feel. “W-We can’t. I’m still ea—rly.” But he’s too busy watching himself fuck you in a daze, drenched with sweat. “Ralak…” You grab his face, tilting his chin upwards so he looks you in the face. His gaze is hollow yet his features are tense. “…are y–ou hear–ing me, la–k?”

“Need to breed.” He growls as he fights against his restraints. He doesn’t ease up on his tussle with the twine, sweating and panting as he desperately tries to force his knot inside you.

“Shit.” You mutter, coming to the quick realisation that he can’t stop himself. “Wait, wait, wait—”

Your hands fall from his face to his stomach, pushing down in a panicky attempt to lift yourself off him. But his rut is making you sluggish and weak, so you make the quick decision to sever the bond with a rough yank.

Snap.

“Oh, fuck.” You curse under your breath.

The twine breaks, and his arms fly forward, hands making impact with your hips, fingernails digging into the thin skin. His grip is unyielding as he holds you down firmly on his cock. You feel him throb inside you as he attempts to plug you full with his knot.

“Lak! Ralak, h-hold on!” As much as you actually want to, you can barely take what’s inside you as it is.

“Submit.” He rasps, top lip curled tight to his teeth, baring his canines.

“I—I’m pregnant.” You whisper quickly, voice hoarse and strained.

Immediately, his movements cease and his eyes flick down to your tiny bump, then widen when he finally realises. In one swift, sudden move, he lifts you off him and uses your swollen pussy lips to hug his cock and finish himself off. He rocks you back and forth like a rag doll at the mercy of undying grip, growling and grunting.

His head drops forward when he outright howls. You look down and witness his mushroomy head pulsating feverishly, spurting out his load in thick ropes, all over his stomach and chest. All whilst his engorged, throbbing knot pulses against your slit as he cums, earning some well deserved comfort and warmth.

Ralak sputters as he tries to catch his breath, hands still glued to your hips. The fog still clouds his mind but it’s less blinding now. He’s just about capable of acknowledging what just happened. To acknowledge that this was risky, and could’ve ended badly. That, if you hadn’t said something to him, he would have knotted you without mercy.

An uncomfortable silence passes between you, where you’re both breathing heavily and staring at one another. You both share the same thought—the same realisation. His rut is too aggressive for you to handle right now.

“I must go.” Ralak looks away as he breaks the silence, wanting to take advantage of his release before the pressure builds yet again. He’s clear headed enough to leave without turning back and pouncing on you.

“No, don’t… we can try again.” You say softly, hand cupping his jawbone, turning him to face you. You feel terrible that he may have to spend this rut alone, that you couldn’t fulfil your promise—your duty as his mate.

“I almost knotted you, y/n.” His eyes gloss over with guilt, his hands finally peeling away your bruised hips.

“But… you didn’t. You stopped yourself—”

“And if I do not leave now… I will.” Ralak growls inches away from your face.

You’re a little taken aback by his bluntness, but you know it’s the truth. And it’s final. No matter what you say. No matter how it makes the flesh between your legs throb a little more. You nod, keeping yourself quiet.

“I will see you in a couple days. I love you both.” Your lips meet briefly before he carries you to bed and readies himself to leave. You watch in silence, murmuring an “I love you, too” under your breath when he exits the marui.

—

As time passed you grew more angsty, unable to keep in one spot or focus on a single task. All that ran on your mind was Ralak and how he was probably suffering all alone. All because you failed to do your duty as his mate. The guilt was almost sickening, having you dry heaving into your bedside bucket a few times for the rest of the day.

Until later that night.

You rub in the thick, oily concoction on your belly, getting ready for bed. The sound of the marui door flapping open startles you, making you jump in your skin and clutch your stomach. You’re not expecting Ralaks return so soon.

A silhouette stands tall at the door, his bioluminescent star pattern unmistakable.

“Ralak? Oh, Ralak. Eywa. You’re back. I should have made dinner. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. You must be so hungry. You—” You speak urgently, eyes flicking down to his tewng, which is seemingly damp, “—was it too much? …are you alright? Let me help you, lak.”

“Tanhì.” Ralaks cuts you short, voice trembling slightly, yet full of relief. “It is done.”

“…what?” The question is breathy.

“My rut.” Ralak says as he makes his way towards you, scooping up a glob of your special concoction. He sits next to you, and begins massaging it into your back. “You have fixed me.”

You come to the realization that he's talking about his rut finishing earlier than usual—like that of an average na'vi.

“You were never broken, my love.” You moan softly, closing your eyes to enjoy the massage.

Ralak then rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands down your back and around your abdomen—rubbing what's left on his hands onto your swelling belly. His touch prickles your skin, sending the tip of your tail swishing.

“I live for you.” He mutters with a thick accent, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I will die for you.”

Your heart skips a beat when you hear his words, he must have really been suffering for the past six years. You feel your face heat up, and you try to fight the smile balling your cheeks. You opt to drop your head and hide your face instead, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Well. We won’t have you doing that.” You giggle, rubbing his upper thigh as you turn your head to glance at him. “…the last part, that is.”

But he just looks at you, face still as stone. He speaks sternly.

“I will.” He speaks sternly.

You swallow your spit, tempted to drop your head again as you take in the gravity of his two words. You nod, searching his eyes with yours as you close the space between you. You hover open mouthed against his lips.

“Me too.”

——

Time waits for no one.

At least that’s how it felt. You had ballooned overnight, round and a little heavier as you embarked on your sixth month of pregnancy. His kicks grew stronger and more uncomfortable. But it was Ralaks favourite thing to feel before bed.

You found yourself spending most of your days bouncing between your marui and your family’s marui—paying your family visits more often. They grew fond of the idea that there would be an addition to the family and it became a regular thing for you to seek refuge there when Ralak was roped in for his ‘duties’. Which seemed to increase in number the further along you progressed.

Ralak had his daily duties—tending to the ilus, a few lessons, fishing... These were just the simpler tasks that you could say you knew for certain he did. But there were his ‘fkxaranga’ [stressful] duties’, as you liked to call them.

The ones where Tonowari would summon him with nothing else but a simple nudge or glance. The duties that were spontaneous. That stole precious hours of his time. Duties that left Ralak spent and on edge, reaching for his top shelf when he came home. Those were the ones you dreaded the most.

The ones like last night.

——

With a huff, Ralak chucks his gear onto the floor and roughly unclips his chest piece. His pointed tools are covered in some sort of thick, iridescent muck, shifting from green to orange as they rock side to side on the floor. It’s something you’ve been seeing recently with no idea as to what it is.

Ralak grunts, bringing your attention to his lips, which are slightly downturned. The more you take in the sight before you the more it occurs to you how exhausted this man is. His eyes are hollow, ears droopy, tail dragging heavily behind him. His muscles are seized up despite the bow of his shoulders—he looks as if he could use a massage.

“Manga [Hey, you].” You get up to meet him at the door, taking the chest piece out of his hands to hang up on the wooden stand. “Tonowari is working your tail off. Do I need to have a word with that man?”

He only works up a grumble as you lead him over to the bed. “That bad? What is he making you do? Hunt akulas? Eywa.”

Ralak sits down, face sinking into his hands before two fingers slip down to pinch the bridge of his nose. You climb up and settle behind him, huffing and puffing along the way. Your hands smooth over his back, thumbs pressing firmly into his muscles, kneading the flesh until you feel him loosen up.

Though the question sounded rhetorical, he knew it wasn’t. He knows you’re awaiting a response, the silence is loud and clear. You always want to know more about his day, fine details and all. And he’s usually reluctant to speak of it, but insisting it’s nothing for you to worry your head over. But recently, your inquisitivity is… well founded. And he knows it.

“Not quite.” He mumbles wearily into his palm, ears laid flat to his skull–although it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter an akula or two whilst fulfilling the olo’eyktan’s orders.

You open your mouth to question him further, but you can tell that he’s more than tired. And it didn’t help that you were constantly needing his help, especially now that you’re growing heavier.

Going down the stairs is a struggle considering you can no longer see your own feet or keep your balance. You had been waking him up almost twice a night to help you down the marui stairs just to pee. He’d always be happy to help, though. He understands that this is what comes with the changes that are happening to your body that’s giving life to his child.

“Rest. Please.” You say softly, tugging at him to lie down in bed with you.

To your surprise, he actually lays down, assuming his typical position before dozing off for the night—on his back with a hand on your belly. You expected him to resist a little, insisting something or another.

He really, really must be tired. Your heart fills with something heavy. Something that makes you almost feel sick. Your brows pinch as you look beside you to see his tensed face relax into something of tranquility.

And a smile pulls at your lips when his eyes fall shut.

Dinner’s over the firepit—his favourite stew with extra mushrooms. The sound of it bubbling becomes louder as it thickens. With a quick, final stir, you take it off the fire and cover it to let it sit. You hope that this will help lift his mood when he wakes. You look over to him as he lays stockstill with softened features, breathing tidally.

Holding onto a supporting beam of the marui, you bring yourself to your feet and waddle your way over to him. You extend a hand to wake him for dinner but you hesitate. He needs this. And that’s when you make the decision to allow him however long it takes to rest. Even if it means that you speak to Tonowari yourself.

Night falls and the temperature falls with it. The glowing firepit keeps the stew and marui warm for the time being as you prepare for bed. You draw the curtains and glance over to your mate, who still remains in a deep sleep, tucked cozily under the blanket you covered him with. You drape the shawl he wove you over your shoulders, and make your way to the door.

A silent yawn splits your lips just before you lift away the flap. Your eyelids are heavy and the drowsiness is weighing on you tenfold. You have one last step of your nightly routine before you can crawl into bed next to your husband. And that's emptying the bladder that your son uses as a footrest. Plus, if you didn’t do it now, it would just be an additional trip in the middle of the night.

As you make your way to the door, the need to go becomes urgent. Perhaps it was all the water you thirstily chugged whilst eating, or maybe it's just the fact that you're already on your way there. Either way, you can’t seem to get there quick enough. Your movements turn hasty the second you get to the top step, hands clutching on the only thing available—your bulging belly. You’re looking down despite the fact that you can’t even see your feet.

Leaning forward slightly, you try to shift your stomach to the side to see your next step. You step down and feel your bare foot make contact with the slippery wood. Your toes press into its surface to ground you as you take your next step. You wobble when you get to the last step, and sigh in relief when you feel the cold, wet sand spill between your toes.

After wasting no time and doing what you came to do, you quickly make your way back to the marui. The tips of your ears and tails are just going numb from how cold it is and the night dew is beginning to form. You get to the bottom step, fixing your shawl so that it’s out the way. You make your way up the first, second and third step, but when you get to the fourth your shawl falls forward.

And so do you.

A blood curdling shriek rips from your throat when you feel your feet give out beneath you. Your hands splay out to grab onto whatever’s around you to break your fall but before you know it you're tumbling back down the stairs at a frightening rate. You keep on your side as best you can, landing into the sand with a muffled thump.

“Fuck. Shit—oh, great mother—” You mutter as you hyperventilate, clutching your stomach as you wait for your son to kick—to show you some sign of life. Your eyes well with tears as you rub your bump vigorously. Your heart is slamming violenting against your rib cage, so hard you can hear it over the ringing in your ears. “Please, please, please.”

…but nothing.

“Y/n?!” You hear Ralaks worried voice boom behind you, then his hurried footsteps down the stairs.

Maybe it’s his fathers voice, but your unborn son gives you one of the biggest kicks yet. You sob out a laugh, rubbing your stomach as relief flows through your body. You take a few deep breaths through your mouth to calm down, feeling another reassuring kick.

“Y/n. Y/n.” Ralak chants your name, eyes rapidly darting side to side to assess you as he kneels beside you. Concern’s etched deeply into his features as he lifts your arms and legs, searching for injuries.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” You repeat urgently, but he continues to look, even taking off your shawl. His eyes are wide and he seems to be in some level of shock, especially after coming straight out of a deep sleep. “Ralak. Really. I’m fine. We’re okay.”

Ralaks features soften at your two final words. His stare falls to your swollen belly, hands taking the place of yours as he waits. After a few seconds of stillness, his eyes snap up to yours—refilling with worry. He begins to shake his head, and you reassure him with a hand to his face.

“Talk to him.” You whisper with trembling lungs. Ralak looks back down to your stomach.

“Maitan [My son].” Your mate says in a low, steady voice, ensuring not to allow even a hint of fright slip through. Just then, he feels a little nudge against the palm of his hand. Ralaks gaze snaps up to you and his expression relaxes, hands rubbing your belly gently. “How did this happen, tanhì?”

“I…needed to pee.” You say shamefully, avoiding eye contact. “…and I tripped going up the steps.” You glance up at him to see what you perceive to be a face of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m so stupid.”

“No. Do not say that.” He interjects, tensing his jaw. “...you are heavy with child—why did you not wake me?”

“You were so, so tired. You needed to rest, and I did not want to disturb you.” You turn to your side to get up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down your back.

“Careful.” He clears his throat, stopping you from trying to get up on your own. He watches your contorted face relax, but the heart wrenching guilt just gets worse. “You should have. Wake me for anything.” He says sternly, snaking his arms underneath you to lift you up. “Everything.”

“You really don’t have to—” Ralak continues, scooping you in his arms and holding you close to his chest. “I can walk. I’m all right, Ralak.”

You try to reassure him, shuffling in his arms to get down. But he only muffles out a sigh, glancing down at you with downturned brows and droopy ears. He then walks away from the marui stairs, to the direction of the water.

“Where are we going?” You ask quickly when you realise that you’re walking away from home. Ralak clicks for his tsurak, taking his time as he mounts it with you tucked to his chest. “Ralak.”

“To tsahìk.” He states, making the bond with his beast.

“Ronal?” You sound almost panicked as the idea of everyone knowing you fell up the stairs clouds your mind. It’s almost mortifying to think about. “We don’t need to do that, it’s really late too, and—”

Commanding his beast to go, you both take off at full speed. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the tsahìk’s healing pod. Many healers gather at the door when they hear the sound of Ralak’s low pitched call. And they rush out to meet him as he carries you towards them in a hurried manner. They usher you in, hushed murmurs growing louder and clearer as they bring you to Ronal.

You didn’t even notice the burning pain in your lower back until you were about half way here.

The Tsahìk stands upon your entrance, her crystal blue eyes widening when she sees Ralak with you in his arms. You wince as he lays you down where the healers instruct him to. She strides over to a woven basket filled with an array of herbs and needle-like wooden sticks, and quickly props it on her hip—just out of the way of her own bump. She settles herself beside you, feeling your stomach as she channels Eywa.

Ronal throws a look to Ralak, whose hands are on his hips as he waits patiently for the verdict.

“She fell.” He says, only for Ronal to cock an eyebrow. “Stairs.” He finishes. Then both her eyebrows raise, and she reaches for a jar of a ground up, purplish herb. She pours half of it into a wooden bowl, and activates it with a few drops of water from the spirit tree.

“Baby is strong. Very strong.” The Tsahìk announces, and both you and Ralak heave a loud sigh of relief. “But—” Ronal props your legs up on the makeshift table, spreading them slightly. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you look over to Ralak. “You are still at risk.”

Ralak moves closer to you, taking your hand in his to keep you calm. You both watch as Ronal rolls the fabric tightly into a small cylindrical shape. You swallow your spit when you realise exactly where that’s going.

“This ensures he stays. It will also help with the pain.” She states, glancing at Ralak to see the glare he’s trying to hold back. She shakes her head slightly and hands you the precautionary apparatus. “Insert. Rest…and remove at sunrise.” Ronal continues, drawing back the curtain to give you some privacy.

“Sunrise?” You whisper to yourself as you watch her step out.

Your eyes dart up to Ralak who is clearly concerned, staring down at you with worry in his eyes. Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and your nerves fray. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? He’s your mate. Your husband.

You sit up a bit more and try to see over your stomach to get the task done with shaky hands. You fumble and struggle with the flimsy cloth, blindly doing your best. But each time you lean forward the pain in your back burns hotter.

Ralak’s supporting you with a hand on your upper back, patiently waiting for you, noticing your trembling fingers and little grunts. He uses his free hand to cup yours, stilling your hurried movements.

“Mawey [calm]. Breathe.” He hums, gently taking it from you and helping you lay down.

You look him in the eyes as he inserts it carefully, wincing when the concoction stings a bit. Ralak gives your hand a light squeeze, speaking as if he had access to your thoughts. You nod, trying to smile through the burning sensation, but he picks up on your discomfort.

“What is it? Is it your back?" His voice quavers with worry.

“No… just burns a little.” You say quietly. You watch his jaw flutter and his shoulders droop as he huffs out a sigh. “Not to worry. It’s going away now.”

As he’s about to speak, the curtain is drawn to the side and Ronal comes in and stands at the arched entrance, hand on her hip. Ralak averts his attention to her, his eyes glancing down at her unborn moving in her belly. Although you were both six months pregnant, you were noticeably bigger than her.

“A word.” Her serious tone of voice brings him out of deep thought, and her nudging head tells him that it’s something urgent.

Ralak looks at you, not wanting to leave you alone but you smile and reassure him with a light nod. He clenches his jaw but you give him a gentle push towards Ronal. He squeezes your hand before letting go and leans in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. You watch as he leaves, laying back and taking in the ripples in the curtain as you strain to hear their hushed conversation.

“Ronal. Oe irayo si ngaru. [Thank you]” Ralak begins, bowing before the shorter na’vi.

“I worry for your mate.” Ronal cuts to the chase, using her hand to guide him further away from the curtain.

“For what reason?” He asks, keeping his head hung to hear what she has to say. They walk until they’re nearly at the entrance of the healing pod.

“Your son is fast growing.” She speaks calmly but quickly.

Ralak is a little puzzled, although he doesn’t show it. Is that such a bad thing? He continues to look down at her with the same expression, listening intently to what the tsahìk speaks of.

“Her body will struggle. Birth will be hard. Very long and painful.” Now Ralak is having a hard time keeping his emotions concealed as they chisel themselves into his features. Yet he remains silent. “You must warn her about mun’i [the cut].”

“Pxasìk [no way/fuck that]” Ralak curses through a hiss in his native tongue as he stands at full height, figuratively and literally taken aback. How dare she call that upon his mate? Ronal returns a low hiss as Ralak moves away from her, staring down at her with a mixture of emotions.

Concern. Surprise. Fear.

Mun’i [the cut] is rare and risky. Only three have been performed since the birth of this clan, all done in desperation when hope was gone. The last one was performed by Ronal's mother herself. It is an extremely invasive procedure where the mother is cut and the infant is removed. It’s only done in dire situations, where the mother is incapable of giving birth to their young naturally, and risks dying in the process.

Ralak can’t help but feel a burning anger amongst the sea of emotions flooding him at once. How could she suggest such a thing to him? Something so dangerous and grave? All because you will give birth to ‘a different kind’. He’s more than confident that you’re capable of this, despite the murmurs circulating the clan.

He has always been aware of Ronal's perception of you, and her opinion about the mating. It was no secret, though she never outwardly told Ralak as he is like a son to her. She often insisted that you two were not compatible in more ways than one, and always saw you as the forest girl who needed special training. But to know that Ronal doubts your capabilities to give life ignites a flame in his chest.

One that he must quickly put out.

“Ralak!”

He hears you call out for him, prompting him to quell the flame and shoot Ronal a glare of displeasure. “She is stronger than you know.” Ralak speaks through his teeth before turning his heel to tend to you.

Heart pounding, he makes his way through the curtain to be met with the joyous sight of you cradling your stomach with a smile plastered to your face. That only further calms the flicker of the flame in his chest, making a smile tug at his lips. He sees you glance up at him, pearly teeth glistening in the luminosity of the night.

“Sorry if I startled you, it’s just—he’s kicking so hard. Come, come feel!” You blubber excitedly, reaching out for his hand to place it on your belly. He slowly takes a knee, staying still as stone to soak up each movement. “He is so strong, Ralak. Like you.” You whisper, looking down at your mate doting on your bump.

Though he should be proud of your words, he can’t help but feel a little nervous by them. If this child is really like him, then what Ronal said may have some truth to it. Yet he smiles, smoothing his thumb over your protruding belly button.

“He is strong like his sa’nu [mummy].” He says softly, perhaps in attempts to reassure himself and calm his own nerves. Your smile only grows and you place your hand on top of his.

“What did Ronal say?” Ralaks eyes snap up to yours, wide and almost panicked, wiping the smile off your face instantly. “Oh, no. Is it bad? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. She says…” He drops his head, watching his unborn move as he contemplates telling you. You need rest, and this would further stress your mind and body. Ralak urges himself to smile—to create a new mask—one of feigned happiness. “…you must rest. Wait until sunrise.”

“Oh, okay.” You exhale a sigh of relief, “Good. I—I can do that.”

——

After such an eventful night, sleep found you easily. Ralak carried you up the marui stairs, tucked you into bed and watched as your eyes fluttered shut. And even so, he remained at your side for some time, ensuring you were deep in sleep before embarking on his new task.

It began with a ‘quick’ trip inland for the right kind of wood. The kind that holds up well against the elements and the saltiness of the water. The kind that doesn’t have a slip to it when it's been wet for more than a few hours. It took a few trips to get it all back to the beach but it was more of an irritable task than a difficult one.

Ralak tried to keep as quiet as possible, spending the rest of the night—until sunrise—cutting and carving the wood, binding them together with twine, sap and wooden pins. And by the time the first few rays of sunlight beamed in, he was engraving his finishing touches.

—

Ralak chucks down the tool and it lands into the sand with a muffled thud. Using the back of his strake to wipe his forehead clean of sweat, he looks up at his work for a final time—railings for the marui stairs. Then the bright ray of sun shines before his eyes, standing between his two new creations.

You.

You’re surprised to see him out this early, still in his gear from last night. The realisation dawns on you that he’s been up all night, doing this. You can actually feel your chest warm up as your heart pumps the blood through your veins at an insane rate. It rushes to your cheeks, making them hot and flushed.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?” You ask the question under your breath, dragging a hand along the railing. It’s smooth under the pads of your fingers, and warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been filed down. You notice a small carving on the side of the railing—your son’s initial.

“Mm.” He grunts, not that he could have slept anyways. He glances at the initial that you’re staring at. “I should have done it long ago.” The shame in his voice is loud and clear. You look down at your feet, unsure of what to say, noticing that he’s redone the steps too.

“Ralak—”

“You must still wake me. Understand?” He cuts you off, already knowing what you’re about to say.

You take a step down, holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and the other tucked under your bump. He rushes up the stairs and supports you by the arm. You lean into him for a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. “… thank you, my love.”

“Kea tìkin [no need (for thanks)].” He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, words muffled by your hair. His hand slips down your arm and rests on your lower back. “Still feeling pain?”

“No. I feel good. Like new.” You smile, watching his features soften and his lips pull into a subtle smile. “Your son, too. He kicked me all night.”

“Is that so, young one?” He leans down to speak to your belly as you watch intently, “you must be gentle with your sa’nu [mummy].”

As he looks back up to you, your eyes follow his every move. And suddenly it’s just the two of you, before the orange glow of the sunrise, sharing this intimate gaze with one another.

“Ralak… I see you.” You say softly, witnessing his pupils blow until there’s nothing but thin rings of blue.

He swallows, you see the lump in his throat undulate, and the balls of his cheeks stain a light pink. He blinks a few times, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. He lingers there for a bit, jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth a few times. He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest.

How could he keep this from you?

“Oel ngat kame, ma’ muntxate.” He husks the words before locking his lips with yours.

But as he pulls away, you see the glint in his eye. When he sees your lowered brows and inquisitive eyes, he attempts to fix his mask of indifference—no, happiness. But you see right through it—

The glint of guilt.

“What is it?” You ask, reaching behind him for his kuru. It’s your way of saying, 'no secrets'. He’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unsure of how to say what he should say. You urge him with a light tug to his queue, creating a little more distance between you to look him dead in the eye. “Ralak.”

“Ronal doubts…you.” He says plainly, trying hard to rid himself of the thought of childbirth taking you away from him.

“I don’t understand. What—what does that mean?” You ask, confused and worried.

“I should have told you about it when you asked.” Ralak says, shaking his head. “But…you were already under so much stress. In pain. Our son—”

“Ralak. Tell me about what?” You whisper quietly—quickly. Ralak looks at you, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before he speaks.

“Mun’i [the cut].” Ralak’s voice cracks with pain as the dreaded thought floods his mind.

Ralak goes on to explain mun'i, giving you a brief lesson on its history and typical…outcome. He explains why Ronal urged him to warn you about it. And exactly what he told her in return. That he is confident that you are more capable of doing this.

It ends with a comforting embrace and the both of you coming to the conclusion that a conservation with Jake is needed. If the cut were to happen, the sky people’s medical advancements would be…useful.

——

Since then, Ralak adapted a very strict agenda when it came to the preparation of the birth. In some ways, it reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with him as teacher and student. Karyu and Numeyu. A revision of previous lessons, such as breathing lessons.

—

“Deeper breaths, tanhì. Slow.” Ralak instructs you with his hand on your round belly.

“It’s hard…” your voice is strained, “when his feet are in my lungs.”

Ralak chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Right. Do your best.”

You attempt to follow his demonstration a fifth time, inhaling deeply through your nose, holding it, and then slowly letting it out through your mouth. “Light headed now.”

“You did well.” Ralak praises you, snaking an arm around you as he lowers you onto your back. “You all right?”

“Just fine.” You mutter, grateful for the new position.

Ralak looks at you for a while, taking in a sight that may be similar to the one of you giving birth—giving life. The reality that you will soon be a family quickly dawns on him. The reality that… Ronal's words still weigh heavy on his heart.

“And when you bear down…” Ralak pulls your leg back, your knee now grazing against your cheek as they flush with embarrassment. “…shallow, fast breaths. Do not hold it.”

He then demonstrates, emphasising the sound of the breathing technique to ensure you’re doing it properly.

'…hee—hee—hoo…'

You mimic his sounds, looking down to see nothing but your protruding bump. It may be strange to some that Ralak is teaching you a lesson on something such as childbirth. But with his mother-figure being the tsahìk, there were just certain things he grew to have knowledge of.

“Ronal says there are times where it is best to allow your body to take over. Focus on breathing him out. Let your body do the work for you…” You nod slowly as you practice deep breathing in this new position, “…she will show you some positions in your lesson tomorrow.”

"What?" Your ears perk up. For some reason one on one interactions with Ronal always make you nervous.

“The other expecting women of the clan will be there.”

Your ears relax, and you feel a little more at ease knowing you won’t be alone, even if it’s a sea of gossiping women. At least they were more discreet about it.

——

As you neared the final months of your pregnancy, Ralak was called out more frequently. The aches and pains that came along with being so big were just as frequent, it seemed. They’d hit you at the strangest times, during your sleep or whilst on your tsurak.

But when the pain spread to your abdomen is when Ralak urged you to take things easy. But they didn’t stop him from going anywhere. No matter how badly he wanted to stay home and tend to you. It was more complicated than that. Something that you were blissfully unaware of. Something he wanted to keep that way until it was the right time to tell you.

—

“Must you go?” You ask hopefully, tugging at his bicep. “You just got back.”

“Tono will have my head, tahnì.” He states, buckling his chest gear yet another time for today.

“It’s not fair. Not even the warriors back at home tree were called out so much. Especially if their mate was this far along.” You huff, letting go off his bicep to clutch your protruding belly. He cups a hand over yours, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Ah. I know, I know. I want to stay, I do—” He’s cut off by your sudden gasp, and your face screwing with discomfort. “Are you alright?” His voice turns fills with concern, head tilting even more so that he can look you in the face. It felt as if your back set ablaze and your stomach hardened into rock. It eases up within a few seconds and you take a quick breath before answering.

“Yeah, I think so.” You feel around your bump, taking note of how it’s softened and back to normal. “…that’s the second one today.”

“Hm. It is. See Ronal while I am gone.” Ralak insists, tucking a couple loose braids behind your ear. You nod in response, gritting your teeth from the reminder that he’s leaving again. “I will speak with Tonowari today.”

He’s quick to kiss you, lingering longer than he should. You savor his tender touch, breathing him in until you’ve gotten your fill to last you until he’s back. He pulls away, a grimace fixed to his face as it’s almost painful to do. He rubs your belly a final time, clicking for his beast. Reluctantly, he leaves, and so do you.

—

‘Practice Contractions.’

Ronal’s diagnosis of your pains.

You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept. Mom calls them something different, but it all means the same thing at the end of the day. The body’s way of preparing to give birth. The constriction of your stomach, accompanied by intense pain, at random times with no rhythm.

It’s normal, and expected. Ronal was particularly pleased to see your body do this early in your pregnancy. It typically occurs a couple weeks prior to birth, and both of you weren’t due for another month.

They’re nothing to worry about, but she advises to rest if they get too intense. You waddle home with your tail dragging behind you, unhappy to see no sign of your mates return.

—

“You are late.” Tonowari speaks monotonously, back turned to Ralak as he keeps his eyes on his task—forging a new tool. Ralak has to swallow his frustration and maintain his confidence.

“It will happen soon.” He responds in a similar tone, his eyes following as the olo’eyktan stands. “I must be with her.”

“I understand. I do. But—” Tonowari finishes up the last touches, giving the tool its final inspection. “This is your duty, son.”

“She, is my duty.” Ralak snaps, his frustration slipping through.

Feeling challenged, Tonowari turns to face him, now eye level with Ralak as he slowly nears his subordinate—chest to chest. But with a pregnant mate of his own, and the fact that Ralak is like his own son, Tonowari huffs a sigh and gives this a pass.

“This is for her, too. For the people of the clan. You know what we are about to face. You will do this.” The olo’eyktan states sternly. “When the horn sounds… you come. And that…” he shoves the tool into Ralak’s chest, “…is an order.”

Holding the tool against his own chest, Ralak looks away from Tonowari, grinding his back teeth hard enough to file them flat. He breathes heavily, attempting to recenter himself and stamp out the flame flickering in his chest. Tonowari gives him space, going ahead and mounting his skimwing, readying himself to embark on their journey. Whilst Ralak is left behind to let out a sluggish, shaky breath, closing his eyes when it dawns on him...

…what he must do, where he must go and who he must see.

All before coming home this evening.

—

“Zu’té.”

Ralak calls his name outside of the secluded, dim marui pod. It’s familiar, yet so unknown. It’s an eerie feeling to be standing here. It’s as if no one’s home. Not a single flame burning, nor the residual heat of a smothered fire pit. But Ralak can sense his presence. It’s thick. Aggressive. Just as it’s always been. It’s only intensified since the incident.

The silence is deafening now. A message loud enough to have Ralak reconsidering his actions—rethinking his feelings. No part of him really desired to ask anything of this man, much less this. But in the case Tonowari really doesn’t budge with his decision, it is something he must do. No matter how many years have passed. Ralak has moved on…come to terms with what’s happened, and is in a much better place in his life now. Because of you.

You.

He’s doing this for you. Or is he? The fact he’s fathered a child has a major influence on his decision to be standing here to begin with… perhaps it’s something within him driven by nature—by instinct. The further you’ve progressed, the more he’s thought about rekindling this relationship. But he always brushed off these passing thoughts, until they were no longer just thoughts that passed. They became thoughts that lingered and kept him awake some nights.

Showing their faces the most when Tonowari reminds him of the imminent danger the clan may face.

They reminded him of the good times when they were children. Teasing the ilus when no one was looking, sneaking off to the reef where the adults went to hunt just to see what it was like. But it also reminded him of the more unfortunate moments they shared. Those that will forever leave a scar on their souls, branded by pain and suffering. Since then, Ralak took an oath to never allow his own family to suffer the way he did.

If this is what he must do, he’ll do it.

“I am in need of a favour.” Ralak finally admits, witnessing a tall, thick silhouette emerge from the marui.

At this angle, its darkness looms over Ralak ominously. Green glowing eyes peer down at Ralak as the figure's hands cross defensively over his chest. He steps out of the darkness, revealing his inked face and intricately up-kept hair. He looks as if he’s been disturbed or rudely interrupted, evident in the way his eyes pierce fearlessly into Ralak. But Ralak simply returns the leer.

“Zu’té.” Ralak speaks his name again, a little more sternly this time.

“Brother. To what do I owe this visit?” His tone is sarcastic with undertones of hostility.

Ralak sighs, turning his head away from his older brother, fixating his gaze elsewhere. His jawbone flutters as he struggles to figure out what words to string together next. This isn’t easy for him—being here with his tail tucked between his legs.

“It is no way easy for me to ask you of this…I know we have not spoken for some time.”

“Really? You think so? I would say it has been a little more than ‘some time’, no?” Zu’té’s irritation is shining through now.

“Agreed.” Ralak speaks sharply, dropping his head, gaze piercing into his own feet. He swallows and sighs once more, finally lifting his head to look his brother in the face. "I need your help, brother."

“Hm.” Zu’té scoffs, meeting his stare flagrantly. “Let me get this right. You come here, wake me out my sleep, speak to me like this for the first time in over forty-eight seasons…and demand my help?”

“You are the only one I trust with this.” Ralak grinds out the words, they are hard to admit.

This quietens Zu’té, causing his features to soften and his fixed stare to falter. To hear this after twelve years, straight from his brother’s mouth has him a little taken aback. There’s only one thing that it could mean—that could bring the golden child before him, begging for a favour.

War.

“What does our ‘mighty’ olo’eyktan have you up to now, baby brother?” Zu’té’s tone is especially sardonic when speaking of their father-figure.

“Plenty.” Ralak chuckles quietly, shaking his head in amusement. His curved lips fade into a thin line, returning his grim expression when he’s reminded yet again of his exact reason for being here. “Look…” Ralak exhales, “...it is nowhere likeable for me to show my face like this. Trust me, I have thought of every possible solution. But…" he shakes his head, hesitant to share what he must say next. "My mate...she is pregnant."

Zu’té’ sighs when he realizes the gravity of the situation, eyes narrowing as they look behind Ralak to scan his surroundings. He’s far from all of the neighbouring marui pods, being the last pod along the mangroves. But if someone were nearby, they could eavesdrop with ease.

Zu’té lightly nudges his head, giving Ralak the silent signal to enter his marui. Ralak moves slowly, a little surprised by his change in...heart. Annoyed with Ralak's sluggish movement, Zu’té rolls his eyes.

“What? You expect an invitation?" Zu’té asks the rhetorical question loud and clear, watching in awe as his not-so-little brother stands almost eye to eye with him. "...you've grown."

"Surprised?" Ralak mutters, ears spasming from his brother's comment—shuffling past him.

"Don't get smart with me, little brother." Zu’té snaps with his ears pinned to his skull, automatically slipping back into disciplining his younger brother like he once used to. Ralak fights the smirk pulling at his lips, making his way further into the neat, well-decorated marui.

——

Ralak came home that night, as he does most nights nowadays with a heavy tail and tensed muscles. That night he broke the news that he had no luck with Tonowari. That he remained tied to his duties as a warrior, teacher, hunter and evidently more…that you had no knowledge of.

But he made it clear that none of them came before you—his most important duty of all. He promised not only to your father, but also to you, to put you first, no matter what. That he will do whatever he needs to ensure your safety is never compromised. Even if it means putting his pride aside, and asking for help, as he did that night.

The desire to prepare for your son's arrival grew with each passing day, making you nest like an expecting ikran. You smoked enough meat to last for the next couple months, and gathered as many herbs and fruits that you could manage.

Weaving has been one of your more frequent tasks, making a couple slings and a few more blankets. Ralak was quick to build the cot when he got into a nesting frenzy, too.

But regardless of what your next task was, it was always a little bit harder…a little bit more tiring. Until you were so round and heavy that most of them became unachievable. Your size started to affect you in more ways than just physical. It started to affect you mentally, too. Playing tricks on your mind, making you think negatively about yourself.

And Ralak picked up on that very quickly.

——

As you wait for his return, you give the marui another deep clean. You take small breaks often, sitting down whenever you become short of breath.

Whilst you sweep the patio, you see your mate trudge up the stairs, ears pinned back and exhaustion wrinkled into his forehead. Ralak sees you and wastes no time to take the broom from you and pull you into his chest.

He holds you in silence. Comfortable silence. Savouring how you feel against his body. The thud of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You’re his safe place. His home. As he is yours. His embrace is what you look forward to the most after a long day apart.

Perhaps this is what you both need. A moment of peace and quiet, where your focus is purely on the person in front of you. A break from the mayhem that life can entail, from the pull and push of the rough tides. Serenity. All to be interrupted by Ralak pulling away, holding you by the arms to create some distance between you two.

Furrowed brows and beaded eyes stare back at you when you look at him. He’s staring at you, but not at you. His eyes pierce into your chest, and then peel away to flick down at his stomach. A smile creeps on his face, and a huff of air through his nostrils as he chuckles softly. His gaze finally meets yours, and he lets go of your arms.

“Your milk is in.” He almost whispers, his fingertips grazing against your stomach.

“What?” You breathe, caught off guard to say the least. Your head snaps down, eyes searching every inch of your shawl to find two large, growing wet spots on it. “O-Oh.” You stutter, looking back up at him, catching sight of the glistening liquid on his stomach. “Oh.”

Your cheeks grow hot when blood rushes to them from embarrassment. Just another thing pregnancy has bestowed upon you. “Sorry, Lak.” You turn to reach for the nearby cloth that hangs by the window.

“What for?” He asks innocently—a little confused.

He watches as you wipe him down in an almost frantic manner. He stills your movements by grasping your wrists, causing you to drop the cloth. He brings your hands to his lips.

“Mawey [Calm]. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He speaks into the palm of your hands. You hear his words, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Hey.”

He lets go, and cups your cheek, urging you to look at him. When you finally do, he’s smiling down at you, allowing his hand to slip down to the bow of your shoulder—his fingers hooking underneath the hem of your shawl. “Let me clean you up, hm?”

“Oh—okay.” You stutter shyly, feeling his fingers slip under the woven fabric to slip it off your shoulders. “W-Wait.”

And when the material hits the floor, a shiver shakes your spine. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air, sticky nipples hardened into peaks for him to see. They’ve darkened in colour, and are even a little more puffy too.

Honestly, you weren’t the biggest fan of them anymore. You wore thicker tops or shawls to conceal them, just as you did your stomach with your new…stripes. But Ralak loves them, always stealing a glance at every given chance.

But to know that they’re full with milk makes him feel…on edge.

His eyes bore into them, unapologetically taking in every detail. His smile falls into a slight smirk, which then droops into a thin line. His jaw flutters as he grits his teeth, biting back his urges.

“Don’t stare.” You whisper shyly, covering your chest with one arm and your belly with the other. He looks at you, and reaches for your arms, peeling them away from your body.

“Beautiful.” He states as a fact, intertwining his fingers with yours. “So beautiful, carrying my child.”

“‘m really not.” You mumble, looking away in shame. You feel his hand move to your face, two fingers tugging at your jaw to have you look up at him. When you finally give in to his nudges, you see the look on his face. It was as if you had deeply and personally offended him.

“You are.” He insists softly.

You simply shake your head, arms instinctively wrapping around your chest and belly once more. “I don’t feel it. I don’t even know how you can look at me and say that.”

Ralak almost feels angered by your words. It hurts him to hear you speak of yourself in such a way, especially when it’s far from the truth. If anything, he’s even more attracted to you. Knowing that this is what your body is going through to bring his child into the world has made him even more appreciative of you.

“Never say such things.” He husks firmly, removing your hands from your body and keeping them in his grasp. “Do not hide.”

“You have barely touched me.” You retaliate, voice cracking with hurt.

“Not for that reason.” He’s quick to cut you short, making sure you know that the last thing stopping him from pouncing on you every chance he gets is the way you look. Absolutely not.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then—”

Frustrated, Ralak shoves your hand onto his loincloth, pressing it firmly against the bulge that strains against the material. “You feel that?”

You do, you feel every inch of it, hard and warm against your palm. Your face heats up even more, cheeks staining a bright red. Your breath turns raggedy as you struggle to find the words to say.

“Hm?” He grunts as he presses himself even harder against the palm of your hand.

“Y-Yes.” You stutter. Ralak turns you around, pressing himself into you from behind. His heated lips are flush against your ear, hot breath prickling your skin.

“This is what you do to me.” Ralak husks into the shell of your ear, grinding his bulge into the swell of your ass. “Day after day.” He groans almost painfully, filled with all sorts of emotions. He holds you firm against his body, grazing his bottom teeth against the lobe of your ear. “All it takes is a single glance.” His words have your clit pulsing under your tewng and your thighs rubbing against one another. “The sight of you…of your swollen breasts… your swollen womb…” he hisses, on edge and high strung as he caresses your belly, “…it makes me lose myself.”

“Fuck.” You breathe, reaching behind you to tug his loincloth down in a frantic manner. You feel his lips nibble and nip at the skin behind your ear, making their way down the back of your neck. You can’t help but moan from the feeling, your already stiff nipples tingling from his gentle touches.

You feel his hands wander over your stomach and under your tewng, his fingers fondling your folds as he gently parts them. He grunts against your neck, inhaling your scent deep in his lungs as his hips stutter into you. Your stickiness coats his fingers as they slip and slide over your hardened nub.

You tug even harder at his loincloth, struggling to get the annoying thing off him. You let out a frustrated grunt, and he lets loose an amused chuckle, peppering soft kisses down to the bow of your shoulder.

“What is it? Need me to take you right here?” He husks low, voice muffled by his continuous kisses. “…where someone may see?”

Right, you’re on the patio.

Out in the open, under the light of the moon. Ralaks marui pod is far from the village on a cul de sac. The only thing further than here is sand, open water and a couple smaller islands off in the distance. However, there' is's always the slim chance of a na’vi or two going for a late night swim or on a romantic adventure far from the village.

But you simply didn’t care.

If anything it only riles you up more—the riskiness of it all, the thought of being caught. The need to be sneaky and quiet, when all you want to do is moan his name until your voice goes dim. It seems that Ralak feels similarly as you feel him throb against you, excited to take you where you stand.

“I don’t mind.” You huff shakily, finally tugging the cloth down enough for his cock to spring out. “Do you?”

You feel him smile against your shoulder when you grip it in your hand, smooth teeth bumping into your skin as his free hand cups your full breast.

“Not at all, my tanhì.” He breathes, gently kneading the soft flesh, feeling the trickle of your milk flow over the back of his hand.

“Good.” Your lungs tremble beneath his touch, hand desperately stroking his length. Yet he remains gentle with his touches, pinning your clit between his two fingers as he rubs you slowly. “Then hurry…I need you inside.”

Ralak quickly moves his kisses back up your neck, and you feel the tip of his tongue tickle the lobe of your ear before he suckles on it lightly. Tingles ripple up your spine, sending your head into a shiver as you lean into his mouth. His fingers dip into your soaking core just as he rolls your tender nipple between his other two digits.

It’s all too much. All-consuming. Making you gasp for air in lungs that won’t seem to fill. Fog clouds your head. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like this.

You’re already so sensitive as it is, so tender and delicate, like silk under his fingers. He pushes his two fingers even deeper inside your aching pussy, curling them and earning a whimper from your lips and quiver of your tail.

“Not too loud, oeyä sevin muntxate [my pretty/beautiful wife]”. Ralak whispers the hushed praise, knowing it’s what you need to hear.

You’re so much warmer around his fingers than usual, so much softer. Wetter. With each curl of his digits comes out a squelch as he works you open for his cock that he’s been dying to plunge inside you.

You wrap your leg around his, perching your heel on the side of thigh as you lean all your weight back into him. He steadies his knees, supporting you with ease. Your head slumps back into his shoulder, opening up your neck to his hot breaths, an arm reaching behind you to fist his hair.

His brows are tense and his breath is heavy. He’s overcome with arousal and he can’t keep his composure as your scent grows stronger now your throat is directly under his nose. Truthfully it’s been too long, he knows that. He knows he’s been too protective, too cautious. Depriving you and him of the touch that’s necessary between a mated pair.

His fingers slip out of you, now expertly unravelling the loose knot just barely keeping your tewng on you. As it drops to the floor his fingers are back where they were, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit before spreading your pussylips apart. His hips stutter as he attempts to align the crown of his cock with your slit and finally buck forward when he senses your little, exposed hole.

His cock sinks inside you at an achingly slow pace—inch by inch. You let loose a lengthy moan when you feel him fill you completely, no longer caring if anyone hears you.

“Hnng—I missed you.” The gruff words slip out as he bottoms out inside your cunt. He has longed to feel your gummy walls squeeze oh-so tightly around his cock. “You alright?” He checks on you in a daze, voice thick with want—with the desire to pummel your little pussy until your voice is hoarse. But the last thing he wants is to hurt his heavily pregnant mate.

“Mhm, ple-ase.” You purr with need, closing your eyes and relaxing completely into him. Trusting someone this much feels too good. Ralak moves slowly, pumping his cock in and out of you in a languid haze, tickling your sensitive clit with just the tips of his fingers.

“Tanhì—haah—you are squeezing me so tight.” Ralak moans as his strokes grow with intent. His hips roll deep, shoving and forcing his cock inside your sensitive cunt until his swollen balls kiss your clit.

He’s unapologetically coaxing out the orgasm you’ve been denied for so long with only a few lazy thrusts. And he knows it. He can feel it from the way you clench around him. From the way your thighs tremble a little more after each deep stroke…from the sweet, filthy noises that shamelessly drip from your lips.

“Oh my—Ralak! I-I’m gonna—” You sputter the words between choked sounds, eyes welling with tears from the burn between your legs.

“I know, I know.” He huffs, dragging his hot tongue along the length of your throat. The truth is, he’s close too. But he can’t allow himself to finish inside you. He can’t risk letting himself go and pounding recklessly into your poor, tender pussy. He’s already had a long day. “Let it out, tìyawn [love].”

Its almost cathartic.

Weeks of pent up frustration released in a few minutes, leaving you near convulsing in his grip. You can’t stop the flutter of your pussy walls if you try, it’s out of your control, much like the surge of white fire going right through you. Your legs fight to stay open and you hold onto your mate to keep you standing. Gurgled noises spill from your lips as your body shudders under him. His hips still, keeping his cock buried to the hilt inside your quivering cunt as he holds you tight, supporting you until you finish riding out your high.

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praises you in a hushed, shaky voice, extremely wound up from feeling you flourish so beautifully under his touch. It's a miracle that he didn't empty himself inside you right then and there.

“But you—but you haven’t—” You sputter, collapsing into him as your legs give out.

“I know. It is alright..” He hums, carefully leading you inside the marui to lay you on the bed.

“Thought you were c-cleaning me u-up. Not mak-king m-more of a mess.” Your breath is relentlessly hitching as you watch him hastily remove his tewng that’s been digging into his thighs. A reminder of exactly how quickly things happened.

“You are right.” Ralak tsks, cocking a brow as he stares down at you with a predatory leer. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

Ralak situates himself between your legs, crouching over you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between him and your stomach. His cock presses between your sticky folds as his lips press against your clammy neck. He tastes the faint saltiness of the thin film of sweat on your skin as he drags his lips down your chest—between your breasts.

“Lak…” You whisper, back bowing against the bed.

You’re way too sensitive right now, like an exposed nerve. His eyes snap up and lock with yours, responding to you moaning his name. His tongue darts out, sampling a taste of the spilled milk on your breast. Then his eyes slam shut, tensed brows and scrunched nose telling you that he’s unsure of the flavour in his mouth.

Eyes widening, you’re taken aback by his actions, feelings of shyness and embarrassment creeping back in. Fisting his hair, you pull gently at his head to pry him off your chest, only for him to resist your tugs.

“You shouldn’t have done—why’d you do—” You struggle to find the right words at this moment, flustered and nervous that he’d do that.

But what leaves you even more speechless is when he opens his eyes to reveal dots for pupils, a look you only see when he’s high strung. And then he eagerly takes your nipple into his mouth, latching on and ensuring the suction is airtight. The tip of his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple a few times before he gently suckles at your breast.

A tingling sensation radiates your chest and you feel it in the pit of your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat, a little surprised by his lewd behaviour. And soon, all you can hear are the repeated, muffled gulps of your warm milk flowing down his throat.

“W-What are yo-ou d-doing, my love?” You mewl, squirming underneath him from the strange feeling. He unlatches harshly with an audible pop, leaving your pointed nipple misshapened and exposed.

“Cleaning you.” He huffs quickly as he catches his breath, diving back in to lap up the milk leaking from your other neglected breast. Your head throws back in what is undeniably pleasure now, legs tightening around his waist. You look down in a daze, watching him feast greedily, feeling his hips begin to stammer against you.

“Fuck—I didn’t know this i-is what you meant.” You’re finally calming down from your orgasm now, already feeling your body gearing up to have another. His desperation is pungent. Evident in the way his cock grinds between your soft, slippery folds, scenting your cunt with it.

He pulls off you with yet another pop, his tongue swiping his bottom lip so not to let the bead of milk dripping off of it go to waste. He’s huffing and puffing against you, trailing his wet kisses down your curved stomach as he tucks your legs back. You feel his hot breath against your thighs and your legs tremble in anticipation.

“Kalin, kalin [sweet, sweet].” He mumbles, kissing your pulsing clit. “Oeyä kalin [My sweet].”

“Oh shit.” You let loose the breathy curse when you feel his lips pucker around your over sensitive nub, and squeal when he begins to suck on it too. Your hands fly to his head, grasping at his hair to shove his face further into your cunt. He devours you with exhilaration, lapping at your leaking slit to savour your sweetness.

His cock is aching now. He’s so hard it’s painful. He can’t stop throbbing and his cock strains so hard it’s swollen. He wants to shove himself back inside you— your warmth—and hump at you until his marked you with his essence.

He can’t help but touch himself as he pleasures you. Stroking his cock with every lick of your pussy. Thrusting into his hand when he feels you throb against his tongue. He’s groaning and grunting into your cunt, urgently chasing his own release as he sucks on you for his own pleasure.

Too busy to realise that you’ve been begging him to slow down a bit. That you’re too sensitive. That you feel like you may explode if he continues.

“Ralak! I just came! F-Fuck—” You yank his head away, hurriedly rubbing at your sore pussy.

Ralak pants for air, pulling back into a standing position to reveal that he’s been fucking his hand this entire time. It’s glossy with his precum as it dribbles down his strake. He’s frantically stroking himself, staring brazenly down at your pussy—taking in how it’s flushed and swollen, glistening with his spit and your slick. It’s a delicious sight, tempting him to go in for another taste.

He’s close and you can tell, his hips are stuttering erratically and he’s groaning like a dying man. You sit up slowly, bringing yourself to your knees as you shuffle your way closer to him. Your chest is level to his cock and you cup your full breasts with both hands, pushing them together only inches away from him.

He seems a little confused, unsure of what your next move may be. Fuck, you aren’t even sure of what your next move is. But you’re going with your instinct, pinching your nipples until they begin to leak milk. His brows jump, the sight of that sends his hips stammering into his hand. With each huff and thrust sends his cock a little closer to you, until his swollen cockhead is poking at your breasts.

You shuffle a little closer, moaning softly from watching him get off like this. Then you feel his sticky cock slip in between your breasts, and his hand falls to your shoulders.

Now he’s fucking your tits in a frenzy, his leaking tip prodding at your lips. You stick your tongue out for a taste, allowing his cockhead to slip and slide against it. He’s groaning and moaning, eyes fixed in the sight beneath him. The pressure from his fat cock between your breasts only makes you leak even more, and that’s when he loses it completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls, thrusting hard enough to shove his cockhead into your mouth. You feel him throb violently against your tongue, his thick, hot load coating your cheeks until they're full to the brim. He pulls out as soon as he realises what he’s down, immediately reaching for your bedside bucket to spit in.

But you shake your head, glossy eyes staring up at him as you swallow his cum with a singular, loud gulp. His eyes bulge, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he quickly searches your eyes. You simply smile, using a thumb to swipe the single bead of cum on your chin and pop it into your mouth.

Features softening, he returns the smile, chest heaving wildly as it swells with pride.

——

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fixyourwritinghabits · 2 months

Text

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

#writblr #AI Bullshit #The State of Things These Days

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vadersassistant · 9 months

Note

Hiiii

wo dering if you could do an enemies to lover anakin imagine. kind of like friends to enemies to lovers or something like that and it ends in them making out o whatever you are comfortable with.

Anyways thank youuu

Denial One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: After venturing into a Sith Temple to try and find an edge on the current war, (Y/N) meets her enemy, Lord Vader, the man who killed her best friend and secret lover. He has been hunting both her and her alias down for months, following her across the galaxy, but little does she know, he has no plans to kill her. Takes place in the temple seen in the Star Wars Rebels season two finale. Reader was previously a Jedi and is in hiding due to order 66.

Warnings: Make out session

A/N: (Y/N) does not know Vader is Anakin, and Vader does not know (Y/N) is the Fugitive he has been searching for. This is once again a mix of suited Vader and nightfall Vader. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.

The temple was eerie, an odd feeling passing by with each step you took. It was the opposite of the one I grew up in, representing everything I was told to dislike, and yet I was here anyways. I had made up my mind to fight instead of continuing to run from the problem. I wasn’t a rebel, but I wasn’t an imperial either. I was the middle ground, a former Jedi with a new identity, a mask to shield my face so that I could live freely, but the saber still gave it away. I was good, too good to be a civilian having fun with an old relic, even though some still used them publicly. Some, as in him.

The Jedi fell and Lord Vader rose out of thin air. There was no preface, no foreshadowing, he just came, and everyone bowed their heads.

To outsiders he was a military leader trained in combat, who happened to use an imaginary power. To force users, like Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and I, he was a Sith. We all knew it the second he began hunting us down. He wanted the Jedi dead and made it clear when he began searching for my alias as well. Everyone knew who she was, I was put on every single imperial security watch available, but I evaded it all I could. I forged a new saber, so that they couldn’t track me that way, and told people about how the female jedi on the Holonets from the clone wars died. The only people who truly knew were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, since they too had done something similar. He was Ben, she was Ashla, and I gained the name Fugitive, a mask being the only way to keep track of my identity.

I couldn’t count how many storm-troopers I had killed by now, just that I did. I was forced to, to keep myself alive, because he wanted me turned in. I was always told to run, to flee from Vader because of what he’s done, but all I wanted was for the man to wind up dead. A lust for revenge had developed ever since I learned what he did to my best friend, Anakin Skywalker.

I don’t even know how he could have killed a warrior like him, but he did and now he’s gone. Slaughtered like any other while trying to save people in the temple, something someone with his character would have done naturally. The worst part is that everyone he was trying to save is dead too, and that he could have escaped with us, had he not done what he did. He had a wife, Senator Amidala, a good friend of mine, who also died that night, although I wasn’t sure if they ended on good terms.

The two had been arguing for a while, he believed she was cheating on him with Obi Wan, although she continued to deny it along with everyone else. I was the only one who he talked to about his problems willingly, even Kenobi would have to go through reading his mind to talk about personal issues. It was only when Anakin died that the truth came out, that being that Anakin was right, and she was seeing Kenobi.

I hadn’t recognized him after that point. I knew he was afraid he would be kicked out of the Jedi order if we found out he was dating another woman. Even further, the fact he knowingly was allowing the affair to happen, but it occurred anyways, and he lost everything with it. That was consequence enough, he didn’t need me to yell at him any further for going that far.

Still, I was angry, because I cared about Anakin.

And also loved him.

I denied it for years, the helpless prodding’s from Ahsoka when the two of us would spend hours upon hours with each other. We carried out the entire war effort, working extremely close together on missions. It was no surprise that I liked him, he had even mentioned subtly what things would be like if he hadn’t met her. It sounded like he regretted it, but I had no clue, due to us being force users.

I now stood in front of the man who took him away, the one that gutted him in the chest like a fish with no care whatsoever. The man that had been hunting me down under both my names since the night of the fall, the one that was known for murdering everyone in his path. I don’t know how he found me, I had a feeling we were being followed, but I didn’t care. We needed the Holocron inside of the temple, and Ahsoka now had it in hand. I could sense their distraught, both behind me looking at the Sith in front of us. They didn’t want to fight him; they were afraid to fight him. I felt differently, looking at his mask through the visors of my own.

“It was foretold that you would be here, our long-awaited meeting has come at last."

“This meeting is over,” Ahsoka said.

“Are you so sure?” the Sith questioned through the modulated voice his mask provided him, as I stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked me, his breath becoming short.

“Leave."

“No," he shook his head. "Don’t do this."

“Leave. Now.”

I looked up at the temple’s ceiling as the walls started to drop down. It was collapsing on itself, since the Holocron had been taken from the Obelisk. There wasn’t much to do, but I knew I didn’t want to pull them into this. I turned around and outstretched a hand.

Ahsoka screamed as I force pushed both her and Obi-Wan back while the temple’s walls crashed down. I saw her figure fly back just before the drop and felt her gently land. There was a ship, they could leave, I would worry about myself after I killed him.

“We’re finishing this here,” I said. "I know you've been hunting me for the past months."

“You are courageous, unlike your friends,” the Sith mused. “Hateful.”

“You killed my best friend," I pointed out. "I want you to experience that same pain."

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he reminded. "Your confidence dilutes your ability to make rational decisions."

“I am no Jedi.”

“Then who are you? Your saber is unlike any I have ever seen, an identity successfully hidden behind a helm.”

“That’s none of your business, why have you been hunting me?” I asked. I felt the pressure of the Dark Side creeping against my mind's barriers, he was trying to invade.

“You would make a wonderful apprentice in the dark side,” Vader said. "You have already abandoned your training as a Jedi."

“I don’t side with murderers.”

“And yet you are one. I have seen your way of fighting Fugitive; you have killed countless of our troops and inquisitors.”

“Your Inquisitorious is an embarrassment, and I will never join you, not after what you did,” I called my saber to my hand, igniting it.

“Then you will die.”

There was this feeling of fear that attempted to wash over me, like he was attempting to throw me off, but I wasn't thinking about it anymore.

I ran full speed at him, force pushing myself up off the ground and into the air to try and put myself on the offensive. My blade met his right over his helmet, as he angled me back and I landed behind him. My automatic response was to try and swing for his legs, a move he evaded but had been surprised by. I knew I needed to be careful with how I played things. He would try and tire me out by just playing the defensive, but I also didn’t get that tired frow much stamina I built up during the war. Vader was also bigger, and stronger, meaning I’d need to use his weight to my advantage. I was quick, less stable, and grounded, and more agile in my movements.

We continued to take shots at each other, as he seemingly began to test me. It was a constant switch from the right to the left, bashing at each other from different angles and walking along with it. It was something Anakin and I always did, and it almost felt familiar. For whatever reason, I could feel myself getting into the rhythm Skywalker and I got into when we would train every day. After a certain point I would always switch my grip and force him to back off, and I did it purely out of muscle memory, shoving the Sith back.

“Your anger focuses you,” he commented. “Join me and I can enhance that power.”

“You killed him, the man I loved, do you truly believe I would ever consider that?”

“He is gone for a reason,” Vader said.

“He was the chosen one!” I shouted, interlocking lightsabers in a pursuit for power over the other. "You know why he lost his life?! Because he was trying to save everyone else, instead of actually caring for himself for once."

“(Y/N)."

I stumbled back immediately, hearing that name leave his mouth,

"What?"

My eyes widened beneath the visors, letting my guard down for just a moment.

It was all he needed.

I felt his immense force break through my walls and invade my mind, clawing through my memories and thoughts like a file. Not only that, but he immediately took me to the ground. It was quick, as he now straddled me, muscular thighs resting over my lower waist. Both my arms were pinned to either side with by the force, my saber in his hand.

I grunted, struggling under him and thrusting against his cod piece hoping it would make him budge but it barely made a difference. I couldn’t do a thing, as the Sith reached for my mask and pressed down on the sides. I felt it depressurize, as his gloved digits lifted it off my head, and I looked into his mask with my own eyes.

"How do you know my name?" I asked angrily as I fought underneath him to free myself.

There was no way of telling what he truly felt in that moment, holding the helm silently, breathing being the only indication he was still alive. I continued to try and do everything to get out of his grasp, but the Sith only sat there and took me in, his body heat lingering over my own. I felt like a mess, wondering where Ahsoka and Obi-Wan might be right now, realizing why Anakin lost his life to this man. I didn’t know how he knew my name, my real name, the one that no one had called me in months. I was fully pinned down, not giving up until I saw him reach for his own helmet.

"What are you do—"

My throat ran dry, amber eyes piercing through my body like a blade.

"Anakin."

It was him, with brown hair that held golden streaks just above his armor.

"(Y/N)."

Hearing his voice sent a shiver down my entire back, as I shuddered underneath him.

“I thought you died—they said Vader killed you—" there were tears welling up in my eyes, looking up at him.

“I am alive."

“Why did you turn?"

“The Jedi council was using us, Obi-Wan lied to me about Padme (Y/N), they were having an affair. But you know that already.”

“Obi Wan told us,” I trailed off.

“I know.”

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“No, that was never my intent," he emphasized lowly.

“So, what will you do?” I questioned.

“After separating myself from the order, I reflected much upon it,” Anakin started. "And came to terms with several of my mistakes."

“What mistakes?”

Still straddling me Anakin leaned down, placing his hands by either sides of my head and lowering himself to my ear.

“I was blindly dating filthy senator, when I had the love of my life right next to me the entire time."

"What do you mean?" I emphasized each word, my abdomen tensing as he got so close to me.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of my future and imagine you by my side. I told myself it was our strong bond causing me to think of you constantly, due to the amount of time we spent together, but now, I feel completely different."

"Anakin," my heart was racing, as he continued to whisper into my ear.

"Maker, I missed you so much."

He was just trying to be friendly, that's all this was.

"Now, I know you are not that naive," he let out a deep chuckle, reading my mind.

"Is this your way of coercing me into joining the dark side?" I said softly, trying to play it off.

"There is no need to coerce you (Y/N), your heart is already doing all the work," Anakin told me. "All there is to do is to make up for lost time."

"No.."

"Continuing to deny it is only stalling the inevitable," he spoke in a playful way. "Your hatred towards the one you believed to be my killer only proves it more."

"I—" I cut myself off, as Anakin moved his head, now right over mine.

"What is it?" he asked me, his golden eyes flicking from my lips up to my eyes in quick fashion.

I gave in, nodding to his silent question and feeling the force lift off my hands.

Anakin pressed his lips to mine as I lifted my head up and met him midway. His robotic hand came down to my waist, the other combing through my hair as he helped hold my head steady. It was delicate and prepared, goosebumps crawling over my skin as his weight pressed me onto the cold temple floors. He was an expert in the way he worked around my mouth, the first time I had ever kissed anyone to begin with.

To think such a sacred place would be ruined due to our own shenanigans.

A Jedi and a Sith, making out in a temple with no care for sentiment.

His lips were chapped yet soft, and the more breaths we took between kissing the more swollen they became. Anakin didn’t seem to care though, continuing to go down on my neck allowing me to breath. He wasn’t going too far, but it was enough for the occasion, leaving marks I that wouldn’t leave for days.

It was madness.

Everything around us screamed in pleasure, the force happily chiming along with the two sides agreeing on something, even if it wasn’t an argument. Anakin had changed, and I couldn’t decide if it was for better or for worse.

If only those two could see me now, making love to the man that we had been running from for months. The copious amounts of rage had turned to attraction in a blink of an eye, rejoicing in his presence as my hand pressed against his tunic and I felt his abdomen underneath the fabric. He was such light and yet the darkness itself, drowning me in it as we sunk into a pool of ecstasy.

The cold stone floors were soon heated, as the temple grew humid and we both simultaneously agreed to take our tops off. It was the definition of multitasking, as I took off his armor and tunic, leaving behind a black pair of pants, and his boots. With the force he slipped my top off, gaining access to my collar bone and gracing it with his mouth. There was a possessive feeling in the air, as he took in my body for the first time with his own eyes as I did to him.

"You are so beautiful, it is intoxicating."

I felt myself smiling, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his neck, the both of us kissing deeply. This was it, holding our breath as we enjoyed one another, but the force was warning the both of us.

The temple shook, I almost forgot it was collapsing.

"We need to escape before we become trapped inside," Anakin said. "My ship is outside."

"And you assume I'm coming?"

"I know you are."

I laughed, acknowledging his foresight. We put on our clothes hurriedly yet thoroughly, as someone trained to handle life or death would. In truth, that was what we stood for, as Jedi and Sith both came together as one, in ways that would be frowned upon.

Except we didn't care.

We weren't denying it any longer.

Back in business since the recent Ahsoka episode. Hope you all enjoyed!

#darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader x y/n #darth vader x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x reader #suitless darth vader x reader

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celestialcrowley · 9 months

Text

This took 6,000 years to put together.

I need to talk about some things — things that are afoot — before I pop. On my (pick a card, any card, shhh) rewatch, I've picked up on lots of potential Clues and Foreshadowing. Shouts like David Tennant, "I want to be heard!" and waves hands like Detective Azirapalalala.

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. Season 1 indeed began with a Garden. The Garden of Eden. I'm going to leave this here for now, but I'm going to come back to it. Neil never does anything by accident. Everything we saw in Good Omens season 1 and season 2 had a purpose. Have you got your turtlenecks on? Right. Let's go. While season 2 had a heartbreaking ending, their story is not over because —

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. Foreshadowing. There was a lot of it. I'll start with two important lines that were said by Crowley and Maggie. Maggie mirrors Crowley. "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own." Crowley had to leave Aziraphale in order to save the humans, but then we got, "I'm not leaving him to face them on his own." Parallels. Similar lines, and, in that moment, Maggie took Crowley's place as Aziraphale's protector. “Would I lie to you?”

Crowley does lie, but he promised Aziraphale that he’d come back to him, and he did. I’ll come to you is something Crowley will never lie about. More on that specific detail later. WAIT AND SEE! Season 1, Episode 5: The Doomsday Option "Look, wherever you are, I'll come to you. Where are you?" Season 2, Episode 5: The Ball "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own." There are parallels here too. Both lines are similar, both were spoken by Crowley and both were in the fifth episodes. It might not mean anything, but it could be a Clue, and I've still got my eye on Neil ... and his ominous lighter. Season 2, Episode 6: Every Day "Angels are like bees. Fiercely protective of their hive." This line shouted at me. Anthony "Ji'mNotNice" Crowley, while no longer an angel, has the protective tendencies of a Guardian Angel. He is the bee. Aziraphale is the hive.

In the fifth episode of season one, Crowley had been stuck in a traffic jam and then decided he was going to go 100% feral and drive his Bentley through fire. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Aziraphale.

In episode 1 of season 2, The Arrival, Crowley losing his temper, I believe, foreshadows his threat to Jimmm “ShortForJammmes” Gabriel —

— which took place in the fifth episode of the second season.

“But I was there, and I do remember very clearly the look on your face, Archangel Gabriel, when you told my only friend to shut his stupid mouth and die.”

Right — ready? I threw these in as well because I have a hunch that they could also count as potential foreshadowing. Let's look at three very specific lines. Season 2, Episode 2: The Clue

I need to talk about that line because it appears to heavily foreshadow the end of season 2 episode 6. Aziraphale went with the Metatron to Heaven despite his bookshop. His love for food. Coffee. The kiss. Crowley. Despite everything he holds dear.

He is going along with Heaven as far as he can. I'm going to talk about the Coffee Shop Theory first, which is going to lead right into the Body Swap Theory, and why I don't stand by them. The Coffee Shop Theory We don't know a lot about the Metatron because we've hardly seen him as anything other than a floating head and his claim to be the Voice of God — at least right up until the end of season 2. There were a lot of red flags floating around just like his head. This conversation to start with... The Metatron: Do people ever ask for death? Nina: What? The Metatron: Well, the name of your establishment. Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. I assume they always ask for coffee. Nina: They don't ever ask for death, no. The Metatron: No, I don't suppose they do. So predicatable. So predictable.

There was a sinister edge to it, and I didn’t like it. Crowley has asked about the name of the coffee shop, too, but it’s Crowley. He’s harmless. Something about the Metatron doesn’t sit right with me.

1) None of the angels in the bookshop seemed to recognize the Metatron, but at least several of them should have. They did see him as a floating head, so why didn’t they know him while Crowley did?

2) Where exactly has God been?

3) There was definitely something evil about that look the Metatron gave to Crowley in the bookshop. Why didn’t he seem to react to it?

The Metatron appeared to use manipulation tactics and mimicked Aziraphale’s speech patterns as a way of convincing him to accept his proposal. He brought him a coffee — it’s no secret that Aziraphale enjoys coffee and nice meals — complimented him — an angel of your talents — used the phrase jolly good — something Aziraphale has said before — and threw this in.

“As Supreme Archangel, you would get to decide who to work with.”

He’s using Crowley as another manipulative tactic because he knows how deeply Aziraphale cares for him, but —

1) He knows Crowley will not agree to return to Heaven.

2) He wants them separated because they are too powerful together. And nothing will be able to stand in their way if they are not separated.

Performs a wibbly wobbly timey wimey miracle

The Body Swap Theory

Aziraphale is a master of his face. He’s bubbly almost all the time, but when he’s not, it shows. I can’t bring myself to stand by the body swap theory because of two things.

Aziraphale made this face when he had Hell convinced that he was Crowley. This smile —

— closely resembles this smile.

This is Aziraphale, but he’s not the Aziraphale we know. This is an angel who has already put his armor on and is ready for battle. This is an angel who is going to fight for everything he holds dear.

The Metatron may have successfully separated them, but he clearly hasn’t been paying close attention to Crowley or Muriel. He apparently didn’t notice how feral Crowley became when Aziraphale was threatened in any way.

You don’t separate the bee from the hive.

Muriel willingly took our favorite murder hornet bee into Heaven. It’s clear they like Crowley, and he likes them as well. There were no signs that Muriel lost their angelic powers, and that could result in them getting Crowley into Heaven again. I believe they are going to play a key role in season 3.

Performs another wibbly wobbly timey wimey miracle…

“You’re just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.”

“Oh, I am, but rescuing me makes him so happy.”

“You came back.”

My point is … m’point is …

Aziraphale will always go along with Heaven as far as he can … until he doesn’t, and I believe we will get to see that in season three. As soon as he was told of the Second Coming, it was clear that he was not pleased.

“You’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”

Aziraphale is clever, and dangerously so.

And that set Armageddon his plan into motion.

To wrap things up, here’s the thing regarding more on that specific detail later — Crowley will always be the bee, and he will always be fiercely protective of his hive Aziraphale, and he will either always be waiting for him or always come back to him.

It starts, as it will end, with a garden.

Their Nightingale will sing once more.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #david tennant #aziracrow #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens 1 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable idiots #muriel #the metatron #nina #maggie #ineffable fandom

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queerfables · 9 months

Text

The Rules of the Twist

Given the themes of deception and sleight of hand in Good Omens season 2, I think most of us agree it's at least possible there's some kind of twist waiting to be revealed in season 3. We're bouncing around a lot of theories, but I wanted to take a step back and look at the general shape of what we might expect.

The big twist we've seen before in Good Omens is Crowley and Aziraphale's body swap. (Okay, technically it was an appearance swap. But that just doesn't sound as pithy.) Rather than anticipate an exact repeat of this trick, I'm considering the swap as a sort of model. What does it tell us about the rules Neil plays by when he pulls a twist in this story? What clues can we expect, and what can we not count on? Sure, there's no guarantee that a season 2 twist is going to map exactly onto what we've seen in the past, but I think it's a reasonable place to start. Take these as guidelines and take them with a grain of salt, but if you're sorting through all our fascinating Good Omens theories and trying to decide what you think, you might find them helpful.

So then, what are the rules?

Broadly speaking, Neil plays fair with twists. He foreshadows and includes enough hints for the audience to make a reasonable guess at what's going on, or at least to look back after the reveal and go, "oh, of course". But he still keeps some cards close to the chest.

During the body swap, there are two big gaps in the information we're given:

Key events happen off screen The swap happened between scenes, during a time that it was only suggested, not confirmed, that Crowley and Aziraphale would be together. The transition between these scenes also used film and tv conventions to make that passage of time "invisible" - we see Crowley and Aziraphale get on the bus, and then we see them in the morning going about their days separately, and we're conditioned to think nothing important could have happened in between.

Key tools (eg abilities, items, information) haven't been shown before The swap was not something we'd ever seen Crowley and Aziraphale do, and it wasn't something they'd ever talked about either. It fit comfortably into the established world building but it hadn't been specifically signposted as a possibility.

The other big twist that Good Omens pulled was the romance between Gabriel and Beelzebub as the explanation for Gabriel's disappearance from heaven. Both of these information gaps are involved here too. The offscreen event is obviously the meetings between Gabriel and Beelzebub that lead to them falling in love - up until Gabriel's flashback sequence, the only indication they'd ever met each other was a brief conversation at the airbase during Armageddon. The tool that we haven't seen before is Beelzebub's ability to create a fly vessel for Gabriel's memories (protecting him in much the same way that Crowley and Aziraphale protected each other with their body swap, in fact).

These are pretty big gaps, really. And given that Neil knew there'd be years between seasons 2 and 3, I expect he would have leaned pretty heavily into them if he wanted to hide something. So how do we predict a twist if we can't know where it is and haven't seen what it might involve?

Unanswered questions

This is the big one. Looking at where the furniture isn't, you might say.

What's interesting is that the questions that point to a twist aren't usually subtle or ambiguous. For the body swap, the two converging questions were: what did Agnes' last prophecy mean, and how could Crowley and Aziraphale survive their executions? In season two, some of the unanswered questions signposting Gabriel/Beelzebub were: how did Gabriel lose his memory, why was he carrying a box, what was the significance of the song he kept singing, who was he at the Resurrectionist with...

I think guesses about upcoming twists are most convincing when they seek to tie up loose threads from the show. For this reason, I'm a little skeptical of theories proposing the kiss between Crowley and Aziraphale involved some kind of twist. It isn't impossible, I just don't see any unanswered questions there. (Savvy readers may note that I too have speculated about a twist hidden in the kiss. I do find the possibility fun, but it's not a theory I'm seriously committed to). If I was going to really buy into one of these theories, I'd want it to explain one of my big unanswered questions other than "but how could they get into a fight that hurts me so deep in my soul?" That's definitely a question I have, but not technically a mystery.

It's worth noting that in the case of the body swap, we were initially given a false answer to the question "how did they survive their executions?" The angels and demons watching attribute it to Crowley and Aziraphale having "gone native", believing that their natures had fundamentally changed, making them immune to holy water and hellfire. It might be the case, then, that some of the apparently resolved questions this season warrant further investigation. Is there more to the story of Gabriel's disappearance than we know, for example?

2. Unexplained details

If examining an unanswered question is looking at where the furniture isn't, then this is where we take all the pieces of furniture piled up in storage and see if we've got anything that fits. Everything is fair game here: script, acting, music, props, sets, costumes, editing, camera angles, audio effects, visual effects, everything. If it's on the screen or coming through the speakers, it was put there on purpose by multiple teams of highly skilled and attentive creators all working together to create the final product.

I think you could probably do an entire meta on all the little details pointing towards the season 1 body swap, but here are some of the big ones:

"Crowley" sees the restored Bentley, but takes a taxi instead of driving it

"Aziraphale" circles "Crowley" when they order their ice creams, the way Crowley more typically moves around Aziraphale

"Crowley" says "tickety boo", an extraordinarily Aziraphalean phrase

The collar on "Crowley's" jacket is a beige tartan rather than its usual red

There are general differences in the ways David Tennant and Michael Sheen embody the characters throughout the swap

Similarly, Gabriel and Beelzebub's romance has lots of small details pointing to it. The big one that keeps showing up is the connection between Gabriel and flies. He mentions them and interacts with them repeatedly, and although it isn't obvious at first glance, there's a fly in the box that he carries to the bookshop. This all culminates in the reveal that it's the same fly, Beelzebub's gift to him.

Here's the problem, of course: if everything in the show is intentional and crafted with meticulous attention to detail, how do we know what actually matters? This is why I think it's so important to look at the unanswered questions first. There's a joy in seeking out Easter eggs and connecting all the dots, and sometimes you might strike gold this way, but there's also a lot of noise in the signal. It's helpful to know the general shape of what you're looking for, so you'll know when you've found it.

You can reverse engineer this. Start with details that jump out at you and then look for a puzzle they might explain. This works, but it's a little easier to get lost in the weeds, struggling to sort out what's significant and what's a fun reference to another piece of media or a hint to a question that's already been resolved. Going back to the twists we've already seen on this show, the unanswered questions around them were really big and obvious, so I think it's a good idea to ask: if I hadn't noticed this detail, would I have thought this was a mystery that needed solving?

Okay, but what do we do with this?

Well, maybe nothing. These criteria can't confirm or rule out any theories, after all. I'm laying it out like a rubric but it isn't really, I'm just describing a few storytelling patterns we've seen before and making some rough guesses about how they might show up again. If I were really serious about this I'd probably take a look at other examples of Neil's work and see how well my model holds up there, but the truth is I'm not really familiar with enough of his other works to do this. (Confession time: I was always more of a Pratchett fan).

The main reason that I've laid everything out like this is it informs my thinking when I stress test my own theories, and I figured other people might be interested in it. I'm also hoping it will help me to be able to refer back to this when I write meta in the future. For my own purposes, I find a breakdown like this helpful because it gives me a sense of how a writer approaches their story, where they'll tip their hand and where they'll hold things close. It's no guarantee and it wouldn't be any fun if it was, but in a lot of cases we're not aware of our own patterns, so it can be surprisingly illuminating.

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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wongyuseokie · 1 year

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Cuffed | j.w.w

Summary: Your boyfriend’s latest photoshoot has you reeling and wanting more, and lucky for you, you have just the thing to keep him in place as you overstimulate him.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 762 words

Age: 18+

Pairings: Jeon Wonwoo x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, smut. PWP (it’s got the briefest plot ever).

Content Warnings: None. Wonwoo is a sub? Sorta? Idk, this video ruined me. So here we are. Kissing. Fluffy couple stuff.

Smut Warnings: Handcuffs, unprotected sex, fluffy handcuffs, use of sex toys, overstimulation. Sorta cock warming? Wonwoo begs. Handjob. Kitten as a pet name.

Authors Note: What can I say, Wonwoo does something, and I just give up, and I blame @baljinciaga for this and @seungkwansphd for enabling me, as always.

Cross Posted on AO3

“So you wanted to handcuff me?” Wonwoo asked, and you simply grinned at him.

“And you just had fluffy pink handcuffs ready?” Wonwoo questioned.

“I was once pink panther for Halloween once, don’t ask,” you mumbled, and your boyfriend laughed.

“I never thought he was kinky, though?” Wonwoo teased as you glared at him, placed the handcuffs on his wrist, and secured the other to your headboard.

“Very kinky,” Wonwoo smirked.

“You know what, maybe you can just watch instead,” you threatened as you crawled off his lap and the bed.

“Wait, no, I. Wait, no, that’s just mean,” Wonwoo whined, and you grinned at him.

“Then hush,” you said, and Wonwoo nodded as you sat back on the bed with a vibrator in your hand. You spread your legs, and Wonwoo groaned when he saw your dripping core.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Please let me touch you,” Wonwoo begged.

“I would have never pegged you as a sub,” you joked.

“Pun intended? Or are you foreshadowing?” Wonwoo asked, making you laugh as you moved closer to him until you sat on his lap.

You placed your lips on his and started to kiss him. Wonwoo whined into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. You moved your hands to his hair and gave it a slight tug making him groan into your mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth.

You moved away from his lips and rolled your hips, allowing your wet folds to glide along his now very hard cock.

“Ah, fuck. Please fuck me,” Wonwoo begged, and you smirked.

“Gladly,” you said as you moved to sink down on his length.

“Wait, fuck, why aren’t you moving?” Wonwoo groaned at the fact that you were simply sitting on his cock.

“You’ll like this,” you mumbled as you turned the vibrator on and placed it to your clit. You didn’t move. Instead, you pulled him in for another kiss as the vibrator toyed with your clit.

“Fucking hell, you’re getting so wet, and you’re clenching around me,” Wonwoo groaned as the vibrator kept pulsing against your clit, making you clench around his cock. Wonwoo tried to thrust his upwards, earning a glare from you.

“Don’t. You will cum. On my terms,” you warned, making him whine softly.

“Fuck. That’s wow, that’s hot,” Wonwoo breathed out as you started to moan, feeling your orgasm approaching.

“Fuck,” you both gasped at the same time. As you gasped from your orgasm, Wonwoo gasped from how you clenched around his cock. You shuddered as you let your orgasm wash over you and slowly got off his cock.

“Please, baby,” Wonwoo begged as you moved away from him and moved to undo his cuffs. With his hands free, Wonwoo moved, and you sat behind him.

“Lean against me,” you said softly, and Wonwoo laid between your legs, and you wrapped your hands around his cock.

“Fucking hell,” Wonwoo groaned as he leaned back on your chest, as you started to stroke his length in long, even strokes.

“Wonwoo, I want to try something,” you said as you kept pumping his length, and he nodded.

“Fuck anything. I just want to cum,” Wonwoo begged, and you smiled at him as you grabbed your vibrator and moved to his balls.

“Fucking hell,” Wonwoo groaned as his hands grabbed your thighs for support.

“Good?” You asked, gently kissing his neck, and Wonwoo whimpered a ‘yes.’

“Fuck so, fucking good,” Wonwoo groaned as you moved the vibrator along his balls and stroked him.

“Fucking hell, I’m going to cum,” Wonwoo moaned as he started to pant and gasp between your legs. It was a beautiful sight to see him fall apart.

“Cum for me,” you whispered, and that’s all it took for him to unravel in your hands. You heard him grunt and whine as he came in your hands. You kept stroking his cock as he came making him whine more.

“Too much, fuck,” Wonwoo whimpered.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked him.

“No, fuck. I’m going to cum again fuck,” Wonwoo choked out as he came again. You pulled your hand and removed the vibrator away from his cock once you felt him soften in your hands.

“Fucking hell, that was amazing,” Wonwoo said as he turned around between your legs, his head resting on your stomach as you leaned back against the headboard, and you were about to lay down next to him when he tapped you and pointed to his face.

“Sit here, kitten. I’m not done with you yet.”

#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svthub #kvanity #cuffed: j.w.w #indigo writes: wonwoo

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leftduck9986 · 2 months

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Foreshadowing, out of order?

In storytelling, is there a single word that means "the opposite of foreshadowing"?

WARNING: in trying to wrap my head around this, there will be wittering!!!

Wikipedia tells me that a flashback is a method of foreshadowing.

The Bullet Catch in the NZF minisode, being a flashback as well as told before the "present day" [speculated] event it sets up a clue for, well, that's what I've understood foreshadowing to mean until now, because isn't foreshadowing always presented before the event it foreshadows comes to pass?

The flashback/memory minisode, A Companion To Owls, is told after the "present day" event it foreshadows. Does that still count as foreshadowing, or is it instead considered "the big reveal" because it is told after?

And is this all that is meant by various things in Good Omens 2 being "out of order"?

The Hiding Miracle and the Memory That Both Foreshadows and Reveals It?

Indeed, it was a tiny miracle - as titled in the soundtrack - that worked as planned and "barely moved the dials" (but still a miracle in which "Noone will have noticed A Thing" however tiny it was, and that "Nobody notices he's here (...) Nobody can spot him, (...) especially if they're looking for him").

I believe it was the first of three events that happened that night, which, became the main focus of this "quiet, gentle, romantic" season, but paling in comparison to the other two events. Moving on!

Returning to how A Companion to Owls isn't told until after The Hiding Miracle and clues us in as to what was actually going on: this tiny miracle was made to appear far more powerful than it actually was, with the use of showmanship:

The ceremonious setup of being positioned on the circle in the middle of the room hidden under the carpet, between Aziraphale and Crowley; he could have been standing, but instead, "Jim... Sit in this chair." And it's a beautiful chair, like a throne, but Jim being taller wouldn't have worked for the image of the 'W' (similar to the 'W' shape made with Shadwell standing between Aziraphale and Crowley at the airbase, in the book Good Omens.)

ta-da!-look-at-this-very-complicated-and-powerful-miracle-that-we-are-doing

Why perform at all then, for an audience of none?

Ah, they're not alone, oooOoOoOOOoOoOooo, spooky. Go and see for yourself: check out the bottom left area of the screen when Crowley returns to the bookshop and says, "I'm BACK" (this is to do with the "framing opportunities" secret mentioned in the Gavin Finney BTS article https://britishcinematographer.co.uk/gavin-finney-bsc-good-omens-2/) Aziraphale calmly replies, "Yes, I can see that" and later gasps, reacting to something happening off-screen at 40m41s.

So this performance, not yet knowing who their audience might be, could be as a precaution, just in case.

Gabriel instinctively crosses his hands and is confused when Aziraphale and Crowley uncross them - or likely because Aziraphale was even standing there at all - because he remembers, or rather, in his mind's eye, sees the shape left behind by a missing piece of furniture.

The ceremonious setup of being positioned in the centre, between Sitis and Job, this time in the background to have Bildad appear a little shorter in height for the stylized 'W', then crossing his hands. The pot containing Sitis and Job's children being the circle, hidden by the circle of carpet (robes) made as Sitis and Job embrace.

ta-da!-look-at-this-very-complicated-and-powerful-miracle-that-we-are-doing

Had we seen Jim's and Crowley's conversation about memory before The Hiding Miracle instead of much later in episode 5, then it would have been foreshadowing, yes?

*temper rising* A "reveal," or "out-of-order foreshadowing"? (VBUAXNAUSX*keyboard smash*NYVIFGNOMAI) grrrrrr!

...

After the Job story is told, (save for the final scene) and Aziraphale calls for Crowley, my head-cannon used to be that Aziraphale wanted to talk about hair -

Aziraphale: Crowley, I gave you lovely long locks in my retelling of this story, how about you? Crowley: Nah, "shoulder-length bouncy 'bob'" is what I put - a "Lob" I think is what they're calling it these days.

But now I think that, to book-end Crowley's beginning with, "Your boss said that to Job, do you remember?" (imo they are so good at blending in, they can act human better than any human can act human! So, while feigning the memory span&loss&retention of a human, of course they can remember most everything. Angel stock: constitution of an Ox, memory of an Elephant.) Aziraphale may have wanted to remark on Jim's crossed hands from the night before and how similar it was to Crowley's doing so; that it was evidence of Gabriel still somehow being able to connect with images from his memory. "Crowley? You also did that thing... does Gabriel remember?"

If each minisode contains something that foreshadows or reveals what magic tricks occurred during this season's present day events, I feel that the only thing left is from "The Resurrectionists" minisode, where Crowley Goes Large (woah, woah, woah, another case for The Song Is The Clue?!?) ... or makes himself, something or someone else tiny.

"Size and shape are simply options" after all, so I do wonder about Hell's Usher, where the only time we've seen him is when he is small enough to fit in a bathtub and yet he is HUGE in the opening title sequence of season one. Behind him, Noah's Ark stranded between two damaged buildings (or one damaged building and maybe the Pleasure Cruiser Morbillo?)

Something else that may be revealing of stories yet to be told of the past, while also foreshadowing a near-future event:

Based on what Crowley said, this is not the first time Crowley and Aziraphale have performed a half-miracle together! Whatever biiiig miracle they're about to do (speculated event #2) could still be completely balanced and undetected, but then a plume of miraculous activity emerging from the circle gateway (privately speculated event #3) is what poor Aziraphale will appear to take the blame for.

Things being out of order may have started with the question, are season two's present day events being told out of order? There are other things appearing out of order as well, for example a change in the order of colours in the Rainbow (for "present day" episode two only I think, beginning Violet then Red, etc.) Or, in this case, narrative devices being so intertwined, one flashback-event can contain images and phrases that both foreshadow something yet to happen as well as to reveal what happened in a part of the story already told.

As always, please no asking or tagging Mr Gaiman as this blog post contains theory and speculation, thank you.

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sungbeam · 8 months

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nonidol!kevin moon x f!reader

another summer break, another annual trip to the lake! except, it seems like when you and kev get there, you'll have to make some tweaks to the original rescue protocol.

▷ genre, warnings. childhood friends 2 lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor, swearing, motherly meddling and matchmaking, shirtless kevin..., kissing, talks of academic expectations/pressure/insecurity/and lack of fulfillment, kim seokjin is my favorite plot device, this could technically be slow burn, pining-ish?, im sorry joshua + serena, little to no interactions with the other boyz 😔

▷ word count. 29.0k (...hah)

this is the sixth installment of the love in unity series! reading the prev fics is not required, but i do encourage it :] all prev yns will be referred to as _!yn

a/n: return to summer with me 😌 or for those of u on the other side of the world, we can give summer an early welcome :') treat her w kindness pls </3 hope u enjoy!!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): DON’T YOU LOVE FORESHADOWING?

"IT still feels weird, man." Kevin Moon brushed his hand over the surface of his newly cropped hair, freshly cut specifically for this summer break, just earlier this week. He probably should have gotten it done before he took all those pictures with his graduating friends, but life had been busy as of late.

Jacob Bae, best friend, roommate, and one of the recent graduates, chuckled from the other side of the video chat. "I'm sure it does. But hey, it looks good, so it's not like you have anything to worry about."

Kevin glanced over at the car where his dad was gassing up. His mom was in the back seat, waving her arm out the window to beckon him back to the vehicle. "Thanks," he grinned. "Looks like my mom is telling me to come back. This is probably the last time I'll have signal for a few weeks."

Just behind Kevin was the little gas station he and his parents stopped at for snacks and the last leg of their drive. It was tradition that every summer his family made the trek to their lakeside cabin a few hours out of Vancouver. Except last summer, Kevin couldn't make it; in contrast, this summer, Kevin and his parents were going without Kevin's younger sister. Usually, there were a couple other families that were there at the same time, too, who Kevin had grown up with. It was usually a grand time.

Kevin adjusted the bag of snacks he'd purchased from the store that hung on his arm as he made his way back to the car.

"Make sure to take pics! And say hi to your mom for me," said Jacob.

"Why don't you say hi to her yourself, Jacob-ah?" Kevin's mom chided teasingly as Kevin took his place in the passenger seat next to his dad. Ever since Kevin and Jacob had met at that one, fateful out-of-country student mixer at university, neither of them shut up about each other to their own families. It was like finding a needle in a haystack, locating a fellow Korean-Canadian.

Kevin passed his phone back to his mom, and he heard Jacob's immediate, "Hi imo! How are you?"

"I've been doing well. Wah, you look so glowy," his mom marveled, and Kevin felt her nudge him in the shoulder. "Hyungseo-ah, maybe you should get a girlfriend, too, if this is how radiant Jacob looks after so long."

Jacob's warm chuckle contrasted Kevin's groan. The latter rubbed his hand down his face with an embarrassed wince. "Eomma," he said weakly, sliding down in his seat. Not this again.

The car began to roll out of the gas station and he lowered his window to catch the breeze as they went. He already recognized the pattern of trees in this area, and his heart fluttered at the thought of being so close to childhood again. The lake was always a favorite place of his.

"—Kevin mentioned something about other families being there?"

"Oh, yes. We're always there with the Ln family, and more recently, Kevin's cousin—you know Yuna, right? She and her husband Seokjin meet us there with their kids now."

Kevin rested his elbow along the edge of the window. "Uncle Seokjin is an interesting character, Cobie," he mused. "I think you'd get along."

"Seokjin gets along with everyone," his dad chimed in.

"You know who you should get along with, Kevin?—" Kevin already knew where his mom was going with this, "—Yn Ln! You're not gonna be shy after spending so long away from her, are you?"

Jacob's voice echoed in the car. "Who's Yn Ln?"

Kevin squirmed in his seat. "Just—a family friend. Mom, can we please not make this a big deal?" And why in the world would he be shy around his childhood best friend? Three years couldn’t have changed a person that much, could it? You were cute—but in a dorky way—that was how he had always seen you.

She sent him an innocent look. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what I'm talking about," he said, twisting around in his seat to send her a pleading look. "I don't wanna make her uncomfortable, especially since… y'know… we're not kids anymore?"

His mom made a sound of disapproval, but relented. "Aish, fine. I won't say anything; I promise."

A beat of silence. Then from the phone, "I still have no clue what's going on."

The twins were being a pain again. Most of the time, since you were away at college, you actually missed the twin hellspawn, but you should have known that bliss would shatter the moment you had to endure another five hour car ride with them.

"—MAMA, CONNOR IS BEING A JERK—"

"WELL, ALICE WOULDN'T SHARE THE GOLDFISH!"

The noise-canceling headphones weren't working. Usually, they worked substantially well when trying to block out the frat party noises at school, but they weren't holding up well against adolescent discourse. You would have thought that once they had grown out of toddler-hood, they would calm down a little, but sibling rivalry prevailed.

You shucked your useless headphones off and twisted around in your seat to peer into the backseat. "Here, have mine," you said, dropping your bag of goldfish into your little brother's lap.

Connor's eyes lit up in delight. "Thanks, Yn!"

Your ears rang as you turned back to the front.

The drive up to the lake house was something you and your family did every summer, except, you hadn't gone two summers ago for a summer internship. It was a tradition completed with other families—namely the Moons, who were longtime family friends out of Vancouver. You hadn't seen Kevin, their only son who was your age, in two years because of your conflicting schedules. It would have happened again this year, but your misfortune had you internship-less. Then again, a trip to the lake was never a bad thing.

You leaned your head back against your seat rest to enjoy the rare moment of silence in the car. Already, you could begin to point out the familiar scenery out of your window.

“I heard we’re gonna be getting new neighbors this year,” you heard your mother say from the front row, breaking the brief quiet.

You blinked out of your daze, shifting in your seat and to give momentary relief to your aching behind. “Oh, really? Do we know who they are?”

“Aw, so Uncle Jin and Auntie Yuna aren’t coming to the lake with us?” Alice pouted from the backseat.

“No, Uncle and Auntie are both still coming up with us,” you dad piped up from the driver’s seat. He caught your eyes through the rear view mirror. “Their little ones are coming, too. We’re just gonna have even more people this year.”

“Should be fun,” you murmured. You leaned down to rummage through the backpack at your feet for your backup bag of snacks (because some part of your brain just knew that the twins would forget how to share).

“I can’t wait to see Kevin!” This was Connor; you could feel the car shake as he bounced up and down in his seat. “I’ve been wanting to show him my new helicopter—”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Con, you brought the helicopter?”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

Before further argument could erupt between you and your brother, your mom stepped in. “Speaking of Kevin…”

You could feel the coming conversation like there were dark gray storm clouds forming in the distance—impending doom, you liked to think. You fumbled with the opening of your chip bag. “Mama, could you possibly, by any chance, not try and set me and Kevin up anymore?” There, you’d said it. It was out in the open.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” your mother sniffed. “I only think that you and Kevin would be very nice together! It’s already so convenient that our families are long-time friends, and—”

“Mama,” you emphasized. “I don’t wanna get into a relationship for convenience's sake.” Your skin was already beginning to heat. Having known the Moons for so long, as well as having kids the same age, your mom and his mom had harped on the opportunity to bring your families together through more than one way.

“She just doesn’t want to get into a relationship at all!” Your little brother cackled.

You sent him a dull look over your shoulder. “And after I gave you my goldfish?” The situation concerning relationships wasn’t as Connor so bluntly put it; rather, you simply had yet to find the right person, as it was for many people. A relationship would have been nice, but when it came, then it would come. Plus, you were pretty sure that Kevin wasn’t the most comfortable with being matchmade with you by the Mother Matchmakers either. That was what the pact was for, anyway.

“I’m just saying that Kevin is a smart, good-looking young man,” your mother teased.

You hadn’t seen him in almost three years, but how much could three years change a guy? Maybe you would admit that he was cute. If you hadn’t known him since he wore Cars diapers, maybe you would have had a crush on him. “No matchmaking,” you repeated.

Your mother sighed melodramatically. “Fine. No matchmaking with Kevin.”

“Thank you,” you said, settling into your seat. Something stirred in the back of your mind, though. For some reason, you had a feeling that this wasn’t the end of this conversation. But as you turned your attention back to the scenery whizzing past you, you let all dealings with matchmaking, boys, and relationships sink to the very back of your mind.

EPISODE TWO: IT’S CALLED AN AMBUSH

THANKS to the convenience of no signal, you could safely attempt to forget about the internship you hadn’t landed this year. The entire debacle had been a headache and a half, but the residual sadness still lingered. There was something about the lakehouse, though, that gave you hope that you could get over it. While you wouldn’t spend this summer doing something “productive” toward your career, you would at least be presented with a pleasant alternative.

Your dad pulled the family SUV into the gravel driveway of your family lakehouse, and childhood flooded back to you. All of the dark oak walls and browned window sills and wildflowers blooming in the front walkway among the grass… You could remember crashing your bike into that one bush to the side of the house where the rain gutter now stood hugging the building.

The twins had fallen asleep sometime between the matchmaking conversation and here, which left the car in a sort of serenity that matched the surroundings. Your house in particular was one of the few houses that was perched a little higher than the lakeshore. There were a couple around the lake that sat directly on the water with docks built into their lower levels though.

You notched your car door open, shouldered your backpack, then quietly lowered your car’s seat. Connor, who was sitting directly behind you, had his head tilted to the side, mouth wide open to catch flies as he slept. With a cheeky smile, you snapped a picture of him. Once tucking your phone away, you climbed into the back to shake him and Alice awake.

“Hey, we’re here,” you murmured. Your parents were already beginning to unload the car of your supplies for the next couple of weeks.

Your brother’s eyes fluttered open, and his arms stretched over his head as he began to compute his surroundings. “Mmm… I’m hungry,” he babbled and smacked his lips together.

Yep, this one was awake.

You patted his face in your version of sisterly affection as you leaned over him to get to his twin. “You gotta wait, dude. You’re gonna ruin your dinner.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “You always sound like Mom when you say that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you huffed. You nudged your sister. “Hey, Alice. Up, hm?”

She shifted in her seat, eyes still closed. “Are we here yet?”

“Yeah, hon. We’re here.” With your task completed, you backed out of the car to make space for the twins to climb out after you. You took a step backwards, your foot catching against something and making you tumble into the person directly behind you. “Ah! Shi—”

“Language!” Your mom called from the other side of the car. “Hi Kevin! Wow, did you get a haircut?”

Kevin…?

You recognized the warm chuckle behind you, and the arms helping to steady you patted your shoulders in greeting. “I did!”

When you whirled around, your mouth stretched in a grin, but you didn’t expect to come face to face with the confident stature of the man behind you. He was in a tank top and shorts, which were definitely proper attire for the humid temperature, and yet, your brain was thinking about the amount of arm muscle there was. Oh, and of course, the cropped black hair. You could have sworn his jaw got sharper, too… This was not the timid-faced Kevin Moon—rising freshman in college—you last recalled.

“Kevin!” Connor’s body rocketed past you and crashed into Kevin’s legs.

Kevin bent down slightly to ruffle your little brother’s hair. “Hey, little man! What’s good?”

“I wanna show you my helicopter—!”

“Connor,” Alice said as she hopped out of the car, “Mama wants you to help bring in your stuff, and then you can show Kevin your helicopter.”

Connor’s mouth gaped open like a fish’s. “Wha—what about Yn?”

“Well, that’s just what Mama said, so,” your little sister said matter-of-factly. She raised a hand in a wave to Kevin. “Hi!”

Kevin returned the gesture with a sweet smile. “Hi, Alice.”

You and Kevin watched as your twin siblings raced into the lakehouse with their backpacks strapped onto their bodies. You could hear their hollering from out here as they fought over who would get the top bunk this year.

“They’ve gotten taller,” Kevin commented, drawing your attention back to him.

You brushed your hair from your face. “Yeah, you should’ve seen my reaction when I came back home and they were like, not small enough where I could trip over them anymore.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, and you held one arm with your other. You hadn’t realized how a few years could reset things between the two of you, but you supposed it was also attributed to the fact that three years away at college could lead to a lot of difference and a lot of growth.

“So what’s new with you?” You asked him and nudged his arm with your elbow. “Have you been working out?” You blurted, but ran with it.

Kevin smiled, reaching back to cup the nape of his neck with that sheepishness you recognized as something distinctly Kevin. Maybe things weren’t so different. “Hah, yeah actually. Is it that noticeable?”

You looked him up and down with what you hoped he saw as teasing and not you actually checking him out. “Yeah, dude. You look good though.”

“Really? Thanks, Yn. I appreciate it.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "You look good, too—and oh my god, I have so much to catch you up on—"

"Hyungseo! Stop hogging Yn and come in to help with dinner." Just a little ways down the path, Kevin’s mom peered out from the front porch of the Moons’ house. The houses in this neighborhood were a little more spread out than the average suburban street, but their house had always been the closest to yours.

You could have sworn you saw a dusting of pink on your friend’s cheekbones. “I’m not hogging her,” he groaned. He turned back to you, throwing a thumb in the direction of his house. “I’ll see you guys over at ours in a few then?”

You gave a nod. “For sure. My mom and I marinated a couple things for tonight this morning, so we’ll be bringing those over.”

“Sweet,” he grinned, already backpedaling toward his house. “See ya, Yn!”

“Bye, Kevin,” you chuckled and bounded up toward your house.

Once everyone in your household had settled in for the most part, your dad corralled your siblings over to the Moon house, while you and your mom brought over your family’s offerings of tonight’s dinner. Instead of entering through their front door, you simply bypassed the invisible property line between your houses and found Kevin and his dad firing up the barbeque on the back lawn.

Kevin looked up from the box of aluminum foil in his hands and dropped it onto the table. "Oh, auntie! Let me get that for you," he said, meeting you in the middle and taking the tray out of your mom's hands.

"Thank you," she said to him. "How has school been, Kevin? Remind me again—you're a…?"

"Photography major," he replied. The three of you swept past Kevin's dad on your way up to the Moons' house.

"Ah, how's that going for you?"

"It's going well—" Your mom slid the screen door open and you all deposited your shoes to the side before entering the kitchen. "—I should be able to graduate two quarters early, which is nice."

Your mom nodded her head. "That's good, that's good. Katherine, it's nice to see you again!"

As your mom shuffled over to the sink where Kevin's mom was washing a colander of cabbage, you and Kevin set the trays down on the kitchen island.

You heard Kevin's gasp of delight when he lifted the foil off his. "No way. I love your mom's short ribs so much," he said, tipping his head back with his eyes closed.

You laughed at his reaction. "Me, too dude. It's never the same when I try to recreate it at school."

"Oh, for sure," he agreed. He cocked his head to the side, a frown coming into his face. "These should probably go back out to the grill then, huh."

You considered the two trays of meat before you. "You're right."

You both covered the trays back over and began to make your way back out to the lawn.

"Has Connor showed you his helicopter yet?" You asked Kevin while you slid your shoes back on.

The screen door slid shut behind him with his other arm carrying his tray. "He did." Kevin brightened, "It's cool. That kid should go into aviation or engineering."

"That's what I'm thinking," you said. "Though, he's not the greatest at math, but I guess he still has a long way to go before he even needs to consider all that."

He nodded, sighing. "That's true. The twins have a long way to go. Crazy how far we've gotten, y'know?"

You both dropped the marinated meat trays over by Kevin's dad, only to greet your dad on the way down to help out. You were sure that you and Kevin were needed up at the house anyway; your dad had mentioned something about having Connor and Alice start on the batch of kimchi. You hoped he had set up some newspaper this time to avoid a mess.

"My sister says your porch swing broke last year," Kevin said as he followed you back into the kitchen.

"Oh yeah!" You snorted. "Pro tip: don't try to fit two families on that thing. Not a good idea."

The moms directed you both over to the fruits and vegetables on the counter that still needed to be prepped, and you picked up a knife, and Kevin a peeler.

Kevin's brows knitted together as he tossed and caught an asian pear with one hand. "You guys tried to fit both families on that thing? It could barely handle two people the last time I remember."

"Hey, in our defense," you started, already giggling at the memory, "we wanted a cool picture, but then we ended up almost putting a hole through our porch. Lesson learned."

"Lesson learned, indeed." He shook his head as he shucked the pretty ring of golden peel he'd gotten from the pear into the paper bag beside him. "Is it fixed now?"

"Should be," you said. You used the blade of your knife to help coax the peel of the red onion off, then diligently began to take the rest off. "We need a maximum occupancy sign to go with it."

He laughed. "Something like 'less than four people' or something?"

"I think it can handle four people!"

His eyebrows arched high. "You wanna test that theory?"

You glanced up from your diced onions for just a second to meet his gaze. "Uhm no. But you are definitely welcome to."

"Oh, no, no! I'm not getting looped into this solo again like you did with the tire swing that one year."

"Okay, that time wasn't my fault! You said that you bet we could ride it together without breaking the tree branch, and I said—"

Your thought train cut off when the doorbell rang. Both yours and Kevin's heads perked up at the sound and darted in the direction like a pair of meerkats. Even from this room, you could hear the front door being opened and the commotion firing up. There was only one family left to join the party, and you knew exactly who had come to make his presence known.

In minimal time, a lanky man with dark brown bangs and a magazine-cover-worthy face barged into the kitchen with his hands raised, full of grocery bags, and a child riding in a carrier on his chest. "Hello, everyone! Your favorite, most handsome uncle has arrived."

"Hi, Uncle Jin," both you and Kevin chorused, as Kevin's mom took the grocery bags from him with thanks. Your mom must have been the one who opened the door since she had gone into the other room to monitor the twins and their kimchi.

"Hello, children—wow," Kim Seokjin said as he made eyes at Kevin's arms, giving them a little squish. "Close the gyms, everyone. What have they been feeding you at college?"

Kevin's face reddened. "It's nothing, really."

"Nothing?" Seokjin made eye contact with you. "You're seeing this, too, right?"

You swallowed your laugh, but you couldn't suppress your smile. "I'm seeing it, too," you confirmed. You set your knife down and gently ran your finger over baby Leena's head; you wondered how she was still asleep with how loud her father's voice was. "Awh, she's adorable."

Your uncle by association put his hands on his hips. "Fatherhood is great, but let me tell you," he said with flair, "after two kids, I don't want anymore. I think I've seen enough dirty diapers for you both combined."

Kevin laughed. "I'm sure Yuna-noona's on the same page."

"Yes, your cousin and I are definitely on the same page," Jin confirmed while clasping a hand on Kevin's shoulder. His eyes widened, and he gave the muscle beneath his fingers a squeeze. "Jesus—"

"Jin! Do you know where the bag with the formula is?" That was Yuna, Kevin's cousin, calling from the next room over. Soon, her head poked in through the doorway, and her mouth curved into a delighted smile at the sight of familiar faces. "Oh, hi everyone!"

"I think it's in the red colored bag, babe," Jin said as he turned away from you and Kevin and waddled over to where his wife was.

"That's what I thought, too, but I can't find it."

With the young couple now off in search of their bag of baby formula, you and Kevin were again left to yourselves with the fruits and vegetables.

You scooped the diced onions up with one hand and the blade of your knife into an empty bowl for later. "Well, that was…"

"Quite an entrance?" Kevin finished. You could still see the rosiness in his cheeks. "Yup."

"You can always count on Uncle Jin to liven up a place."

"Oh, definitely." Kevin picked up another pear to peel; they would probably either be sliced up for the kids to eat or maybe used to make a dessert later. Something of the sort, at least. "Now where were we?"

You raised your brows as you picked up a carrot. "I think we were talking about how you broke the tire swing in seventh grade."

The evening progressed swiftly with everyone's combined efforts in throwing dinner together. By the time the sun was about to make its descent into the horizon, all three families were moved out onto the back lawn with chairs set up and meats cooking on the grill. There was something beautiful about the lake at this hour—then again, there was always something beautiful about the lake. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but even the way the mosquitoes danced in the waning sunlight made your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

If you strained your vision a little, you could even make out the shapes of people on the opposite shoreline beginning to light campfires of their own. Most of the people who lived around the perimeter of the lake sublet their properties during the non-vacation seasons like your family, the Moons, and the Kims. Then, when the time came, they would return to their lakehouse hideaways for much needed rejuvenation.

As golden hour painted the landscape glorious shades of auburn and butter, you caught your mother making her way toward you out of the corner of your eye.

“Yn-ah,” she said to you with a plate of the fruit that you and Kevin had cut earlier in her hands. She gestured for you to take it from her, then nodded up over to the house on the other side of the Moons’ place. “Take the twins and go welcome our new guests.”

You furrowed your brows. “New guests?” When you followed her gaze, you saw that the house next door had acquired a new car in its driveway. You definitely didn’t recognize it, but you managed to spot what looked like someone disappearing in the front door of the house.

“They’re one of the new families, I think,” she told you. She then gave you a little nudge, urging, “Go. We’re still working on dinner anyways.”

You glanced between the plate of fruit in your possession, then searched the back lawn for the hellspawn. When you located their whereabouts (skipping through a pair of hula hoops over by the big oak tree), you marched over to them to repeat your mother’s instructions.

“Oi!” You called out.

Alice looked over at you as she stopped her skipping. “I don’t want fruit,” she said when she saw what you were holding.

You stopped just short of Connor’s hula hoop circumference. “It’s not for you. Mama wants us to go say hi to the new neighbors. Come on.”

“Do we have to?”

“If I do, then yes. And Mama said so.” Plus, you were not planning to go alone upon any circumstance. Your social anxiety could not take showing up at a stranger’s doorstep alone and with fruit.

The twins dropped their hula hoops and begrudgingly trudged after you. No child could trump the “Mom said so” card. At least, not in this household.

With your siblings following after you like two ducklings to a Mother Goose, Kevin saw the line of you walking past from where he was stationed beside his dad. His eyes zipped from you, the kids, and the plate of fruit, then cocked his head to the side in bemused inquiry.

You inclined your head toward the house you aimed for in the distance and lifted the plate of fruit as if that was enough explanation.

He gave a grave nod for your sake, teasing of course, then held up his free hand in a thumb’s up for encouragement.

Nonetheless, you and your siblings carried on.

The lakehouse on the Moons’ other side was similar to all the others around the lake: dark wood walls, doors encased in a protective screen door, grass and flowers growing out of the cracks where the house met the earth. You could feel your siblings converge on you, nearly hiding behind you, as you all approached the front door. It wasn’t that the house looked scary in any way—it was just the prospect of new people that was the scary part. You were sure this family was just as friendly as everyone else, but it didn’t hurt to be a little nervous.

When the three of you reached the front door, you raised your hand to ring the doorbell.

You could hear the echo of the bell inside the house, followed swiftly by a man’s voice, “I’ll get it!”

Footsteps drawing closer… then the locks came undone, and finally, the main door inside the screen swung open.

“Hi,” greeted the young man on the other side.

You paused when his face became clearer after opening the screen door. He was, to put it bluntly, awfully pretty. Dark hair swept back out of his face and behind his ear, a prince’s facial features, and a smile that was as beautiful as the golden hour greeted you and your siblings. Even his voice was soft.

Alice held onto the side of your shorts pocket. “You're pretty.”

The man made an expression of humble surprise, and heat rose to your neck. “Sorry,” you stammered. “We’re from a couple doors down and we wanted to welcome you to the lake. These are for you and your family.” You managed to pass the plate over to him without being any more embarrassing.

He accepted the offering graciously. “Oh, wow. Thank you so much! That’s so thoughtful.”

You placed your hands on either of your siblings’ backs to push them forward slightly. “I’m Yn, and these are my little siblings, Alice and Connor.”

Your siblings chimed in their hellos to the pretty man.

His eyes narrowed in upturned crescent moons, smile widening. “Well it’s really nice to meet you guys. I’m Joshua, but my friends call me Josh or Shua.”

EPISODE THREE: MAMMA MIA! HERE WE GO AGAIN…

IT turned out that your mother had an ulterior motive for sending you and your siblings to greet the newcomers. She had popped up behind you soon after Joshua had introduced himself to invite him and his family to have dinner with you. You could sniff out the conspiracy from a mile away, but you still wanted to give your mom the benefit of the doubt.

When the first night passed without anything happening, though, you slowly let your guard down. (Rookie mistake.)

Everyone crashed into bed after cleaning up dinner. The move up to the lake was a tiring one, and the promise of an early start the next morning proved to be more than enough encouragement to hit the hay.

You were on the living room couch with Alice sitting on the floor between your legs the next day. It was late morning by this time, and you and your siblings had just woken up less than an hour ago. Your dad was still asleep, and your mom? Well, you weren’t really sure where he was.

“Ow, can you stop tugging?” Alice whined under her breath, her hand rocketing up to the back of her head to stop your hands.

You paused your movement for the third time in the past fifteen minutes. “It wouldn’t hurt this bad if you would just let me run a comb through it.”

“The brush works fine if you use it correctly!”

You exhaled sharply and pressed your lips together. There was never any rest between your two little siblings, whether it was amongst themselves or against you. You supposed you could just suck it up for the time being; it wasn’t often that you got to braid your little sister’s hair. She usually just liked to leave it down.

You heard the backdoor open and shut behind you, and the both of you turned your heads to see who it was. Your mom entered the house with perspiration gleaming on her face as she took off her sun hat and tossed it onto one of the dining room chairs.

“Hi Mama,” the two of you said, one after the other.

Your mom settled onto the couch cushion next to you. “Hi girls. Is your brother and dad up yet?”

“Connor’s with Uncle Jin and Aunt Yuna,” said Alice. “Daddy’s still asleep though.”

“Mm,” she hummed. She combed her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair. “It’s a warm morning out,” she murmured, then quickly added, “hey you.” She knocked her hand against your arm.

“Hm?” You asked as you finished up Alice’s braid and tied it off with the blue Cinnamoroll hair tie she’d chosen. You patted her back with your hand. “You’re done.”

Your little sister hopped to her feet. “Thanks!” She dashed away and out of the room—to where, you had no clue. You figured she knew where the food was if she was hungry.

You angled your body to squish your side against the couch cushions and face your mother. “What were you saying?”

“Ah, I was going to talk to you about the Joshua Hong boy.”

Joshua Hong. You didn’t realize you could hear a man’s name so often within twelve hours.

You made a gesture with your hand. “What about the Joshua Hong boy, Mom?”

“Well, isn’t he a handsome one?” She asked you enthusiastically, straightening in her seat. It was alarming how bright her expression became. “I spoke to his mom while Kevin and I were walking just now, and he’s only a few years older than you, you know.”

You heard a metaphorical record scratch. What? There was so much in that one sentence that you needed to unpack. You raised your hands to signal her to pause. “Wait, since when do you and Kevin take walks together?” What could they have been talking about? You knew Kevin was an exceptional conversationalist, but never in your time at the lake had you known of this interaction.

Your mother blinked. “Oh, we started the tradition when you didn’t come up with us that one year.”

“Tradition?” So this happened more than once? You didn’t know why you were so scandalized by this information—it was just Kevin after all. You knew your parents and even your siblings were all fond of him—of course they were. You were arguably even more fond of him, but that wasn’t the point. You hoped she hadn't said anything about you and him as an item at any point of time… you trusted that Kevin could handle that though; that was what the pact was for, after all.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” She arched a brow. “But anyway, yes, so we bumped into Josh’s mom on the last leg around the lake, and she mentioned that he’s majoring in chemistry and planning to go into medicine. You guys might have something in common.”

You pursed your lips. Perhaps the two of you might have something to talk about, but your track was pre-veterinary rather than pre-med. There was probably a middle ground though... Maybe you were just being stubborn.

“Just make friends or something,” she said to you while standing up from the couch. “You need more of those.”

Your eyes shot wide open. “Hello? Mom?” Now that was simply uncalled for.

She chuckled impishly as she walked away and disappeared down the hall, leaving you to yourself. You were lucky neither of the twins were here to hear that burn.

It wasn’t much longer than a couple hours later that you found yourself on the backyard lawn space setting up the badminton net between two oak trees with Kevin’s assistance. Everyone was outside and awake, and the kids were all seated up on your house’s back porch munching on the watermelon that Yuna cut for them.

You tightened the string on one side of the net. “So he didn't kiss her?” You queried.

Kevin sputtered a laugh, yanking his side to test its integrity. “Yeah,” he said. “Isn’t it so funny? According to multiple sources, Sunwoo and Chanhee barged in at the perfect moment, and frankly—” Kevin raised his arms up in the air and let them fall for effect, “—ruined the moment.”

"Pfft.” You considered that for a moment. An almost kiss ruined by a comedically timed interruption from a guy drunk off liquor and love, and the friend tasked with dumping his ass at home. That was bad luck if you ever heard it. “And what about that other dude? The Hyunjae guy? Did he finally fix his eyesight?”

Your friend leaned back against his oak tree, ankles crossed over the other and arms braided over his chest. A pair of shades rested backwards on his head to complete his summer-worthy ensemble of shorts and T-shirt. “His literal eyesight is still shit, but yeah, he and HJ!Yn are together now. Took for-fucking-ever, but—”

“Language!” Jin yelled like a referee on the sideline of a soccer match. “We have children in the vicinity.”

Kevin brushed a hand through his hair. “Whoopsies, sorry!” He turned back to you. “Anyways, yes, they are finally together. Man, having someone watch my cursing makes it seem like Jacob is here with me.”

You noticed the fond twinkle in his eyes as he stared out at the still waters of the lake just down the way from you both. “You talk about this Jacob guy a lot,” you said to him. “I think I need to meet the person who’s threatening to knock me off the best friend pedestal.”

“He already has,” he jested.

You let out an indignant squawk. “Hurtful!”

Connor, watermelon juice smeared all around his mouth, added rather unnecessarily, “So you don’t want a partner and you don’t have friends. What do you have, Yn?”

You leveled a scowl at him. “An annoying little brother.”

“Hey!”

In a tone dryer than the Sahara Desert, Alice chimed in, “Guess that makes me the favorite twin.”

“I should tell you about Sangyeon. I need to yell about Sangyeon,” Kevin huffed indignantly, snapping his fingers as if the thought just hit him. You whipped your head back over. “Oh my god, dude, you know what happened at the graduation ceremony? It was like, straight out of a scene from a movie—!”

You never got to find out what was just like it was out of a movie, because your mom appeared in the distance with the Hongs. They all came wielding badminton racquets—how convenient. You didn’t mind the extra company, of course, and despite your stubbornness, you knew Joshua and his family were very nice people.

You caught the tail end of your mother’s conversation with Josh and his mom: “...Yn used to play badminton on the high school team. She could’ve gone to the Olympics if she really wanted to—”

Well, that was only partly true. Your team had gone to Nationals, but the Olympics was one step above Worlds. You liked to think you were pretty good at the sport, but you hoped your mom wasn’t talking up you and your abilities too much.

“Oh, wow. I’m a soccer person myself,” said Joshua good-naturedly. “I don’t really know much about badminton, but it seems like a really fun sport.”

"Yn's a great teacher. She taught the twins how to play." Ah, there it was.

When they were within a comfortable distance, you raised your hand in a wave. "Hi hello!"

"Hello Yn," Joshua's mom said back. "Hi Kevin."

Kevin dipped his head with a smile. "Hi Auntie."

"Yn-ah," said your mom as she took you by the arm, dragging you over toward Joshua, "I was just talking to Josh about how good you are at badminton."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you noted the way Joshua's did the same. You made eye contact with Kevin as this happened. He seemed caught at a crossroads, unable to help or say anything. "I guess I'm okay at it."

"Liar," Kevin suddenly jumped in.

You sent him a look. Wait really?

He shrugged sheepishly. "I don't wanna downplay your abilities, dude. You're really good."

Oh. "Thanks, Kev," you said, blinking. Your heart warmed at the finger guns he sent your way. It was nice to know he had your back.

"Good! See? You and Josh should play doubles together." Your mother somehow got a racquet into your hand. She clapped her hands and ushered her two other children off their butts. "Come on, you two, you can be on Kevin's team."

"But that's not what doubles means, Mama—"

Joshua sidled up beside you with an apology in his smile. "Sorry, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I don't want you to be forced to teach me or anything."

Guilt wormed itself into your stomach. "No, no! It's totally okay," you amended swiftly. "This all just happened really quickly, but I'd be so down to teach you badminton, if you'd like."

He bobbed his head up and down, patting the netting of his racquet. "Okay, yeah. That'd be really cool actually."

You nodded, returning his expression. "Cool."

You and Joshua had somehow taken over the makeshift badminton court. The twins had gotten tired of the "big kids" playing too hard, and Kevin… actually, you didn't know why Kevin put down his racquet. But at some point, you noticed that he was just hanging out in a chair, sipping some kind of fruit juice as he observed you and Joshua. (That was what you assumed he was doing. There was a book propped open in his lap, but you hadn't seen him turn a page in a while. And he had put his sunglasses on, so you couldn't exactly see what his eyes were doing.)

You tracked the birdie as it flew over the net to your side. "Nice!" You praised, taking a few steps in the diagonal to hit the birdie back over with an easy backhand flick.

Joshua stumbled forward, but hit it back over. "Shoot," he said, barely catching himself before he crashed into the netting.

You chuckled, "Careful." You backed up and gave the birdie a gentle bump.

It sailed over the net, but it landed too close to it for Joshua to get a clean shot back over. He sighed as he bent down to pick the projectile up from the grass. "Dang. Nice hit, Yn."

Content with your shot as well, you walked over to the net to meet him. "Thanks, man."

"Hyungseo-ah!"

You watched as Kevin stood up from his chair at his mom's call. "Yeah, what's up?"

As she strolled over to him, she was reapplying sunscreen onto her arms and face. "We have more new neighbors. Since you're not doing anything, you should come and welcome them with me. There’s someone I think you should meet."

You and Kevin locked gazes for a second before he turned back to his mom. You didn't know why you kept looking at each other—this all felt like déjà vu, but maybe it was the fact that it seemed like your moms were separating you both instead of bringing you together that was throwing you off.

"Uhm, sure, Mom." He dropped his book into his seat and followed after his mom.

Your gaze trailed after him for a moment before you snapped back to reality. You swiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Sorry, where were we?"

Just then, Seokjin made his way down the lakeshore with baby Leena strapped to his chest again. He threw up an arm in greeting. "Hey, kids. You guys still at it?"

"Yup," you said back. "He's getting good at it!"

Joshua laughed lightly. "Ah, you flatter me. It's just 'cause Yn's a good teacher."

Seokjin's eyes flickered between the two of you. "Huh. I'm sure she is."

"Anyways," you coughed. "Did you just come from the new neighbor's house or something?" He hadn't arrived from the direction of his own house, which was on the other side of yours.

Your uncle by association gave his affirmative, one hand pressed gently on the back of his baby in his holster. "Of course! You know I'm too nosy to not have gone to introduce myself and see what's up. The couple has a girl around your age, Yn-ie. Their son is off in Paris for his job or something though."

The two men could probably see the gears in your brain turning. Another person who was around yours and Kevin's age? You really didn't want to read too much into it, but—you pushed the thought to the side. It probably wasn't what you were thinking, right?

"Uh, you good, Yn?" Joshua asked.

Your eyes shuttered. "Yeah. I was just thinking about something." You gestured with your racquet in a flourish. "How about another round?"

EPISODE FOUR: THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS DEAL™

THE crickets were particularly melodious tonight. Their chirrups became lovely background music as you perched on the stairs of your back porch beneath the warm glow of the outside light. Moths swarmed the bulb, casting little shadow puppets along the wooden deck.

You were hunched over one of the few books you brought along with you for the trip. Your siblings liked to tease you for bringing “school work” on a summer trip, but these had been purchased out of your own interest. It was an anthology of experiences related to animal behavior. The certain piece that had originally caught your eye had been about the Alaskan husky’s primal nature to run, and their participation in dog sled racing. You’d come across it originally in a magazine on an airplane, finding yourself enthralled in a story of the stamina, determination, and hard work that these dogs faced in the brutal Alaskan winters.

When your plane landed, you had gone online and found more stories like them. Thus, the book in your lap and money down the drain. (Though, you would argue that it was money well-spent.)

“Warm night out.”

You startled, heart galloping in your chest, as Kevin appeared in your periphery and stepped into the light.

To his credit, he took on a sheepish sort of grin. “Oops, sorry. Probably should have given a warning or something.”

You pressed a hand to your palpitating heart and scooted over to give him room to sit on the step next to you. “No, it’s all good. I don’t think there was really any way that you could have warned me.” You were probably way too deep into your book to have even noticed if he was any quieter.

He took a seat beside you, posture mimicking yours with his forearms pressed onto his knees. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Whatcha reading?” He asked while inclining his chin toward the pages in your lap.

“Oh.” You kept a couple fingers wedged between the pages you were on as you flipped to the cover to show him. “It’s just this, uhm, collection of stories on animal behavior. Real fascinating stuff, actually, and a lot of it is kind of inspirational.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, unsure of why you were always shy about telling people about something you were passionate about. You shouldn’t have thought so little of Kevin Moon, though. He never gave you any worries about being judged.

“Oh, that sounds neat,” he said, scooting closer. “Is it for your major? You’re still doing wildlife biology, right—or is it ecology?”

“Wildlife biology,” you confirmed. “It’s not for my major or anything, no. Just something I was interested in.”

A thought suddenly occurred to you and you were rewinding all of the things that had happened in the past couple of days. Before Kevin could comment further on the topic of majors, you piped up, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

His eyes widened a smidge, his posture straightening. “Oh? What about?”

You felt around the porch deck for the receipt you had been using as a makeshift bookmark, hand flopping around before you snatched it up and slipped it into the pages of your book. You set the book aside. “Is it just me, or are our moms… you know…”

“Doing the Thing again?” He finished. He sighed with a little grimace, “Yeah, I think I’m seeing it.”

The “Thing” that both you and Kevin were referring to was none other than the very act of matronly matchmaking taking place between you and the new kids on the block. At least you could confirm that you weren’t overthinking it.

You recalled the events of earlier today when Kevin and his mom had come back to where everyone else was with the new family that had just arrived. The Xus were another party of just three—their oldest son was in Paris, as Seokjin reported, but their youngest, Serena, was yours and Kevin's age. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who Kevin's mom wanted to introduce her son to.

“You know what’s crazy?” You said to him then, “On the car ride up here, I asked my mom—like, point-blank, you know?—to not try to matchmake us anymore.”

Kevin perked up. “Dude. That’s crazy, because that’s what I asked my mom on the car ride up here.”

You sputtered, “You’re kidding.”

“Great minds think alike,” he said, lip curling upward into a smile and his arms coming up in a halfhearted shrug. “But I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.”

Now that you were thinking back to your own conversation, you should have known something fishy was going on when your mom mentioned Kevin specifically… You only thought that she was being thorough in her understanding of what you were asking her to do, but turned out, it was only a loophole. “You’re so right,” you groaned and tilted your head backward. “Literally what are we gonna do?”

The two of you stewed in silence on this fine night.

There was one night, similar to this one, where you had sought each other out. You couldn’t remember what year it was—something close to sixth grade when both of you had the mind to realize the game your moms were trying to play. From that night came a pact of sorts, one that would hopefully try to steer each other away from a fate that neither of you were sure that you wanted yet. After all, eleven years old was a little premature to be talking about who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, right?

Kevin leaned back onto his palms. “We need to make a new pact, I think.”

Your head swiveled over to him. “Amendments to the pact?”

“Either amend it or come up with a new one to fit our current situation,” he said. “A rescue protocol.”

A rescue protocol… you could see it begin to take shape in your head. The previous pact was different—an agreement between you and Kevin that you were both simply friends, no matter how many times your moms made you do chores together, or tie each other’s shoelaces, or swap numbers and emails and social media. And it had worked, for the most part; you were both still friends after all these years.

But this time would have to be different. Your moms weren’t driving you toward each other anymore.

“The Rescue Protocol—is that what we’re calling it?” You mused in an attempt to bring mirth to the conversation.

Kevin made a sound like a laugh. “Better than ‘the pact,’ I like to think.”

“How about the ‘Damsel in Distress Deal?’”

He let out an actual laugh this time. You got to watch his eyes turn up into crescent moons, the corners crinkling with pretty smile lines. His smile was always contagious, even after all this time. “The ‘Damsel in Distress Deal?’” He parroted. When he allowed the phrase to soak into his brain for a second, tongue massaging his bottom lip, he relented. “Okay, that’s actually not bad.”

You giggled. “So we either call it the Rescue Protocol or the Damsel in Distress Deal, trademark.”

“Trademark?” His reaction sent you into a flurry of snickers, hand clamped over your mouth so the sounds wouldn’t wake up your family. “What? Are we gonna advertise this idea to people?” He chuckled.

“It’s a good idea!”

“We don’t even know what the parameters are yet,” he sputtered. Kevin lightly punched your upper arm. “Silly goose.”

“Geese are not silly,” you found yourself replying. They could be mean creatures. “But I think they’re cute.”

“Jacob thinks they’re scary.”

You gave a playful roll of your eyes. “This Jacob guy again?” After a moment, you sighed, toeing the dirt on the bottom step with the tip of your shoe. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Kevin sobered a little, but the remnants of his merriment remained in the shine of his irises. “Shoot.”

“Are you…” You struggled to string the words together. There was a question you’d come up with already, but you didn’t know if it was too forward or not. “Are you ready for a relationship?”

The question caught him off guard. His gaze flickered from you, to the grass, to his lap, to the moon-soaked surface of the lake further down the hill. “I… I’m not sure, really,” he muttered, then added, “I think I would know the right person when I meet them.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Or maybe not,” he shrugged. “Maybe I’ve already met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, but the relationship just hasn’t gotten there yet.”

You pondered on that for a moment, then realized you agreed with that, too. If you already met the person you were meant to be with, the thought of a relationship was a little less daunting. You already knew this person. “So we’re in agreement then? This new pact is something we both want?”

“As usual, we are in agreement,” he nodded. “What’s our plan then? Fight fire with fire?”

You snorted. “Pretty much, right? We just have to, you know, swoop in whenever we can to counteract their movements. Help each other out, y’know?” You laughed at how ridiculous this all sounded. “I guess it’s really just doing what they’ve wanted us to do this whole time.”

Kevin grinned to himself. “Spend time together?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m down for that. You?”

“Yeah, man.” You shifted to angle your body toward him and stuck your hand out. “You still remember it, right?”

Kevin sent you an incredulous look, as if offended that you could think so lowly of him. He reflected your angled body, hand primed and ready. “Uh, yeah. Do you remember it?”

You clicked your tongue. “Of course, I do! It's the seal."

You knocked the back of your hand against his to signal the beginning of the handshake.

Like second nature, the two of you made your way through the unnecessarily (but also completely necessary) convoluted masterpiece that was your sixth grade handshake. It was what you used the first time you sealed the deal on the pact, and whenever you made any other agreements of significance (e.g. the Juice Pouch Accord of Eighth Grade). Now, it would seal the Rescue Protocol/Damsel in Distress Deal, too.

When the handshake combination finished (marked by twin flicks to the forehead—"Ow! You always flick so hard.”; “Yikes, hope that doesn’t leave a mark…”—and a… proper handshake), the only thing left to do was put it into motion.

Teasing, you sent him a look of approval. “You did remember.”

“Funny how you say that as if you have the better memory out of the two of us,” he quipped back with an unimpressed look.

You hummed your own amusement back to him, taking the book that you’d set aside earlier back into your lap but leaving it unopened. There wasn’t any signal in this area, so devices were practically useless, so books and board games and sports became the go-to for entertainment. It was what your parents originally liked so much about the place, and eventually you and your siblings. It allowed for moments between the moments like this… whatever this was.

Kevin leaned back onto his palms again, and the shadows and moonlight cut across his jawline like glass. “I didn’t think you’d be up so late.”

“Yeah,” you drawled and picked at a strand of grass sticking out between the boards of a stair step. “I couldn’t sleep for some reason and decided to read, but then I opened my window and realized it was a nice night out, so here I am.” You nodded to him, “You?”

He gave a soft sort of chuckle. “You know I never sleep.”

Your chest felt heavy all of a sudden. “Still have the sleeping issue?” You asked softly. It had been a big thing when he was a kid. It had started off as being a very light sleeper, but over time, you discovered that sometimes Kevin just did not get sleep.

“Yeah…” he said, "I'm usually able to sleep when I'm here though, y'know? The peace, the quiet, the familiarity—it all helps. It was just tonight that was out of the ordinary." When he glanced over at you, the side of his lip quirked upward. "Don't worry too much."

You'd always thought about the lake as your home away from home, your safe space. A part of you had always thought it was the same way for him.

“How could I not worry?" You asked, poorly masking your concern as you leaned over your knees and looked at him. “How did you ever get used to your place at uni?” There must have been some reason that he was able to survive over there.

The corners of his mouth curled upward into a smile. “I was lucky,” he admitted. “I met people who have become some of my best friends and family. I guess it’s just weird being so far away from them and it's catching up to me.”

As much teasing as you did about this Jacob character, you were glad Kevin had found him and his other friends. Being away from home like that could not have been easy. At least you could rest assured that he was taken care of over there.

He had grown so comfortable over there that even his subconscious missed them.

You shifted a little closer to him and gently leaned your head onto his shoulder. He seemed surprised at first, but relaxed and let you keep your head there. “That’s good,” you whispered. “I’m happy for you.”

A beat passed, and the crazy thought occurred to you that maybe you should have asked to do this first. “Is this okay?”

His hand warmed the top of your head. “More than okay.”

The two of you sat there like that for however long—you couldn’t really tell. Time passed by differently here, it seemed. Friends definitely comforted each other like this though, right? Right.

EPISODE FIVE: [SHENANIGANS ENSUE.]

"KEVIN, would you mind giving this snack pack to Serena?"

"Oh, I got it, Auntie!" You snatched the Ziploc bag of trail mix from off the counter where Kevin's mom had set it out. "I haven't properly introduced myself to her yet," you said as some kind of explanation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kevin look away to conceal his laugh at your inconspicuousness.

Today, the five families planned to go on a long nature hike as a large group. There was a specific path that your family, the Moons, and the Kims always took at least once every year that led out to a waterfall. It was a beautiful slice of nature, but then again, you thought this entire area was beautiful.

You swung out of the Moons' kitchen and out onto the back lawn where everyone was slowly gathering to take off. Eyes scanning the immediate area, you located Serena Xu standing off to the side plaiting her hair into a simple braid over her shoulder.

As you made your way over to her, your Uncle Jin suddenly appeared beside you. “You look like a woman on a mission, Yn-ie. What’s the sitch?”

Your brain took a second to register the reference. “Has Sana been watching Kim Possible or have you, Uncle?”

“And if I said it was both of us?” He sniffed. Sana was his eldest daughter, only three years old, but Jin and Yuna were very updated in the essential kids shows they wanted their daughters to watch.

“As you should,” you said with an indulgent nod. You turned your gaze over to your intended target.

Serena’s eyes wandered up from her hair and met your eyes, then glanced over at Jin. You hoped she didn’t think the two of you were ganging up on her or anything. Two new people at once could be intimidating.

“Hi, Serena, right?” You asked as you and Jin approached her.

She gave a small nod, pulling her braid’s end over her shoulder as she fidgeted with it. “Uh, yeah. And you’re Yn?”

“We already met yesterday,” Jin said chipperly.

Serena nodded again.

Your fingers danced along the edge of the Ziploc baggie in your hands, squeezing along the edge to make sure that it was closed properly. Your teeth ran over your bottom lip before you were passing her the bag in your hands. “Kevin’s mom made all of us snack bags, and I just wanted to say a proper hello.”

She accepted the bag, eyes wide as she inspected its contents through the clear plastic. “Oh, wow. Thank you; that’s really thoughtful.”

“Oh!” Seokjin illuminated like a lightbulb, clapping his hands loud enough to make both you and Serena wince. (You and she met each other’s eyes with awkward laughs.) “Didn’t you mention yesterday that you were pre-law?”

Your eyebrows flew upward. “Pre-law?” Your head bobbed up and down with a low whistle. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, uh, I guess so,” she said. “It’s a little intimidating right now, if I’m being honest.”

“Yn!” Ripped out of the conversation, you excused yourself and found the source of your name. Your mom was perched on one of the picnic benches outside of the Moons’ place, slathering sunscreen on your brother’s face. Connor’s face was wrinkled in extreme displeasure as she patted the white cream into his skin with a slapping sound.

Always amusing.

Perched upon the picnic table next to them was none other than Joshua Hong. He sent you a friendly greeting wave.

“What’s up?” You asked, leaving Uncle Jin with Serena so you could make your way over to your chagrined little brother, your mom, and Joshua. “Where’s Dad and Alice? Hey Josh.”

He replied pleasantly, “Hey Yn.”

“Your dad’s grabbing something from the car with her,” she dismissed. “Would you mind showing Joshua where we put our bandages? We have so many of the little ones—”

“It’s just a little cut; I swear I’m fine!” Joshua chuckled good-naturedly. He showed you the slice in the side of his finger that was only a couple of centimeters long, but you could tell that he’d just recently cleaned it up and was holding it with a small piece of napkin.

Your mom made a noise of disagreement. “It’s going to get infected on the hike.”

You shuffled on your feet, offering him a small smile. “Sorry, man. I have to agree with her.”

“Thank you. You remember where the bandages are, right? You and Josh just go run up really quick together.”

You didn’t even realize when Kevin got here. “Oh, why don’t I just get one from my place for you?” Kevin waltzed into the conversation with an innocent expression, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, as he appeared at your side. “Since we’re just right here.”

Joshua gestured toward him with his hand-clutching-hand situation and hopped off from the picnic table top. “If you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, dude, it’s no problem.” Kevin’s hand met the place between your shoulders with a warm pat, and he led Joshua up to his family’s cabin for the bandages.

Your amusement followed after them as you watched them leave. Your mom sent you a curious look, eyes narrowed in question, and you could only shrug helplessly.

The hike commenced shortly after the boys got back from raiding the Moon’s medicine cabinet. Your dad and Alice returned sometime before they did, and Alice had once again requested you put her hair up in, as she said, “Something nice.” As if the wilderness would care about her nice hair-do, but you gave her a plait that matched Serena’s.

Your brother and sister kept near to you as you led the group through the beginning of the trail. Though you didn’t consider yourself as someone who exercised religiously, you never turned down a good foraging session. Your freshman environmental science course had presented you with plenty of opportunity to dive into the dense forest areas near the building. Even in the early reaches of the morning (8:30 morning labs were sometimes difficult to be disciplined about, but you were determined), when the fog clung to the forest floor and dew slipped down velvety oak leaves, you found yourself at peace.

At some point in time, Connor picked up a large fallen stick and used it as a hiking staff. “You shall not pass!” He declared after running a little ways ahead of you and mimicked the deepness of Gandolf’s voice.

You snorted as you passed by him and ruffled his hair. “Name the series that’s from and then we can talk, dude.”

“You’re never any fun!” Connor garbled, jogging after you.

You scoffed, pressing a hand against your chest in feigned offense. “I’m way more fun than you are,” you retorted.

“Okay, prove it! Make this more fun.”

“So you’re saying this hike isn’t fun?” You gasped.

Connor stabbed at the dirt path warn into the ground that weaved through the trees ahead for miles. It was by no means a challenging hike, just a lengthy one that required a bit of enthusiasm and endurance. “Well last time, you brought that thing—”

“Sugar water,” you supplied.

“—yeah, that one—and we caught butterflies!” Painted Lady butterflies were a common species of butterfly that was widespread among North America. Luckily, it hadn't been too difficult to find them.

“Woah, you guys caught butterflies last year? Without me?” Man, this guy was just everywhere today, you thought jokingly, as Kevin appeared on your other side with a boyish grin on his face. “That’s cool.”

“We didn’t catch them,” you corrected. It was more so a lure with the sugar water (a substitute for nectar), letting the kids see the insect up close, and then setting it free. You were no lepidopterologist—butterflies were cool, but no special interest of yours. “They just landed in my hand for a little. You should’ve been there to take pictures.”

Kevin hit the palm of hand against his forehead. “That’s what I forgot! I forgot to bring my camera on the hike.”

“Tsk tsk, what would your sister say now?” You chided playfully.

He pressed his lips together in a grimace. “Don’t bring her up—I can hear the echo of her voice as we speak.” To prove his point, he pressed his fingers to his temples, eyes fluttering closed, as if he really could hear his sister’s teasing from wherever she was.

You humored him with a laugh—

“Yn! I’m gonna climb that boulder!”

Okay, fun time was over. You tracked the sound of your brother’s voice, and with barely enough time to catch up to him, you set off the beaten path to follow. “Hey, you better be careful or Mom’s gonna put you on bedrest for the rest of the trip,” you chuckled as Kevin fell in step beside you. You said to him offhandedly, “Would you possibly mind…”

“Yeah, I got it.” He did a small jog over to the cluster of boulders your brother had begun to scale. Going bouldering wasn’t a new activity for you and your siblings, but you remembered that these ones were a little larger than your mom was usually comfortable with. You were grateful Kevin understood immediately.

He was already standing below where Connor was, playing along with whatever roleplay your brother had made up, all the while hovering in case he fell.

The rest of the party caught up to you at this point, and Alice, Uncle Jin, Sana, and even Josh converged upon the rock formation in a flurry of giggles and mirthful playtime. You observed the action with ill-concealed fondness for everyone there as they came together and helped one another climb to the topmost boulder as if it were the peak of Mount Everest. Something warmed within you at the sight.

On your left, Yuna, who was on Leena duty this morning, came to stand beside you. Some of the parents were pulling out cell phones to record all the chaos going on. “Why don’t you go up with them?” She asked, inclining her head to the rock formation.

Josh was just beckoning Kevin up with him, and you saw Kevin’s head turned back over his shoulder. When his eyes found yours, Kevin waved you over, too.

“I should,” you murmured in agreement.

Yuna hummed as she adjusted the little bonnet on Leena’s head. “You know, Kevin…” she began. You waited for her to finish, but she smiled instead, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Go have fun, you bean.”

You giggled at the nickname, then wasted little time going to join everyone else. You could probably ask her what she was going to say later.

The evening found the group of you gathered on the shady back lawn between yours and the Moons’ cabin for dinner once again. The Xus and Hongs had all retired to their own respective houses for downtime, so it would just be the three original families. You perched a little ways away on the back stairs of your house’s porch, a bowl of peelable tangerines in your lap. At your feet, you had rolled the edges of a brown paper bag you’d found beneath the sink to use as a disposal. All of the compostable waste you and everyone else produced while here would become great fertilizer and mulch. It was something you usually had your siblings help with, especially before you left the lake.

Kevin had his cap turned backwards as he made his way over to you in flip flops. “That seat taken?” He asked with a nod toward the board next to you.

Your eyebrows rose. “All yours.”

“Thanks,” he beamed, doing a silly waddle, then sitting down next to you. He reached into the bowl on your lap for an orange, and you moved the compost bag between your bodies. “Your mom was talking about Josh again,” he said as he dug his thumb into the skin of the tangerine. Its juices sprayed into the air and released its sweet fragrance.

“Why am I not surprised?” You sighed with a shake of his head. “You know, he’s really good with my siblings though.”

“Oh, is he?”

You shrugged, shoveling a tangerine half into your mouth. “Mm—yeah,” you said once you’d swallowed. “But you’re also good with my siblings. I dunno, it was just an observation.” Based on what you saw on the hike, you could confidently conclude that your siblings agreed with both Kevin and Josh. They were both friendly beyond means, easy on the eyes, kind on the soul.

Kevin didn’t say anything for a beat, and still didn’t say anything until he’d finished the orange in his hands and picked up a new one. “I hear he’s going into medicine. I have a friend who’s going into medicine.”

“Which one?” You asked, then joked, “Don’t tell me it’s Jacob now…”

When Kevin gave you a sheepish expression, you shook your head, “Okay, now I think you’re obsessed with this guy.” All the teasing was in good fun, of course.

“He’s just my soulmate,” he lamented with a hand draped over his forehead for added effect. “No biggie.”

“Damn,” you laughed. You popped a wedge of tangerine into your mouth, eyes going to the sky for a moment as you pondered on something. “So you say that when Jacob met his current girlfriend, it was because of you.”

“Yup.”

“So you set them up? You matchmade them?”

He nodded. “I’m very proud of myself, actually. I take credit for all of their milestones and anniversaries. I better be the Best Man at their wedding, and—”

“But you matchmade them; doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?”

Kevin’s speech came to an abrupt halt. You watched, in blatant amusement, as his face contorted and arranged itself in the five stages of grief. “Oh my god… I am a hypocrite.”

For a moment, you felt bad for laughing at his blanched expression. “It doesn’t make you a bad person,” you assured him.

“It makes me a hypocrite.” He hung his head, but shot back up just as quickly. “Okay, but wait! It’s different.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s different because Jacob never told me he didn’t want to be matchmade.” The calculations taking place in his head were as stark to you, the observer, as if he was working it out on a white board. His eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah. That’s the difference. Plus, that match was fully successful, and he ended up putting in a lot of the work himself by the end anyway.”

You bobbed your head in agreement. “Fair enough.”

Kevin settled his chin on his hand, eyes slicing back over to you. “Aren’t you a hypocrite, too, then?”

You blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His face said it all. “Jenna from fifth grade.”

Oh. It all came rushing back to you…

But before anything else could be commented on the matter (read: before you could go through your own miniature existential crisis like Kevin had), a presence appeared, squatting down between the two of you. “What—” Jin covered Leena’s ears as he sat down, “—is the mother-effing tea?”

You and Kevin immediately scooted over to make room for the uncle coming in hot. You moved the compost bag back to the other side of your leg.

Kevin chuckled. “You said ‘mother-effing.’”

“Aish,” he exhaled, wrinkling his nose up. “Yuna’s on relax mode right now and has two beers in her. I get a pass, okay? Now catch me up on all of the exciting stuff.”

You and Kevin traded glances. “What exciting stuff?”

Jin’s expression flattened into a deadpan. “Don’t be like that. You two have been so secretive lately; I wanna be let in on the secret stuff.”

“I don’t know if it’s necessarily a secret…” You drawled.

Kevin scratched the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Well, we’ve kind of figured out that our moms are trying to set us up with Josh and Serena instead of each other now.”

You didn't know what you were expecting Uncle Jin to reply, but he gave a nod. "Ah, I can see that." He sucked in a breath through his teeth, "Why did they suddenly go 360 on the two of you? It seems kind of out of left field."

"Well, we kind of asked them to stop trying to get us two together."

Jin hummed. "Yah, that makes sense. It all makes sense now." He made an old-man noise out of his throat as he shifted his position and the way that Leena rested on his chest. You and Kevin buckled down and hung off his words. "They probably only mean well, you know that, right? Right. But I can see that you both are still uneasy about that, and I get that, too. So—I'll tell you what.

"I'll help you guys out," he said. "I think they already know I'm nosy enough to butt in everywhere, so it shouldn't be a problem for me to… tch tch, y'know—" He gestured very indulgently with his hands, "—do my thing—am I making any sense? It's been a long day."

Another look passed between you and Kevin, then you both shared a laugh, relief making your postures relax and your grins widen. "No, we understand completely."

It seemed like you just gained an ally.

EPISODE SIX: CAN I BE A ROCK IN MY NEXT LIFE? THANKS.

THERE was a collection of jet skis that someone around the lake owned, and Kevin's parents would rent them out once every summer for everyone to use. Of course, it was mainly for the older kids and adults; thus, your siblings and the little Kims were banned from partaking in the festivities, much to your siblings' chagrin. It was for safety reasons that they were forced to find some other method of entertainment for the day.

You trudged your way down the path from the Kims' house to yours. In your hand, you wielded the light blue stick of baby sunscreen Seokjin asked you to fetch for his girls, but based on the fact that Leena, Sana, nor Yuna were even out here, it was safe to assume it was really for him.

Those who were participating in riding jet skis, and some who just wanted to watch and soak up the summer sun, were gathered somewhere between your house and the Moon house again. The two properties shared a single dock made of wood faded out from the sun and washed by the lake water. You could recall summer after summer running down the pier and cannonballing into the water.

"Hey! I got your sunscreen!" You hollered as you neared the group down by the water, raising the sunscreen stick up in the air.

The five or so heads turned toward you at the sound of your voice. You didn't miss Kevin's presence specifically, his arms sticking out from the life vest strapped to his chest. You did not deign to look further.

Jin raised his hand. "My Savior! Thanks, Yn-ie!"

You tossed the sunscreen down to him and he caught it between both of his hands before beginning to slather the cream all over his face.

You noted the last life vest sitting on the edge of the dock closest to land and made a beeline for it.

Just as you descended the hill, your mom appeared in your view with an empty plate in her hands, the bottom ringed in a translucent red liquid. "Yn, honey. Can you do me a huge favor and chop up the last watermelon? I didn't realize we would need more. Your dad and Kevin's dad are driving into town right now for some extra provisions and an extra large watermelon."

"Oh, sure." Your eyes skittered to the vest on the dock, but you realized slicing the watermelon wouldn't take too long.

You took the plate from your mom without further comment and began making your way up the hill to your house.

As you slid the door open, the sound of chatter carried from the living room floor. Eyes peered up from where they were seated, surrounding the coffee table on the floor. A colorful array of beads and string was strewn over the surface, and you came to a distinct conclusion as to where all the non-jet-skiers had gone.

"Hello everyone," you mused, closing the screen door behind you.

Josh was the first to say hello back. "Wanna join us? We're making friendship bracelets." He lifted the craft in his hands as if the beads and materials displayed weren't proof enough.

You leaned over the back of the couch. "Looks like fun! Maybe I will."

Outside by the lake, Kevin monitored the back door of your cabin for when you would make your way back out. He had been wanting to race you on a jet ski ever since the owners brought them over for everyone to use.

There were a grand total of five people surrounding the opening to the dock: Kevin and his mom, your mom, Jin, and Serena. Everyone except for the moms were strapped in lifejackets in preparation to board one of the two jet skis sitting in port.

"Huh," Jin said as he craned his head up in the direction Kevin's was in. "Wonder what's taking her so long."

"I'm sure she's just taking her time or something." Kevin pushed off of the post he was leaning against. "I'll go check up on her—"

“Oh, no-no-no! It’s okay,” your mom protested, her body already turn-tailed to head up to the house. Even Kevin’s mom made a gesture for him to stay put. “We’ll go check up on Yn.”

Kevin’s mom then gestured with her arm toward Serena, who had wandered off further down the dock to inspect one of the vehicles waiting in the water. “Why don’t you go help her with the jet ski?”

“And me!” Seokjin boisterously slung an arm around his cousin-in-law’s shoulders and swung him toward the entrance of the pier.

Kevin’s eyes went wide when he almost tumbled face-first into the hardwood. “Shit,” he sputtered. “Uh, Uncle Jin?”

“Yep?”

“That sounded fishy to you, too, right?”

Jin let out a laugh and patted Kevin’s shoulder in consolation. “Yep.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all afternoon.” The words left your mouth as you blocked the unforgiving golden hour sun with a hand to your forehead. The light at this time of day gleamed across the surface of the lake and gave the illusion of a molten pot of gold. You imagined swimming in it, dipping your toes into its warm innards from the end of the dock.

Kevin stood at the edge of the lake’s shoreline with his hair dried from a day of jet skiing, a fresh T-shirt over his chest and the lifejacket from earlier nowhere to be seen. That, along with the jet skis. Those had been returned a little over an hour ago. “We were off doing our separate things, I guess,” he said, his arms folded across his chest. “Speaking of, where’ve you been? You went to cut watermelon and never came back.” He added a small laugh to his words, hoping you wouldn’t think he was bothered by the fact that the two of you didn’t get to hang out on jet skis together.

“Oh, heh.” The sheepishness in your voice made him glance over at you. You didn’t know why you were suddenly getting so shy about it, but from the pocket of your shorts, you withdrew a small piece of beaded string, tied at the end in one of those fancy loops that were adjustable. You didn’t know how it was done; Joshua had done something with the end like magic. “Yuna, Josh, and the kids were all inside making friendship bracelets and they kind of roped me into it.”

“Ah.”

“This one’s for you,” you said, holding it out to him. It was a quirky piece with white block letter beads strung together next to acrylic star and pony beads. You’d scavenged a crescent moon somewhere amongst all the pandemonium, and it sat next to the letter N on the chain.

Kevin peered at you and his irises gleamed with the brilliance of golden hour. He frowned in joy, delicately accepting the chain from you with his bottom lip jutted out in a combination frown-pout. “You’re incredible,” he gushed as he inspected the little gift. “Dude, I’m honestly so touched. This is so cute.”

You broke out into a grin, your heart bursting with pride in your chest. “Glad it’s not cringy.”

“I’m offended for you,” he scoffed, aghast. “How could you think this is cringy?” It was probably a genuine question, but you kept silent as you watched him loop the end of the bracelet around his wrist and struggled to figure out how to tie off the end with one hand.

You stepped forward, and he stuck his hand out to you. “Shua showed me how this works,” you murmured, wracking your brain for the quick how-to Joshua showed with his own wrist. (You had been too confused to ask him to see it done again, and only nodded and smiled.)

“Shua?”

“Mm, yeah, apparently he makes a lot of friendship bracelets, especially for friends at school.” Your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you tried something and… “Ta-da!”

With the bracelet secured onto his wrist, Kevin beamed like a kid on Christmas, and held it up to show it to the setting sun. “It’s great—it’s perfect. Thank you, Yn.”

It was some sort of cosmic magic that corralled everyone back down to the shoreline again, but this time, with all of the kids and non-jet-skiers, as well. Another tradition that your party liked to share every year at the lake was rock-skipping. Perhaps it was more of just an activity than a tradition, but it was something that none of you failed to remember to do whenever you were up here. Since you were a kid, you had been practicing to hone your technique.

Your siblings and the Kims, especially, all ran up to the shoreline beside you and Kevin, and the search for the perfect throwing rock began. In the chaos of merriment and childlike glee, the lot of you trudged into the cooling water of the lake’s shallow shore.

“I know you just gave me the coolest friendship bracelet ever,” said Kevin from beside you as he sifted through the rocks beneath his flip flops, “but I hope you know that I’m gonna crush you this year.”

You snorted. “Okay, Kevin.”

“No, I’m serious!” You guffawed at the sight of his expression; he’d even stood up straight in the water, a pair of flat stones in either hand. “My friend YH!Yn—she’s an engineer, right—”

“Oh, so you’re gonna win by cheating?”

“Nuh-uh,” he rolled his eyes, unimpressed by your posturing. “She showed me this video online. You know Mark Rober? She’s a huge fan, but that’s besides the point. The point is that the video taught me the perfect technique to rock-skip.”

Something in you liked to think that was still cheating, but then again, neither of you had ever really established any ground rules to this, and certainly none about doing research. Your eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

Kevin decided between one of the two rocks in his hands with a brief peek at both of them, before discarding the one in his left hand back into the water with an anticlimactic sploosh. “You’re supposed to launch the rock so it hits the surface of the water at a twenty-degree angle.”

Joshua trudged into the water near both you and Kevin with the sleeves of his plaid over-shirt rolled past his elbows. “I don’t even know what kind of rock to look for, and you guys are bringing trig into this?”

“Oh my god, don’t even get them started,” Jin grumbled from a handful of meters away from the three of you. He kicked through the shallow water with his eyes pinned to the ground in his own search for a rock to skip. “Yn almost gave me a black eye one year.”

“That was an accident and I was ten!”

“Yeah, well rocks hurt!”

Joshua bent down slightly and scooped up a rock from the water. He considered it for a minute, taking in its size, its weight, and how pretty it was. “I guess this can work. So do you guys have, like, a training boot camp for beginners or something?” He chuckled.

“I can show you,” you offered once you’d decided on your own rock for the first round.

“Tch,” Kevin huffed, “if you wanna show him the wrong way to do it.”

Your jaw unhinged. “If you keep this up, I will take back that friendship bracelet, Moon Hyungseo.”

Jin covered his mouth with one of his hands and sidled up next to Joshua. “Ooh, she used the government name.” That coaxed another laugh out of the Los Angeles boy.

Kevin held his decorated wrist to his chest. “You can pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

Suffice to say that when it came down to it, Kevin did have the better technique. There were really four main things to consider when rock-skipping, one of them being that the rock ideally should hit the water at twenty-degrees, as Kevin had mentioned before. Though, you did have to give yourself some credit for managing to work your way up to thirteen skips in a row without the help of an engineer friend.

EPISODE SEVEN: ALWAYS TREAT YOUR PLANTS WITH CARE

VACATION granted you the express permission to be the laziest bum in the world. After three years of college work, sometimes it was nice to have even a single day to yourself to do what you always wanted to: relax. In a world that moved as fast as this one, it was nearly impossible to take breaks without feeling the aching guilt of a day without productivity.

But there was something about the lake… you didn't know. Maybe it was just because years of coming here and associating it with the ease and carefree air of childhood that made it easier to sleep in and feel the sun on your toes.

The house and the neighboring ones were quiet this late morning. At ten or so, the Kims had swept up your siblings and their children and towed them off to town for ice cream and provisions. (You hoped they remembered to grab you some bird seed. You still had yet to replenish the bird feeders around the lake.) You weren't sure where your parents were off to, but you recalled them briefly mentioning a visit to the hidden swing at Lookout's Peak about a three mile hike from here. That meant that you had the whole house to yourself.

And what else did that mean? That you would not be in the house.

When it hit noon, you ate a quick lunch at the kitchen counter before gathering up your supplies to head outside. There was always a spare picnic blanket stashed in the hallway closet, and you grabbed a book, your neglected sketchbook, and a pencil to come along with you.

The weather was perfect, you liked to think—temperate, and not popsicle-melting, with a hint of a breeze wafting through the boughs of the oak trees. You trudged your way over to the largest oak tree with the most amount of shade, gunning to get some full relaxing done when you realized that you were not as alone as you thought you were.

You and Kevin locked eyes from where he sat against the trunk of the tree, his iPad left at his side and his camera being fiddled with between his fingers. The friendship bracelet you gave him the other day still hung around his wrist.

"Hi," he grinned. "I thought you went into town with the twins."

"Ah, nah" you sighed pleasantly as you shifted the things in your arms, "I decided to sleep in. You?"

"Same here." He amended, "Well, as much as someone like me can sleep in." He gestured to the picnic blanket bundled over your arm. "How about I help you with that?"

With teamwork (because that made the dream work), the two of you laid out the picnic blanket on the shady grass beneath the oak tree, overlooking the view of the lake. You settled yourself atop it while Kevin moved his things beside you; shoes were discarded at the edge, so you both sat comfortably on the blanket, half-facing the other.

You reached for your sketchbook, inclining your chin toward the DSLR now sitting abandoned as he picked up his iPad. "What were you up to before I got here?"

"Oh, uh, just looking through some photos I took this morning to maybe use as a reference," he said, twirling his Apple pencil between his fingers. "I keep forgetting to take pictures on this trip."

"Maybe it's a good thing," you offered. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and flipped to a blank page. "Let's you live in the moment, y'know?"

"Yeah. I guess so." He tapped the end of his pencil against his cheek. You were never the type for fancy technology and equipment, mainly because you were a little stubborn, but nothing could beat a good pencil and paper. "I'm gonna draw you," he suddenly declared.

A giggle bubbled out of your chest. "What? Me?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Well then, I'm gonna draw you."

His eyebrows shot up, an amused smile worming onto his face. "You do you, honey."

The two of you, coincidentally, came to share quite the handful of interests. One of them was sketching, and you liked to give credit to your ecology and biology classes at school that gave you the time to practice your drawing skills, even if super accurate drawings weren't always required. It just gave you an excuse to combine two things you loved.

You never did pick up how to use a DSLR though. At least, not like Kevin knew how to.

You sat there for a moment with your cheek to your fist and your eyes glued to the man across from you. Drawing people was difficult—it was always the subtle details that threw you overboard, the movement of the hands and fingers, the crevices in the wrinkle of one's eyes, the… the look. The thing that made them look like a human being.

Kevin had always been a beautiful subject matter. His bone structure was near perfect in your eyes; his smile was awful to draw just because it was so pretty, and you couldn't do it justice. You could never achieve the right curl of his lips, or infuse it with his humility. And even now, you watched the way his eyelashes fell so gently over his eyes and the dusting of pink falling across his cheekbones…

"You're staring."

You blinked, breaking out of your daze. "I'm studying my subject," you clarified pointedly and began to sketch out a rough outline of his head. A portrait would do just fine for the day.

Kevin mimicked your position from earlier where he leaned in slightly and rested his cheek against his fist. "There was this internship I turned down this summer."

His words made you glance up from your paper for a moment.

He continued on, straightening, then absentmindedly sketching out an outline for your face. "It was supposed to be in New York, at this studio, but…" He blew air out between his lips, "I don't know; I couldn't do it. It was a great opportunity and it didn't call to me, but I feel so guilty about not even trying."

You waited a beat in case he wanted to continue. You could see the conflict warring across this face, the subtle flex in his jaw at his frustration—with the portrait or himself, you weren't sure.

"Sorry, I don't know why I suddenly just thought of that," he said to you. "I was just thinking about this place and not being here last year, and I think my brain just went to that."

You looked over at him in earnest. "I feel you, I mean… some things just aren't meant to be, and you shouldn't force it. That's how you get burnt out, y'know?"

"Yeah," he murmured in agreement.

"I was looking at an internship, too," you piped up with a shape exhale. "I—I didn't get it, clearly, but uhm…" It still hurt.

Kevin frowned. "Oh, man. I'm sorry, Yn. I feel like I'm just complaining now that—"

"No, oh my gosh, no!" You hurried to interrupt him. "Don't be silly," you said gently, "you shouldn't invalidate your feelings like that. Some things just really aren't meant to be." It didn't mean it hurt any less that they weren't, but maybe this was the path you were meant to take instead. "It's something I'm coming to terms with, too, but don't compare your troubles against mine. Please."

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and it took him a little to finally try for a half smile. "You're gonna get the next one."

You smiled back at him. "Thanks. And you'll find one that suits you."

"I hope so."

"Do you ever worry about," you began as you played around with the slightest curve of his nose on your paper, "not being who people want you to be?"

He hummed. "What do you mean?"

"Like, successful. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this." You didn't know where this had sprouted from in the first place, but one insecurity in particular had nested in the inner cavities of your chest and made itself a home. As someone who wanted to be at wildlife encampments, not catering to fancy rich dogs in a clinic, your path wasn't conventional. You were becoming a veterinarian, but your parents always thought you would end up someplace nice with a pay that was equally nice. Something practical, something they didn't have to worry over. Your calling was… elsewhere though. Somewhere a little more difficult to reach without the prying eyes and mouths of those around you.

Kevin marinated on it. "I think… the two of us are kind of similar in that way. We're both not taking on things that people have expected of us."

Out of everyone you knew, you had a feeling he would be one of the few who could empathize. "There's—there's this thing I want to do," you said. You couldn't figure out the words to string your thoughts into coherent speech; you felt like it would never come out right. But Kevin was patient. "I've always wanted to go on safari expeditions, and observe wildlife in the wild, and do research, and work with conservatories. It feels so unattainable sometimes, when I think about the people looking at me and expecting something good. Does that make sense?"

He gave a thoughtful nod, his Apple pencil tucked behind his ear for the time being. "Yeah, that makes sense. I remember you talked about it before."

That rang a bell. "When I made you watch the David Attenborough Our Planet doc series," you mused. In association, your brain sparked images of late nights, blue-light screens, and flashlights beneath blanket forts. You had been fully convinced Kevin would say the documentary series would be boring like everyone else, but to your pleasant surprise, he had been just as enthralled as you'd been.

"You didn't make me," he smiled. "I liked it."

Your chest warmed. "I still have it downloaded on my phone if you wanna watch."

He screwed his face up in amusement, shaking his head. "You're one of the biggest dorks I know. And I know so many dorks now."

"I'm still your favorite dork though, right?" You smiled down at your paper when you were satisfied with how his eyes turned out.

"Always."

A beat passed, and from your periphery, you saw him tap the blanket in front of you to get your attention.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay," he said. "One day, you will go hide in a bunker in the Siberian winter to wait for tigers like a crazy person—"

"Okay, wait, out of all the examples you watched in the doc, you chose—"

"Anyways!" He grinned at the look you sent him, unfazed. "We're both gonna be okay, alright? We're chasing dreams, and sometimes the chase is hard, but the reward is sweet."

You knew he was right; of course he was right. Talking things out was always a good idea, especially with a trusted person, and who better to trust than Kevin Moon? You had friends who understood, but not really understood.

You reached for his pencil with the end of yours and you bumped ends like ET. The corners of your lips curled upward as you met his gaze, and you were struck by the softness in his rich, chocolate irises. No sketch, painting, portrait could do those beautiful eyes justice. "Don't call me a nerd for this."

"No promises."

You fixed him with a look. "There's this thing that plants do called phototropism. Because plants need light to synthesize into food and energy, they often turn and grow towards the nearest light source. So even in, let's say, a dark hole in the ground—if there's a crack in the roof that brings light in, the plant will grow in that direction, and probably grow its way out." You cleared your throat. "Thanks for showing me the light."

Kevin's eyes shone big and wide, doe-like you liked to say, almost in awe of the explanation of a basic function plants performed to survive. But twisted in a certain way, and one could apply it to everyday non-plant life, as well.

"Now how can I possibly call you a nerd after that?" His voice went raspy and he had to clear it, too. "I think I'm getting misty-eyed," he said, fanning his eyes.

You chuckled at his antics. "Oh, hush. I guess it's my way of saying thanks for reminding me I'm not gonna be a failure." It was scary how often you thought about it, especially at college.

Kevin reached over and warmed one of your hands with his. "You're not gonna be a failure, Yn. I promise you that."

All of the kids were asleep in the back of the Kims' minivan, and it took two trips back and forth between the car and the living room to transfer all four sleeping munchkins. By the time Jin and Yuna were done, the former was certain he was going to need a cane much earlier in his life than previously anticipated.

He held his back as they made their way out onto the back porch. "I think I'm aging faster," he said to his partner.

Yuna sputtered out a laugh. "Aye, so dramatic, and for what? You're gonna survive."

"No sympathy," he sighed melodramatically as he hung off her frame. "I wonder where everyone else is."

His voice trailed off as they stood on the porch and overlooked the valley below. Just further out, they could easily see the occupants of the big oak tree between yours and the Moons' houses. You and Kevin sat slightly angled toward one another, not quite sitting next to each other, but not quite facing each other either.

The laughter was apparent on your faces as Kevin showed you something on his iPad. You grabbed the screen with ill-concealed delight, your eyes lighting up like a pair of fireflies. "No, oh my god, the little sprout on top of my head! You didn't!"

Yuna murmured softly to her lover with a chuckle, "Should we go say hello?"

Seokjin adjusted his position so now his arm rested around her shoulders. A smile etched onto his face at the view; he was so fond of the very thing neither you nor Kevin could see just yet. "Well, how could you possibly want to break that up?"

EPISODE EIGHT: NOD AND SMILE… YUP.

YOU weren't really sure why it took so long before you all deigned to take a proper dip in the lake, but as they said, better late than never.

The sun beat down on the little lake population, even at ten in the morning, which made it perfect weather to go swimming. Your house was a-bustle with life, thunderous footsteps, and motherly yelling to her children of “You better all have sunscreen on!” You were just finishing up the task yourself, rubbing in the last handprint of sunblock onto your calf before you were grabbing your towel at the end of your bed and heading out.

You caught Alice coming down the stairs with her floral one-piece on and a set of blue goggles strapped to her head. This morning, her hair was in two braids. “Do you have sunscreen on?” You asked her as you opened the back screen door.

“Yes,” she groaned as if this was the hundredth time she’d been asked that question today. Knowing your family, it probably was the hundredth time. “Do we still have the flamingo floatie?”

“We can probably pop down to the shed and see,” you suggested. You blinked in surprise at the person you found leaning against the railing of your back porch. “Why hello there.”

Joshua glanced up from the piece of string in his hands that he had tied at the ends to form one, large ring. “Hi guys! Either of you ladies know how to play Cat’s Cradle?” His hands slipped in between the string so that the ring rested on the backs of his fingers. In a movement that sent a wave of nostalgia down your spine, he maneuvered his hands through the string to form the zigzag pattern correspondent with the beloved childhood game.

“Ooh! Me, me!” Alice bounced around on the balls of her feet and rushed over to where Josh was to pick out the next pattern.

The screen door behind you opened up again as soon as you stepped foot onto the deck. Your dad appeared with your little brother, both of whom were dressed in rash guards and swim trunks. Your dad hustled his son along. “Yn-ah, we’re going down to the shed to get swimming things. Wanna come?”

“Wait, Daddy, can we get the flamingo floatie?” Alice asked your dad. Joshua finished up the next pattern, and your sister was quick to grab the next.

“Sure. We have to go now, though.”

With little else left to say or do, your dad ferried your little siblings off and around the house to where the shed was. It was tucked out of the way somewhere between your house and the Kims’ place.

You sidled up beside Joshua and slung your towel over your shoulder, noting his tank top and shorts. “You going for a swim with us?”

He gestured to his attire, nodding. “Seems like it. My parents wanted to run into town to do some shopping, see the sights. Your mom mentioned last night that you all were planning to go swimming today, so I thought I’d tag along, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, man—it’s totally cool.”

You gazed far out toward the lake down the lawn. There were already a few people there, including Kevin and the Kims. Sana and Leena were already frolicking around in the water with their dad, while Yuna and Kevin stood off to the side on the dock. It seemed that Yuna had brought down a pair of foldable chairs to set up there, perhaps to soak up a little sun.

The two of them exchanged a couple more words before Yuna left him there so she could go pick up Leena from falling face-first in the water. Leena was still an infant, after all.

You decided that this would be a good time to run and join him, but your thoughts slowed to a halt when Kevin picked up the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. You even heard Joshua beside you lose his breath. The sunlight had to be a paid actor or something, because the way it glowed across your friend’s shoulders, enunciating the firm muscles in his back, had to be illegal in nature.

Joshua’s low whistle of appreciation met your ears. “Wow… he’s ripped.”

You nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah.” Whoops, did you say that out loud?

The man simply chuckled and bounded down the porch. “C’mon, Yn. Let’s go join them before he catches you staring.”

If there was anything else that you and Kevin took seriously besides rock-skipping, it was the game Marco Polo. The rules were simple: an elected tagger would play with their eyes closed, yelling out “Marco” in order to locate other players in the water. The tagger had three or five opportunities to open their eyes (this was enforced for safety reasons) in order to tag everyone. Those who were not the tagger were required to reply with “Polo” in response to the tagger’s call.

Boundaries of the game ranged from your house to Kevin’s house, and no hiding beneath the dock. (Only the tagger could pass beneath that zone.)

By the time it was Kevin’s turn to tag, nearly an hour and a half had gone by, and you could feel the sun’s rays seeping into you. The heat was getting to you, and by the looks on everyone else’s faces, it was getting to them, too. But… one last round never hurt anybody.

"Are you guys ready?" Kevin's mom stood on the dock with her hands on her son's shoulders. Kevin's eyes were screwed shut where he sat on the edge of the dock, his feet swinging where they dangled over the water. Everyone stood scattered in the water, biding their time before Kevin's mom let him hop in.

She surveyed the surrounding water for nods of confirmation. You lingered just at the outer edge of the boundary, face half in the water with your eyes peeking out to hide your smile. You would swim back in should he come this way, but the buoy behind you kept you from cheating.

When she was satisfied with what she saw, she patted him on the shoulders. "Okay, Kevin."

He lowered himself into the water. "Marco!"

"Polo," came the wary response, a voice from every corner and reach of the boundary, it seemed.

He honed in on a voice—not yours, it seemed, but Uncle Jin's—and slowly treaded over toward that direction. You saw your uncle's eyes widen in fear, and he ducked under the water for a swift second to attempt at a silent getaway.

"I can hear you," Kevin chuckled as he swung his arm over his head to adopt a freestyle stroke. The tone of his voice sounded awfully menacing.

"YAH! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Jin screeched, no longer trying to stay quiet.

One by one, Kevin picked people off. Yuna had a little disadvantage since she had Sana clinging to her back the whole time, so she was given a merciful second life. But when she was caught once more, it was onto dry land for her and her daughter.

Kevin treaded water on the other side of the boundary. In the water, it was just you two.

"Fighting, Yn-ie!" Jin cheered from the shore. A towel was draped over his shoulders with Sana sucking on a watermelon by his leg.

You saw your siblings and Josh raise up their fists in encouragement. "Get him, Yn!"

"Wow, thanks guys," Kevin replied dryly, shaking the water out of his hair. His eyes were miraculously still closed; you had no idea how and when he got so good at this. He still had one more opportunity to open his eyes.

You grinned. "Are you sure you're not cheating by the way?" You drawled with a feigned look of consideration, as if he could see what you looked like.

He gasped. "Me? Cheating? My abilities are far greater than the need to cheat."

"Okay, prove it."

Why did the universe curse you with such a big fucking mouth?

A swear left you as he launched himself across the safe zone. It was like he knew exactly where you had been hovering in order to reach his ridiculously long arms over his head to try and tag you. You gunned out of the way, narrowly missing the dock as you backstroked back from where he came to avoid him.

"Marco!"

"Screw you—polo!"

His white teeth glistened as he grinned, eyes closed completely shut still. Damn. "I can smell fear."

"Sometimes you can be so dramatic," you taunted.

"Now that's just hurtful." And he took it personally.

Around and around you both went, lakewater thrashing as your arms and legs kicked and pumped as hard as you could. You felt so agile and free at times, a dolphin in your own right.

There was a lull in the game for a minute when you managed to evade Kevin's grasp yet another time. He was patrolling the other side of the dock while you loitered just around the corner, by a post. You could hear on land that everyone had turned their attention away from yours and Kevin's competitiveness in favor of the bag tossing boards Kevin's dad brought out.

"Oh, Yn," he smiled, brushing a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "I'm gonna get ya."

If you weren't worried about being so close to him, you would have thrown a retort right back.

But there was another poor, poor hinge to your plan, and that was the very core of the game you were playing.

He whispered, "Marco."

You screamed internally. "Polo," you whispered, barely audibly.

His head whipped in your direction, and before you could even blink, he used his shortcut beneath the dock to yank your wrist back toward him. "Gotcha!"

"Goddamn it," you groaned as you rested up against the post behind you. The water in this area was just shallow enough that your feet could reach the bottom.

Kevin chuckled as he finally opened his eyes. He blinked feverishly to adjust to the sunlight, then ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. He was so close that you could see the water droplets on his head dribble down the sharp slope of his nose. He took in his surroundings, a sly kind of smirk curling up onto his face. "No hiding beneath the dock, Yn."

"I technically wasn't beneath the dock," you shot back.

"Mhm," he pressed his lips together, brows furrowing. He moved closer and braced one arm against the post above your head. "Say I believe you."

You brushed the sudden butterflies in your stomach away as the heat melted your brain (and not Kevin). "That sounds like you don't believe me."

"Well, either way…" He brought a finger close to your face and tapped your nose. You could have sworn you saw his eyes dart downwards for a second, away from your eyes, toward your mouth. "I win."

EPISODE NINE: KINDLING FOR ALL KINDS OF FIRES

A campfire was always in order.

There were quite a few things that needed to be done before it could happen, however. One of the few things on the list just happened to be going out to find firewood, as well as filling up the bird feeders you left hanging out in the forest beyond. You could kill two birds with one stone. (Definitely not literally though. You hoped you never needed to kill two birds with one stone unless it was for pure survival purposes.)

The bird seed you'd requested to be brought back was… somewhere around here. You couldn't remember where exactly Auntie Yuna said they put the bag, but you would go hunting for it.

You meandered through the first floor of your lake cabin, gradually approaching the kitchen area where you heard voices. As far as you were aware, your parents were holed up in the kitchen with Kevin’s parents, as well as Kevin himself. Your siblings were probably either upstairs or at the Kims’ place. Probably.

“—know Judy’s daughter, right?” You recognized your mom’s voice among the fray. By this time, you stood in the middle of the living room with your hands on your hips. Where in the world was that sneaky bag of bird seed?

Kevin’s mom replied next, “Ah, she’s doing that drawing major or something, right? I forgot what it’s called—”

“Animation,” supplied her husband.

“Yes, that’s the one.” A clinking of metal on china; they were most likely digging into the trifle cake that was assembled earlier in the day.

“I hear there’s something going on and it’s getting more difficult to find work for them.”

A disgruntled sound. “Yah. That's the risk that comes with those art majors. If she had gone into bioengineering like Judy wanted her to, then she wouldn’t be worrying so much.”

You paused from your position in the living room. From your vantage point, you got a clear view into only part of the kitchen, but it was where Kevin lingered with his back to one of the cabinets. He had a bowl of dessert in one hand, the other using the tines of his fork to prod at a bite of cream and cake. His head was tilted down though, and you caught his periodic glances toward the part of the kitchen you couldn’t see where the adults probably were, prattling on and on as if he weren’t standing right there.

Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach.

Why was he subjecting himself to this? Why didn’t he just pick himself up and leave—? The thought came to you that maybe he thought he deserved to hear this.

Having surveyed the living room enough to know that the bird seed wasn’t here, you did happen to note the presence of his camera sitting on the coffee table. You snatched the device up and headed for the kitchen.

“I think it’s good to cultivate creativity, but there’s a difference between a career and hobbies—”

“Psst.” You grappled onto the side of the doorway, quietly catching Kevin’s attention.

His head perked up at the sound and his eyebrows shot up in question. He offered the bowl in his hands to you. Want some? He mouthed.

You shook your head, then used your free hand to wave him over. Bird seed?

He seemed to understand. With one, massive bite, he finished the rest of his bowl, deposited it in the kitchen sink, then quietly slipped out of the room with you.

When the two of you were in the clear and you were following him over to the closet beneath the stairs (damn, had you really forgotten that this closet existed?), you handed him his camera. “I’m invoking rescue protocol,” you told him.

Kevin accepted his camera with a furrowed brow, watching as you opened up the closet door and found a canvas sack of birdseed sitting there. Huzzah! “Wait, but…” He considered you for a moment, and a slow smile slid onto his face. He ducked his head and threw his camera strap around his neck. “I appreciate you. Have I told you that?”

“And I—” You grunted as you picked the bag up into your arms and used your foot to kick the door closed. “—appreciate you. How’d you know this was where the bird seed was?”

“I just remembered what Uncle Jin said,” he told you with a shrug.

The two of you meandered out of the backdoor and onto the porch in a silent agreement to go fill some bird feeders together. The forest at this time of day was streaked in golden sunlight, emerald green leaves painted over in an amber wash of glitter. It felt warm and comfortable like autumn, but with the color palette of summer. The air was fresh, not crisp, and there was still a dollop of pollen floating around in the air from the tailend of spring.

You and Kevin entered the forest proper, and you shifted the bag into your right hand when you finally got the bag’s handles up and at ‘em. “I know the protocol wasn’t meant for those kinds of situations,” you started.

Kevin let his camera rest in his hands at midriff once he had fiddled with the settings enough to his liking. “I know.”

“They’re wrong, you know?” You turned to look at him as you stopped at the first feeder and let the sack of seed and grain fall to your feet with a thump against the earth. Before you opened up the bag, however, you peered up into the wooden house hanging from the branch, slobbered in messy paints and melting smiley faces. There wasn’t a speck of grain or seed left in this one. Satisfied, you bent down to rip the bag open and take out a scoop with your hands.

The shutter of a camera lens fired. He sighed, lowering the camera so he could inspect the test shot he took. “I’ve come to terms with that—all of their opinions, I mean.” He lifted the viewfinder back up to his eye and took another shot as you shoveled the bird seed into the hole. A small stream of it missed and tumbled to the forest floor. “Sometimes I do think like that, though. Whether or not I should have stuck with psychology and become a teacher instead of photography.”

You folded the edge of the bag over itself after dusting your hands off, and the two of you continued onward. “Are you happy with photography though? Do you like the things you’re learning, the work you’re doing?” That was one of the few metrics that kept you clinging onto your dreams—your hands were getting scraped and sweaty holding onto the side of the cliff face, but even though your shoe slipped against the ledge and threatened a long drop, you held on. Some days, you thought it was a sad, desperate effort; others, you found extra strength to dig your soles in.

He didn’t have to think much before answering. “Yeah, I do. It’s… it’s fulfilling.” He shot you a glance. “I guess it’s something I enjoy so much that most days it doesn’t even feel like work. All of the logistic, ‘real world,’ adult stuff is kind of a headache, but…” Even though his sentence trailed off, you could still follow.

You plopped the sack of seed down on the ground beneath the next bird feeder. “I know that it’s hard to think about what-ifs, and I’m kind of a hypocrite about it, too—but I think—” you scooped up a handful of bird seed and poured it into the opening. This house had a little sunshine painted on the roof. “—Kevin, I think you made the right choice. Obviously, it shouldn’t matter what I think; that’s just what I’ve observed so far.”

“It matters what you think,” he replied quietly. “To me, at least.”

The two of you shared a smile as you dusted your hands off again. The chase is hard, but the reward is sweet—those had been his words to you the other day.

“Do you want me to carry that for you?” He mused, in view of your struggle to pick the damn thing off the ground.

You suddenly gained a spurt of strength and energy. “I’m—great.”

His low chuckle followed you as you went. You could hear his shutter go off again.

“Thank you for assuring me that I took the right risk.” Kevin fell into step beside you once more with his camera cradled in his hands. There was a softness to his eyes again, a kind of tenderness you recognized only when it was just the two of you.

You went for a smile. “I feel you, you know? Maybe not on the same level, but you’re not in crisis alone, okay?”

His shoulder bumped against yours. “Get on my level,” he jested.

Your smile haplessly curled up further. “Yeah, yeah, you five year old.” You leaned over his arm to peer at his camera screen. Your heart hammered, blood spiking, when you saw what the subject of all his shots had been thus far. “Oh my god, have you been taking pictures of me?”

He giggled at your reaction. "What? What else am I supposed to be taking pictures of?"

"Uhm?" You gestured with your arm in a wide arc. "There is literally a whole world around us. Nature is much more photogenic than I am." A nervous laugh bubbled out of your chest as you adjusted a lock of hair that had gotten in your face.

"You are totally photogenic," he scoffed. "Literally look."

The two of you stopped in the middle of the path so he could show you the pictures he had taken thus far. Like most people when they saw a picture of themselves, you wanted to grimace, but you tried to search for what Kevin was seeing.

They were all incredible candid shots. The color was so vivid and bright, the edges crisp and focused. He had captured you at the moment when you were smiling, peeking into the bird feeder. It was that split second before the smile bloomed into something bigger when it only teased at the corner of your mouth.

You leaned back and coughed. "I only look good because you made me look good."

"Now that's bullshit."

You both resumed your walk to the next bird feeder. He said to you, "You can't possibly appreciate nature's beauty without appreciating your own, Yn."

You tilted your head and sent him a sidelong glance. "Why did that sound actually profound?"

"What do you mean actually profound?" His face arranged into an expression of offense. "Am I not regularly profound?"

You smiled to yourself. "I mean… if you had to ask—" Click! "Hey, now wait a minute!"

He beamed something boyish at you from over his camera lens. "Whoops?"

The bird seed bag thumped onto the forest floor again and you moved to check the inside of the next bird feeder. To your utter delight, you were greeted by the sight of sticks and mud and leaves slotted together in a messy riffraff, otherwise known as a bird's nest. You could hear the bright chirping coming out from the feeder's hole, and dark gray feathers poked out.

"We won't disturb these ones," you whispered, backing away to collect your bird seed. But before you left, you took a little of the grain to sprinkle on the outer landing ledge.

You didn't even realize you had been smiling out of pure giddiness until you reached the next feeder on the path. You had always secretly hoped that a bird would take over one of the houses as their own. Lo and behold, that hope manifested into reality.

Kevin helped you out with the next one since this tree was hung with a duplex. It was similar to a human duplex; the house was split down the middle to hold double the feed. The two of you carefully transferred seed and grain into its proper place.

"If you really are uncomfortable with me taking pictures of you," he said as the two of you picked up where you left off, "then I can totally delete them." He made a gesture with his hand. "No harm, no foul."

Heat rose to your cheeks. "It doesn't bother me that much," you admitted sheepishly. "They were good pictures."

"See!" Elated, he slung an arm around your shoulders and tugged you against his side with an affectionate shake. "You see the vision? Do you see it now?"

You couldn't possibly say no to him when his expression was brighter than the sun at high noon. At this moment—this perfect moment—when the sunlight streaming through the trees painted his face in a filter of buttery gold… you could definitely see the vision, but perhaps not the exact one he saw.

EPISODE TEN: YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES…

"OH, thank god, you guys went and got firewood!" Jin pressed his hands together in prayer as he jogged over to you and helped transfer the lumber in your arms over to his. On your way back from replenishing the bird feed, you let Kevin hold the remainder of what was left in the bag while you picked up any spare tinder for the fire. There were quite a few loose sticks around that would work nicely for the campfire tonight.

He walked off with your gatherings from the trip, and you and Kevin continued up to your lake house to drop off the bag of bird seed.

"So you were saying about the animal representation thing?" You piped up, recalling where the two of you last ended before your return to home base.

"Oh!" Kevin grinned. "It's so funny because some of my friends—you can totally see the resemblance of an animal, right? But then others don't really get an animal. Like Younghoon: he's just kind of bread."

You nearly tripped over a patch of dirt. "Bread?" You stammered incredulously. "Come again?"

"Bread," he nodded. He murmured in thanks to you when you slid open the screen door for him so he could shuck off his shoes and step inside the house. "But Changmin's a squirrel. Or a giraffe. That's what JC!Yn calls him, anyway; it's because of his long neck."

"Huh," you pondered. Interesting friend group they had going on there. You wondered what you would be…

As you passed by your bedroom on the first floor, you could hear your phone sounding off in aggressive vibrations even through the wooden walls and the closed door. You swore under your breath and pushed into your room to turn it off, then paused when you realized why it had gone off in the first place.

Fireflies.

"Everything okay?" Kevin's voice came back around the bend, his head poking into the space and the bird seed bag nowhere to be seen. He must have put it away just now.

You glanced up at him as you silenced the alarm and tucked your phone into your pocket. You hadn't needed it all that much this entire trip, but you would definitely hold onto it tight tonight. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Ready to head out?"

He didn't question your behavior and nodded. "Ready when you are."

Sometimes campfire smoke burned Kevin's eyes, but that was mostly when he was younger and didn't know any better. The embers of the fire were always so warm and inviting, always luring him toward it and inviting him to stare into its core. He could still feel the sting of the ash in his pupils as he looked at it from afar now.

The summer sun had sunken down into the horizon and gave way to a comfortable nightfall. Above your heads hung curtains of leaves from oaks, and above them was the blanket of night sky bedazzled in stars. Nature, as you had said earlier today, was quite photogenic.

He sat perched slightly away from everyone in the group, settling at the picnic table with his back to the table surface so he could still face into the fire. When everyone regrouped, Joshua had brought along an acoustic guitar and played it for everyone now.

"Sunday morning, rain is falling."

Someone lit up in a small hoot of approval. Kevin observed the group before him, the several families that had come together. He was especially pleased that the Hongs and the Xus were still hanging out with the lot of them, the latter being around a little less, but still coming out to join the fun, nonetheless.

He hadn't even realized when the last time his mom tried blatantly pushing him towards Serena. At some point, she stopped and it slipped his mind.

"Clouds are shrouding us in moments, unforgettable. You twist to fit the mold that I am in."

Kevin scratched his jaw as he turned his eyes down to the iPad settled in his lap. After he had finished up dinner, he ran inside to swap out his camera for his device to get some sketching done. There wasn't a particular project he was working on; he just wanted to practice a little.

When he lifted his gaze back up to pick a subject, he found himself looking in your direction. Your dad and Connor brought out the goodies to make s'mores. Long, slim skewers were passed around the circle, and the kids were the first to receive marshmallows to spear.

You and your sister sat beside one another and you helped her grab two of the mallows to impale. The light from the fire flickered across your face in differing levels of shadow, a play on contrast. Your expression seemed softer here—he wasn't really sure what it was. Maybe it was the tenderness at the corner of your eyes as you laughed at Connor's marshmallow falling burnt into the pit; maybe it was the triumph you shared with Alice when you helped her sandwich her marshmallows between a slab of chocolate and twin graham crackers.

He liked to believe his hand started before he consciously knew what he was doing.

"That may be all I need… In darkness, she is all I see."

"Are you sure you don't want me to make you one?" You asked your brother as he grabbed his redemption marshmallow from the bag.

Connor huffed, puffing out his chest. "I got this."

Your eyebrows flew upward. "Okay, big guy. Have at it." You chuckled and grabbed a marshmallow for yourself, sticking it onto your skewer to let it broil over the heat.

Kevin traced the lines of your face with his eyes, his hand transferring that memorization onto his screen. Sometimes human expressions were a little difficult to portray accurately, and there was a thorn pricking the back of his mind, urging him to do you justice. He didn't know if he could.

Your head slowly swayed to the sound of Joshua's pretty melody, the corners of your mouth tilting upward. Kevin shifted his position on the bench and drew the little tick mark at the edge of your mouth for that slight smile.

He always knew you were beautiful—for fuck's sake, he'd practically said it today in the forest. It had been among the crush of other important conversations, but he meant it. He still had the image of you engraved in his brain, the moment when you discovered the family of birds in the feeder house. You'd lit up like a goddamn star.

You stood up from your spot once your marshmallow became the perfect golden tone over the edges. You stepped over to the chair that held all the ingredients and smooshed the marshmallow between chocolate and cracker. Then, you turned and marched over to him.

Surprise alerted in his features, and he subtly tilted the screen of his iPad up against his chest. "Hey," he greeted softly while you approached.

You returned the expression and held out the s'more to him. "Here. It's for you."

The organ in his chest did a somersault. "What?" He laughed, "For me?"

"Yeah, silly. I don't know why you're so far away, but I know you like 'em." You settled on the bench next to him with one arm braced behind you on the table and your legs crossed, one over the other.

"Thank you," he said, using one of his hands to bite into it with childlike giddiness. The mixture of flavors exploded in his mouth—the crunch of the graham cracker, the soft, gooeyness of the chocolate and marshmallow. A perfect, sweet treat, and done exactly right. "Mmmh, this is so good," he mumbled behind his hand to catch any crumbs on his lips.

You chuckled. "Nice, glad it has your stamp of approval." Your eyes wandered down to his iPad, and you could see the white screen lit up against his shirt. "What have you been up to?"

His eyes widened a smidge, and there came a bashfulness to his face. (Cute.) "Oh, uhm," he swallowed down the remainder of the s'more and tilted the screen away from you. Huh, strange. "It's nothing really. Just sketching."

You hummed in understanding, though it was a little out of character for him to hide it from you. "Ah, I see."

The two of you descended into silence, and you leaned your back against the table to get comfortable. Kevin passed you sidelong glances from the corner of his eye, unsure of how you knew he wanted you to stay. (Because he definitely did want you to stay.)

Perhaps this was a sign. Thoughts had been brewing in his head as of late, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. They all just… sort of piled up in his hands and he didn't know how to free them up to reach out to you.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—maybe even about the pact—to retract the pact?—it didn't matter.

But when he turned to look at you this time, your gaze was elsewhere. That soft, tenderness remained, but you had turned your attention to Joshua.

Ah. He shouldn't have jumped so soon. A hopeless kind of ache twisted in his stomach that made him uncomfortable. He briefly glanced down at his screen of what he'd sketched of you so far and decided it might be better to finish it later.

Fireflies. You nearly forgot that you planned to sneak out and see fireflies tonight.

By the time the campfire was cleaned up and everyone was tucked away into their beds, it was probably nearing midnight. You quietly rustled around your room in the dark and used only your phone's flashlight to gather things into a little knapsack—just the essentials, of course. There was no need to get fancy with it.

You wished you had signal so you could text Kevin and warn him ahead of time that you were about to go appear at his window, but you figured it would be fine anyhow. Even if he wasn't awake, the excitement buzzing inside of you could hardly wait.

Shouldering your bag, you headed out the door and crossed the divide between your house and the Moons'.

You located Kevin's window on the second floor, quietly rejoining when you realized it was cracked open. This had to be fate; what other reason would his window be open? (Clearly not for the cool, evening breeze or anything…)

You cupped your hands around your mouth. "Kevin!" You stage-whispered. "Kevin!"

A moment later, a head popped out the open frame. His hair stuck up a little bit and his eyes squinted down into the darkness at you. "Yn?"

"Yes," you said with a grin that he probably thought was idiotically too large. You waved him down. "I'm gonna go see fireflies!"

It took him a second to compute. "What time is it?"

"Like, midnight."

"Okay."

Seven minutes later, Kevin emerged from the back door with a T-shirt and sweatpants on, a yawn splitting his face. He shook his head out as if he was shaking out the remaining remnants of sleep from his system. You met him on the back stairs.

"So what's this about fireflies?" He asked you as the two of you ventured off into the wilderness.

Last year when you were up here at the lake, there was one night when sleep refused to take you. Your solution had been to go on a walk, and as completely dangerous as that sounded (because it was), you'd stumbled upon the meadow you now took Kevin toward. You hadn't the faintest why you never knew about this place after years of coming up to the lake town, but it was where the fireflies took flight.

The meadow was not too long a walk from where you both lived, and by the time you arrived, Kevin was wide awake.

"It's just over this crest," you told him, the jubilation in your voice nearly spilling over.

Kevin smiled at the sound of your excitement and eagerly followed you up the hill.

As soon as you made it over, you lost all your breath in awe. The meadow sprawled at your feet for miles was completely a-glow. Little beads of yellow-green light dotted the field in every corner like light bulbs strung together by invisible string. You had only ever seen this once in person, the rest via the internet and popular culture (movies, TV shows, and the like), and yet, it never compared to the real life experience.

You and Kevin stood there for a moment to soak in the sight. What a wonder of nature this was.

When you finally gained the sense to, you dug around in your bag for wherever you'd stashed your phone. Your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you fidgeted with the settings on your phone camera. You just wanted one little picture to show one of your professors at school, but it seemed your camera-working skills left much to be desired.

"Here, let me," Kevin murmured and gently took the phone from you. He showed you the screen as he fixed the settings—et voilà! Like magic, the field before you became visible on your camera screen in the crispiest, sexiest quality you had ever seen. "And… there you go."

He clicked the photo for you and handed you back your phone.

Mouth agape, you zoomed in on your completed photo. "Thanks, Kevin!" You gushed as you admired his handiwork.

He clasped a hand against the back of his neck. "No worries. Just a few tricks I learned."

You still warmed at the gesture. With your phone now tucked away, the two of you could sink back into the glory of the field of fireflies.

You heard Kevin's voice, soft, "How do they light up like that?"

"Bioluminescence," you replied in a whisper back. "It's a biochemical reaction that basically lets them convert energy into that light you see." There were plenty of other examples of bioluminescence in nature, as well. One particular instance you'd read about once, was a wave of bioluminescent algae appearing on the shores of a Southern Californian beach during the summer. It was neat stuff.

"Wild," he marveled.

A wave of calm fell over your form. You'd never felt so at peace in your life—just you, the outdoors, and one of the few people who made you actually feel this comfortable. You swallowed at the thought.

You were suddenly hyperaware of how close you were standing to him, the backs of your hands grazing against each other. You could feel his skin, his knuckles against yours—and maybe your brain was making it up, but the touch felt intentional.

For a second, you indulged yourself in what it might be like to close the distance and take his hand into yours. Of course, it wouldn't have to be in the romantic way; friends could hold hands… right? They could hold hands and your heart could skip several beats and he could look at your lips, and you would still be friends. Right?

You cleared your throat, and the sound seemed to thunder in the silence. "We should—we should probably head back," you said, sparing a glance at him.

He caught your eyes and held them. His lips turned upward, and the shine in his eyes was fond. "Okay."

With renewed energy, you made the trek back into the neighborhood. Your bucket list items for the summer had nearly all been checked off—not like you had a physical list written out. These were simply traditions you hoped to fulfill every summer while you were here in your happy place.

The crickets chirped a lovely serenade as you and Kevin strolled back onto the street where your houses stood. At the point where you both needed to split off, you nudged him with your elbow. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me," he countered with an amused hum.

"Good night, Kev."

You both lingered for a second. "Good night, Yn," he said back, pausing for a moment. Then he leaned over toward you and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. Your eyes fluttered shut. "Hope the lovebugs bite."

EPISODE ELEVEN: ROCKING THE BOAT

IF there was one thing that Kevin Moon was good at (besides the myriad of things he was actually good at), it was waking up his cousin to exercise with him in the morning.

"I think I deserve a nice, fat stack of pancakes after this," Yuna grumbled after nearly tripping over a raised tree root and kissing the forest floor. She grappled onto her cousin's shoulder to steady herself, the cousin in question giving a light chuckle at her antics. "When your mom said we should exercise together, I thought she meant the next time I was in Vancouver, not right now."

"Well, it's only because Yn's mom planned to go out with my mom this morning," Kevin mused. "Usually I have a designated walking partner."

"Woe is me. Alas, I have become your Plan B," Yuna sighed melodramatically with a hand draped over her forehead.

This morning, at a lovely 9:46am, the lake and its surrounding forest was just as alive and awake as Kevin was. The sun had taken up its perch in the clear, blue sky and the birds had long since begun their morning songs. They were awfully loud at this part of the lake, the exact three-quarter mark around the perimeter. Kevin thanked his parents for choosing houses away from this area—he would have never slept ever if they bunkered up here. (Not that he slept anyway, but that was beside the point.)

The walk began a little later than he usually did with your mom, but he granted Yuna a bit of leeway since she hadn't exactly been given a head's up. (He argued the opposite, but he let this once slide.)

"You're so dramatic," he chided playfully. "Watch out for that rock."

Yuna's mouth morphed into a deep frown, eyes wide open, as she narrowly missed being nature's fool another time. "Oh, speaking of Yn… Yn's mom? Whatever, I just mean Yn."

Kevin perked up at the topic change. His brain was fresh from last night's midnight endeavor with you and the fireflies. His lips still tingled from when he ventured to kiss you on the head… he wasn't sure where that courage had come from, but the memory of it kick-started his heart into a gallop. "What about Yn?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. You tell me." A smile crawled onto her face, and Kevin could smell her slyness a mile away. "The two of you have been hanging out a ton recently."

"We usually stick together," he sniffed, fidgeting absentmindedly with the beads on the bracelet you'd made him.

"Aish," she pressed her features into an unimpressed look that reminded Kevin of a typical Chanhee deadpan. "You're so unhelpful. You know what I'm talking about!" She smacked the side of his arm, and Kevin erupted into a fit of laughter.

His smile grew shy. "I don't really know what to say! I'm sorry—that's the truth." Because how could he even begin when it came to you? Where did it end, where did it begin?

"I see the way you look at her, Kev."

Kevin shoved his hands into his shorts. Suddenly the bird nest he spotted in a nearby tree became all too interesting. The bird nest reminded him of the birds who had made a home out of one of your feeders, and that reminded him of the adorable elation on your face when you discovered it and that reminded him of—he came to a stop. Oh, god, he was so far gone. "How do I look at her?"

Yuna peered at him curiously, then stopped to face him. "You look at her like I look at Jin. At least, that's how I think I look at him." She offered him a supportive smile. "But right now, you look like you're going through your midlife crisis."

"I might as well be."

She barked out a laugh. "Save that for when you buy a house, my friend."

He rubbed his temples with a wince. "Houses, domesticity, money, partners. Why is adulting so hard?"

"Hey, you'll get through it," she told him and nudged his shoulder. "What's going on, dude? What's on your mind?"

Kevin swallowed. He still hadn't the faintest idea where to begin, but everything had to start somewhere. Yuna had always been kind to him (a menace at times, but that feeling was mutual), and he trusted her with his vulnerabilities. He toed the ground. "Okay, last night, I kissed her—"

"YOU WHAT?"

He sputtered, red rushing to his face, as he grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes were practically falling out of her head. "Nonononono! Let me finish, you—I kissed her on the forehead, okay?"

Her gaping mouth closed only slightly. "Oh…" She thought about it some more. "Oh."

Kevin nodded gravely. "Yup."

Yuna straightened with a furrowed brow. "Well, that's not that big of a deal, is it?"

"What do you mean that's not a big deal?" His hands shot to the top of his baseball cap. "How is that not a big deal!"

"That's because the two of you refuse to acknowledge or entertain the obvious!"

Kevin hissed when she reached over to give his forehead a very hard flick. He rubbed the spot that began to smart; getting flicked in the forehead twice in one lake trip was twice too many. "The obvious?"

"That you guys can have the mushy gushy feelies without it being a product of the placebo effect from your moms' collective matchmaking efforts."

He made a face. "That was a lot of words…"

She deadpanned. "Kevin, listen to me: just because the two of you made a stupid pact when you were ten—"

"Eleven."

"Whatever. Eleven—doesn't mean that you can't leave room to, you know, amend that. You have to give yourself the opportunity to explore it, especially when I can clearly see that your feelings are changing about this girl." Yuna grasped her cousin by his shoulders this time in an attempt to telepathically insert these words into his brain. Or at least, just make him listen.

The words seeped into his head. The two of you had already made amendments earlier this trip, but you had never commented on the "only friends part." He even entertained the idea of bringing it up to you last night at the bonfire.

He didn't realize Yuna already began tugging him along the path to circle around the remainder of the lake to get back to the house. Everything was so muddled… but a part of him recognized that Yuna was right. He just wished he could get an idea of where your thoughts laid.

There were moments when you thought life could be like a movie, but then why was doing this pedal boat thing so much less glamorous than it seemed? Then again, maybe you shouldn't have thought doing this at high noon was the greatest idea.

You should have been like your Uncle Seokjin, who sat to your left, swallowed up in a blue lifejacket, a pair of big sunglasses, and a crocheted bonnet with a duck face to keep his face out of the sun. Yeah, maybe glasses would have been a good idea.

Sweat dribbled down the side of your face and down the slope of your nose, and you wiped it off with the back of your hand. "It's so hot, Uncle. We couldn't have waited until later today when it cooled down?"

He leaned back, his cheeks and skin reddened and damp from the heat and the fire in his calves from pedaling. "Okay, okay. Let's stop here."

"Right in the middle of the lake?" You asked incredulously, but immediately brought your feet off the pedals to give your legs a deserved break.

"What better place to do so?"

The two of you lounged in your seat beneath the molten afternoon sun, limbs screaming, water draining from your bodies through your pores. This would have been nice if you brought a sun umbrella… or maybe some water… man, did you make so many poor choices today.

"So what's going on with you and Kevin?"

The question snapped you out of your heat-fazed daze. You nearly thought you hallucinated him saying that. You stammered, "What about me and Kevin?"

You could see his overexaggerated facial expression even from behind his sunglasses. "Yah, don't give me that. You know what I'm talking about—I saw you two last night."

You lurched out of your seat and caused the violent rocking of the boat. You and your copilot let out twin swears as the boat evened out on the waves, and luckily, did not capsize. "Sorry—the fuck? You did?"

"Actually, I didn't," he snickered. "But now I know something did happen. So what's the tea, girl? Hit me with it. It's hot outside but I always take my beverages scorching." He shifted in his seat, carefully, in order to give you his full attention.

You couldn't believe he dragged you out to the middle of the lake just for this conversation. Total Uncle Seokjin move. You walked (or pedaled) right into his checkmate.

Moments of last night flooded into your brain—the campfire, the fireflies, the kiss, the… the him. Kevin. You gulped. Where did you even think to begin? "I took him to see fireflies last night."

Jin scrunched his eyebrows together. "Fireflies? Since when did we have fireflies? You didn't take me to see the fir—oh, you know, what? It was your little romantic moment; I got it."

"It wasn't a romantic moment!" You sputtered helplessly, uselessly. "It was—it was a moment of serenity and scientific marvel."

"You are such a nerd. What did he do, huh? Did you guys hold hands or something?"

Almost. "No," you said. "He… he did kiss my forehead once we got back though."

"Aha!" You both careened as the boat trembled violently from Seokjin's sudden Einstein epiphany. "I knew that something happened," he said once the boat slowed to a stop again. "I just had a feeling in my gut."

"Are you sure it wasn't the yogurt you had this morning?"

"How dare you," he huffed. "I brought my lactose pills. And hey! Stop changing the subject."

You laughed aloud, but inwardly, your gut was churning. Maybe you could blame the heat, but you knew the real reason why you were suddenly feeling as unstable as the pedal boat you sat upon. The idea that the entirety of your friendship could be so easily uprooted… well, perhaps not easily. Picking apart your friendship would be like flushing weeds out of a garden—you would have to get at the roots, and right now, the roots were so deep that you would fall into the ground before finding the bottom.

Not that you wanted to uproot your friendship, or relationship, with Kevin. Of course not.

What did that forehead kiss even mean? What did all of the moments you shared between him this summer, as a whole, even mean? Why, all of a sudden, did you want the way he looked at you to mean something different besides platonic affection? Why did you want more when you had never really thought about more before?

You voiced all of this aloud to your uncle, who sat staring out onto the calm surface of the lake. When you were finished with your ramble, he said, "You need to get your shit together, girl."

You coughed. "Thanks, that was so helpful."

"I'm told that a lot," he beamed. "But really, those are all very good questions, Yn. And they're super important, too."

You frowned, lifting the rim of your baseball cap to wipe away the perspiration collecting at your hairline like a cult. "Do you think that these mixed feelings are a result of all the matchmaking going on? Like, somehow, we've let it affect how we view each other?"

"Honestly?" He sighed, his shoulders lifting and dropping in a half-hearted shrug. "Could be. But, Yn honey, is it really such a bad thing? And let's think about it this way—how do you feel about Joshua?"

You didn't need to think too hard about it. "He's a catch, but not my type of butterfly."

"Exactly, and oh my go—"

"Don't," you chuckled menacingly, "call me a nerd."

He gestured vaguely with his hand. "I wasn't; I was gonna call you a dork."

You snorted. With another swipe at your dripping neck, you said, "But Kevin and Serena—"

"'Kevin and Serena' don't exist," he told you with a smack of his lips. Jin peered at you from over the rim of his glasses, which in kind, made the duck's beady eyes stare straight into your soul, too. "That girl bats for the other team, and Kevin has shown zero interest in her other than helping her not fall off a jet ski."

Huh. You leaned your elbow onto the knee of one leg, propped up to your chest. "Well when you put it that way…"

"When I put it that way," he finished for you, "it makes it a little clearer, hm?" You were quiet for a moment, and Jin gave your shoulder a pat. "Some things are just meant to be."

The words, so familiar to you, rang true as a bell. Some things are just meant to be. You couldn't help the smile that started to work its way onto your face, and it was all thanks to Seokjin helping you sweep away some of the webs confusing your brain. You weren't completely confident, but you could feel yourself being nudged in a certain direction, and this time, you weren't pushing back.

The tide could take you where it may.

Your uncle by association added quietly, "Haven't you thought just once that, after all this sneaking around, there's been another reason for it other than a pact?"

EPISODE TWELVE: FISH IN THE SEA, ANTS IN THE GROUND

BY the time you and Jin returned to solid ground, you discovered that Kevin was away with his dad helping the Xus pack and clean up. Today they would be departing the small lake town, as they hadn't planned on spending as much time up here as the rest of you did. You and most of the others already said your goodbyes at the campfire, so you had little else to do but twiddle your thumbs until you could confront Kevin with your thoughts.

A shower always produced productive results, especially after melting Wicked Witch of the West style in the middle of the lake.

There was time, you realized, to bring things together. Of course, there was a part of you that shied away from wanting to even address this epiphany. What if bringing this up opened up a whole new can of worms? In other words, what if talking about the elephant in the room only led to regret? You didn't want to lose Kevin, and because your families were always so close, you didn't want to lose this. This connection, this tradition, this place.

Too many memories made their home here at the lake. It was your happy place… his happy place. It was everything.

Everything could change, and wasn't that terrifying? But it could also be great, and who best to share the scariest, greatest moments of life with other than your Kevin Moon?

As rubber tire wheels ate gravel, Kevin nodded to his dad and set off back across the lawn toward your cabin. The afternoon had him busy with helping the Xus head home, which he didn't mind doing, of course; the lot of them had fun with his party, and his party with the lot of them. He and Serena left on friendly terms, undeterred by his mother's half-hearted attempt to get them sort of talking. Serena said she understood.

Kevin needed to talk to you though. After the morning was spent with Yuna getting him to see the big ass elephant in the room—trunk in his face and trumpet in his ear—there was no other course of action left but to tell you the truth.

The truth. God, the truth. The truth was that he didn't want the old pact in place anymore. That was it, plain and simple. It was crazy to think about how long the two of you had let it restrain your relationship—wait, did you want it to though?

"Hey Kevin!"

Kevin slowed to a stop, attention perking up at his name when he saw Joshua making his way over to him. He worried his bottom lip. You didn't… like Josh, did you? He just had to be sure because, well, that would throw a rock into things. "Oh, hey, man."

Joshua offered him a bright smile. "Hey. Did Serena and her parents just take off?"

Kevin cupped the back of his head. "Uh, yeah! Just now, actually."

"Cool, cool." Joshua nodded his head. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

His heart threw itself over the side of a cliff. Oh no. He let out a laugh, hoping to push the nerves out of his voice, but he was sure it wasn't too convincing anyhow. "Really? What—what about?"

"It's about Yn—" Oh, double no. "—I kind of," he winced, "noticed that her mom was trying to… nudge us together?"

"Oh god, let me be the first to apologize—"

Joshua broke the tension with a chuckle. "Hey, it's no worries! I just didn't know if you were aware or not because you and she kind of seemed like a couple to me, but I didn't know if her mom knew."

Kevin blinked, heart quickening for a different reason. "What?" He stammered. "Sorry, can we rewind?"

"Hm? That you and Yn are a thing? Are—are you not?" He gasped, eyes going wide. "Shit, that was stupid of me to just assume. Sorry if that was totally awkward!"

Oh, but quite the opposite. Kevin could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, clear as day. There was a warm feeling in his chest knowing that more people thought that you and him looked like a couple. It was ridiculous how the thought got him giddy now. Kevin shook his head though. "No, no, you're good, dude. But we aren't a couple." Yet. Hopefully.

Joshua cocked his head to the side curiously. "Oh? I guess… it's still a little strange of me to assume, so I apologize. You're…?"

"Interested?" A nod. "Yeah." (Wow, that was a verbal admittance. One step closer to the real thing.)

Kevin cleared his throat and grabbed his shoulder with his opposite hand. "You're not—you're not interested in her, are you? I mean," he rushed to add, "it's totally fine. I understand—"

Joshua shook his head. "Oh shit, no, I'm not interested. Not that Yn's a bad person or anything, but I'm taken."

Pause.

…that made sense.

Joshua laughed, ducking his head to hide the smile that blossomed on his face. "Yeah, I'm already spoken for. My parents don't really know yet, but… yeah. I didn't wanna get in the way of whatever you and Yn have, and hopefully I'm not saying this too late."

On the contrary, a weight lifted from Kevin's chest and he sucked in a lungful of summer breeze. "Nah, man. Thanks for saying it in the first place; I appreciate it."

"Yeah," Joshua said pleasantly. He nodded at him, lips pursed with one eye squinted. "She digs you, too, you know? I've seen it all throughout this trip."

Hope filled his heart like the air ballooning his lungs. He didn't know what to do with all of these. They just kept coming up onto the stack of things in his hands that he wanted to take into consideration and tell you to your face, once and for all. Your face just kept flickering in his mind's eye, and the nerves were slowly melting into excitement. He wanted to share this with you, as the two of you had done for years.

"I hope so."

Joshua clasped a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "I would say 'go get 'em, tiger,' but I have a friend at school who is scarily obsessed with tigers, so I'll just say—" A squeeze of his shoulder, "you got this."

Kevin didn't know what to do with that extra factoid, but he gave Joshua a grateful grin. "Thanks, man."

The pair split off from there, one heading back toward his own cabin, and the other, marching toward the future. Whatever laid ahead, he could take on.

His step gained a skip, and soon, he was jogging across the green until he appeared at your back porch. He hadn't really prepared anything—no romantic gestures, no flowers or candles, no chocolates. All he had were the words on his tongue and his newly realized love for you. Love, a strange phenomenon. He had his love for you stashed away in his breast pocket and it blossomed every summertime.

He let himself into the house and went poking around for you. "Yn? Yn, you back yet?"

No answer.

He ducked his head into the kitchen, the living room, before he came upon your bedroom door left slightly ajar. Through the sliver, he saw the bottoms of your feet on the bed, and he gently knocked on the door before pushing through.

"Yn…? Ah," His voice quieted to a whisper.

You were curled up over the bedsheets, asleep. Kevin slowly tiptoed his way over to you where your body was angled toward your phone screen, lying discarded on the pillow and actively running an episode of Our Planet.

A smile, fond and tender, pressed itself into his mouth. He reached over to carefully turn the downloaded episode off to descend the room in complete silence.

His head swiveled toward the foot of the bed where your patchwork quilt hung off the railing. He carefully draped it over your sleeping form, then made his exit.

You deserved the rest. And though he couldn't confess to you now, this gave him the time to ensure he got this exactly right.

EPISODE THIRTEEN: THE DAMSELS IN DEVOTION DEAL™

TIME passed by differently here.

One moment, you were biding your time and indulging in an episode of Our Planet; the next, the bedroom was dark and the house was quiet. You roused from sleep confused and delirious. You stretched your limbs up over your head, taking note of the quilt draped over your body.

Huh, you wondered how that got there.

Your eyes fluttered and squinted when you stood up and saw a flicker of amber light from outside your window. The view looked over only part of the backside to the house, so all you could see were the shadows that the campfire created. They danced by way of the breeze, their puppetmaster.

The time on your phone read a (slightly alarming) ten o'clock. You hadn't realized you slept that long. Maybe you were more tired than you originally thought.

Wait, then why was the campfire still blazing?—

"Yn! Psst!"

You pressed your face against the open slit in the window to track the sound of your name. Déjà vu swept over you as you discovered Kevin making his way over toward you from the outside. "Kevin? Is everyone still up?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I've just been waiting," he admitted sheepishly. "Come on out. Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, no. I just woke up."

"Ah… right." He clasped the back of his neck. "Well, come out anyway. We can sit together."

Together. You liked the sound of that.

Without wasting more time, you promised him two minutes and scurried out of your room to round to the back door. The campfire crackled on your side of the lawn, rather than the middle of the properties this time, and Kevin tended to it on one of the two foldable chairs present.

You took a seat in the open seat. "S'mores?" You chuckled, noting the basket of ingredients at his feet.

He ducked his head. "Yeah," he loosened a laugh, "I thought I'd make you a s'more this time."

It was just a s'more, and yet, here was the organ in your chest palpitating in your chest. You didn't reject the s'more, of course, and watched him skewer a marshmallow and hold it over the blazing embers. As he did so, you caught the way his other hand fidgeted with your bracelet on his wrist, how his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Was he as nervous as you were?

The thing, Yn.

"There's something I—" You both stopped short at your simultaneous words. They were the same, too, and had the pair of you fumbling.

"You first," you said, gesturing to him.

He hummed and tried for a smile. "Do you remember that night in sixth grade when we made the pact?"

You nodded.

"It was kind of like this actually," he mused. The marshmallow had browned into a beautiful gold, and you reached into the basket to help him assemble the chocolate and graham cracker pieces. Your fingers grazed his as he squished the outer crackers together to hand it to you. "A late night, s'mores, the campfire."

You took a chunk out of the s'more and swallowed before adding, "Seems like so long ago."

"Right?" He slipped the metal skewers back into the basket and leaned his arms onto his knees, body angled toward you. "The pact, I…" He considered his words as they melted on his tongue like the chocolate and marshmallow on yours. "I wanted to ask if you would think about another amendment."

You met his eyes now. The burning fire reflected in his dark irises, warm and bright. "An—an amendment," you parroted. Was this what you thought it was? You finished off your s'more, hoping not to choke when he told you whatever he wanted to tell you. You suddenly wondered if the s'more was just to soften the blow.

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, another amendment. We didn't really discuss the biggest part of the original pact when we made the rescue protocol."

"The 'just friends' clause," you finished, breathlessly.

"Yn, I don't wanna be just friends anymore."

It didn't hit you at first. You swore the ash from the fire was making you hear things, but it hit you, milliseconds later. "Oh."

He pursed his lips for a moment. "It's taken me a stupidly long time to come to this conclusion, and I was thinking about what we were talking about the other night—about if we were ready for relationships. And I said that maybe the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with was someone I already met.

"Yn, I think I'm in love with you," he said. "Not just in a way that friends love each other, but something… something more. And I wanted to let you know because—if I'm being completely honest—I want to share everything with you."

You could feel the way your lips curled upward and your heart soared. "I wanna share everything with you, too. And I don't know how long I've sat on this, but what I do know is that I feel so much for you." Every admittance that was released into the night air like sparks flying was another card laid out between you two, face up. "This place, the lake, has been my place, Kevin. But I want you to be my person."

He smiled at you, sweet and boyish, the type of smile that made you feel on the edge of seventeen. He helped you out of dark places with that smile; he was always showing you the light. "Your person," he murmured, letting that sink into his tongue and be familiarized with it. "I would love to be your person, Yn."

Your hand found his across the gap between your chairs. His thumb caressed over the side of yours, and he tucked his other hand over top until you were enveloped in his clasp—safe and sound.

When the fire was reduced to nothing more than ash and memory, you and Kevin raced each other down to the water's edge. The lake was stilled beneath the moonlight, a pool of silvery mercury. You reached for his hand again and intertwined your fingers firmly, a comforting weight and hold.

It felt right.

"So since we made an amendment to the protocol again," you started as he swung your laced hands between your bodies, "we need to seal the deal."

A grin bloomed on his face, and he bit his lip. "Hear me out," he drawled. "Maybe we should update the seal, too."

You narrowed your eyes in jest. "You just don't want me to flick your forehead."

"Sue me, you flick hard," he laughed.

"But shoot."

He licked his lips and turned to face you. "Can I show you?"

Your heart gave one big lurch as he leaned over to you. You closed the rest of the distance and sighed something happy at the feel of his lips against yours. It was gentle and brief, his mouth parting from yours to give you enough room to back away.

You could feel your twin smiles. "I kind of like it."

"Yeah?" He hummed. "Well, that can be our practice round."

You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck to pull him back over to you. His arms curled around your middle, hands pressed to your sides and holding you close.

When you broke apart this time, his warm chuckle ran a delicious bolt of electricity down your spine. "I know things are gonna be different now… But we got this."

It was the way he looked at you—the one that assured you he was the same Kevin he was three years ago and beyond; the kid who broke the swing set when you challenged him to a bet; the kid who sketched butterflies in meadows, and now sketched you in the firelight; the kid who would never judge you or ridicule you for your feelings, but validate them, always. You didn't know how you were so blind to it before.

It wasn't so scary anymore, not when you knew he would be there with you.

"Yeah," you said softly, running your thumb down the back of his neck, "I'm not really worried."

He let out a breathy laugh, and it coaxed one out of you, too. Kevin pressed his forehead to yours, pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, pressed his heart to yours.

Some things really were just meant to be.

a/n: now the question is how are they gonna tell their moms... 🤡 if you enjoyed, pls remember to reblog, or comment, or send in an ask!! thanks for reading :] see you in at your convenience!

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theharrowing · 7 days

Text

Collateral 🗡️: Yoongi POV

Yoongi is spiraling. He has has a bigger mess on his hands than he could have anticipated, and you have slipped between his fingers.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

even if you have not been reading the POV chapters, i highly recommend reading this one to get a sense of what has been going on inside Yoongi's head since this story began, and where he is now.

🗡️Yoongi x Namjoon, Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Reader

🗡️ word count: 8.1k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: semi-explicit smut between Yoongi & Namjoon (anal sex; mostly Yoongi experiencing subspace and not being present; non-explicit oral sex); mention of the disposal of dead bodies; blood on Yoongi's hands; mention of weapons (guns and knives); mental health stuff (anxiety; dissociation); chess talk...(is that a warning? lmk if the analogy is confusing lol); brief mention of homophobia (as a concept/worry, not as a direct experience); thoughts of taking heroin and overdosing (does not actually use); Yoongi is in a dark place and not necessarily suicidal, but definitely at a breaking point.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! there is also a hefty amount of foreshadowing for remaining chapters, and a surprise at the end.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted june 2024 | read on ao3

"She's gone," Namjoon says, smile evident in his tone. Yoongi continues to watch as Jeongguk drags her away by the hand along the path toward his home. She stumbles behind him, arm outstretched as his strides are longer than hers. Namjoon continues, "I have you all to myself."

Once she disappears along the path, Yoongi rips his gaze from the trees and turns to Namjoon, lifting an eyebrow to appear nonchalant. The crease of dimples on Namjoon's cheeks, paired with his lidded gaze, turns Yoongi's heart into a caged, rabid beast.

"Oh?" he asks.

Namjoon's dimples deepen. "It's been a while since it has just been us two," he groans, stepping so close that Yoongi has to angle his head to gaze at him. "I miss you."

This makes Yoongi chuckle. He knows what Namjoon's I miss you entails—how it has nothing to do with the simple physical nearness that the phrase may imply on a surface level.

"You have me," Yoongi responds, wrapping his arms lazily around Namjoon's waist.

"Are any staff members here?" Namjoon asks as he leans close and rubs the tips of their noses together. His cologne is familiar and bright, causing tension to release from Yoongi's shoulders.

"Just the chef," Yoongi responds through a long exhale of air.

He opens his mouth to ask why Namjoon is curious—knowing full well that sex is on his mind—but Namjoon captures his bottom lip in his teeth and sucks until Yoongi's eyes roll back. Yoongi feels dizzy from desire and goes limp in Namjoon's arms. His eyes flutter closed momentarily, and he lets out a deep, pleased groan.

"Send him home," Namjoon mutters, lip still captive in his mouth. He releases, then more clearly says, "I want you on the couch."

Yoongi shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile. He sounds petulant as he says, "Not my mother's couch," making Namjoon chuckle. The thought alone of cleaning a stain out of that ancient blue velvet sends a shiver along his spine.

Namjoon laughs harder and nods—when it comes to Yoongi's mother, Namjoon always concedes. Even from the grave, he would never do anything to displease her.

"Alright," Namjoon says, giving Yoongi a tug toward the slightly ajar front door. "The couch upstairs, then."

Yoongi smiles, and that is all Namjoon needs to take the lead, kicking out of his shoes while he tugs on Yoongi's hand. Yoongi steps out of a pair of leather loafers and is led through his home to his bedroom, smiling wider with each step, doing his best not to trip on his way up the stairs.

Yoongi loves his darling. He really does.

But there is something so serene and comforting about having Namjoon all to himself, and he allows his mind to wander along this path, knowing it is not a disservice to her. He imagines she also enjoys moments when it is just herself and one of them.

Or herself and Jeongguk.

"What do you suppose they are getting up to at Jeongguk's place?" Yoongi asks as they approach the large blue couch in his bedroom.

Namjoon sinks to the cushions, leaving Yoongi to stand before him. He knows that unless Namjoon gives him verbal instruction, his assumed instruction is to not do anything, and so he keeps his arms hung to his sides while Namjoon begins undoing the fly of his slacks.

"Fucking," Namjoon responds, glancing up at him, dimples prominent. His dark hair is beginning to grow out a bit, and hangs parted over his forehead.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, chuckling as his slacks and briefs are shoved to his knees and his legs are hit by cool air. He gently lifts one foot after another, hovering each one long enough to have his socks removed, and he says, "Touché."

"He bought her a dildo, for fuck's sake," Namjoon says, standing before Yoongi and grabbing at the bottom hem of his black sweater.

Yoongi regrets bringing it up, sensing Namjoon is in the mood to tease. He grumbles, "I'm aware."

"Modeled after his own cock," Namjoon adds, sounding ever incredulous.

Yoongi feels exasperated and mutters, "Forget I asked," under his breath.

"No, tell me," Namjoon continues, lifting Yoongi's sweater and tee in the same motion, forcing Yoongi's arms upward. The garments are removed and tossed aside, and Namjoon grips Yoongi's chin, tugging him forcefully to bring their lips close before Yoongi has a chance to lower his arms to his sides again. "What else would they be doing?"

Namjoon steals the air from Yoongi's lungs, leaving him standing nude, cold, and utterly speechless. He stares into Namjoon's dark, sharp eyes, finding all he can do is catch his breath.

"Bend over," Namjoon instructs.

Yoongi nods in quick, shallow movements and swallows thickly. "Yes, daddy," he utters softly, sound caught in his throat.

Namjoon takes his time stretching Yoongi with his fingers and tongue. He is delirious by the time he is instructed to lay on his back, barely cognizant of the soft fabric as it shifts below his knees and settles below his back.

The room dissipates into a thin fog as Namjoon enters him, and his body is electric with sensation, feeling only where he is used and touched—where beads of sweat drip from Namjoon's forehead onto his heated skin.

Yoongi revels in these moments when he can slip into subspace and shut off, becoming nothing but a doll for his lover. He tries to think about his darling but the synapses do not fire. All he knows in this moment is immediate, insurmountable pleasure.

As Namjoon fucks Yoongi with his legs lifted high in the air, the rocking of his body mixed with the pleasure-pain of how hard Namjoon's thrusts are caused him to drift. He is lost at sea with nothing but the roaring, whooshing sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Yoongi returns to his body as Namjoon uses a warm, damp rag to clean him off. It takes several heavy blinks to realize he has been carried into the bathroom and is bending over the cold marble sink with his feet spread on a soft rug. The hard surface feels good against his heated skin, but he begins to shiver the more aware of it he becomes.

"I completely lost you for a while, there," Namjoon says once he is finished. He places a kiss between Yoongi's shoulder blades, and Yoongi hums happily as his eyelids flutter closed and a shiver works down his spine.

The two of them have an agreement that unless Yoongi becomes so out of it that he starts to panic, Namjoon is not to stop. He is allowed to use Yoongi all he needs to, and he is always gracious in the way he cares for Yoongi after.

Yoongi has never had a panic moment during subspace, but they have read that it is something that can happen. He and Namjoon have become so close over the years that Yoongi is not concerned. They can cross that bridge if they ever come to it.

It is only when the sex ends and Yoongi is a full person again that he sometimes loses his grasp on reality, but he figures that is a different matter entirely.

"Did I cum?" Yoongi asks although he knows the answer is no. His cock is soft but he can feel the pent-up need for release that has him practically begging Namjoon for another round.

"Nah," Namjoon responds, tugging Yoongi by the shoulders to stand up straight. As Yoongi pushes away from the counter with his elbows and then his palms, Namjoon—who is shirtless but wearing briefs—wraps his arms around Yoongi's arms, pinning them to his sides. "I tried twice to make you cum but you kept seeming too overwhelmed. Didn't want to push you."

"Sorry," Yoongi mutters, although he is not in the least bit sorry. Still, he finds it is the only thing that makes sense for him to say, right now. It is common for him to get so lost that he does not cum, but he always feels a tinge of guilt for some reason, as if ejaculation is the only way to express to someone that they have made you feel good. Of course, it is not.

"Want to discuss it?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi shrugs, ready to brush it off as nothing because he is concerned that he may actually begin to spiral if he voices what has been on his mind.

It certainly is not nothing. Yoongi slips away the easiest when his mind is so clouded with anxiety that he becomes desperate to let go. And, of course, Namjoon knows this better than anyone else.

"Sure," Yoongi admits. Perhaps it would be nice to voice his feelings out loud. "Once we are dressed and I have a fair amount of marijuana in my system, I will gladly discuss it."

With new socks and underwear, Yoongi returns to the outfit he had been wearing before, shaking the garments as he lifts them from their pile on the floor in order to free them of the socks and briefs that belong in the hamper.

Namjoon kisses Yoongi on the cheek and leaves the bedroom first, undoubtedly to make his way down to the living room to where he keeps his joints stashed in his mother's favorite antique table.

Yoongi thinks of his mother as he runs a hand through his hair and slowly follows along. The mansion is full of memories of her, and he wishes he could confide in her the way he did when he was younger. More than anything, he wishes he could be in her presence again.

He pauses at the top of the stairs to peer at a closed door on the far end of the mezzanine that has not been opened in years, and he imagines his mother donned in all black with her long hair twisted out of her face into a neat bun in the back. She always sat on her favorite velvet sofa—the one that is now down in the main hall—drinking a glass of Shiraz while reading the newspaper, ready to set both aside to advise her son in a moment's notice.

Yoongi has walked in on a similar scene so many times before, and as he imagines the warmth of her embrace, memories flood back to him, as they always do.

I love him, his younger self whined, collapsing to the cushion as two warm arms wrapped around his shoulders and engulfed his head in Chanel-scented darkness. He loved Ryujin, too, but in the way one loves someone they have known all their life. Not in the way he loved Namjoon.

He had always thought he could have, though. He was willing to try to feel the way he pretended to. All he needed was a little time, he would tell himself.

I know you do, her voice said, strong yet soft, unwavering. Hold him dearly, and do not let him go. The others will come to understand.

Yoongi remembers asking his mother what to do if the others did not come to understand, voice trembling as he sniffled against her neck. Specifically, he was talking about his father, though he was not brave enough to say so. He was never brave enough to say so.

Then be rid of them, is all she would say in response. She made it sound so easy.

Yoongi's heart feels heavy, and he closes his eyes, descending the steps while wishing she were still here. He is no fool—he knows he does not always make the best choices. But he does the best he can with what he has been given, and he hopes that she would still be proud of him. At the very least, he thinks she could talk some sense into him.

In a blink, Yoongi is outside, standing on his front stoop, lighting the joint that is nestled between his lips. He glances down at his feet to make sure he is wearing shoes and is pleased to find that they match.

Yoongi does this lately—loses track of himself. One moment, he is standing at the top of the staircase, and the next, he is outside. He knows that his brain still pilots his body in the in-between moments, but it always gives him pause to return to himself, realizing he has been somewhere else.

Christopher says it is a form of dissociation and points out that it occurs when Yoongi tends to be experiencing high levels of stress. The problem is, Yoongi is almost always experiencing high levels of stress.

Yoongi inhales sharply, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. He hands the joint to Namjoon, holding his breath a few seconds more, then lets it out in a deep exhale.

"Craving sushi," Yoongi mutters, mostly to himself.

Namjoon chuckles as he lets out a plume of smoke and hands the joint back. "Sushi is doable, and agreeable. Wanna call our darling?"

Yoongi brings the joint to his lips and shakes his head. He wants to give her a little more time and space. He wants her to feel like she has freedom.

"Not yet," he says as best as he can while trying to keep the smoke from escaping his lungs. Then he sighs, letting the air push out, passing the joint back to Namjoon. "I feel like I have been crowding her, and I—" Yoongi swallows, finds his mouth is terribly dry, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

Namjoon inhales sharply and coughs. Yoongi considers going into the kitchen to fetch them some water, but he feels glued in place, unable to move.

"Ah, right," Namjoon says, voice somewhat strained from coughing. "Is this what has you stuck inside your head today?"

Yoongi nods, staring at the tree line that separates his property from Seokjin's and Jeongguk's. Greens and browns fade in and out of focus, making him dizzy, but he finds he cannot look away.

"She had a fucking panic attack," Yoongi says under his breath, finding his tone is sharper and much angrier than he intends. He swallows, nibbles the inside of his cheek, and then tries again in a much more even tone. "I feel like I have grossly misjudged the situation, and it is not as if I can simply take the proposal back."

"We have been putting a lot of pressure on her," Namjoon agrees, stepping close.

Yoongi does not want more of the weed, and he shakes his head when it is offered. He rips his gaze from the trees and turns to Namjoon, watching as his expression falls to match his solemn one, lips downturned in a frown. Yoongi knows that Namjoon already knows what he is thinking before he says it. He always does.

"I am at a loss for what to do," Yoongi mutters.

Namjoon turns his head to the side to blow out a mouthful of smoke, eyes staying on Yoongi. "I suppose we give her space whenever possible," he suggests, to which Yoongi nods. "And we find a good time to sit her down and talk to her. We can assure her that we are not trying to rush or pressure her."

As always, Namjoon is right. A conversation goes a long way, and it is something the three of them have not made enough time for. A lot of bullshit has happened over the last couple of months, and Yoongi imagines all three of them must have a lot on their minds.

And there are some things that Yoongi needs to clear up before their relationship becomes even more serious. Things he has not been forthcoming about because he never expected to care enough about her to want to openly discuss them.

He still cannot believe he has allowed himself to fall in love again.

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but his phone begins to buzz. The vibration is a pattern that is only programmed for one phone number, and he smiles as he reaches into his pocket, eager to hear from her, albeit a little worried. Perhaps they can have the dreaded but much needed conversation over dinner.

* * *

It is just after 2 in the morning when Yoongi's phone finally rings. He is drenched in sweat and blood, and he drags the back of his hand over his brow as he wipes his other hand against the leg of his pants and reaches into his pocket, palming his device. Seokjin's name shines at him in big white letters, and he breathes deeply and slowly before accepting the call.

Around him, bodies of men are dragged further onto the compound from the security gate, and Taehyung loads them into the back of a sleek black pickup truck for identification and disposal while Jeongguk prowls the length of the driveway like a territorial beast, clenching bloody knives in both hands.

"Seokjin," Yoongi pants, exhausted.

"Boss," Seokjin responds chipperly, "Your wolf is on a flight to Taiwan. A liaison will meet her and either take her to Hong Kong to stay with The Tigers, or to Busan."

"Busan," Yoongi bites back, feeling his stomach churn with discomfort. "It would be nice to have her on the same peninsula, but…at what cost."

Seokjin asks, "Still distrust the ladies?"

Yoongi sighs. "Yes and no. Ryujin is not stupid enough to harm her, but I am not sure I can speak for Hyungseo."

"I have employed Hyejin to take the place of our informant, and I seem to recall she and your darling getting along fairly well."

Yoongi hums. Something about Hyejin's actions have always felt like a performance. That, or it has been too long since Yoongi has ever met someone who is genuinely as kind as she seems.

"Busan is fine, so long as one of us can make house calls."

There is a pause before both men say, "Jeonggukah."

Of all the family men, Jeongguk was closest with Ryujin before her family's betrayal. If there is anyone who she would allow on her compound, it is likely him.

"Once they have settled, I will be in touch," Seokjin says. "They are going to stay in Taiwan for a couple of days to allow things here to calm down, or culminate—whichever comes first."

"Alright," Yoongi says, willing to accept this plan for now.

The less time she spends in Busan with his enemy, the better. But, Yoongi supposes, it may pull Barom off her scent, that sneaky piece of—

"How are things there?" Seokjin asks.

Yoongi scoffs. He stretches his neck and glances around, watching as Taehyung and Namjoon load the last of the bodies onto the truck. Jeongguk continues to pace back and forth near the gate while Hoseok gleefully packs up all the various weapons taken from the dead men.

"It was a clusterfuck, to say the least." Yoongi sighs. "Barom slipped away with one of his men. We managed to kill the rest. Taehyungah is taking the bodies to ID and incinerate, and Hoseokah is piling up a wealth of new toys."

"Ooh, toys! Anything good?"

Yoongi shrugs to nobody. "Mostly knives and handguns. I have a feeling these are not his strongest, nor most organized men. Have you any idea who this guy could be working for?"

"I did a cursory check on social media—just what he shares with the public—and it seems people call him Mister Insanity. But, as you can imagine, that provides us with absolutely nothing."

Yoongi chuckles. How ridiculous.

Seokjin continues. "I have asked the Busan girls, as well as the Songs in the south. Neither seem to know anything, but they said they would report back should anything come up."

Reluctantly, Yoongi asks, "And Sunmi-noona?"

Seokjin sighs. Lee Sunmi, who remains a neutral party with regard to mafia family goings-on, is often at the center of everything, as well as a ghost. She operates many of the businesses owned by the Min and Shin families from Seoul to Busan, with a spattering of buildings in Daegu.

With simultaneously the cleanest and dirtiest hands in the city, Sunmi tends to know everything that happens behind the scenes, though Yoongi suspects Seokjin knows even more. Sunmi and Seokjin were in cahoots for a while until Hoseok stole Seokjin's attention away for good, and they developed the same chains of information gathering.

Yoongi has not seen Sunmi in quite some time. In fact, he has been dodging her calls and being dismissive over text since the day he brought his darling home. They, too, were tangled in a messy little web for a while, and Yoongi was not the most chivalrous in the way he stepped away. Becoming close with Sunmi was a strategic move, and nothing more. Getting information from her now might prove to be a challenge.

"That one is on you," Seokjin responds through a chuckle. "You know damn well she will not meet with me."

Yoongi sighs and rubs his thumb and middle finger over his temples. "Alright," he concedes.

Namjoon sends Yoongi a nod to let him know he and Taehyung are finished with their task. Yoongi lets out a sigh and feels his shoulders relax.

"I need a fucking shower and to get some sleep. I am postponing our meeting until ten."

"Sounds good, boss," Seokjin replies.

His tone is too calm for the present situation, and it makes Yoongi uneasy, but he is exhausted and he pushes the thought aside. He can dwell on it once he has slept.

Yoongi seems to slip out of himself once more, losing the time spent walking from the driveway up to the ensuite and undressing. He returns to himself as hot water hits his bare shoulders and he gasps while looking around, finding Namjoon adjusting the shower knobs to his left.

"Too hot?" Namjoon asks.

Steam fills the room, and it is definitely too hot, but it also feels good. Yoongi likes it when the water is near-scalding. How else will it wash away his sins?

With a sigh, Yoongi closes his eyes and tilts his head back. He lets out a grunting sound that is hardly a response, and Namjoon continues to fiddle with the knobs until the water is a more agreeable warm-hot.

"We should pack her a suitcase," Yoongi mutters to himself as a sudsy loofa passes over his collarbone.

Yoongi allows Namjoon to wash him, standing with his eyes closed and his body as still as he can keep it. He wonders whether he should allow himself to feel relieved that she will be on her way to Busan in a matter of days. He thinks the girls will take good care of her so long as their lives are on the line.

In the morning, he thinks, he can pack a bag to give to Jeongguk. He and Namjoon can also assist Taehyung with cleaning the mess. Yoongi just needs to get a little sleep first.

As Namjoon washes him for the second time today, Yoongi begins to somewhat drift. He often wishes the two of them could have had a simple, normal life.

"The last conversation I had with my mother," Yoongi mutters, eyes closed, imagining her smile that so closely resembled his own, "was to tell her that I wished I could marry you instead."

Namjoon's hand stills where it scrubs circles against Yoongi's shoulder blades. Then his hand continues to scrub, and he mutters, "I know."

Of course, Namjoon knows. Yoongi has told him time and time again.

Perhaps it is unfair to his darling—all the secrets he has kept, the life he wishes he could lead instead of this one. He has often wondered whether he will ever have the courage to tell her the entire truth.

What he has done…the long con that he has facilitated behind the scenes, the presence he has had in her life for years before she finally came into his home… Once she discovers how many strings Yoongi had been pulling behind the scenes—a maestro of death, destruction, and coercion—he worries her grasp on reality would shatter.

But, he reminds himself, the two of them were never meant to fall in love. Not really. And, he thinks, perhaps that is why he is so comfortable with allowing her to fall into the arms of other men.

Despite how close they have become, Yoongi has always known that she would not be comfortable with this lifestyle. We will condition her, he used to insist. We will break her down and build her back up again. We will make her into something magnificent.

After all, she was only meant to be a rook in the greater scheme of this game they have found themselves playing. A major piece, but an exchange piece, no less. Her purpose was always to be the beautiful façade that hid his relationship with Namjoon from the politicians and the thugs who might weaponize his sexuality and use it against him. He should have known from the start that the rook was a queen in disguise and that she would not so easily put up with his bullshit.

Yoongi knows he has taken her for granted and that she deserves to know everything. He has dwelled on it for far too long—has let the guilt nearly tear them apart several times, already.

More importantly, he needs to be the one to tell her the truth. He needs to make damn sure Barom does not find a way to her first. Yoongi was certain that his threat back at the Han River when all of this began would be enough to keep Barom away; his return changes everything.

"Baby," Namjoon says, pulling Yoongi from his thoughts. The word is spoken low and close, right into his ear.

Yoongi hums and opens his eyes.

"Wash your hair. Let's get to bed."

Yoongi nods. He turns to the black tile shelves set into the shower wall and squirts shampoo into his hand from a bottle. It is a newer one Namjoon has bought that has a woodsy scent to it, mingling with a citrus scent that Yoongi tends to default to. It cloys his senses as he rubs it into his hair, slowly working it into a lather.

Two strong hands take over, nails scratching against his scalp, and Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh and drops his hands to his sides. He must have been spacing out again, and he opens his eyes to find Namjoon's tattooed chest and neck covering his field of vision.

"Sure you don't want to make an appointment with Christopher?" Namjoon asks.

"Just need to sleep," Yoongi responds somewhat robotically, voice monotone.

Namjoon chuckles. "No amount of sleep is going to fix whatever is going on up here, baby," he gives Yoongi's soapy hair a playful tug. It feels nice. "But I suppose that is a good place to start. Rinse."

Yoongi takes one step forward to be fully under one of the showerheads, and he stands in place as his hair falls around his face to his shoulders in a wet curtain. Namjoon continues to scratch his nails over his scalp, and Yoongi opens his mouth to sigh, tasting the sharp flavor of shampoo enter his mouth.

Once the shower is turned off, Yoongi shivers as he walks out onto the mat and reaches for a towel. He feels cold all the way to the bone marrow and has to force himself not to tremble so hard his teeth clatter. Namjoon walks to the sink to retrieve a bottle of leave-in conditioner that he begins to work into Yoongi's hair, and then he leaves the room entirely.

Namjoon does not shiver the way Yoongi does. He appears perfectly content with just a towel wrapped around his hips, walking around as if he truly has no care in the world. Yoongi envies him.

With his shoulders pulled up to his ears, Yoongi meanders to the sink and begins to brush his teeth. He spits bloody foam into the basin and rinses with warm water, tonguing a spot on the right side of his mouth where his tooth and gum had been struck with the butt of a gun the same night Jimin was shot.

Yoongi needs to see the dentist to have his teeth looked at, but it is another thing on the ever-growing list of things Yoongi has no energy for. There are always so many fucking things.

Namjoon returns with a stack of folded black fabric that Yoongi recognizes as a shirt and sweatpants. He gets dressed slowly, knees and shoulders feeling stiff with age and exhaustion. Namjoon uses a towel to squeeze some of the dampness from Yoongi's hair, then tosses the towel aside. Yoongi follows him to bed.

As soon as he lays down and is engulfed in the cold comforter, Yoongi shivers and turns instinctively to Namjoon, whose naked limbs are wrapping around him and tugging him close.

"Need a little help falling asleep, baby?" Namjoon asks as a warm hand cups Yoongi's flaccid cock and balls over his sweatpants.

Yoongi stretches his legs out and rolls onto his back, smiling as he mutters, "Hmm…maybe."

Without another word, his pants are shoved down, and Yoongi feels hot breath ghosting against his thighs. He spreads his legs wide, digging his heels into the mattress as Namjoon settles between them. Namjoon's mouth is as talented as it is greedy, and he has Yoongi cuming down his throat and falling asleep in no time.

When Yoongi awakens, the hints of sun that come past the dark blue curtains are still too faint to light more than soft slivers of the room. Yoongi stretches his limbs, causing the sweaty mass of snoring man beside him to stir and shift.

Yoongi takes his time rolling out of bed, feeling rested enough. He knows that a little more sleep would do him some good, but once he is awake, he is awake.

He wants to pack a suitcase that he can send with Jeongguk the moment their meeting concludes. Even though the girls will likely be in Taiwan for another day or two, he wants everything to be prepared. He does not want to waste a moment of time.

As Yoongi steps out into the cold, empty mansion, his gaze drifts once more to the door at the far end of the mezzanine, past the two bedrooms that are infrequently occupied. One of these days, he thinks, he would like to pull away the plastic furniture coverings and sit on the chairs. He should dust his mother's shelves of books and open the curtains to let in some light.

Yoongi pads over to the first bedroom and twists the knob. When he shoves the door open, the air in his lungs gets trapped. Something about the way this room was left unsettles him, and it takes a moment for him to notice all the signs.

The makeup and hair care items that had lived atop the vanity near the door are all gone, the bed is made, and sitting on the bedside table, where it always is, is the Tiffany blue engagement ring box.

Beside the large, fake engagement ring box is the second, smaller one. The real one.

Yoongi swallows the urge to vomit. He steps into the room, leaving the door hanging ajar, walks over to the walk-in closet, turns on the light, and nearly collapses.

It is clear from a cursory glance that his darling has cleaned this place out. All that remains are designer clothing and shoes that he and Namjoon procured; everything that seemed to have personal value to her is gone.

Yoongi walks in on the right side and lifts a hand, brushing his fingertips over dress after dress, feeling the fabrics—one after another after another, some soft, some rough, all delicate. At the very back is the off-white halter dress that she wore to her birthday party, and he freezes, hand hovering in the air before it.

Tears pool in Yoongi's eyes, and he swallows his urge to panic. He needs to think. None of this makes sense and he needs to think.

In the left back corner of the room, where a large black suitcase once stood, there is nothing. It is clear that she had packed her belongings, but when? Between Barom and his men arriving, and Seokjin escorting her out, there was no time to pack this much.

Realization hits and settles uncomfortably in Yoongi's belly. She planned on leaving before Barom arrived with his fireworks and guns. She was planning on leaving all along.

He wants to rip every last shred of fabric from these hangers and scream until his throat is raw. Instead, he turns to the center island, bends with his elbows against the cold marble, and sobs.

Anguish fills his chest and throat, constricting his ability to breathe. Tears fall in hot streaks, tickling his nose and lips as he leans with his head against his forearms and cries until his throat burns, failing to keep from making too much noise. Although he is far enough that the sounds likely will not travel to Namjoon, sound does carry surprisingly far through large, empty spaces.

He does not wish to alarm Namjoon. Not until he can gather himself.

Yoongi cries until he is out of breath. He attempts to stand and get his bearings, but he is dizzy and bleary. He is angry. He is confused.

He opens a drawer on the left side of the island and peers inside to find that all of the jewelry Namjoon bought for her birthday is still tucked inside. She has taken none of their many gifts. But why?

As he sighs through his misery, taking in deep, shaking breaths, Yoongi blinks the small room into focus and notices a piece of paper sitting atop the marble island, folded neatly into a rectangle. His hands shake as he reaches for it, delicately unfolds it, and reads.

My Yoongi,

Your blood is on my hands in my dreams and in the waking world. I know you do not blame me, but the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. I hope one day I will be able to look you in the eye and not feel so ashamed.

In your arms, I feel like a queen. I feel like I am on top of the entire world. Nobody has ever given that to me before, and nobody could ever come close.

It is not the height that I fear so badly but the fall back to earth.

Yoongi's hands tremble, and anger rises. He squeezes the paper, crumpling it in his palm as the burning fire of rage courses through his blood.

Her absence holds emptiness like a hole in the world, and Yoongi feels as if he might go supernova and collapse on himself, only to explode.

He does not understand. Has Seokjin put her up to something more nefarious than he realizes? Could she have been planning on running away with Barom? Did seeing him at the restaurant cause something in her to want to flee, whether toward Barom or away from him? How does all of this connect?

Yoongi remembers the way she excused herself to bed early yesterday. He remembers the way Namjoon muttered, "I can't put my finger on it, but something feels off," as the two of them watched her walk up the stairs.

How could he have missed something so big happening under his own roof? How could she join them in bed after packing her suitcase devoid of all their gifts as if nothing were amiss, at all?

Yoongi stands at the foot of his own bed, seething with anger and despair. He has no memory of walking there, but he is there now, watching as Namjoon sits up, first with a smile on his face, then with a look of worry.

"What is it?" Namjoon asks, shoulder and chest muscles flexing and relaxing with each movement.

Yoongi rounds the bed, tosses the crumpled note Namjoon's way, then grabs his phone. His hands shake fiercely, and he clenches his teeth as if that might help.

Call after call is rejected, met with an apologetic voice that informs him that the number he has dialed is no longer in service. How could the phone he has given her no longer work? He finds it unlikely that Seokjin would allow her to move continents without making sure she is able to communicate with him.

Yoongi ignores the urge to throw his phone against the wall and he dials Seokjin.

On the third ring, Seokjin answers, "Boss."

Yoongi hardly recognizes his own voice. "Seokjin," he growls. "We need to talk."

* * *

By eight fifteen, Seokjin is on the blue couch sitting beside a furious, confused Namjoon. Yoongi stands across from him, arms crossed tightly over his chest with the table between them. The letter is on the table, and although Seokjin has done his best to smooth it out, it is destroyed from Yoongi's grasp.

To the left, beside the couch, is an equally confused Hoseok, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. Seokjin and Hoseok are well put together in button-ups and slacks. Namjoon and Yoongi are disheveled in pajamas. The clothing Namjoon wears belongs to Yoongi and is ill-fitting, rising at his ankles and abdominals and showing swaths of skin.

Seokjin's demeanor is far too calm as he sits straight, addressing Yoongi. "As you originally instructed, I had kept Barom in one of the lower ranking teams—Jeongguk's drug operation. It was the same team he had been on before we took your wolf as collateral, only we had taken him off the streets. You will remember the group Jeongguk extinguished after he found out those guys had been stealing product."

"Jae," Yoongi says.

"Yes," Seokjin says. "Barom was the only member of that team who wasn't being a complete fuck up. After Jeongguk fish-fileted the lot of them, I moved Barom into hospitality where he was more or less a nobody working in various hotels. He blended in, didn't give anyone any trouble, and skirted under the radar, taking my many threats to keep his nose out of trouble seriously. Or so it seemed...until last night."

All of this checks out. When Yoongi gave Seokjin the instruction to keep Barom close and monitor him, he did not want to be told where the man would work and how much responsibility he would have. Yoongi did not want to run the risk of running into him, and he would likely have hunted him down had he known where to look.

Barom has always been a hard worker, but he has also been a bit of a coward. Yoongi did not think Barom would turn around and work for another family—to enact revenge or otherwise—but he has not been eager to give the man a chance. Keep your enemies close, and all that.

"And last night?" Yoongi grits between his teeth.

Seokjin sighs, but his expression does not break. "Last night was a strange series of coincidences."

"Why did she go to your house after dinner?"

With a light chuckle that is devoid of humor, Seokjin says, "She came by demanding that I help her set up a vacation. Seeing Barom at the restaurant rattled her, and she wanted to flee, so I told her to pack a bag, and that in the meantime, I would try to set something up. My plan was to discuss the matter with the two of you," Seokjin glances at Namjoon but keeps his attention on Yoongi, "and then pull her out in the next few days. Barom showing up in the middle of the night propelled matters."

All of this might make sense, except for one thing. "Then why did she leave that note? Why does it seem like she was planning on running away without saying goodbye to us?"

Seokjin sighs again, this time allowing his posture to relax. "As far as I can tell, she was planning on leaving without saying goodbye."

Yoongi drops his arms to his sides, fists clenched. "And you were going to—"

"Yes," Seokjin says simply, unwavering. "Either I was going to inform you and ask you to keep it a secret from her, so as to allow her to slip away without worry, or I was going to abide by her wishes and take the heat for it afterwards. You and I both know I would never put her in any sort of danger. She was not sure she could leave you two if she had to say goodbye to your faces, and she seemed quite desperate."

"No sort of danger?" Yoongi asks, shifting his weight to his right side. "Just as Hyunjin was in no danger? And his wife, and his daughter."

Before Seokjin can respond, Yoongi catches a slip in his façade. It is a minuscule twitch of his mouth—so small that someone who is not keenly aware of every one of Seokjin's microexpressions may not catch it. But Yoongi does, and he is furious.

He steps forward, knocking his shin against the table as he roars, "You son of a bitch!"

From his left, Hoseok is advancing, hands open wide at his sides. He appears worried but confused, as if Seokjin has kept this secret from him, as well.

Seokjin lifts his palms, and Yoongi imagines them dripping with blood. "You and I both know I had to spread the news that he was dead," he says quickly. "I was intending on telling you the truth once they were settled in with their new identities, but then you—"

Then he went off the rails and shot heroin into his veins. Yoongi squeezes his eyes closed. How has everything become so out of his control over the past year? He feels as if his sanity is slipping through his fingers like sand.

He wants to reach over the table and choke the air from Seokjin's lungs, but he knows that all Seokjin has done is follow protocol. Had Yoongi not been so wrapped up in everything else, he likely would have seen it for what it was—a ruse to throw anyone on the outside off of Hyunjin's scent.

Forcing everyone, including those close to him, to think he is dead is a strategic move that Yoongi's father has used many times in the past. The old man even faked his own death once before he was gone for good, giving Yoongi a chance to slide into his role while standing over him like the menacing shadow he was. What a relief it was when the old man actually died shortly thereafter.

"Fine," Yoongi says, allowing his tensed muscles to relax. His shoulders feel tight, and he rolls them back as he takes a step away from the table and lets out a deep exhale. "It is a relief to know they are safe. I trust that they have money? A home?"

Seokjin hums in agreement. "They have been set up with fine lives."

"And you would have done the same for her?"

There is another pause before Seokjin says, "I would have set her up with The Tigers for the time being, to get her off the peninsula. Then I would have offered her any major city we have ties to. I would have sent a translator who doubles as an informant to live in the next room over from wherever she was staying...or whatever the two of you would have advised."

This is acceptable, and what Yoongi had expected might happen when she began to talk about needing a vacation. He supposes that it all makes sense. She must have written the letter with the intention of him seeing it eventually, knowing she may not have had the courage to say goodbye to him to his face. Perhaps, he thinks, she did not mean to leave it behind when she left this morning.

Still, it hurts, just as it would have hurt had things gone the way she planned. But he finds he cannot be angry with her.

Yoongi runs a hand through his unbrushed hair. His fingers yank knots apart. "Where is Barom now?"

Seokjin blinks owlishly. "I don't know."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow, tamping down the urge to scream. His words come out sharp and slow. "What…do you mean…you don't—"

"He has gone off the radar since this morning," Seokjin cuts in, his words coming out quickly. "I have informants keeping their eyes open, including some in Busan. The moment anyone catches wind of him, we will know."

Yoongi wants to explode. He wants to claw everything in his path and rip it to shreds. He wants to smash the entire world under his boots, creating a mass of rubble and destruction that matches how he feels.

"Alright," Yoongi says, exhausted. Spent.

It feels as if ants are crawling through his bloodstream and all he wants is to forget. He would love to shoot up and completely lose sight of himself, but he knows he cannot do that again. The temptation to push himself too far is too great. He cannot do that to Namjoon. Marijuana will have to suffice.

He walks to his mother's favorite antique table between the couch and his blue velvet chair, pulls out the small drawer on its front, and retrieves Namjoon's metal cigarette case which holds his stash of joints. Yoongi presses a little button on the side of the case, causing it to spring open, then he pulls out the last joint along with a box of matches.

Without saying a word, Yoongi tosses the empty cigarette case onto the chair in a clatter of metal and begins to walk toward the door. He steps outside in socked feet and cradles the joint between his lips as his trembling hands work to light a match.

Yoongi's phone dings in his pocket. It is the singular ding that signals an incoming text message, and he lights the tip of the joint with the flaming match, pulling in a deep breath as the end cherries red and turns to ash. His mouth and throat fill with smoke, and he holds it in until he begins to feel dizzy.

With a sigh, smoke billows from Yoongi's nostrils, and he tosses the match to the ground, watching as the wooden stick darkens until it is a burnt husk blowing in the light breeze. Yoongi reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, spotting an unknown number and an image file.

He thumbs through various screens until he finds Barom's clown-painted smiling face. The man is standing in front of a sign that Yoongi has to squint to read. He is unmistakably at an airport in Taiwan, but which one, Yoongi cannot tell.

"Seokjin!" Yoongi growls, feeling his pulse rise and his hands begin to shake. He knows that if he calls this number, it will come back empty. There is no way Barom sent that image without promptly removing the sim card.

Before Seokjin can respond, Yoongi's phone begins to ring, and he blinks the screen into focus, glancing at Taehyung's name as he pulls the device to his ear.

"Yes?" he asks, closing his eyes. He is not sure he can take any more news, and the day has hardly begun.

"Boss," Taehyung says. "It's Jimin."

Jimin. Yoongi's eyes fly open, sore against the bright morning sun. His vision is blotted momentarily with bright white, and as he blinks, it becomes clouded instead by tears. Yoongi finds it hard to imagine he has any more tears left to shed.

"What is it?" Yoongi asks, voice shaking as badly as his hands. His knees weaken, and he considers sitting down on the hard concrete.

Yoongi braces himself for the worst, and holds his breath while the joint between his fingers burns uselessly. Behind him, at least one other man has come to the door, but he is too focused on awaiting Taehyung's response to see who.

Hands grip his arms as if their owner senses his uneasiness, and Yoongi does his best to ignore the sensation as he tries his hardest not to drift away. He listens intently.

And then Taehyung says two little words that change absolutely everything.

"He's awake."

* * *

We are living in the war How far were we lying? We are living in the war Who'll listen to your prayers? We are living in the war

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#fic: collateral #yoongi mafia #yoongi angst #namjoon mafia #namjoon angst #namgi smut #namgi #bts poly #bts mafia #bts smut #bts angst

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