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ve1vetyoongi · 4 years

Text

wherever you will go | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

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

Word count: 21k

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

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

Rating: Mature.

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

Prelude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where it begins

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're an idiot."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can't do this."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you thinking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your brows. "What about it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You still are a star."

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

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

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

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

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"

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

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

"This is..."

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

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

Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"

"Make me look like...that."

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

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

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

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

"How?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh come on! Just try it."

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

"Well duh. Look. Copy me."

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

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

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

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

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

"That's it. Feel the music!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good."

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

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

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

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

"Now, open."

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook, this place is—"

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

"How did you find this place?"

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

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

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

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

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

"The sunflowers?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Do what?"

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

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

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

"Did not!"

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

"Shut up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook stop."

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

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

"Just pretend I'm not here."

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

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

"Jungkook--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.

"Always."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pale. "M-me?"

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

"Burn it." You deadpan.

Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"

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

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

"Not mad." You assure with a smile.

"Then I'll burn it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I...I can't."

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

"No! God no."

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

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

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

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

Where things change.

3 years later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not now. Later."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You love it." You laugh breathily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did I--?"

"Yup."

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

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

You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"

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

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

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

"Eager?" You smirk.

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

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

"Your wish is my command."

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

"I love you, y'know."

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

"That sounds kinda awesome--"

"Kook!"

"Okay, okay, on it!"

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

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

"As I'll ever be."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Johnny and Baby kiss.]

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

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

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

"What the heck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confident, strong, successful.

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

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

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

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

"Y/N, I found him."

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

"He's not coming."

"What?"

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

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

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

"He was already leaving for Ocean City."

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

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

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

"Shh. It'll all be okay."

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

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I...I can't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show starting in 5...

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

4...

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

3...

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

2...

Mom. Would she be proud?

1...

You open your eyes.

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

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

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

Run. Run. Run.

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

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

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

I believe in you.

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

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

Taehyung.

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

You can do this.

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey! Be careful!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey listen—"

"Taehyung—"

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

"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For mom."

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

"For mom."

Where things go wrong.

Six months later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he's late. Again.

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

"Y/N?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can't hide the way your face drops.

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

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

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

"Pasta."

"Right."

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

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

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

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

"Should I be worried?"

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

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

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

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

"I gave them a different script."

Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

The room starts to spin.

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

"This?" You whisper.

"Us."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.

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

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

"Y/N?"

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

"Over here."

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung chokes. "What?!"

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

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

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

"I miss mom." You blurt.

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

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

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

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

"That's not true."

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

"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"

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

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

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

Accepting.

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

"So what did you do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scramble to your knees. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" Your voice is small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But--"

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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

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

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

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.

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

Your jaw drops. "A what now?"

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

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

Epilogue.

"Just keep your eyes shut!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too, Kook."

Where there are new beginnings

Ocean City is the same as it always was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

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

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

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

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Grudge; aka a young Jedi tries to drop a bridge on Vader’s head, and it goes about as well you’d expect (for the people out there who want to see Vader being the insanely powerful murder machine he is)

“This oughta buy me some time,” the young Jedi muttered to himself in relief, while he watched the reinforced foundations of the giant suspension bridge stretching across the gouge of which he found himself at the bottom begin to give way.

He strained every muscle in his body, sweat pouring in thick globs down his forehead as the sandstone structure rumbled and whined in protest, cracks appearing in intricate patterns as they traveled and expanded rapidly along the eroded sides. The suspension cables stabilizing the viewpoints that had been carved into the natural overhang of the rock at either side of the bridge’s anchor points had already snapped under pressure. Picking up tremendous speed, the man-made platforms came hurtling down both sides of the canyon - and with them gushed an abundance of loose boulders, rocks, pebbles and sand knocked free by the sheer power of impact. A cloud of golden brown dust rushed past the young Jedi, who fought to keep his eyes open and ignore the grains blurring his vision with tears and mud.

A tiny but sharp rock struck the side of the Jedi’s cheek hard enough to draw blood, and he winced, faltering momentarily but quick to regain his bearings. His gaze remained fixed upon the top of the bridge, and the supporting pillars shouldering its ornate design against the bedrock lining the sides of this artificial crevice mined in the sandstone. Once, this canyon had functioned as a floodgate system, the only reminders of its glorious past now being the saltwater dam waiting several miles downhill. That, and the dry, dusty and cracked salt lake desert resting beneath the young man’s feet. This had been yet another attempt by the Empire to exploit and deploit a new, untouched system for its natural resources. The flood delta upstream was all but dried out, its ancient trackways drained, abandoned and littered with wildlife carcasses. Yet another ecosystem destroyed by Imperial greed.

But Jedi Knight Jarl Oda hadn’t come to Jansenn to become an environmental activist, although he had been tempted to at the very least severely cripple the Imperial machinery ruling the system more than once. No, Oda had come to seek refuge. Like any other survivor of the temple massacre - if there were any left, and he’d like to prefer he was not alone when compared to the alternative - he had seen the message recorded by master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’d narrowly escaped unseen, lingering clone troopers discussing their plan to execute all Jedi on sight aloud. Following a direct order, gunning down their own generals. Their own friends.

It was shocking, but Oda had never taken to blindly trusting the clones - master Krell had seen to that. In his formative years, and during the war, that had been considered a fatal flaw by the council. He had often butted heads with fellow Jedi Knights like Aayla Secura or Anakin Skywalker over his unwillingness to rely upon his troops. Now, he was beginning to think himself lucky for his suspicions. His master may have been punished, unjustly Oda would like to believe, for refusing to humanize expendable soldiers. He had survived only because of that inherent doubt in their reliability.

Finally, as Oda twisted both palms upwards; he took a wide stance for maximal leverage, closed both fists, and tugged. Hard. With unwavering determination and with everything he had in him, narrowed eyes still focused on the looming, black clad figure atop the bridge. The ominous shadow of a man didn’t move, even as the structure beneath his feet came undone in slow motion. He didn't seem particularly concerned by imminent death, not even when the final fortification shattered and the bridge came crashing down.

Oda was prepared for the shockwave when tonnes upon tonnes of solid rock collided with the manufactured flood bed; salt crystals propelled like projectiles in every direction. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was just how powerful the impact would be. The Jedi had no time to steady or brace himself as the first shockwave set him off balance, and the second sent him flying. The cloud of debri whirled past him in a flurry, dragging his helpless body with it and Oda instinctively covered his face with both arms for protection.

The sound came a millisecond later. Earsplitting. A deafening explosive crack, like the roar of a thunderstorm and the detonation of a thousand bombs combined. The Jedi covered his ears with a whimper when pain pierced his ear drums. An ominous, distinct pop followed closely by a shrill, high pitched ringing settled in his temples and muted any further noises like a swab of cotton. Panting, the young man found himself feeling quite a bit less confident even as he groggily managed to get up on his knees. The dust cloud kicked up by the bridge’s collapse disoriented him, both sight and sound reduced by the blast. His body ached, and his arms trembled from the sheer extersion of bringing down such a large structure. Oda had never attempted a similar feat before, and had never even imagined he might need to.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Oda at least figured he had time to recover. No one could have survived a two hundred foot drop into a durasteel reinforced salt lake canyon, with a fifty foot overpass crashing down on top of them. Not even this menace, whoever he was.

He had hunted Oda through the vacant landscape of Jansenn for 48 hours without yielding. The hunt had begun as a creeping suspicion, as a foreboding sensation of being watched. The Jedi had no clue who his assailant was, but rumours spoke of Imperial Force wielders trained specifically to trap and dispose of any remaining Jedi stragglers. Oda had made several good friends in the underbelly of the Galaxy these past couple of years since the fall of the Republic. Perhaps he had become careless, or perhaps the vigor with which the Empire pursued Jedi had grown exponentially. Either way, Oda had a target on his back and a price on his head that not even his friends could erase. It had been a matter of time, but he hadn’t expected these assassins to be so relentless in their pursuit.

Coughing, Oda spit up a garbled mix of salt crystals, saliva and blood. His head was spinning, and he staggered backwards when he stubbornly got up on his feet. The moment felt like it had lasted an eternity but it couldn’t have been more than half a minute. Even in his disoriented state, the Jedi noticed that the topmost sheen of debris was already fading, carried away by the dry acrid winds overhead. But that wasn’t what bothered Oda and drew his attention. As he wiped his nose, attempting to stall the gush of blood trickling from the left nostril, the colour was left drained from the man’s bruised face.

The entire midsection of the expansive, collapsed walkway appeared to be hovering. Oda blinked rapidly, not believing his eyes and with a growing dread setting in, he tried to write it off as a hallucination caused by sudden head trauma. As if whatever external force that was manipulating the levitating wreckage had read his mind; the thick fog of obliterated gravel, sand and salt perforating the air seemed to settle in an instant. There was nothing natural about the way in which every single airborne particle of dust laid down as neatly as if someone had smoothed it out with their hands. In an instant the air was crisp and clear. The sun’s blinding light spilled into the canyon, reflected by billions of salt lake crystals. With one, single synchronized swipe, a serene peace settled as the rubble littering the bottom of the complex was brushed aside to create a perfect pathway. Oda didn’t want to look, but he already knew the culprit behind the inexplicable bending of physics.

Where only a collapsed bridge should have been resting, crushing its passenger under its weight - stood the man Oda had hoped to destroy. One of his large hands was aimed in Oda’s direction, palm open facing him. The other was raised to about eye level in a tightly clamped fist. There was a slight tremble to that one balled hand, but in its Force grip, the man had successfully both blocked and abruptly stopped the remains of the falling bridge mid air before they could even touch the bottom of the canyon. Around his imposing figure laid the shattered marble pillars, the stone railings that had lined the walkway in pieces. Suspension cables hung from the carved sandstone that had supported the viewing platforms. In the midst of the chaos, the majority of the demolished structure remained suspended just a few feet above the mysterious man’s domed black helmet.

Oda could only stare, mouth wide open in horror. His feet seemed nailed to the ground. His eardrums still burnt, but the ringing had begun to subside and the uncanny, eerie silence of the scene was tense and overbearing, suffocating. Shifting slightly, the large, imposing figure of a man on a mission that stood before the young Jedi began to approach. His strides were slow and meticulous, but he didn’t falter. Oda’s gaze remained transfixed by the large chunk of stone still floating freely; its vast shadow blocking out the sunlight.

“Did you believe dropping a bridge on me would be a sufficient way of stalling my advances? I am afraid I must disappoint you. Now, shall we see how you enjoy a similar treatment?” the man rumbled, his voice sharp and its bark was a sinister warning.

Oda instantly realized what it meant, and he did his best to flee on wobbly, unsteady legs as the strange assassin crouched. The man brought his arm back to take perfect aim and in one flawless heave - he hurled the remains of the bridge at the boy full force. The distance was enough to allow Oda to dodge the majority of the formation heading for him, even as it broke apart along the way - but it was not enough to completely escape the explosion that sent shattered rock and gravel raining down on him when its proponent collided with the lake bed. Tumbling, the enormous limestones that had decorated the walkway seemed to chase the Jedi with unfathomable speed for something so substantial.

Oda glanced back, confident he was in the clear when he noted that he was gaining. He thought he might get away despite the burning in his lungs and the taste of iron and copper welling up in his throat - the salt he had inhaled scraping his airways from the inside. He even dared to smile - only to stumble on an unexpected depletion in the ground ahead. With a yelp, the Jedi lost his footing and tumbled forwards onto his palms and knees. Unable to break his fall, he rolled around; the sharp salt tearing holes in his clothes, digging deep into his flesh. A sickening pop and a snap was followed by a wet crack, and Oda came to a sudden stop.

Pain shot up the young man’s spine as he was unceremoniously pinned in place. Adrenaline pumping, Oda twisted halfway around and through the agony he soon realized that his right leg was locked in a vice between reinforced canyon floor and a chunk of the bridge’s support pillars.

The Jedi gulped down the urge to throw up, blood gushing from the multiple spots on his body the salt lake’s unforgiving bed had ripped up and rubbed raw. Nausea struck full on, as he attempted to push the remnants of what was once a craving appropriating the planet’s local population’s cultural, decorative art off of his mangled limb. To no avail, Oda’s hands shook and refused to stay still, blood painting the palms a deep crimson. He was trapped, backed into a corner, tears welling up in his eyes as the monster responsible for his suffering appeared over the crest of this brand new ridge of fallen rock he had created.

The man was impossibly tall, broad shouldered and carried himself with a dark pride. All black, his cape billowed behind him like a pair of giant wings as he crossed the distance between them with one leap. The grace behind it was jarring when linked to the man who had performed the feat. The man appeared to be regarding his handiwork, and there were no signs of strain or struggle within him. It appeared as if the immense power that fuelled the impressive Force wielding he had just performed didn’t so much as phase him.

“Let - let me go… I don’t h-have anything! I’ll disappear, just p-please,” Oda heard himself brokenly sniveling in between sobs and sniffles - put face to face with his own mortality, he found himself pathetic.

“You are as cowardly as every other Jedi. Tell me, how does it feel to look death in the eye?”

There was no malice or direct spite in the man’s deep voice, his wheezing respirator serving as an unwelcome third part invited to witness this mocking display. It triggered some kind of memory, but Oda couldn’t say what it was. Instead, the Jedi focused on the monster’s stoic face plate and how it seemed to emulate something akin to disgust, or distaste despite its perpetual aloofness.

Oda realized he was being treated if he wasn’t human, as if he was just a pest or a vermin this sinister man was looking to exterminate before continuing going about his day. The Jedi could picture this menace of a man going home as soon as he’d been dealt with, and never again think of him. Never again deliberate on his fate, never regret his death. Tears poured down the young man’s bruised, cut up cheeks, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Please, I - I’ll do anything…” he begged in vain, voice cracking mid sentence.

“You have nothing to offer me. I have no use for you, and even if I did, you would be the last person I would consider worthy of making an exception for.”

The man’s montone, almost bothered delivery changed with an uncanny ease. Suddenly, there was a tangible sense of contempt seeping through his mechanical, synthesized vocals.

“I… do I know you? I don’t understand.”

Oda had never sensed such unhinged, unadulterated hatred spilling from another human being. It was enough to taint the monster’s entire Force signature; infecting it like a virus, and the Jedi realized he had never in his life come across someone so deeply connected to the Dark Side. Still, as the tidal wires of agonizing pain continued to send his nervous system into shock and meltdown - the anguish only serving to heighten his awareness of this man’s loathing - the young man found himself perplexed through his terror. Something told him this was a personal vendetta.

A Sith Lord, master Krell had said once. When you meet one, you’ll know. That’s what this nameless, faceless menace was. A Sith Lord.

“No. You do not know me, and you never will. But I know you.”

The Sith Lord drew closer, with a superhuman speed to his calculated, menacing approach. Oda tried to rear back, but with his leg crushed, he could do nothing but whine as agony washed over him and kept him incapacitated. The Sith seized the young man’s temporary weakness as an opportunity, placing one large, heavy booted sole over the Jedi’s heaving ribcage. As the assassin applied pressure little by little, Oda gasped - finding himself nearly unable to draw breath and the panic that had been threatening to overtake his senses broke through.

“I don’t - no - I---” he tried to reason and plead, but his executioner-to-be would have none of it.

“Master Yoda would not have taught you this, but I happen to believe in an eye for an eye. And while it would be decent of me to play fair, I have good reason not to. You owe me an arm, but I believe I will take… your life.”

Oda’s eyes widened as he stared right into crimson red lenses of the face plate covering the Sith Lord’s face. It all came rushing back to him. The lectures in the temple halls, the relentless bullying he had spearheaded. He’d just been a kid himself, he hadn’t enjoyed the new kid’s natural talent with the Force. He hadn’t enjoyed the attention the kid had received, he had been driven by a childish jealousy. He had thought the boy had gotten over it, as they grew up.

Yes, Oda might have accidentally broken the kid’s arm in a wrestling match. Yes, he might not have meant it when he’d said sorry and apologized at the time. Yes, they had gone on missions together when they had both been knighted. Yes, they had shared some sort of friendly connection on Ilum. Still, the kid had always been prone to holding grudges til the end.

Heart dropping into the pit of his belly, the Jedi instantly realized the identity of this Sith Lord. He didn’t doubt he would have died even without the personal connection, and it all made sense. Of course it was that kid who had turned on the Jedi council and their teachings. Of course it was that kid who had slaughtered the younglings in cold blood, who had brought about the Empire’s rise to power. Of course it was that kid, whomst master Kenobi would never sell out by name. That kid, who was excused and forgiven again and again.

Of course it was Anakin Skywalker.

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min-youngis · 3 years

Text

aesthete - j.jk

banner is miNe

~ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (artist!kook)

~ Genre: Fluff (is v soft), Suggestive (?), a smidgen of angst

~ Rating: T bordering on M (yes, i'm an ao3 gal why do u ask)

~ Summary/Excerpt: You can feel it when he whispers that he wants to paint you, his words kissed against the side of your jaw, lips feathering across your skin like his brushes.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count: 1.7k

~ Warnings: implied sexy times, kissing, casual nudity, eM0TionaL vuLnerABiLity i suppose

~ A/N: i would simply like to see a harry styles and bts interaction tomorrow, i think that would be super. disclaimer- this story has nothing to do w that.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

You know you love him. You can feel it when he offers to drop you off at work, because you're en route to his client, and your heart flops a bit at his thoughtless kindness. You can feel it when he takes pictures of you on dates when he thinks you aren't looking, and then again when you catch him setting those pictures as his lockscreen wallpaper.

You can feel it when he whispers that he wants to paint you, his words kissed against the side of your jaw, lips feathering across your skin like his brushes.

His fingers trace a path of comfort up and down your back; earlier, you would've thought it was mindless, but now you know better. Every catch of his nail on your shoulder blade, every lazy dip of his finger tips down toward the small of your back is art. And you don't know how you feel about being something as reliable as his canvas.

You don't answer immediately, choosing instead to silently let your palm settle more solidly against the side of his chest, your head cushioned next to it. Slowly, you look up, resting your chin on his firm torso. There's a stupidly poetic beam of moonlight entering the room, cutting across his face and throwing it into stark definition, even from the awkward angle at which he has to bend to look you.

With his weight solid beneath you, the heat of his body that you had recently been intimately acquainted with effortlessly grounding you, and the soothingly relentless patterns of his fingers on your back, the vulnerability in your eyes isn't easy to miss.

"What if you see too much?"

"With you, it's never enough."

"Comfortable?"

You nod slowly, letting yourself settle in position, body draped on its side over the hardwood floor. Your palm holds your head aloft as you face the empty chair a few feet from you sideways. You can feel heat below you, lying down as you are on a patch of sunlight, can feel heat over you from the midday warmth seeping in through the open window, can feel heat in jungkook's touch as he positions your free arm so its comfortably curled in front of your chest, your fingers grazing your already sensitive neck.

He kisses you once, twice, thrice, countless times on the side of your head, calloused painter fingers taking their time in making subtle adjustments to your limbs. Occasionally, he stops in his calculated movements, walks in front so he can look at you from the perspective in which he's going to be immortalising your body in art. Eyes rake down your naked frame, gaze warming you and making you shiver despite the summer sunlight hitting you directly.

His fingers trail fire as they gently push your upper thigh a little more to the front, burn imprints onto the small of your back as he makes you straighten the curved in arch, leave scorch marks against the side of your neck as he tilts it to rest more firmly on your palm.

And you let him. How could you not? He's treating you like you're made of china. Like you're art. Your breath hitches every time you feel him on you, his palm settling on your stomach to soothe paradoxically keying you up more. You don't say a word. The gentleness is too much, too kind.

"You good?" he softly asks, smoothing down your hair as he kneels behind you. This is intimate; far more intimate than anything you've done before.

"Yeah."

You're only half-lying, you know. But nonetheless, you nearly purr as jungkook's palm slides down from your forehead to cup your jaw, tilting your painstakingly positioned head up to face him. If he sees the muted fear in your eyes, he makes no mention of it.

He dips his head, dropping a soft kiss against your lips that you sigh into, letting you press up into it as much as you need to ground yourself. His warm fingers don't leave your face. Your eyelids flutter open when you pull away, a little calmer, a little more reassured.

"If you feel uncomfortable, we can stop immediately, okay? Just say the word." His tone rings with conviction, with comfort, with kindness; and you know that you're going to pull through with this.

Wordlessly, you nod, returning his soothing smile with a small one of your own before he moves your neck back to its previous position.

He takes his time setting up, smoothing down the pad on the easel, examining his pencils with concentration and care. You've seen him do it a hundred times, but it's different now. When all the preparation is to draw you.

You resist the urge to shift, already a bit restless after being still for no more than ten minutes. But there's an unacknowledged thought in your head, disowned but definitely present. Selfishly, a little narcissistically, and incredibly terribly, you want to see how it turns out. How you turn out.

"I'm starting now," he softly says, gently tugging you out of wherever you've zoned out to.

Giving your fingers one last flex, you nod. "Where do you want me to look?"

"Right at me."

His answer should make you want to wrench yourself off the floor, grab your clothes and send you running for the high hills. All it does is make you smile. "Okay."

You've sat in on some of his projects; watched him as he designed colourful tapestries for clients, landscapes filled with rainbows and elephants for day care walls, elegant, artistic prints for framing and portraits for celebrities. But here, on the receiving end of his focused gaze, is an entirely different ball game. After a point, you don't know who's observing whom.

Jungkook's tongue pokes out occasionally, lips get pursed in a concentrated pout. His foot taps a bit as he compares you to what he's drawn so far, eyes narrowing as he smooths some strokes. His little habits keep you from noticing the strain on your bent wrist, the soreness in your thighs. Above you, the sunlight becomes a little warmer as it gets closer to noon, and the family of red finches that comes to your garden everyday makes its appearance known through the open window.

It's all so stupidly ideal, everything happening around you. Sat on his three-legged stool with one hand on his waist as he stretches his back ever so often, giving you reassuring smiles occasionally, making you giggle when he pointedly looks at your boobs before winking obnoxiously, his oversized grey t-shirt falling over broad shoulders and smelling like paint and patchouli soap and comfort; Jungkook could be the model, the artist and the muse, all rolled into one.

You're observing the way the messy ponytail on his head is slowly starting to come apart, wispy strands brushing against the bottom of his ears, curling against the cut of his jaw, when he finally says, "Done."

You're silent for a second, just letting yourself look at him a bit more, observing as he paints a few more marks on the paper in front of him before he places the pencil down, arms coming up and back straightening as he stands up and stretches, nudging the stool out of the way. It's too soon to revert to the knowledge that you're perceived, and that how you're perceived by him is now so transparent and just a few steps away from you. You're far better off in this quixotic fairytale, where all you have to do is watch Jungkook, no doubt with an overfull gaze of fondness.

He tilts his head to the side with a knowing look. "Do you want to see?"

Slowly, you ease your limbs, massaging your wrist as you come up to a sitting position. "I don't know," you shrug, busying yourself with rolling your ankles to get the numbness out, not meeting his eyes. "Do I want to see?"

You feel him watching you as you pull on clothes, tugging your t-shirt over your head and examining your pants to find the front and back.

"I like it. But I think that's less because it's artistically good and more because I like you."

It's corny. It's so cheesy, and it's so stupid, but incredibly, it's affirming. And it makes you want to see.

Smoothing your hands down the front of your leggings, you turn around to face him, small smile and twinkling eyes greeting you and making you feel a warmth that not a single shade of sunlight could manage during the last hour. His arm is extended towards you, palm open, waiting for yours.

Wordlessly, you convince your legs to guide you to him, feet scuffing on the wooden floor and suddenly sounding too loud. Fingers curl as you timidly place your hand atop his, letting him gently tug you close to his frame. With a soft kiss to your forehead, he twirls you so you're facing the paper.

You hardly notice his arms winding around your waist, barely register his chin resting atop your head.

You're painted in quiet hues of pink, lips curled up slightly in a small smile, eyes dripping honey. The curve of your hip right down to the tapering of your ankles are all softened. You don't even realise that you're tracing out the image, shaking fingers stalling momentarily as you find something new, something you. The scattering of moles on your forearm, the curl of your hair at the bottom, the subtle red of the mosquito bite near your belly button, the brown birth mark near your knee. You still once you reach your slightly smudged feet, chipped blue nail polish thrillingly evident.

"You kept wiggling your toes."

It's such an innocuous statement, an explanation for something so fascinatingly real, and it makes you want to punch and kiss him simultaneously. You're too overwhelmed to reply, though, settling for squeezing his arm silently, subtly moving backwards closer to his chest.

His breath whooshes against the hair on the top of your head as he asks, squeezing back, "Are you glad you saw it?"

You'd nod, if you weren't so scared of displacing the moment, suspended in air and tender.

"Yeah," you whisper, letting your hand fall. Silently, you turn around, wrapping your hands around his waist and trying to convey as much as you can through the hug, head burrowing into his frame as his chest rumbles with fond, muted chuckles. "I love it."

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jamie-leah · 3 years

Text

War of Wolves (21)

Season 1

Episode 21 - Kill Them All

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2160

Warnings: Violence, death, injury, hospitals, swearing

A/N: Well Lovelies this is the penultimate episode. There is only 1 more after this. I feel this part is a little rushed, but the season can't last forever. Enjoy Lovelies and see you on the last one!

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

WoW Masterlist. Series Masterlist. Oneshot Masterlist

BUCKY’S POV

All the plans had been made. They had touched down last night and had made it to one of Bucky’s smaller estates.

The plan was to storm the castle. Noah had provided detailed plans of the place and more of Darren’s and Bucky’s men touched down a few hours ago.

The only thing now was timing. Bucky was waiting on a call from Noah to tell them when the best time to strike was. The waiting was killing him.

Agonising hours passed until Bucky got a call from Noah, “tonight. Strike tonight. Harry is gone on business and he’s taken a bunch of men. This is the best you’ll get numbers wise”.

Bucky shakes his head, looking at Steve, “I want Harry there, I can’t let him get away-“.

Steve cuts him off, “if we have a good chance to get her now, take it Buck. We’ll get Harry another time”.

Bucky stares at his friend a little longer before talking to Noah again, “okay. We’ll be there tonight, as soon as its dark. I’ll keep you posted”.

After Bucky hung up that call, he was nonstop, making sure everyone knew what they were doing and where they had to be.

It was pitch black outside when Bucky and his men arrived at the imposing stone structure. It took Bucky no time at all to disable the men posted outside.

Then once everyone was in place at entrance points around the building, he gave the signal. Everyone breached the castle together, Bucky, Steve, and Sam taking the front door.

They enter to find men already taken out and Noah waiting by a set of double wooden doors and knights armour.

Some men came down the stairs, but Bucky left them to Steve and Sam as he strides over to Noah. His only mission was finding you.

Noah guides him over to a knight’s armour and the door behind it. Bucky barely hears Noah over the chaos in the background, “go, I’ll cover the entrance”.

Bucky pats him on the shoulder briefly before stepping over the threshold. The gunfire and shouting sounds muted between the stone walls.

Bucky moves quickly, but quietly, ears straining, and eyes peeled for even a glimpse of you. It had only been a week, but it was the longest of his life. He might as well have gone without breathing for that long.

Urgency danced along every nerve ending and heightened his senses. Something was compelling him to go deeper, further. He could feel you here, somewhere.

As Bucky kept creeping along, he could see what looked like a few cells down the end of the hall. His gut clenched not only at the thought of you being in there for a week but as if he just knew you were there.

Bucky jogs past all the doors in the corridor until he’s standing in front of the cells. They were dark but he could make out a lump on a cot in the first cell.

He strides up to the door and uses his metal arm to rip the lock that was in place, letting the door swing open. He makes his way over quickly but pulls up short at just how small and fragile you look, worse than when he first saw you from the streets.

He almost hesitates to touch you for fear of breaking you. He gently pulls the thin blanket from you and hears you murmur. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding at the knowledge you were still alive.

As he gets closer, he whispers, “Y/N, doll, it’s me, it’s Bucky”.

He hears you murmur again, “go away”.

Hurt blossoms in his chest at your words but they soon die when he hears you again, “I know it’s not you, you’re in my head. Please go away, it hurts too much to see that it’s not you”.

Bucky gently pulls on your shoulder until you twist. Anger spikes at seeing how hollow you look but he smiles at you softly as he watches you taking him in. He waits, noticing how you linger on his eyes before saying, “Bucky?”.

“Yeah, doll”.

A ghost of a smile graces your lips, but it changes just as Bucky feels a blow to the head. It doesn’t knock him out though as he rolls with the impact further into the cell. He sees stars as he hears you scream from your cot.

He shakes his head to clear his vision in time to see a blonde guy punch you in the face, knocking you out cold. Red is all he sees, fury and rage propelling him to tackle the guy to the ground.

They hit the stone ground hard, rolling with fists flying. Bucky barely even registers the blows as he finally stops the momentum. He grabs the guy by the shirt with his flesh hand and uses his metal hand to keep punching.

Bucky keeps going until he hears bone crunching, until all he can see is the dark red covering his face, until the man stops moving.

Bucky pushes the guy away as he gets up to go to you. He notices how impossibly still you are and the trickle of blood coming from your nose. Bucky lays two fingers on your throat softly. He can feel a pulse but its faint.

He wastes no more time, scooping you up into his arms, holding you close to his body as he practically runs down the hall, urgency nipping at his heels.

As Bucky gets closer to the double doors back to the main foyer, he doesn’t hear anymore gunfire. The battle obviously won.

Noah is still standing by the door, his eyes looking like saucers when they fall onto you.

Steve and Sam hide their emotions better, as Steve says, “some surrendered, what do you want us to-“.

“Kill them”, Bucky doesn’t even stop his stride to the door.

“Buck-“, Sam this time.

Bucky turns to look at the men standing around him. His men. He looks at all of them before saying, “Kill. Them. All. I will not give that order again, are we clear?”.

Bucky doesn’t wait to hear their answers. The sound of gunshots was answer enough.

*2 Days Later*

Bucky had just hung up the phone when Steve walks into the hospital room, “who was that?”.

Bucky scrapes a hand down his face as he sits in the chair next to you again, “it was the doc back home, said he would have a look over Y/N’s medical notes and see if it was safe enough for her to fly back. I want her home when she wakes up”.

Bucky sighs before looking over at Steve, “any sign?”.

Steve shakes his head, “nothing, both of them are in the wind”.

Bucky resists the urge to break things in the hospital. He watches your face, peaceful in the afternoon light to calm down instead. All he could feel was one failure after another for you. The car crashing, letting you get taken, not finding you for a week, and now letting Harry and Isaac disappear.

“It’s not your fault Buck”, Steve says, somehow always reading the thoughts in his head.

Bucky replies, still looking at you, “tell that to her when she wakes up”.

“I won’t have to because she will tell you the exact same thing”, Steve says firmly.

“What am I meant to say to her Steve? That I let that fucker get away? Me? The man that swore to protect her?”, Bucky scoffs.

Steve shuffles until he can look Bucky in the eyes, “you haven’t failed her Bucky. You’re human-“

“Well, I can’t afford to be!”, Bucky roars.

Bucky clenches his fist, biting his tongue until he continues between clenched teeth, “I have too many people counting on me. We may have won the battle this time Steve, but it’s far from over. This is a war and I fully intend to win at any cost. This is a war and I want them all dead. Every last single one of them”.

The silence stretched. Steve didn’t disagree, especially since they went after Peggy and the kids. Bucky sighs again, as if he was being crushed under the weight of everything he insisted he would carry himself, “go home Steve”.

“I’ll head back to the hotel-“.

“No. Home. Go home Steve. Go and see your wife and your kids. Take some time, because it won’t get any easier from here. Not only will we have Harry and Isaac to deal with, but we took a hit. People will be talking, and we need to get a hold of that shit. I don’t want anyone thinking they can take us. I’m still the White fucking Wolf and I need everyone to remember why. So, go home Steve. I’ll be back soon with Y/N”.

Bucky registers Steve’s shoes against the floor, and the click of the door opening. It was a few minutes of silence before Steve murmurs, “you are the White Wolf…but you’re also Bucky Barnes, my best friend, Sam’s best friend. You’re godfather to my children and practically a brother to Peggy. And Y/N? She might as well already be your wife. What I’m saying Punk is, don’t lose sight of who you really are in the midst of this war”.

He lets the words sink in before Bucky hears the click of the door closing. Bucky goes back to studying your face. His eyes tracing the bruises changing colour over your sharp angles. The rise and fall of your chest.

He lets a tear fall as he lays his head lightly on your stomach, hugging you like a lost child would their teddy. This was the first time he ever felt, he ever wished that he was anyone other than a mob boss.

YOUR POV

You come back slowly. To the sound of beeping and the feel of a soft, slightly ridged bed beneath you.

You keep your eyes closed, trying to get a sense with your body if someone is in the room.

When it feels safe enough you open your eyes slowly, not having a choice against the lights in the room. Your eyes water and you let the tears travel down your cheeks as you try not to move.

A quick scan of the room shows there is no one around and the longer you look around the faster memory comes back. You don’t want to believe your eyes. You don’t want to believe that you’re in the med wing of your home, with the thought of Bucky somewhere within. You didn’t want to believe it for fear that you will wake up back in the cell or in that room with Isaac.

But the longer you lay there, staring at every piece of the room, focusing on your breathing the more you realised this isn’t a dream or a hallucination.

You sit up, muscles protesting the movement. It takes you longer to swing your legs out of bed and even longer to stand on your feet.

The first time you try, you crumple like a fawn on new legs, the bed the only thing stopping you from hitting the floor.

Your chest heaving, you try again, standing in one place a little longer before feeling your legs buckle again. You repeat the process a few times, until your shaky legs are strong enough to carry you.

That is when you decide to take everything out. The machines start beeping and you know your time is limited now, people will crowd the room within minutes, but you have to find Bucky first. You have to know this is real.

You hold onto the bed for as long as possible as you let your legs remember how to walk on their own. When you run out of bed you grab a hold of the door, letting it swing out as you follow the wall with your hands.

The halls are empty, and you couldn’t be more grateful as you start to take easier steps closer and closer to Bucky’s office.

As the office comes within sight you hear the door open and he steps out, looking one way and then the other, his eyes landing on you. He was holding a phone to his ear but the moment he sees you he hangs up.

You take him in, both in disbelief at either ends of the hall staring. Your lips part, “Bucky?”.

He strides towards you at the sound of his name, purpose filling every step. He doesn’t hesitate as he reaches you. His hands gentle against your skin as he sweeps you up bridal style. The smell of him fills your nose as you bring your hands up to cup his face.

You stare at him for the longest time, focusing on his eyes and you finally accept that its him as your eyes well up, “Bucky”.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @asapkyndall @yaszx @amoredashley @aveatquevale- @putinovertime @melimelbean @valsworldofcreativity @lokilokilokilokilokilokilo-blog1 @vesper852 @littlenerdgirl16 @wiccanmetallicrose @aya-fay

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky fandom #bucky series #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #mob!bucky #james bucky barnes #marvel

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svtrie · 3 years

Text

↱ HOLLOW . . . ↲

@shmblslw asked:

hiii can i please request "surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone i loved." with one piece - ace? please? tysm

pairing; ace x gn!reader

genre; angst

content warning; major character death, one piece spoilers - marineford arc

word count; 1,125

authors note; holy shit, I need to say something....i teared up a bit writing this, i'm not too good with angst but hopefully you liked this. you can find the prompt here

─ ace has a few more words to deliver to both you and luffy before taking his last few breath's.

"surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone i loved." he thought one last time before his body met the floor with a small 'thud!'

THIS wasn’t supposed to happen─no.

You were supposed to be the one saving him; not the other way around.

Why….Why did he..?

Your legs gave up on you as you saw the horrifying scene unfold in front of you; Sakazuki’s lava fist successfully going through your boyfriend’s chest─seemingly melting all of his organs as there was nothing left but a hole.

The admiral retracted his arm, making Ace’s body go limp as there was nothing supporting him to stand up.

The world around you seemed to slow down ─ your only focus was the falling body in front of you.

The sound of swords clashing, fist’s being exchanged, and the whitebeard pirate’s screams went deaf to you.

The only thing you could hear was Luffy’s horrid scream of ‘ACEEEE!’ as a blur of yellow ran through; even that was muffled.

Your [eye colour] orbs locked with his black ones; even at the verge of dying, his eyes soften at the sight of you ─ unscathed from Sakazuki’s attack.

Luffy’s body blocked your sight of vision; his dirty yellow vest was all you could see.

You soon registered what Luffy was saying, choking out words as best as he could as he held your boyfriends body in his arm; resting his chin against his shoulder, one hand on his back to keep him steady; making Ace’s face enter your sight of vision.

Pure horror filled your eyes as you scanned Ace’s face, blood spilling out from his mouth and nose.

Yet he still managed a small shaky smile form on his lips; even if he was at death’s door, he was glad he could see you once again.

You snapped out of your small shock, shakily making your way towards Him and Luffy.

Your knees gave up on you once again as you stopped right in front of Ace’s face; Luffy’s back was facing you, you couldn't see his eyes threatening to burst out with Tears as Ace’s face was the only one you could register.

Through half lidded eyes, Ace gave you the best closed eye smile he could muster.

His whole body throbbed, but that didn’t matter.

He had to tell you something before he died, he couldn’t live with regrets after all; if he were to die, which is right now, he would want to tell you that he loved you, then he can die happily.

Ace gave you a signal to what seems like a sign to move closer, so you did.

Raising both your arms shakily, you made your best attempt to hug both of them; your tears threatening to come anytime soon.

Closing your eyes, your hand made it on top of Luffy’s hand that was holding Ace steady; the hand that was in the middle of the hole in his chest.

Hollow, was what you described the feeling to be.

You could hear Luffy’s voice;

“Hey? Can you hear me? Y-You’ll be fine, right?” His voice was shaky, seemingly also trying to keep his tears at bay.

“Im sorry...Luffy..” Came Ace’s gruff voice; a bit strained.

Luffy lets out a noise of shock, “W-What are you saying?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He raised his voice, shifting his body as well as Ace’s and Yours.

You raised your head to look at Ace’s dirtied and bloodied ones.

Your ears once again muted the outside noises; not registering the voice of Luffy’s shaky and strained voice screaming for help and a doctor.

You could no longer keep your tears at bay as you burst out crying at the next sentence he croaked out;

“..Its no use Luffy, He fried my insides…” He paused, taking a shaky breath “I can tell… My life is at an end..”

“Dont say that..Y-You said you’d never die, didnt you?!” Luffy retorted, having a more hard time keeping his tears in.

“Luffy─” You tried speaking to him but you cut your own words with your sobs.

Ace averted his gaze onto you again; smiling warmly before furrowing his eyebrows in pain.

“If you see Dadan, then give her my regards..” He croaked out.

“I'm sorry that i couldn't see you,” A pause, “Fulfill your dream…”

“You’re my little brother..”

“Was it...good that i was born?” He questioned, your unstable voice ringing in his ears as you snapped at him, “Of course it was you idiot!” You sobbed, “F─Fuck if the world thinks youre a devil spawn, to me, you’re a wingless, walking Angel!” More tears escaped from your eyes.

“Y─You have no idea how much happiness you’ve given to me for being born, Hell If i c─could thank Miss Rouge for birthing you, i would!” Your sight was now blurry due to the tears.

“If A─Anything, i’m glad you were born! I'm sure Luffy thinks so too!” In which, Luffy backs up your statement with a fast nod; accompanied by his sniffles.

Ace smiles at your words, his eyes filled with love and admiration before he opens his mouth to speaks again;

“I..” a pause, “Can’t speak loud enough for the others to hear it..” He starts.

“Old man..”

“Luffy..”

“Everyone..”

“Especially...you..”

“[Name].”

“The very same [Name] that allowed me to feel loved and teached me how to love,” He let out a bitter chuckle, “If….I’m being honest with you…” His eyes moved to your face, adoring your features once again.

“I….wanted to propose to you.”

“...When..? I don't even know, maybe even right now if i didn't chase after that bastard Teach..” He growled.

He let out another bittersweet chuckle, moving his head so he could get a full view of you, “...But with what's happening currently, i guess that could never happen huh..?”

“I...I’m sorry.. I really wanted… to have a peaceful life with you one day, maybe settle down…” A pause, “In one of Pop’s islands and maybe have kids of my own..You know..?”

“Living happily with you and our little family; a family that i...always wanted..”

“..Im sorry.. I didn't listen to you, sorry for all the stupid arguments i had with you..” A chuckle, “..I don't even remember...the reason why i argued with you those times..”

He coughed up blood once again, bloodying your arm but you didn't care, your only focus was him and him only.

“Im sorry...I hope...Y..You find someone better t─than me” He choked out.

“I’ll always love you guys, o..kay..?”

“Thank you..for loving me..!” His voice was pained, but yet, he sent both you and Luffy one more last closed eye smile he could make before his body went limp.

‘Surely..it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone i loved.’ He thought one last time before his body met the floor with a small 'thud!'.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #op headcanons #op imagines #op scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #portgas d ace #porgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #firefist ace x reader #firefist ace #whitebeard pirates #marineford arc #angst #monkey d luffy #requests

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Colours of Love

Characters → Y/N & Dean Winchester, Other Supernatural characters

Summary → Until you meet your soulmate, everything will be black and white. But what happens when you see the colours of the rainbow but no soulmate in sight?

Word Count → 1.8k

Prompt → Soulmate AU + Stolen by Dashboard Confessional.

Warnings → Fluff.

Beta → the superstar that is @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

Dividers → @firefly-graphics.

A/N → This is for @justagirlinafandomworld Pick Two challenge - I’m so sorry it’s late, hope you enjoy it!

Fear wrapped itself around your chest as you tried to recall the previous night while also having to deal with the adjustment of seeing all these vibrant colours.

The previously faded grey armchair was now an emerald masterpiece and you couldn’t help your fingers trailing across the velvety material, enjoying the switch between the shades.

The gold embroidered cushions enveloped you in a squishing hug as you curled around and let your legs dangle over the armrest.

Jessica was sitting opposite, sharing the couch with Sam, her head resting in his lap whilst he snored softly, “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”

“I drank a lot last night.” You groaned, your eyes stung with the strain of looking at her newly colourful features and the floral curtains behind her.

You looked away and around the pokey apartment; the photographs of your friends were now more alive than before and the bookcase full of varying shades and tones framing the many books and ornaments.

Your head pounded against your skull and your mouth felt like there was a cotton ball stuffed in it. The graduating class had celebrated late into the night, to welcome in the start of summer before they went off into the big adult world. You remembered throwing back shot after shot.

The thought of the clear burning liquid had your stomach bubbling with nausea and making you sit up, “I remember leaving you two lovebirds by the firepit, I was dancing-”

“-If you call that dancing.” Sam interrupted, his head still tilted back, and eyes closed.

You attempted to roll your eyes, but the muscle movement hurt your head more than it was worth, “-in Brady’s kitchen and then I remember nearly falling over but other than that. Nothing.”

Jessica offered you a reassuring smile, “You’ll find them one day.”

Once your head and body had cleared itself of the alcohol, you relished in periwinkle, fuchsia and evergreen. But weeks later, you still hadn’t found your soulmate, the one that had enabled you to see all these new and beautiful colours.

Eventually, after many conversations with Sam and Jessica, you decided to let fate play out. You’d already planned to travel the world and now you were able to see it in colour, you were even more excited

Well, for a few months of your solo adventure, until the colour began to fade into muted tones alongside your aching heart.

One Year Later…

It was the last chance for the Winchester’s to enjoy the summer. To soak in the sun and spend time with their loved ones before the chaos of Autumn took over their lives.

Sam and Jess had rounded up all the usual gang for a barbecue to celebrate their engagement as well as Dean and Castiel’s new business venture; a bar in the next town over.

Across the garden, Sam had his arm around Jess while they welcomed guests as they wandered through the side gate. Ellen and Jo were the first to arrive, a selection of beers and chips in hand. Not long after, Bobby and Rufus brought in the burgers and more beer.

Dean welcomed them all and then retreated to the other side as they all began to gush about Sam and Jess’s engagement. He hovered over the barbecue as the charcoal heated up, sipping on his beer, watching the excitement unfold across the lawn.

Of course, he is over the moon for his brother; finding his soulmate, settling down in this beautiful white picket fence home and, now, getting married. He recalled how Sam’s name flashed on his mobile out of the blue, Sam’s words a little slurred and the raucousness of the college party in the background as he recounted how he needed his older brother’s advice on how to get the girl.

Sam’s vision had changed the moment he caught sight of Jess across the lecture room, he spoke of how her blonde hair glowed, the way her pink plump lips grew into a huge smile then turned into a breathy chuckle once Sam realised he’d been caught staring at her.

Dean glanced back over to his family and friends, the strip of freshly mown grass was dull and the flowers he’d helped plant were no longer hosting vibrant petals. The feeling of jealousy and the worry that he was being left behind took over and he looked down at the grill.

It all started years ago, it happened the night of Sam’s graduation party; the beautiful woman in the kitchen, dancing completely out of time to the music. Instead of going towards her and relishing in this newfound vision, Dean had decided to keep it to himself. He wasn’t ready for settling down, falling in love or even meeting his soulmate.

Dean decided to rush past her and out of the house. His mission nearly failed as she collided into him and nearly fell over. He set her steady and without a second glance, left the party. Deep down, he knew he’d regret his actions, and that he’d end up in this position; watching his brother lead a life that he could only dream of.

The dull colours were a constant reminder of what could have been. He turned his focus back to the grill, placing the burgers down and drowning out the sounds from across the garden.

The moment the porch door swung open, you wrapped your arms around Jessica and nuzzled your face into her curly blonde locks. The travel tension dropping from your body, the soft gesture and the sepia tone of her face brought a warmth into your chest.

Jessica held your hands as you soaked in each other’s appearance “Y/N! Would ya look at yourself? Your video calls have not done you justice!”

“Says you!!” The pair of you grinned at one another before you glanced down at your right hand, pulling her left one up to expect the sparkling diamond, “The boy did good!”

"That he did.” Sam sauntered over and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his locks fell across his face as he grinned down at you. “It’s about time I made an honest woman out of her. I’d crash and burn if it wasn’t for Jess.”

You rolled your eyes and slapped at his chest and turned back to Jessica, “Is he always this cheesy? I don’t remember him being this bad!”

“You’ve been away too long,” Sam chuckled and tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Nice to see you again Y/N. Let me take your bags; I’ll let Jess give you the tour.”

The lounge was homely with its large plush corner sofa and the floating shelves full of books, framed photographs and ornaments. Jessica guided you to the guest room and you relished in the normalcy, especially after years of owning nothing but a rucksack and a few days’ worth of clothes.

“Our bedroom is up the stairs and to the left, the room opposite is Sam’s office and then the bathroom on the right.” Jessica then rushed out the final words, “Dean’s room across the hall. He’s been staying whilst he sorts out the bar with Cas.”

“I’ll just freshen up and I’ll be straight out.” You smiled and shooed Jessica out of the bedroom. “Go and entertain your guests, I won’t be long!”

You wandered through the kitchen, a slight smirk on your lips as you twisted around to do a full rotation of the room; it was just how you imagined it would be. With the refrigerator adorned with magnets, gadgets neatly placed on the counters and the photographs dotted along the walls.

Without realising, you turned and walked straight into someone. Your face smashed into the soft cotton adorning someone’s chest. You gasped and stumbled backwards; the heat of embarrassment settled on your cheeks as you looked up at the wall of muscle you had collided with.

You found the bright green eyes of Dean Winchester looking like a deer in headlights. The golden flecks around his dilated pupils pulled your gaze across his features. His tanned skin and freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks had you follow the darker stubble along his jawline. His mouth was slack, and his pink fleshy tongue darted across his bottom lip.

A laughter echoed from outside, bringing you out of your trance. “I am so sorry!”

You rushed past him and out into the garden with the want for the ground to swallow you whole. The only time you had met, well-spoken to, Dean, was during a phone call with Sam and then you had seen him when Sam had video called him. Of course, the webcam footage back at college was not the best but you had felt a warmth grow each time you walked past Sam’s room and could see Dean catching up with his younger brother.

A warm welcome by Bobby and Rufus was exactly what you needed to distract yourself from how the first time of meeting Dean Winchester had gone completely wrong. The offer of a beer and a patted spot on the blanket from Ellen had you grinning but not enough to stop your thoughts from wandering back to the man you collided with in the kitchen.

It had always been a surprise to you that it had taken this long to meet Dean, you’d met everyone else in Sam's circle except the closest member. You sipped on the beer, relished in the sunshine and the laughter around you as your thoughts drifted back to the way Dean looked, frozen in the spot just like you.

The pictures and videos did not do the man justice, and well, the last few years had done wonders and the way his bright green eyes sparkled in the frame of soft wrinkles.

Bright green eyes. You almost choked on your beer as you looked down to the ground. The navy and white striped blanket was no longer a dull tone, it was almost vibrant. Your heart raced as your hands glided along the soft fabric.

Slowly, you glanced up at the raised flower beds to your left; luscious green leaves and dazzling pink petals facing upwards. You followed the flowers’ gaze; the cotton white clouds looked delicate against the contrasting blue sky.

Your mouth dried and your skin shivered in anticipation as your eyes fell back down to the house, and the man standing on the decking in front of the French doors.

His sparkling green eyes focused on you, and only you.

Everything Tag List: @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie / @kitkatd7

Supernatural Tag List: @deanwanddamons

SPN Pond Tag List: @manawhaat / @thing-you-do-with-that-thing / @nichelle-my-belle-spn-con-blog / @notnaturalanahi / @deanscarlett / @whispersandwhiskerburn / @roxy-davenport / @deathtonormalcy56 / @samsgoddess / @frenchybell / @for-the-love-of-dean / @mysupernaturalfics / @spn-fan-girl-173 / @deandoesthingstome / @jelly-beans-and-gstrings / @fiveleaf / @deansleather / @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname / @waywardjoy / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious / @kayteonline / @supernatural-jackles / @wevegotworktodo / @quiddy-writes / @babypieandwhiskey / @wi-deangirl77 / @deantbh / @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki / @deanwinchesterforpromqueen / @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog / @memariana91 / @plaidstiel-wormstache / @chelsea-winchester / @becs-bunker / @writingbeautifulmen / @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell / @castieltrash1 / @supernaturalyobessed / @ohwritever / @ruined-by-destiel / @inmysparetime0 / @winchester-writes / @evilskank-inthemegacoven / @maraisabellegrey-blog / @faith-in-dean / @winchestersmolder / @bennyyh / @clueless-gold / @deanwinchesterxreader / @melbelle45 / @winchester-family-business / @4401lnc / @there-must-be-a-lock / @just-another-winchester / @canadianjelly / @emoryhemsworth / @cas-backwards-tie / @coralanadianspnhunter / @mostly-shawn / @sierra-grace1227 / @flamencodiva / @kalesrebellion / @emilyshurley / @deanwanddamons / @ellewritesfix05 / @idreamofplaid / @emptycanvasposts / @herfalsegod

*Bold - unable to tag

#Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester Fic #Supernatural #Supernatural Fic #SPN #SPN Fic

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

A Turn Of Fates (Part 1)

Based on the prompts by @connor-sent-by-cyberlife, specifically the ‘Friend and Enemy’ prompt, but is going to be an ongoing story. This is not necessarily for the list, but I felt the need to upload this one in reference to it, since it was the second story inspired by the prompt. Part of why I wrote it, aside from the inspiration of the prompt itself, was the fact that, in the highway chase between Connor, Kara and Alice, I felt a little disappointed with all the different outcomes, and wanted to add one of my own, one which I felt could lead to a deviating storyline (see what I did there ^^ hehe (I’m pathetic)).

Pairings: Light HankCon / Hannor / Hank X Connor (May Be Updated In Future)

Warnings: - Android Gore - Near Unknowing, Attempted Suicide - Violence - Mentions and Implications of Abuse - Major Character Death

Words: 1770

Enjoy!

‘Do NOT go after them, Connor! That’s an order!’ Though Hank’s words pressed him to stay, clinging to the chain link fence and awaiting the inevitable, Connor felt his arms and legs beginning to move, as if on their own terms. He couldn’t let them get away; if they succeeded in crossing the highway, he would fail. If they failed to cross the highway, and were destroyed in the process, he would fail.

‘Connor! Goddammit!’ He would pre-construct the best explanation later, but he had to do this. He couldn’t allow the deviant, the AX400, and the YK500 to be shattered in pieces across the road. It would not aid their mission, and a small piece of Connor’s mind was hard-wired to call out. As if his words alone might halt them from crossing the road. It was a small strain, but a desperate one that pulled at the back of his head. He ignored t, drawing closer to the road.

Before him, the AX400 had taken a few glancing blows to the body and arms, but had prevented any damage to YK500. Spatters of thirium dotted the road from where the trucks and cars had briefly collided with it. Of course, no vehicle would slow down; no android would ever just cross the road at a busy highway. Instead, the self-driving vehicles that made up the majority of the oncoming traffic, had been input with sensors to determine the presence of living creatures on the road.

The cars would not stop for androids.

He made it to the road, felt the wind of a passing car tear through his synthetic skin. If he had been human, perhaps it would have stung, but he barely noticed it. His HUD was an explosion of colour, detailing what paths to take, error signs blaring as every other car came just slightly too close. The wet of the rain made it hard to calculate exactly what he needed to do to avoid being damaged, every minor slip causing him to nearly lose his leg or more of his body.

There was a rush through him, one he didn’t quite understand. Whilst his thirium pump was beating aggressively within the cavity of his chest, it wasn’t like the ‘adrenaline’ he was familiar with. It was a painful, claustrophobic feeling across his body, every time a car or truck came just that little too close for comfort.

The deviant tripped over the second guardrail, its female face in a puddle of rainwater created by a minor pothole. It turned to the child-like android, as the little one made its way over the guard rail and attempted to help the deviant to its feet. Connor leapt over the first and raced up the thin island of grass and the only safe spot in the centre of the road.

From how close he was now, Connor could scan the androids. The YK500 was missing its LED; a sign that, perhaps, whoever had owned it, didn’t wish to be reminded of its artificial nature. It was unlikely that the LED was removed by the AX400, as the process, whilst not painful, could trigger a reaction in the YK500 akin to ‘fear’. It was made to act like a child, after all, and most sharp tools directed to one’s own temple tended to cause a distressed reaction in most androids.

The clothes, on both the androids, was too large for them; an adult’s clothes, but nothing tailored or overly expensive. Simply store bought from one of the many malls in Detroit.

There were the finest traces of thirium close to the surface of the YK500’s, located just beneath the right eye. As uneven as it was, it would suggest ‘bruising’, caused by a blow to the head. Considering the AX400’s demeanour to protect the ‘child’, Connor doubted that their most recent witness to deviancy, a mister Todd Williams, was entirely telling the truth about what occurred the night he was ‘attacked’.

Despite the strange, claustrophobic feeling in his chest, Connor also felt as if his blue blood was boiling. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t question it. Not now.

‘Instability; Increased.’

He leapt over the final guard rail, and Connor was upon them in an instant. The AX400 had pushed the smaller of the two androids across the remaining stretch of concrete. The YK500 stood in the dirt and mud, watching as Connor and the deviant grappled in the middle of the highway.

Another truck passed by far too close, and Connor felt his thirium pump seize for all of 3.06 seconds. He was managing to hold the deviant close, his strength far greater than that of the housekeeping android. Tried as it might, it couldn’t loosen his grip. He opened his mouth to speak when he heard the wind whistling past his ear and felt the sudden there-and-gone pressure of a rear-view mirror. It scraped across his chassis, ruining part of his uniform and tearing it enough that the synthetic skin had retreated from the damage.

His own thirium spilled across the highway, and his arms opened on reflex in an attempt to cover the damaged area.

As he released the android, there was a cry from the other side of the road; a child’s voice calling out in distress. Connor’s optical units zeroed in on the AX400’s gaze, where the head had turned as a reaction.

‘Watch out, Kara!’

By then, it was too late. The deviant’s limp body was swept up by the hood of a driver-less vehicle. Her body went high into the air for all of several seconds before it fell to the road. The legs had been snapped off at the knee joint, thirium spilling out in all directions. Connor watched with that sense of claustrophobia growing, as if something was clenching tightly at his biocomponents.

Its head had snapped around to face him when it hit the pavement, the neck joint split in four places from the landing. The equivalent of a human’s neck breaking. Connor’s eyes widened on the sight, and a heavy pit weighed down his body, optical units watching with dread as the YK500 stepped onto the road.

‘K-Kara…?’

When the second screech of tires came racing down the highway, Connor didn’t hesitate this time. He raced forward, as fast as is long, impaired legs could manage. He reached out, feeling the wet coat through his fingers, as he pulled the child to him, and half-tackled them across the road. He curled his body up, and with his velocity, carried them into the safety of the mud and grime. A truck, that would have shattered its fragile body on impact, continued its route onward, undeterred by the obstruction of the body on the road, and the androids safely sat on the other side.

Connor couldn’t tell if it was the child who was trembling, or himself. He peered at the damage on the road, watching as the next car and then the next, continued to spread what remained of the deviant across the road. He could feel the child’s small hands beginning to bat at his chest, attempting to push him away, but Connor simply held them closer.

He could see the stress levels increasing in the child, how it had, without realising, attempted to self-destruct by running out onto the road when the deviant had been hit. To recover it from self-destruction, all Connor could do was hold it until Hank and the other officers got to their position.

Peering up at the chain link fence he had climbed to continue the chase, he could see Hank was gone, and the sound of sirens and muted Knights of the Black Death could be heard crossing the bridge above their head.

‘Kara!’ The cry was muffled in his uniform, a desperate, anguished plea so akin to a wounded or upset child.

‘Instability; Increased.’

Artificial, thirium based tears, had created a minor damp in his uniform by the time Hank was racing down the uneven hill. Connor watched him with wide eyes, and as the officers had begun setting up a small, blocked off space of road, so they might retrieve what they could of the deviant. Hank approached his side, and though it seemed as if he might strike Connor, the anger in his eyes softened at the sight of the trembling child. A paternal, instinctual reaction, as he raised a hand to the child’s head and attempted to soothe it.

As Hank pressed closer to Connor, in an attempt to create a smooth transition from one person to another, expecting the RK800 to pass him the android, there was a moment of surprise from both as Connor simply hugged the child tighter. Her fists were bunched up in his clothes now, and something about letting her go failed to diminish his ‘concern’.

Eventually, it was decided that Connor would be the one to transport the android to Hank’s car so they could return to the precinct. Connor followed Hank’s orders, holding the stressed little one tight to him and not letting them go, even when he had entered into the car. He watched through the windows as the traffic was redirected around a series of police banners and pylons, allowing the tech and investigative team to pick up the literal pieces of the chase.

Hank seemed about as shaken as Connor felt, and took a moment to breathe deeply once he had entered into the car. His eyes turned to the child in Connor’s arms and to Connor himself, leaning over just enough to raise one hand to Connor’s face. His thumb swept across Connor’s cheeks, revealing a wetness between the tips of his thumb and fingers. Connor was ‘crying’.

‘I didn’t think androids could cry.’

‘We can’t. Not really…’ Connor returned, lowering his head to rest his cheek atop the YK500’s hair. It was soft, despite it being a simple visage. Wet from the time in the rain, and with the smell of soap from the hotel tub. He felt he couldn’t breathe, even though androids didn’t have to take in oxygen, it felt as if his breath was caught in his throat. He let out a sound he did not recognise.

‘Connor…’

‘Let’s just head back to the precinct, Hank.’ His voice was a strained kind of stern, Connor attempting to hide the strange feelings by pressing them back behind walls of coded security. The child shifted in his arms, and Connor could tell she was entering into a stressed stasis, her body attempting to recover from the emotional shock.

‘We finished the mission.’

‘Instability; Decreased.’

#Detroit: Become Human #DBH #RK800 #RK800 Connor #Connor DBH #Hank Anderson #AX400 Kara #Kara DBH #YK500 Alice #Alice DBH #HankCon #Hannor #Fanfiction #Fanfic #HarcourtHolmesII

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

Text

Fang and Stake

For @aftgangstfest Day 21: “Bite me.”

For most hunters, it would have been a wet dream: his quarry beaten, bleeding, trapped and prone before him. He might as well have been holding a stake on a silver platter. If it had been any other vampire in the world, Andrew wouldn’t have hesitated to drive the splintering chunk of wood through his chest and be done with it.

Unfortunately, Neil wasn’t any other vampire.

Read here or on AO3 (check AO3 for content warnings)

The vampire was slippery. Andrew didn’t like slippery; more challenge, more effort, more time spent charging through woodlands with rain and sweat soaking through his clothes and the echo of Kevin’s orders biting at his heels. The night was too cold for running, and the ache in his legs told him that he would be ending it bruised and exhausted. If bruising was the worst of his injuries come sunrise, he would consider himself… not lucky, Andrew had never been lucky, but satisfied. He had to find satisfaction somewhere; despite Kevin’s enthusiasm, the promised thrill of the chase had yet to ensnare Andrew. The thud of his heart in his chest was born of exertion and no more. It played a deafening drumbeat in his ears, perhaps compensating for his quarry’s shortcomings in that department.

The hunt required little strategy or forethought; tonight’s mark was bleeding. Profusely. Any idiot could follow a trail of blood, and frankly Andrew’s talents were wasted on this assignment. To think that Kevin had wanted him to take backup. Kevin was intelligent, of course, no man could keep his position without a few brain cells between his ears – but when it came to Andrew, he magically developed both the stubbornness and IQ of a common mule. Kevin was adamant that Andrew learn to work as part of a team. Andrew was equally adamant that he hunt alone.

Specks of red flecked the path ahead of him, a glinting ruby treasure-trail. Kevin’s notes divulged few details where tonight’s quarry was concerned, but Andrew wouldn’t have paid them much mind anyway. Andrew’s marks were all the same; cruel, cunning, merciless. It took one to catch one, and if Kevin passed this vampire to Andrew instead of one of his more cooperative hunters, it was for a good reason.

After a pathetically short chase, Andrew tracked the figure to a riverbank swollen by rain. He could feel his lips slicing open into an empty smile as he saw the figure staring morosely into the water which cut through his escape route with the efficiency of a ravine. Vampiric rules, as strange as they were convenient.

Andrew flicked the stake over in his hand a few times as he approached. He wasn’t one to draw out a kill, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make a show of it, if only to sap his victim of any remaining morale. The gesture was wasted on this vampire; its shoulders were heaving and shuddering in turn, heavy with defeat. Its hair was plastered to his head, darkened by the rain which ran rivulets down the nape of its neck.

His mark hadn’t been having a good night, even before Andrew caught its trail. The burnt, decaying smell of vampiric blood was thick in the air. Andrew’s mind caught him by the throat and dragged him somewhere deep and dark, where old memories thrashed and screamed. If the vampire had gained its injuries doing what Andrew thought it had been doing, a quick death would be more than it deserved.

The snapping of twigs underfoot gave him away, not that Andrew was making any effort to mask his approach. He had no need for the benefit of surprise.

The vampire looked up, eyes piercing blue. The familiar colour jolted through Andrew like an electric shock. He lowered his stake. “You. You’re Nathaniel?”

“Shit,” Neil said, half-way between a gasp and a laugh. “Andrew.” His legs gave out as though knocked from beneath him, and the vampire fell to his knees.

For most hunters, it would have been a wet dream; his mark beaten, bleeding, trapped and prone before him. He might as well have been holding a stake on a silver platter. If it had been any other vampire in the world, Andrew wouldn’t have hesitated.

Unfortunately, Neil wasn’t any other vampire.

Neil – Andrew had never believed it was his real name, not for a second – was, irritatingly, one of the good ones, a fact which Andrew believed with the kind of certainty that he had long thought himself to have outgrown. Hunters only pursued vampires that were a proven danger to humans, which meant that somewhere down the line, Andrew had been lied to. It only remained to decide which end the lie came from: Neil, or Andrew’s superiors.

Common sense should have put the blame squarely on Neil’s shoulders. He had every reason to lie to Andrew – to preserve his cover, to get close to someone with inside information on the Hunters, to buy himself a little protection or mercy from a friend on the inside should the time come – but Andrew’s instincts screamed over common sense.

He always knew Neil was trouble, of course. He was a vampire – it came with the territory. Neil was the only vampire Andrew had ever met that showed no sign of fear or revulsion upon discovering how Andrew paid his rent. It made Andrew wonder what else Neil had to fear, that the human who slept with a stake under his pillow should have no effect upon him at all. It made Neil a puzzle, but worst of all, it made him interesting. Deliberately or not, Neil certainly knew how to interest Andrew.

The whole situation smelt of a set-up. Someone in a high place must have really, really wanted him dead. Somehow, Andrew wasn’t surprised. After all, he had wanted Neil dead from the first night Neil slipped a name through the open crack of Andrew’s window, a name which lead him to a very, very bad man. At first, Andrew had wondered if Neil was using him as his own personal hitman, picking off vampires that posed a threat to his territory. As time passed and bodies mounted, it became clear that Neil had the same distaste for bloodshed as Andrew. The same immunity, too; when they arrived by chance at the scene of an attack within moments of each other, Neil’s reaction to the family bleeding out on the living room floor was as muted as Andrew’s. Andrew was tempted to blame it on the side-effects of vampirism, were it not for the way Neil’s eyes slid past the pools of blood with complete disinterest.

Neil never seemed to send help Andrew’s way with any hope of recognition or reward; he seemed to think it was the right thing to do. A good Samaritan; Andrew’s least favourite type of person.

“If I were someone else, you would be dead,” Andrew said. He noted the way Neil’s eyes tracked his stake, and he slotted it back into the hook on his belt.

“As would you.” Neil pressed a hand to his side and winced. “At least I don’t have a doppelganger running around. Makes things a lot more confusing.”

“Remember the rules, Neil.” Andrew tapped his fingers against the handle of his stake. “Family stays out of this.”

“Don’t worry, it’s easy enough now I know your smell from his. Yours is far more…” Neil’s gaze grew strangely distant, eyes flickering black, before he realised, wisely, that this wasn’t a good line of thought to follow. “Sorry.” He wobbled before falling onto his side with a quiet thunk. “Ouch.”

Andrew walked forward until he was standing over Neil. His shirt was dark with patches of blood, presumably his own. Andrew didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned. Neither, if he were smart, but smart always seemed to go out of the window at the same moment that Neil entered through it. “Vampires are supposed to heal quicker than this.” He nudged Neil’s abdomen with the toe of his boot, ignoring Neil’s protesting hiss. “Stop being dramatic.”

“I can’t.” Neil’s voice cracked with strain. “They doused their blades in holy water.”

There was a sudden, piercing pain at the back of Andrew’s skull. If he didn’t know better, he would call it fear. “You’re going to die.”

Neil laughed mirthlessly, fangs catching the moonlight. “I’m already dead.”

“Fix it.”

Neil smiled as though amused by the urgency in Andrew’s tone. Andrew hated that smile as much as he hated the man who wore it. “No.”

Andrew dropped to his knees and clinically yanked Neil’s shirt open to examine his wounds. Neil’s body was a mess of scarring, but it was the fresh wounds that drew Andrew’s eye, raw and red in some places, scorched black in others. His hands hovered over the ragged remains of Neil’s torso, twitching with uncertainty. Hunters weren’t taught to heal; they were taught to kill. For the first time in his life, Andrew wished his brother was there in his place. “What kind of blades?”

“I didn’t stop to ask.” Neil coughed, missing the look Andrew levelled at him. “Sharp ones.”

Andrew let out a low, involuntary hiss. He placed a careful hand to the raw red of Neil’s abdomen. Neil jerked, his skin ice-cold under Andrew’s palm.

The solution came to him with an abruptness that was almost painful.

“Feeding will heal you,” Andrew said. It was barely a question, but all the same he knew the answer before the words even passed his lips. He also knew from the cold determination in Neil’s eyes that Neil had reached the same conclusion and dismissed it immediately. Neil knew Andrew, knew the stories behind the stake under his pillow, and would never ask, would never even think to ask, even if it meant dying in his arms. The quiet understanding, the assurance, the silent promise of not like them that underpinned their every interaction was almost enough to rip Andrew to pieces. Because just as Neil knew Andrew, Andrew knew Neil, knew that Neil would never tear Andrew apart for his own satisfaction, would never use him up and throw him away like butcher’s scraps. Not like them. Neil looked at Andrew in a way that none had before, not like something to be consumed, but like something… else. Something important.

Andrew could slit his own throat in front of Neil, and Neil would still bleed to death before taking anything from Andrew that hadn’t been offered.

Andrew shook Neil’s shoulder, and when he saw the distant, glassy look in Neil’s eyes, he tried again. “Neil. Feeding will heal you.”

Neil coughed. His lips were flecked with his own blood. “If you know where I can buy a gallon of purified pig’s blood around here, I’m all ears.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew growled.

Neil’s eyes flicked to Andrew’s as understanding dawned. He tried to push himself away, but there was nowhere to go but deeper into the loose dirt of the riverbank “I don’t feed from people. I won’t be like them.”

“I won’t let you be.” Andrew tightened his grip on Neil’s shoulder. Neil looked like he had more objections to make, but the violent shake of his hands betrayed him, as did the terrible, ashy colour of his skin. “I trust you.”

“No.”

“Bite me,” Andrew said, “Or I’ll cut my wrists open and force the blood down your throat myself.”

“You wouldn’t,” Neil said, and his certainty burns in the back of Andrew’s throat like bile.

“Try me.” Andrew said lowly.

Neil looked at him for a long moment, jaw clenched. Andrew could see the moment he caved in; however flimsy Andrew’s bluff, Neil would never risk calling it. He watched with careful blankness as Andrew tugged at his collar before giving up and tearing it along the seam, the sound surprisingly loud in the night air. Neil’s eyes caught on the bared expanse of Andrew’s neck and stuck there. There was a want in his eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of hunger Andrew was used to seeing from his kind. It was cautious, careful, aware. A single word from Andrew and it would be buried without complaint or reprehension. It was this knowledge that let Andrew shuffle closer, pulling Neil up and against him so that his weight was supported by Andrew’s arms. Neil might have been cold, but he was warmer than the night air, and the sensation seeped through Andrew’s skin slow as syrup.

Neil’s breath stuttered out of him as his head lolled against Andrew. “I’ve never…” Neil said, little more than a whisper. “…I’ve never done this. I don’t know if I can… If I can make it not hurt.”

“I know.”

“Is it still yes?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. Then, impatiently, “Sometime tonight?”

Neil sighed. There was a flash of teeth, and then a heat burned through Andrew’s shoulder unlike anything he had ever felt.

Andrew wasn’t sure what kind of noise escaped him. Neil twitched like he was about to pull back, but the clench of Andrew’s hand in his hair urged him on. Neil’s hand wavered between them as though searching for something to steady himself with, landing at last Andrew. For once, Andrew didn’t mind the contact as Neil dragged one hand from Andrew’s shoulder down to his arm, gripping on like Andrew was a rock in a stormy sea. Andrew’s body was a jumble of warring sensations, but the sudden wet heat as Neil’s tongue slid across the bite wound sent a shiver straight through him.

Neil pushed himself back, quick to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. His eyes had turned a deep red, and they didn’t quite refocus again until they had faded back to their normal blue. His skin was closer to his usual tan, and his wounds appeared, mercifully, to have scabbed over. They tingled under Andrew’s hands as though his blood was calling out to him from within Neil’s body.

Neil’s eyes fixed on the mark left on Andrew’s neck. For a moment, Andrew worried that Neil needed more, that he had denied himself what he needed for Andrew’s sake, but the crease between Neil’s eyebrows was concern, not hunger.

Neil reached for the wound, running cool fingers across damp skin. Beneath the sting of the bite was that tingling sensation again, and this time Andrew was certain he could feel his own pulse in Neil’s fingertips. Neil pressed two careful fingers against Andrew’s pulse-point, but before worry could blacken his expression any further Andrew caught Neil’s hand in his. With his other hand, he tugged what remained of his shirt back into place. “What is it you’re so fond of saying? I’m fine?”

“Fuck you,” Neil replied, his words slurring through swollen, pink lips. His pupils were still a size too large, but there was no hint of anything but his usual ice-blue irritation in his expression.

“You can thank me with the name and address of the man who did this.” Andrew punctuated his words by resting his palm on Neil’s healing torso.

“He doesn’t take kindly to house visits.”

“I don’t care what he takes kindly to. Name, Neil.”

“Nathan.” The word shook from Neil’s chest as though it had clawed its way free with no regard for what it tore along the way. “My father, Nathan Wesninski.”

Nathan Wesninski. An influential figure and generous donor to Andrew’s organisation. It would explain how Neil ended up on Andrew’s hitlist.

Little did they know.

“He isn’t the kind of person you can go up against on your own.” Neil tried to wipe a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and missed. Andrew wiped it off with his sleeve, ignoring the way Neil’s lips twitched upwards at the gesture.

“Good thing I’m not on my own, isn’t it?”

Neil’s smile grew. Damn him. “Can I kiss you?”

Andrew flicked his gaze over Neil’s bitten lips, the growing flush of his skin, hair mussy and clotted with dried blood. “No.” Then, before Neil could get the wrong idea, he added, “ask me again when you aren’t delirious.” Andrew wouldn’t be like them; he wouldn’t let Neil let him be.

Neil’s smile, somehow, grew even more.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg #tfc #andreil #aftgangstfest #aftg angst fest #my fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Coveted

Warnings: noncon sex (exhibitionism).

This is dark!Loki and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Thor’s betrothed awaits his return but finds her company to be less than savoury.

Thor had soon to return. You counted the seconds until he did. It was days at first, than hours, then minutes. But now he was close. Heimdall had sent word only moments before. The king was on his way back and you would soon be reunited. It had been nearly a week since his departure and would be three more before you wedding. If he were near, it would not be long at all. How long had you waited for him? A lifetime. The two of you oblivious to the love right in front of you. A love unchanged despite all that time had taken from you.

Yet time promised a bright future. The people of Asgard adored their king and you only wanted to aid in serving them as diligently. He had vowed to learn from the mistakes of his father and to prosper in peace not war. He was the jewel in the crown. A sparkling beacon and you could only hope to help him sit the throne. That was what made you most nervous. Disappointing the people. Disappointing him.

You stood on the balcony and daydreamed of his return until he would truly come before you. You could see him there now. Down in the courtyard, his blue eyes shone up at you as he strode through the gates in his golden mail; crimson cape rippling from his shoulders. The same crimson you would wear on your wedding day. It was a coy surprise you had planned for him. You could hear his laughter now; see the little lines beside his eyes as they crinkled; feel his warmth around you. Yet he still did not appear.

“You’ve time yet, my lady,” The voice frightened you. You gripped the railing as you glanced over your shoulder. Loki stood casually in the open doors behind you. His footsteps whispered across the stone as he neared. “My brother is never one to hurry.”

“Oh, I know it,” You chuckled as your eyes strayed back to the distance. “The prince that time forgot.”

“Mmm, is that what they say?” He stood only a foot from you as he leaned on the railing. “He’s not a prince anymore.”

“No, he isn’t,” You agreed, “But he is still learning.”

“And you shall soon be his queen,” Loki remarked, “You must be excited.”

“Honoured,” You corrected him, at last turning to meet his gaze. He was staring at you; his green eyes unyielding. “Humbled.”

“As a girl, you must’ve dreamt of it. Marrying the golden prince. Wearing the crown of the gods.” He smirked, his tone sickly, “Never had a second thought for the younger prince, did you? The dark-haired runt who only spoke well of you; the very one who swore to his father that she was more than another lord’s daughter…”

“Loki,” You blinked in confusion. “What are you--”

“I told Thor years ago. On the very name day he came of age. I was a few years away myself; young, but not naive.” His grin faded. “I think that was the moment he decided to love you.”

“I--Loki, why are you saying this? Now, of all times?” Your voice was low; almost fearful.

“I never thought you’d love him back,” His brows arched, “His love is not fated; it is not the genuine heart-wrenching helplessness of devotion. It is the chosen affection of one who wants and takes all.”

“I love him, Loki,” You breathed. You made to turn to him but your hands caught in air. You looked down at the eerie green rings which held your wrists to the railing. “What? Loki, stop it.”

“He knew I love you. He’s known for years.”

“Why did you never tell me then?” You tugged but found no give in the restraints.

“I convinced myself you had a brain. That you would see through his farce,” He stepped closer. “I put too much faith in you. Too much energy to let you waste it all.”

“Release me,” You said staunchly. “Now, or--”

“Or?” He taunted.

“I’ll scream.” You threatened.

He chuckled and reached to trace his fingers along your cheek. You tried to pull away but were still trapped. “You will scream, I know,” He smiled again, “But only when I want you to.”

You opened your mouth but no sound rose. It was as if there was a coil wrapped around your voicebox. You tried again but still nothing more than a pathetic wheeze. You struggled against the binds at your wrists, his hand closed on your chin as he forced you to look at him. His pupils dilated as he stared down at you.

“What makes my brother more worthy than me? He is shallow, vain, obtuse. He is everything unworthy of you.” He hissed. “He has everything already. The throne, the people, the hammer...for once, I won’t let him win.”

Your lips moved soundlessly as you tried to speak again but found yourself as mute as before. You gritted your teeth in frustration and his grip tightened on your chin. He bent and his lips met yours. Softly, at first, than rougher. You pulled against the rail but only managed to push yourself deeper into his kiss. He had never used his magick on you before. In all your time knowing each other; through childhood and all, he had never gone so low.

His lips left yours and he dragged them along your cheek as he moved behind you. He let go of your chin and you were freed to look at the courtyard below. Anyone could happen by and witness his assault...but that may not be what they see. He brought his hands up and ran them over your hair as he pressed himself to you. Your hip bones were pinned to the rail as he did.

“I was too nice, wasn’t I?” His long fingers stretched around your neck. “I should’ve been crass like him. Ignored you for half my life, as he did. Ran after Sif for years while you yearned in the shadows. If that is what would grant me your heart, it’s what I would do.”

You shook your head and his fingers slid along your shoulders. You squirmed and yanked on your wrists again. He was right about Thor. He hadn’t always been doting. He had run wild and chased his whims. That didn’t lessen his current affection. It didn’t change the love you had forged in time and survival.

His hand descended down the back of your gown. His fingertips tickled you through the silk, lingered on the braided belt at your waist. Lower, again. His palms grazed over the curve of hip and ass; he cupped your cheeks through the fabric and hummed. “Thor would never love you like I do, Y/N. You must know that...no crown is worth the oblivion of such an oaf as your husband.”

You trembled, your body jolted as you continued to fight against his magick. The hem of your skirt stirred, a breeze along your legs as it was drawn higher. Ankles, knee, thigh, each revealed an inch at a time. A shiver ran through you as Loki gathered the layers of silk until your most private part was bare and vulnerable. One could look up through the slats of the rail and see all of you. He could see all of you.

A shock of colour lit the sky suddenly and you stared up into the horizon. The bridge was open. Thor’s long-awaited return had come. You tugged again and again, your wrists ached as they strained against the binds. Loki held your skirts aloft with one hand as his other explored your nudity. He pinched your ass, spread his fingers along the goosebumped flesh, then dipped lower, pushed just between your legs as you squirmed.

“Are you thinking of him?” Loki asked as his fingers prodded between your thighs. He poked at your pussy even as you tried to keep your legs tight against his intrusion. “Or is this all for me?”

You hung your head in frustration, your hands balled into fists as you shook. His hand retreated and closed around your hip. He guided you back and kicked your feet apart. You made to realign yourself as you were and sharp slap stung across your ass. Your ankles were thus bound in a similar green glow; your legs open as you stood leaned against the rail. You whined, or tried to, your eyes glossy. Thor would ride through those gates and find you thus.

“What say we give my brother a warm homecoming?” Loki snarled and you listened to the brush of fabric, the flick of hide laces. You didn’t need to look to see what he was doing. You didn’t want to look.

You squeezed shut your eyes and braced yourself as he stepped closer. A prod along your ass made your flinch. He rubbed the head of his cock along your skin, a trail of precum in its stead. He tapped it at the apex of its curve and purred. The hand that held your skirts adjusted, bunched the silk tighter. He pushed on your shoulder until you were forced to bend, just slightly, just enough. Your palms flattened over the stone, fingers clawed frantically; helplessly.

He pushed his member between your cheeks. You tried to pull away and he smacked you again. Your entire body tensed as he guided himself further. He bent his knees as he lined himself up and dragged his cock along your folds. Back and forth, back and forth, until the shame pooled with your wetness. He stopped at your entrance and you lifted your head. He didn’t move as your heart stuttered; had sense returned to him? Had he changed his mind?

You peeked over your shoulder and nearly fell forward onto the rail as he shoved into you. His green eyes met yours as he plunged inside. Your mouth opened in a soundless gasp and you tore your mortified gaze from him. You clung to the rail as you fought to keep yourself together. He pushed on your lower back until you were forced to arch and he sank even deeper.

You could hear voices rising from the windows below; footsteps of those in the walkways parallel to the main courtyard. Loki’s hand moved again. He covered your vee and pet the tuft of hair there. He lingered, swirled the hair around his fingers before he delved deeper. Two fingers found your bud and you twitched. You tried to keep your body still but with each slow thrust, you were on your tiptoes.

His front was flush to your back as he reached to your clit and drew circles around it. His long nose tickled your ear as he kept his pace steady; measured. He was big and your walls stretched around his length. Your thighs tensed as the sparks began to rise from his fingertips. He toyed and teased until you bit your tongue. Your breath was heavy, your body shuddered as the pleasure overtook your indignity.

You bent further, hands latched onto the rail as Loki kept flush to you. He stoked an irresistible heat and you threw your head back against his shoulder. His fingers worked until your nerves were in a flurry and your mouth fell open; you were surprised by your own voice as a long moan marked your orgasm. He chuckled as he nuzzled your neck.

“I told you, when I bid it, you will scream for me,” He growled and sank his teeth into your throat.

At that, he removed his hand from your clit and brought both to your hips. You could barely hold yourself up as he quickened his pace. He let your skirts drape around him as he fucked you. They swayed wildly as he plunged into without relent. Each thrust was deep and hard. The slapping of your flesh echoed across the courtyard. You could hear distant voices, the stir of dirt, soft footsteps. You didn’t care as you were shattered by another orgasm; this one barely escaped through gritted teeth.

Loki stood straight, the purple welt at your throat throbbed. His own grunts began to rise around you as he pounded into you. He let go of your hips and tugged at the top of your dress until the laces snapped and the bodice sagged. He tugged until it slipped past your tits and they bounced with each sharp thrust. He kneaded them and tweaked your nipples. You squeaked and he gave a low groan.

He pulled back and latched onto the back of your belt as he held you in place and hammered into you. Your moans floated on the air. You couldn’t hold back as you felt yourself ascending once more. All sense had left you. You forgot that you were on a balcony, as good as naked before the palace, or that you were being ravished by your betrothed’s brother. You didn’t hear the nearing voices or footfalls or sense the impending approach of your beloved. All you knew was that it felt so good.

“This is it, my sweet, you’re going to scream for me,” He rasped, “Aren’t you?”

You shook your head but it was more a loll as your arms trembled, threatening to collapse as you held yourself up against the railing. Your breath was ragged, painful, as the rush of ecstasy mounted.

“Say it,” He barked as the voices grew clearer then died all at once. “Say my name.”

“Loki!” You cried out as your climax struck you violently. “Oh, Loki! Yes, yes, yes! Loki!”

You tossed your head back in your rapture and shook as you felt a gush within. His thrusts grew slower until your bodies stilled. Your wrists and ankles were freed as his hand came up around your chin and pulled you flush against him; his cock still inside of you as his cum seeped out around it.

“Welcome home, brother,” Your eyes fluttered and focused. You blinked dumbly as Thor stared up in horror from the courtyard; his men in similar confusion. “We weren’t expecting you so soon.”

tags: @venusofthehardsell @brigidwolf @breezy1415 @selinbaskaya @aekr @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @thoughtlesstales @kxllyxnnx @sathlens @destiel-is–endgame @calspixie @lilithhellfire @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot@docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-dark-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86@nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @blackpantherimagines @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @supernaturalonice @stuckybarton @ruff-m3rc @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @heartbeats-wildly @xdatbitch @tea-with-seb @bodhi-black @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel @holylulusworld @yagurlrosie @heartislubbingdubbing @couldntbedamned @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @spaghettirogers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes @amelia-acero @marvelmaree @lazinessisalliknow @steadypetty @they-call-me-le @kissedbythedarkness @wintersoldier1017 @fandomkolors @supernaturaldean67 @biba3434 @brokensunflowersworld @marvel-fan23 @collette04 @hannahxem @noteyebox @basementcafe @imkloeyjarvis @periodtcevans

#loki x reader #thor x reader #dark!loki #dark loki #loki #fic #au #mcu #marvel #thor #dark!fic #dark fic #dark!verse #darkverse

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Note

Can you write me royai angst with no comfort? I just want to see them suffer. Its okay if you don't want. I love all your writtings!!♥️

anon.... u get me and speak my language uwu

idk if i’m entirely happy with this? but i’ve been staring at my laptop screen for half an hour trying to figure out why so. here u go. i’ll leave it up to you the reader to decide what happens in the end... 👀

i hope this is ok for you anon and hope you enjoy 😅💖

rated: m | words: 973 | warnings: multiple shootings

A blur of blonde hair moved in front of his eyes as he heard a crack. His hand was already lifting, becoming poised to snap, but Hawkeye was in his way. If he snapped, he’d hit her. And he wouldn’t taint her with his flames again.

Then, the blonde hair fell, as if in slow motion. Hawkeye’s legs faltered and she staggered, moving out of his line of sight.

Roy watched on, mute and frozen.

She hit the floor hard, one hand clutching her shoulder and Roy watched as her head bounce sickeningly off the concrete. A sea of blue surrounded him to form a perimeter, protecting him and the downed soldier, but Roy didn’t care. He saw the hand she’d used to clutch at her shoulder fall limp onto the ground as her body went still.

“Lieutenant!” he barked. Knees hitting the ground roughly, he gently rolled her onto her back. She was silent and her eyes were closed. Bending over her head, his cheek near her mouth, Roy checked to see if she was breathing –

It was there. Her chest was rising and falling. He could feel the warm air tickling his face.

She was alive.

Roy bowed his head, the weight of his relief crushing him as his forehead pressed against hers.

Riza gasped in pain beneath him, causing Roy’s body to jerk up so he could give her some room to breathe.

“Lieutenant?” he whispered. He shifted around, facing her head on.

While her eyelids fluttered open, unfocussed and unseeing, Roy cupped her cheeks with both his hands, hoping to try and give her something to focus on. It wasn’t entirely appropriate, but he didn’t care. His heart was hammering too hard in his chest and he felt too ill after seeing her take a bullet for him to give a damn. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her eyes roll back, but then she blinked again, and she seemed to be a little clearer. Roy’s thumb stroked over her cheek. He couldn’t resist. Anything to bring her back to him.

“Sir,” she groaned. Her head tried to roll to the side, but he kept it in place.

“Lie still,” he ordered, but it was soft. His heart was in his throat while adrenaline coursed through his body, so he didn’t have much energy to spare to make it a real order. “Your head took a pretty hard knock.”

“Roy,” she breathed quietly.

He didn’t need to worry too much about anyone overhearing. The atmosphere around them was raucous. People were shouting orders while civilians were screaming. Someone was yelling, asking where the hell the shooter was, while another was angrily demanding the ambulance should hurry up.

The bullet had grazed her shoulder. The shooter’s aim was off. He couldn’t get a good enough read on it though, because the area was oversaturated with blood by the time he’d glanced over at it.

“You’ll be fine, Lieutenant,” he reassured her. He hoped so. “Keep your neck still though.” He adjusted his grip on her cheeks, maintaining pressure. He was simply following protocol for a spinal injury after that nasty head knock –

Pain exploded in his chest. Roy gasped as his body was jerked roughly forward by an unseen force, collapsing over Riza’s body. She gasped in pain, a loud wheeze leaving her throat as he crushed her body with his own.

“Sir!” Her call was choked, her voice failing her as he’d knocked the air from her lungs already.

His hand flew up to his own gunshot wound as he struggled to roll off her body, clutching at his chest. Roy’s groan was loud as more shouts sounded around the area. Soldiers were demanding the shooter be located and the world around him darkened a little more, thanks to the tightening perimeter.

“Roy!”

He couldn’t answer her. His eyes flew open in agony, feeling the pain choking every breath from his lungs. Roy had turned his head, the action feeling like a great effort, so he could face Riza. However, his eyelids drooped, but he still saw the look in her eyes. Despite the bullet invading his chest, it tightened in response to seeing how alarmed and upset she looked. The Lieutenant had been shot. She couldn’t physically go and get help herself, so they were both stuck in a stalemate, unable to help the other. It crushed Roy too, knowing that he couldn’t fight for her life either. Instead, he was stuck on the cold ground by her side,

Roy grunted as he fought to open his eyes and keep them that way, fighting the oncoming darkness, but it was incredibly difficult. His arm twitched, aching to reach out for her fingers, but it wouldn’t move. The pain in his chest was paralysing his body, disobeying his wishes.

He couldn’t even hold her hand as he slipped away.

Left only one choice, he met her wet eyes with his own. A tear tracked down the side of his face, disappearing into his hair as his eyes closed one final time. The last thing he saw was her mouth parting and her eyes closing. Her head had been lifted, her neck straining so she could see him, but that suddenly fell limp onto the concrete.

Roy felt so cold.

He’d been so focussed on his Lieutenant that he hadn’t noticed the greying corners of his vision. That encroaching colour was becoming darker, quickly turning black.

One more time, he grunted and tried to move his arm, to reach out and grasp her hand and hold onto them tightly. He needed his anchor right now. He needed to feel her warmth and the pulse beneath her skin as he fought to survive. The only reason he was fighting, was so that he could get her help and see her again.

His wish was never granted.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #... dont hate me #for i just love teh angst #emma writes #ask #anon

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daredevile · 4 years

Text

Lumière

Summary: Lost in a timeless world of grief and sorrow, Bucky longs for a guiding light to lead him through the dark.

Warnings: Angst, character death, miscarriage

A/N: This one's for @ussgallifreyfics‘ writing challenge and my prompt was 'it never hurts to keep looking for sunshine.'

The engine lulls into a hushed purr and he just wants to scream. Destroy every obstacle in his path. Veer left into the serene tides below the bridge - because at least then, he'd be in control of his end.

Dusk befalls upon weary skies and lights around him twinkle awake as nature unfolds into its own Starry Night. He strains his neck over the fluorescent hues of reds and yellows, knuckles burning white against the frayed leather wheel. And all he sees is miles and miles of vehicles sprayed onto eternal roads.

A part of him regrets it. Succumbing to those longing urges his subconscious sweeps into his slumber. As if Zeus, himself, branded his soul to the Underworld, casting the burden of reality upon the boulder he's cursed to bear till the thread of life ceases.

His gaze flickers to the stream below, the swaying of water had always embraced him with a sense of tranquillity - now, waves crash against the green, forever seized by the currents. He wants to escape too. Defeated by the cards the universe forced into his hands because he can't continue living hopeful lies expecting the bliss that'll never arrive.

The window rolls down and the mighty thrust of winter winds rush inside for warmth. His jaw clenches as the breeze trespasses his solitude and he considers abandoning the car because, much like the river beneath, he's imprisoned to this obscure sea of time.

Truth be told, he has no destination. Merely weaved into the plane of existence long enough till his will to endure the agony, wanes. It's the least he owes her.

The abrupt knocking on glass captures his attention. Palms flat against the window, a baby girl - no more than three - lights up when he catches sight of her big doe eyes. And for the first time in months, a smile willingly appears on his face, his shoulders ease and he's forgotten all the grief and sorrow the world has to offer.

Her hands extend from the seatbelt, motioning him to come closer. He sends her a small wave before her mother places a bottle of milk within her grasp and she lowers back into the seat. All he sees is the crown of her head bouncing up and down before their car inches forward and the feeling of numbness tunnels its path into his heart, again.

Right as the door opened, his hands snaked around your waist, chin resting atop your shoulder - and before you could face him, his lips pressed against the soft skin. For a second, your heart stopped and his laugh sent butterflies to your stomach. Swaying along to his humming, you leaned back into his soothing embrace.

"Ok, babe. Close your eyes."

"What're you doing Bucky?" You asked as he twirled you back into his arms. He bit back a grin, eyes instinctively fluttering towards the guest bedroom.

"Thought I asked you to close your eyes?" He whispered while you tried turning around, warm hands brushed past your lips as he covered your eyes. He paused in front of the guest room, guiding your hand to the doorknob before murmuring into your ear.

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

A gasp escaped from your lips in shock. Overwhelmed by the drastic modification of the room, you turned towards Bucky in wonder. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, shirt unbuttoned and hair dishevelled - the result of a day's work. He chuckled under your gaze, eager to show you every little thing he'd made.

"Now, I know we said we'd do this together, but I wanted to surprise you."

"Bucky - it's perfect."

"Just wait till you see these!" He uncovered two pairs of baby shoes from the drawers, holding them in one hand each with the most radiant smile you'd ever seen and the pure gesture melted your heart.

Noticing your glossy eyes and loss for words, he pulled you into his chest, tracing calming patterns on your back. When you placed your lips on his jaw, he sighed with content, his hands caressing over your baby bump.

"We're gonna be great parents, I know it."

No. He forcefully wipes the tears trailing down his face - he cannot descend into this chasm of nothing, again. His hands seize the wheel because control brings even the smallest ray of sunshine to his thunderstorm.

He lost track of time a few months ago. Solely adrift in space, floating away to the horizon of forever. Because what's the point anyways? Everything is always taken from him. Ripped into a million shreds of distant memories. But, emptiness always welcomes him.

A faint melody travels through the steel bubble of a nearby car - an elderly couple humming along to classics from their time. He envies their rapture, not troubled by the miles of traffic ahead, but it fades into a forlorn desire that slips away from his fingertips.

The house was mute, dreading the silence that has fallen within these walls. Gloomy hallways, stale food and sealed doors. The living room had divided itself into two and it was only an exchange of reserved glances and sharp breaths.

"Y/N, there's nothing you could've - " It was anger. It was confusion. It was a cry for help. No amount of good would ever mend the puncture in his heart, he didn't need stitches - all he asked for was a band-aid.

"Stop. Just - please don't."

Neither of you had entered that room again, afraid to get caught in a realm of imaginary optimism where everything will be normal. The air was suffocating, mournful and miserable ever since the visit to the hospital yesterday. None of those meaningless words of sympathy and pity went into your minds.

Nothing he could do or say could ease the pain. And so, he stood up, slipped into his coat and reached for the door. His eyes found two tiny pairs of shoes laying right next to his and after a moment, he walked out with a heavy heart.

Time was what we need, he thought. That he'd return in a couple of days and somehow they'd get through this together. But time is funny. It enjoyed tearing him apart, taunting his life. It reminded him that he's alive and his baby girl isn't.

It's the thunder of engines revving that brings him to his senses. No matter how much he tried convincing himself to see you, his instincts begged otherwise. And every time he's restrained to the car, the streets always moulded into paths towards you, yet he steered to the opposite. But now, it's the least he owes her.

The barren streets unfurl in front of him, colours glossing over every circle and edge as he drives by the tiny shops. The world ahead fades from noir to pastel, eager eyes devouring every light. The steel bubble of the car bursts and he's exposed to the misfortunes of the universe as the door locks.

He skips over the creaky step, fist raised against the wooden door. A sense of familiarity washes over him and he knocks twice. It's mere seconds before the door swings open and your stoic expression is all that greets him.

Hesitant, he shuffles his foot back - a minute response to which a veil of tears glazes your eyes. His hands naturally guide you into his embrace, a wave of relief settles inside when you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. I really am, it's my fault - " You whisper into his shirt.

"No, Y/N it's no one's fault. What happened to us wasn't fair. But, we don't have to forget and move on to survive. Just please...please promise me you'll stay - we'll help each other. Together." He stares into your eyes, searching for any doubt, but his worries dissolve into serenity when a soft smile tugs on your lips.

"I promise, Bucky."

#gallifreys500 #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky fic

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mystic-kitten-writer · 5 years

Text

Limerence [M] ︳26

Pairing: Zuko x OC

AU: Adult-Verse

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 5900+

Notes: IMPORTANT NOTE: My writing schedule is being thrown into a loop. I’m still be posting once a week, but for the time being, instead of a set date of posting (Friday), I’m going to post as often as I can. That way I’m not stressing about posting at a specific date. You’re still getting a chapter! It just may take longer. I hope I don’t upset anyone with this change.

Besides that, I hope you enjoy the chapter and don’t be shy to leave a comment, like, or reblog! Thank you for your love and support, and take care~!

Masterlist ︳25 ︳ 27

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person. The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Nefarious

(Latin/adj.) Wicked, villainous, despicable.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

Zuko didn’t seem to clue in to the fact that I was watching him.

A frown painted that handsome face of his, dashing from corner to corner, overturning every single box, cream, and lotion that laid on our dresser and vanity. I could tell he was trying to remain calm, being as quiet as possible as he still thought I was asleep.

But despite his attempt to remain calm, I could see the flickers of fire wander around him, every deep huff of his just emphasizing that he was flustered. I looked at the window, rubbing my eyes tiredly and slightly annoyed. The sun was starting to rise, the air crisp and dewy.

Zuko said I was crazy for saying that he didn’t know how to relax, but this was just another example to prove my point. Who in the world wakes up early to go for a morning jog during a vacation? I huffed, sitting upright and pushing the warm blankets off my body.

So entranced with finding whatever he sought after, Zuko didn’t even hear my huff or the way I slipped out of bed and put on my robe. He wore casual clothing this morning, and I found myself smiling. How I wish he dressed as relaxed as he did now more often.

It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his royal attire, trust me – he was a snack when he was dressed to the spirits. But it was also lovely seeing him comfy. Not with a tight bun, body-hugging clothing. He was always on his toes – but seeing him like this made me smile.

The way his long locks fell along his shoulders, loose T-shirt and baggy pants…

Without warning, I wrapped my arms around Zuko - humming softly and feeling his warmth along my skin. As much as I enjoyed the heat of Ember Island – I wouldn’t trade it for Zuko’s natural warmness.

Zuko’s breath hitched, hugging my arms and looking over his shoulder with a frown, “I’m sorry, did I wake you, love?”

“Mhmm.” I giggled, stuffing my face into his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted as he chuckled. “Sorry, uh, now that you’re awake though…have you seen some creams?”

I pulled away, looking at Zuko with confusion. My head tilted, pondering to myself as to what creams Zuko could want. I waltzed over to my vanity - gazing, “What type of creams?”

“Uh…just plain white bottles.”

I turned around, noticing how hesitant Zuko was to speak, his voice wary. A small pout formed on my lips, crossing my arms as I looked at him, “Spill Zuko.”

“It’s nothing, forget it.” He grumbled, ready to walk away, but before he could, I grabbed his arm, pulling him close. And it was then I realized – his scar.

It was dry, ashy; the skin pulled tight around his face. There was no way in the world that it wasn’t irritating him. His eye was slightly veiny, red. Probably from him rubbing the skin during his sleep without realizing and I frowned, “Zuko-”

“Don’t worry, I probably forgot it at home-”

“Zuko stop!” I hissed, grabbing his arm more forcibly and making him stay put. Gosh, the skin was so irritated. I need to do something.

But Zuko scowled, “It’s fine, don’t worry-”

“Stop acting so damn tough! I care, I worry. So sit down on the bed while I figure something out.” I shouted, and for the very first time in our relationship, I snapped at him.

The way Zuko’s eyes widen in shock, never hearing my voice raised, especially towards him. But what could I say, I was annoyed. Not only did he wake me up early, now he has to act all ‘manly,’ unable to admit that he was in pain - and that drove me nuts.

I shoved him towards the bed, huffing under my breath as I dashed towards the washroom, not giving him the time of day to argue with me. He’s lucky I didn’t freeze his damn ass to the ground and leave him for days.

My eyes scanned about, searching for what I needed…a towel…a cup…

I dashed towards the sink, filling the glass with some cold water before walking out of the bathroom. I swear if he’s not there sitting on the bed-

A small smirk flickered on my lips.

Zuko sat on the bed, pouting like a child with his arms crossed, evidently ticked off at how I yelled at him. I pushed back the giggle that wanted to erupt because I still had to play the part of being angry – or else this man will never listen to me. Although I had to say – he looked adorable sulking like that.

My feet obnoxiously stomped on the ground, trying to play the part that I was still upset, but the moment my eyes lined up with his face I softened.

His scar was a blistering red. Usually, the skin was muted, although red – and it wasn’t as rash or vibrant. But today, it was different. A shade of red I’ve never seen before.

I sulked, stepping forward and outstretching the cup towards him, “Hold it for me please…” Zuko gazed at me wearily, hesitance written all over his face, “What are you going to do?” He huffed - a bit more bite in his voice than usual. But I ignored it, Zuko may look like a lion, but he was just an adorable cat.

“Trust me,” I said softly, letting my hands cup his face as he held the cup of water. His eye twitched, struggling to see, and I pouted.

Zuko was in pain, I could tell.

The way his jaw clenched, forehead pinched together, a hand of his digging into his leg. And in a bold move, I let my hand gently caress the wound. The hiss he released, but he didn’t make a move to pull away.

I could feel it.

The way the blood fought to pump around the skin, struggling to carry the necessary water to keep the skin hydrated. He needed moisture, water.

With a flick of my fingers, I could feel the water rise from the cup, Zuko twitching from the cold liquid sliding across his skin, “Shut your eyes…” I muttered softly, letting my hand brush over his eyes, his lids fluttering close.

My eyes shut, trying to figure out the sore spot.

‘Focus on the way the blood pumped,’ my mom always said when healing. It was a trick she adopted, instead of conducting the regular check up on patients, she used to feel the way the blood flowed in one’s body – and from that, she could tell what was wrong with patients. Discovering health concerns that no doctor had figured out until she mentioned it.

My brows pinched together, letting my water freeze slightly over his scar while allowing the water that directly touched his skin penetrate. Zuko gasped from underneath me, wincing slightly and my eyes opened, “Am I hurting you? Let me stop-”

“No-” Zuko huffed, a hand tightly gripping my wrist, “It feels…good. Relief.” He shyly murmured under his breath. I couldn’t help but smile, noticing that the skin was muting in colour, no longer throbbing angrily.

I let my fingers dance along the skin around his eyes, feeling the majority of the damage there. A sad smile painted my face; I could only image how much it hurt. What person would do this to a child? To Zuko? No wonder Zuko always feared the thought of having a family, being a father – he didn’t exactly have the best experience besides Iroh. And it was then I decided to make a mental note to thank Iroh – for being the rock Zuko needed all his life.

The water was almost completely absorbed, and I began letting whatever ice I formed to start melting away and hydrating the skin as well. “You can open your eyes now…” I muttered softly, and when Zuko did open his eyes, my heart fluttered.

His eye was no longer red, strained or dry, but the usual vibrant gold I admired, “Better?” I hummed, grabbing the towel I let lay over my shoulder to tap whatever water remained.

I could see it, Zuko’s lip slightly curved upwards, cheeks crimsoned as he nodded, “Thank you…” He whispered, voice lacking his usual spunk. I pouted, realizing that my sudden outburst must have affected him.

He seemed torn - between wanting to argue and thanking me, “Sorry for getting upset with you.” I blurted, cheeks flushed as I pulled the towel away and grabbed the cup from his hand.

“No, don’t be. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.” Zuko spoke, shaking his head as he stood from the bed. His hand gently rose to touch his cheek, amazement in his eyes, “I thought you weren’t a good healer?” He mused, giving me a look of disbelief.

My cheeks coloured, shaking my head bashfully as I walked over to the vanity to set the materials down, “I’m not, my mother was though. I can only try…” I muttered. But a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, feeling Zuko’s chin resting on my shoulder. The sudden warmth, feeling him so close made my shoulders relax, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Yue.”

I smiled, shaking my head, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me; I was just worried-”

“You have every right to worry and know what’s going on, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you?”

With that statement, I turned around. Letting my arms wrap around Zuko’s waist as he grinned, “You like being spoiled, huh?” Zuko chuckled, watching the way my eyes lit up at the mere thought of getting something. I giggled, shrugging my shoulders as I fell into his embrace, “It’s your fault; you spoil me too much.”

“Pinning it back on me – I see what you’re doing.”

“Oh, you love me.”

“I do. So how about…I make you tea?”

I jumped, looking at Zuko with a big smile, “Tea?”

Zuko worked at a tea shop, and he told me that he learned a few tips and tricks about tea making back at the Southern Water tribe – boy does time fly by. And given that Iroh is an avid tea-drinker, I had high hopes. It was small things like this, him making me tea, waking up in the morning to his sleepy face that made me so happy.

I skipped away, opening the door and tightening the stash on my robe, “Let’s go!” I chirped, only to earn a laugh from Zuko.

Elbows on the counter, chin on my palms, I sat with full attention to Zuko.

I knew that the man was just making tea, but in my eyes – it was the most magical thing in the world. I watched keenly, studying his every move. Zuko finally poured the hot liquid into two cups and slid it towards me, chuckling, “You’re watching me as if I’m going to quiz you after.”

“Well I gotta say, I got a cute teacher.” I teased, only to earn a flick on my forehead. A small pout formed on my lips as Zuko rolled his eyes at my words, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

With a tiny spoon, I stirred the milk and honey, watching the hot liquid stir around in the cup. And once satisfied, I lifted the cup to my lips, sipping - thistle. The floral tones, with a pinch of sweetness from the honey and creaminess from the milk - I smiled.

“You like thistle?” I hummed, taking a sip of the tea as Zuko drank, staring through the window and watching the sun rise over the crystal waters of the beach. “Never really drank it till today,” Zuko said, scratching his neck sheepishly. I giggled, shaking my head at his response before stealing another sip, “For some odd reason, Kima and Lia packed a bunch of it. Same with ginger root and stone seed root.” Zuko spoke, opening a cabinet and proving his point.

I brought the cup down from my lips, pouting as I studied the teas. Thistle…ginger root…stone seed root…

“They have some sort of herbal properties – I remember my mom telling a few locals to drink those teas,” I answered, tilting my head to the side. “And now that you mentioned it, ever since I came to the kingdom, Lia always gave me a tea in the morning, and it was always between those three.”

“Maybe high in some sort of vitamins? Now I’m slightly jealous. It’s like she takes better care of you than me.”

“Well, she’s my maid after all.”

“And I’m the Fire Lord.”

I rolled my eyes, stealing another sip, “I’ll ask the maids when they come, maybe they know. Are you going for your jog now?”

Zuko nodded, placing the dirty cup in the sink before leaning over the counter, “And don’t you dare think for a second that I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” I asked, confused by the glare he gave me, “That you still need to train. So get changed so we can go for a jog.”

“Oh, come on!” I whined, letting my body fall against the marble, huffing like a child. There was no way in the spirit world; I would be training during my vacation. But Zuko’s hands ruffled my hair, pulling on my robe and making me look upwards, “Come on babe, either we run or we train tonight with your bending.”

“A run it is!” I sheepishly grinned, pushing the empty teacup to him. Zuko chuckled, shaking his head before a knock on the door caught my attention. I hopped off the stool, “Probably the workers and maids, let them in, love.” I nodded my head, opening the door with a bright smile, “Good morning!”

The workers and maids smiled, watching how cheery I was, bowing as I moved to the side.

“Good morning Imperial Consort, Fire Lord Zuko.” They all muttered, bowing before walking off to their work. Zuko let out a soft smile, nodding his head as he began washing the cups. “Oh, Fire Lord Zuko let me-”

“It’s fine; I got it,” Zuko spoke, letting the water splash over the dishware. The maids anxiously gazed at each other, and I let my hand fall over their shoulder, “It’s fine. It’s nice being…normal.” I whispered, watching Zuko wash the dishes.

The tiny things in life…

“I have a question!” I jumped, tugging the maids towards the kitchen, and pointing at the teas, “What are these teas for, do they do something?”

The way their cheeks flushed, looking at themselves with stifled giggles, “A-are you really asking us?” A maid cheekily blurted, giving me wide eyes. I looked back at Zuko, who was still seemingly oblivious to the conversation, “I have no clue…”

“I-it’s to prevent, uh…how do I say this…a natural form of birth control.”

My cheeks flushed, utterly rosy as I quickly shut the cabinet and timidly smiled at them. My mouth formed into a giant ‘O,’ tugging any loose hairs behind my ear, “T-thanks for the clarification.”

“So, what is it? Vitamins?” Zuko asked from behind me, his hands gripping my hips. I tensed, looking up at his face, a face filled with curiosity. “You know, it’s nothing. Just forget about it.”

“But I want to know.”

“Let it go Zuko!” I grumbled, walking away with rosy cheeks, and that just seemed to fuel him more. The maids giggled behind us, watching the way I actively avoided his pestering. So when the older man from yesterday walked in front of me, bowing and started talking, I gave him a massive mental thanks.

“Did you go through the box I gave you yesterday? There were a few photos; I figured you might want to hang some throughout the home.” He smiled. My eyes widen, shaking my head, “I forgot! How about you go for the run Zuko while I organize what’s inside the box.” I said with a grin.

The look Zuko gave me, a frown as he huffed, “You just don’t want to go on the run.”

“I really don’t…”

Zuko’s hands wrapped about my waist, grumbling into my messy bedhead, “Fine. Put the things into piles while I go for a run. When I come back, we can pick and choose, okay?”

I skipped, hugging Zuko happily before pecking his lips, “You’re the best.”

Zuko laughed, pulling away before walking towards the entrance, “See you la-”

“Fire Lord Zuko!”

The front door swung open, a flustered worker panting heavily. They gazed over me briefly before their eyes fell upon Zuko with urgency, “Mihir, he requests your audience.”

And just like yesterday, Zuko tensed.

The way he walked towards the door, a grimace on his face as he hesitantly looked over his shoulder to me, “I-I’ll be back. I should be quick.”

I pouted, wanting to ask what this Mihir person could possibly want two days in a row, but Zuko left in a flash. The door shut behind him, disappearing as quickly as Aang does, like a breeze itself. What in the world is going on with Zuko?

“Imperial Consort Ying Yue…?”

I turned around, gazing at the construction manager with a sad smile, “It must be tough…” He spoke softly, scared to over-step but wanting to comfort me. My hands pulled on my robe, bringing it tighter to my body as I nodded, “Fire Lord first, Zuko second.” I hummed, the saying I’ve repeated to myself the moment I accepted that seal back at the Southern Water Tribe.

“As a husband, a father, I can tell he loves you.”

“I know…good thing I’ve learned a thing or two about patience.” The man chuckled, nodding his head, “You’ll make a brilliant Fire Queen.”

Fire Queen.

I shyly smiled, blushing at the comment, “Thank you. I should get sorting.”

“If you need help, let me know, I could get some of the workers to help out.”

“Thank you! I will.” I sang before dashing into the bedroom. I slid the door behind me, enjoying the fresh breeze, the sunlight lighting up the bedroom. And it was then I spotted it, the box at the end of the bed.

Not bothering to change out of my pyjamas, I sat down on the floor, scrunching my nose as a bit of dust danced in the air as I pulled the box closer. It wasn’t a big box, or heavy, mostly filled with old stuffed animals, and photos. I wonder if they’re any embarrassing baby photos of Zuko…oh my gosh - imagine a naked baby photo of him?

I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, Ursa seems like the type of mom that would do that, and I grinned.

The first goal; organize the box.

The second goal; look for any embarrassing photos of Zuko to use as blackmail.

I pulled out the first photo and already started giggling – Zuko in an adorable sailor suit. This is going to be a great day.

~ Fire Lord Zuko ~

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the theatre, bouncing off the walls, and projecting piercingly down the empty halls. It was the only place where I knew I could get privacy, able to speak about guarded matters without eavesdropping. And although the local theatre was small, it would suffice.

I stepped forward, and I could see him - Mihir.

Like usual, he wore black clothing, not leaving an inch of skin exposed, including his fingers. He tug his red scarf closer to his face, the only skin visible in his entire attire. Just seeing him wearing such dark colours and tight fitting clothing made me sweat, the man must be boiling alive. But I pushed the thought away, because even if he were sweltering – Mihir would never say a word.

His dark eyes aligned with mine, wrinkles peeking through and showing his age. I finally spoke, “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to come back in two we-”

“I think he’s alive.”

“What?”

My breath hitched, stepping forward with a look of disbelief, searching for any sign that Mihir was bluffing. But his stern eyes never wavered, and if there was one thing I knew, it was that Mihir never lied.

He was an informant, always searching and retrieving information regarding every single thing and being in the Fire Nation. If he said something – it was never less of the truth. With outstretched hands, he held out the papers, and I grabbed them.

My eyes scanned the documents, General Axe.

A giant x and skull decorated the name, and in an instance I flipped open the papers, looking for any new information. But a frown soon appeared on my face, looking up at Mihir with confusion, “Why are you giving me this? I gave this to you; I already know what’s inside.”

“Look again; we missed something.”

I frowned, walking to a free desk and letting the papers rest. Eyes frantically searching for that piece of information Mihir wanted me to see. General Axe was a traitor, due to leaking information. I already knew this; fuck even Yue told me that. So what is it?

“Her mother’s body - they found it, burned it, and destroyed all evidence that she even existed. But they never found his.”

“What are you trying to hint at?”

“What if General Axe never died? What if he managed to escape?” Mihir said, flipping the papers back, pointing at the red skull that loomed over his name, “What if this mark, shouldn’t be here. Because the job was never completed.”

I pulled away, looking at him in disbelief, “Are you saying they failed the assassination? We are talking about skilled warriors-”

“Ying Yue got away, a child. Why couldn’t he, a trained warrior?”

My mouth shut, lips pressed tight as I ran my hands through my hair. I should be happy, happy that I found something. All I wanted was to find some long-lost family of Yue’s.

Aang, Sokka, even Toph, told me how much Yue longed to reconnect with family. Regardless if they’re distant members, but this was more than I bargained. I wouldn’t be introducing her to some distant uncles or cousins; I would be bringing her dad back from the fucking grave.

“It would explain…a lot.” Mihir spoke, watching the way I fought with myself. “We know for a fact that General Axe had no siblings and his parents died years ago. But whenever I asked colleagues or friends about him, they all seemed hesitant. As if they were hiding something.”

I groaned, slapping my hands on my face.

Why. Is. Life. So. Difficult.

“But why? Why hide? Why not find Ying Yue? He left her alone all those damn years; it broke her.”

“Because while you and I know that what he did was for the greater good – he’s still a traitor to the Fire Nation.”

“He’s scared that he’ll endanger her...”

“Fire Lord Zuko, this is bigger than the both of us. All of his colleagues and friends who supported him have either retired early or weren’t aware of his secret love affair. But some of them do know about Ying Yue. And they know that your consort is his child.”

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.” I hissed, and Mihir nodded, “It can be. Because someone years ago leaked that information to your father, someone who was pro-war. And if word goes out, that you’re dating the daughter of a traitor, they could use that against you – get your father back to the throne.”

Fuck.

I huffed despairingly, leaning against the desk with a range of emotions. This was supposed to be a cute fucking surprise. Hopefully, introduce Yue to some extended family, have a lovely bloody dinner – the regular stuff. But instead, I dug myself into another scandal as if the council wasn’t already struggling to wrap their heads around the fact that Yue was a damn Waterbender.

“We can fix this, before news of this breaks. If we find General Axe, lift his ‘traitor status,’ scandal goes poof.”

“How? If Yue’s father is alive, and that’s a huge fucking IF - he’s hiding. And if he’s been able to go under the radar for this long, there’s no way we can find him.”

“Don’t underestimate my skills,” Mihir smirked, and for a split moment, I relaxed. Mihir crossed his arms smugly, “I’ve been doing this for thirty years, I worked for your Uncle, and now I work for you. And I didn’t pledge myself to you to fail.”

“Mihir, if you’re right, we need to be smart.” He nodded, grabbing the scattered papers on the desk and putting them away neatly. But as his hands brushed along the documents, he paused, “You never told her yet, have you?”

Silence.

I looked away, gazing through the windows and watching the motion of the distant water. The way sun reflected off the waves, birds flying high into the sky, “No…I can’t do that to Ying Yue. Give her false hope. It’ll hurt her if we find nothing, and I can’t do that.”

“And what if her father is alive? Then what?”

"I guess I can finally ask General Axe.”

“Ask what?”

“His blessing in marriage.”

Mihir smiled, tugging the folder into his shirt before walking towards the door, “I’ll do my best; I haven’t been to a wedding in a while. See you soon.” I nodded, the sound of the door opening and closing, and my soft breathing echoing.

My head spun, sighing as I rubbed my face in defeat. This was supposed to be a nice vacation, some time off for just me and Yue. But more importantly, a chance to get her to safety, away from whoever the snitch at the kingdom was, and just thinking about it made me groan in annoyance.

I was tired, so damn tired. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed a damn hug – her hug. Her hair in my face, her soft giggles, just her.

I straighten, rolling my shoulders back as I cracked my fingers, “Maybe I could pick up some biscuits-”

“I haven’t had cookies from the town in such a long time Zuzu, thanks for offering.”

My blood ran cold, turning on my heel at the sound of that voice. It was a voice I’ve long forgotten, put away and left for dead. My fists rose, feet planting on the ground as I twisted. But my mouth dropped as I saw a slender body easing its way out of the shadows, a wicked smirk playing on her face, “Long time no see Zuzu.”

“Azula.”

She didn’t change a damn bit.

Her black hair still up in a ponytail, bangs framing her face as she waltzed around the room. I let the flames in my fists build, watching her every move, but her eyes flickered over to me once again, fingers dragging along the old theatre props with a gaze of boredom, “Relax, I didn’t come to fight.”

“And we both know you didn’t come to make friends.” I hissed. Azula grinned, tapping her cheek in amusement, “I wouldn’t worry too much about her father. That’s not where the secrets lie.”

My eyes narrowed, matching her footsteps, keeping myself at a fair distance; trying to keep cool all the while staying alert. How many years has it been since I’ve last seen her? Two, three? More.

And no matter how many years have passed, nothing but dread filled my heart. Because the truth was, I would’ve rested better knowing she was just dead.

“What do you want Azula?”

“I’m going to say this once Zuzu, so listen carefully.” She hissed, and I cringed at hearing her stupid nickname for me, a nickname I’ve only heard come from Kiyi’s lips. The closest thing I ever had to a little sister, and she wasn’t even entirely related to me.

Azula’s lips twisted to that of a smirk, “Your girlfriend isn’t what she seems. She’s hiding a secret. Forget about the father – research the mother. We both know the mother’s side is far more interesting.”

“And makes you think that I’ll trust you – of all fucking people,” I growled. She’s still insane – that’s for sure. But Azula rolled her eyes, flicking her wrist as if to dismiss my words. “Fine, don’t listen. But if she starts to control you from the inside out, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What?” I gasped, trying to decipher her words. But Azula leaned against an old prop, crossing her arms, “She’s a Bloodbender, you idiot.”

“You’re fucking insane Azula. There’s were two Bloodbenders in this whole world; Katara and Yakone.”

But the way her grin lit up hearing Yakone’s name, “Make it three now. And ask her about Yakone; I bet the name will ring a bell in that girl's head.” I frowned, because memories of that night, the dinner party with the Earth King flooded my mind. The way Yue flinched at the mention of Bloodbending, the name Yakone…Could Azula-

“These accusations – it’s insulting, we both know that.”

“What’s more insulting is that you plan on getting married and I haven’t gotten a wedding invitation. Although I understand why - it’s not like you’ll go through with it. A Waterbender, a Bloodbender, plus the daughter of a traitor. You really know how to pick them Zuzu.”

“Insult her one more time-”

Azula smiled, licking her lips as she leaned forward, “Bloodbender.”

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

A soft smile flickered upon my lips as my fingers trailed along the photos. They were beautiful, and it was a shame that most of them were wrinkled or burnt. Whatever photos were at the top were of Zuko and Ursa. And Ursa looked gorgeous, so proud of her son, bearing the sweetest smile, the smile of a mother. Gosh, I hope I can age like her – gracefully.

And the more I studied her soft features, her stunning smile; it made more sense where Zuko got his looks. They were so much alike, and as I flipped through the pictures, I saw more.

Zuko getting older - crawling, standing, walking, going up the porch stairs. And despite his physical changes, hair getting longer, more sturdy, there was one thing that remained the same - that captivating twinkle in his eyes. He was adorable, and the smile on me grew more. I was a sucker for Zuko, but more so for a baby Zuko.

But as the pictures got older, I noticed something change with Ursa. Her belly was getting bigger…face a bit puffy. She’s pregnant in these! Zuko’s sister.

I knew that Zuko had a sister, a sister other than Kiyi - Azula. The infamous Fire Nation Princess, the prodigy. But that was all she was to me, rumours. Katara told me how strong she was, what a skilled fighter she was, and her blue flames – a rarity in itself. But not once had Zuko mention her to me. And for the first time in my life, it was something I wasn’t all too curious about asking.

My brows pinched together, seeing a few baby photos, evidently her. Ursa was smiling, Zuko looking over Azula with curiosity. Should I hide these from Zuko? Would he even want to see them? I frowned and found myself putting down the images; I shouldn’t

I felt like I was overstepping suddenly.

It felt dirty looking at these pictures. I have to put them away; I can look at these when Zuko comes back, I can’t-

And as I leaned forward to make a separate pile for the private photos, the film shifted, spilling over and scattering across the ground. I hissed loudly, scrambling to put them away. Why must I be such a bloody clutz? And as my hands frantically grabbed the photos, I stopped.

Because I was met with a pair of eyes that pierced through my heart.

The same eyes that haunted me from the moment I got to the Fire Nation, and last night. I reached forward, grabbing the photo. Her black hair, narrowed eyes, that smirk – it was the maid from last night but-

She was young in this photo, a child, and is that...Mai?

I sat back, studying the picture. It had to be Mai. But…why would a maid be playing with royalty? The clothing she wore was not of a maid, but of royalty – no. Even more magnificent, outshining Mai. Wait a minute…is that Ty Lee in the background too?

My head shot upwards, looking at the rest of the scattered photos that lay on the floor, my heart beating. Because realization hit, a dirty reality snuck under me with such force I stopped breathing altogether. It can’t be- gosh no.

Another picture – she was sitting with Ursa and Zuko.

Another one – they were at the beach, Mai blushing beside Zuko.

Her Zuko and Mai. Her Zuko and Mai. Her, Zuko and Mai-

No, no, no-

“A royal bed warmer.”

I stood up, my stomach in my throat, running to the door. “Imperial Consort Ying Yue?” A maid gasped, looking at me with fear. But I didn’t care.

I didn’t care that my hair wasn’t done, that I was still wearing my damn pyjamas because my worst fears were coming true, “Where’s Zuko?” I gasped, tears threatening to spill over.

The maids frowned, looking at one another, a few construction workers stopped and seeing my fear, “W-we don’t know, are you alright, sit down-”

“No, I need him now.” I cried, and right away, their eyes widen. My head spun, blood cold and palms sweaty, I feel like I’m going to be sick. “Ying Yue, you’re as white as a ghost, what’s wrong?” They begged, grasping my hands as I shook like a leaf, “I just need Zu-”

“Yue.” My head shot upwards; front door flung open.

“Zuko.” I gasped, running forward. His brows pinched together, seeing me all frazzled, but I also noticed he looked disorganized.

“My sister – you’re in danger.”

“I know the snitch – it’s Mai.”

Both of your eyes widen.

Welp…this vacation went to shits.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

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detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman · 4 years

Text

Chapter 13 - You Have a Choice to Make

Part 13/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 12,273

Warnings: Swearing, gun violence, death, character death mention, genocide mention.

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Thanks to the key that Simon gave Detective Rachel, she and Connor were able to locate Jericho. However, even arriving together, their goals were different. Rachel’s was to find Markus and warn him about the FBI and Connor’s was to neutralize Markus. But his software had grown exponentially unstable and his deviancy was clear for Rachel to see. It was clear that he had a destiny to confront. The time has come for him to decide who he is. A deviant with free will? Or an obedient machine?

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

---------------------------------

Getting off the train, Connor and I quickly arrived at the Ferndale train station. Upon getting off, I saw that it was mostly empty. “I’m kind of surprised that the trains are still going with this curfew active.” I commented, taking a good look around the station. The walls were covered with graffiti, mostly red from what I could tell from the limited light I had.

“The FBI is likely already preoccupied locating Jericho.” Connor commented. “Too much to enforce curfews effectively.”

“Maybe.” I said, stepping out onto the platform. I tried to think of what to do from here. He gave me the key. I thought. Maybe I can pull it up now that I’m here. Curiously, I looked down at my hand and deskinned it.

And something began to show on a small hologram. What looked like the graffiti found on the platform with a symbol in the centre of what appeared to be a humanoid abstracted silhouette. The symbol in the centre appeared to be what looked like a modified pound symbol in white.

Looking to my left, I spotted the graffiti I was looking for and approached it. And sure enough, I saw the symbol in the centre. Okay? Now what? Curious, I placed my hand on the symbol and stepped back.

Now, the image was replaced with a different one. Instead, the graffiti was mostly yellow. The image was a semi-realistic illustration of half of a lion’s face, the same symbol being in the top left. “So, we just follow the trail.” Connor remarked at me.

Looking up, I felt a surge of determination flow through my veins. We can find Jericho. I furrowed my brow and walked down the platform. We can find Markus. Connor followed behind me obediently, allowing me to take the lead.

We walked to the end of the upper floor of the platform and started quickly walking down the escalator, not wanting to waste any time. I had no hesitation and no doubts. In that moment, I thought that this must be what Connor felt like when he was first created.

I had an objective, and I had to complete it and I couldn’t let anything distract me. I marched like a woman on a mission, and I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way.

The escalator ended down onto the street, and right at the end on the opposing wall, I saw the graffiti I was looking for and marched straight to it. Connor was silent as he followed me, an action that I accepted with pride.

I was the leader and he was the follower. And it wasn’t something I had to tell him to do. It was a role that he actively chose in this moment.

To the right of the lion was also an illustration of a boxer. I quickly noticed that there were two instances of the symbol. One to the top left of the lion and the other to the bottom left of the boxer. I was able to reach the one by the boxer, but the one by the lion was a bit difficult to reach. “A little help here, Connor?” I asked him, straining as I tried to reach it.

Connor then lifted me up with ease as I placed my hand on it. After holding it there for a moment, he set me down and I looked down at my hand.

The next clue appeared on what looked like an alleyway corner, some star symbols above and below it with differently coloured quadrants. “Alright, now we know how this works.” I said, looking around the corner and then across the street. “No time to waste.”

--------

Some of the symbols were basically unreachable to me, so I had no choice but to actually give Connor the key, which meant I had to actually interface with him again.

It wasn’t as intense as before, but it was still really awkward to do with him. There was a lot I could feel from him, but it was muted.

We were focused on our mission, and we couldn’t let anything distract us.

At this point, we had left the streets and were weaving through rooftops and across dangerous gaps. I could see why this was only something androids could do. This was tough shit to do, physically speaking.

This was the point Connor started taking the lead, seeing as not only could he reconstruct, but he could also preconstruct. So he was able to see the safest routes of travel for the both of us, and I trusted him over my judgement.

Soon enough, we arrived, and I stared in awe at the sight before me. “Jericho’s a boat?” I said out loud, leaning into Connor’s side as we looked at it. “Wow, way to not tempt fate to just destroy your base.”

Connor looked back at me, his expression perplexed. “What?”

I silently groaned. “It’s a Palestinian city famous for getting constantly invaded, there’s a whole thing with a wall and a flood that we don’t have time to get into right now.” I waved him off. “Just look it up on your own time.”

I was almost shaking with anticipation. Inside was Markus. Inside was the answer to everything.

Inside was the cultivation of both Connor and I’s fates.

--------

Inside the freighter, I couldn’t help but stare in awe. There were androids everywhere. Androids helping one another with their injuries, androids dealing with weapons, and androids gathering around TV screens watching the news.

In this setting, it was more and more apparent that this was indeed a people. A living people.

But it was also extremely daunting for namely one reason. “This place is huge!” I whisper yelled at Connor, pulling on the sides of my hood to keep it down. “And there are hundreds, probably even thousands, of androids everywhere. How the Hell are we supposed to find Markus?”

“He stands out from other androids.” Connor said rather bluntly. “But you are right in that there’s a lot of space to cover.” He then put a hand on my shoulder. “We should split up. That way we can cover more ground.”

“Good idea.” I agreed. “But how are we gonna find each other?”

Connor shrugged. “I’m sure it won’t be hard.”

I glared at him sarcastically. “So, basically you’re expecting me to do all the work?”

“No, I just mean you’ll be easy for me to find.” Connor corrected. “Even among humans, you do stand out quite a bit.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to shrug off the feeling that was fluttering inside. “Okay. But we need to hurry!”

We then broke off in different directions as I made my way through the crowds of androids. As I filed my way through them, it wasn’t hard to see just how human-like they were, now that they weren’t under any sort of confines. And that only made my heart hurt more, as I saw the weapons laid on tables.

Things were going to get ugly. Here were an entire people, all in their stronghold, and this place was likely going to house these people’s doom.

I then narrowed my eyes and looked away. Not if I can help it. My thoughts were then broken by a strangely familiar voice. “Rachel?”

I looked around to where the source of the voice was and saw a face that seemed familiar. A black android, narrowing his eyes at me in confusion. One with a very uneven haircut and round marks on his face. “Micheal?” I asked, tentatively.

Instantly, his features softened as a smile graced his lips as he walked towards me. “Rachel!” He called happily.

I let out a relieved laugh as I approached him, meeting him with a bright smile. “Micheal!” I cried again. “I can’t believe you’re here! You have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

“You too!” He said, laughing nervously. “But...why are you here?”

I sighed. Oh God, where do I even start? “I do not have the time to explain everything, but I need you to know that Connor’s here too.” I started off, feeling out of breath and seeing the brief panic in Micheal’s eyes. “That’s not as bad as it sounds, but I don’t have time to explain why. Look, I need to find Markus and I need to find him before Connor does. Can you help me?”

Micheal nodded. “Of course, I’ll take you to him.” He agreed, already walking.

“Oh my God, thank you so much.” I groaned in appreciation, following behind him.

We walked up a set of stairs to an upper level, now looking down on the whole place. My eyes landed on Connor down below, who seemed to be looking around. I couldn’t help but admire the look he chose. He really did look cute in that getup.

As I walked behind Micheal, I noticed a protection in front of us of the news and then up on the wall, a symbol. It glowed brightly in the darkness, illuminating the inside of the freighter like the north star, Polaris.

It appeared to be a modified upside-down peace sign. But I could also see it as a more abstract and simplified Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. How fitting to be the symbol of the android rights movement. I thought.

As I was admiring the symbol, passing through androids watching the news, I realized that Micheal was leading me to the symbol. Underneath it was what looked something like a captain’s quarters, with several screens inside it and a single solemn figure sitting within it, his fist placed on his chin.

Markus.

I couldn’t help but become more and more timid and meek as we approached. This was the android who was the face of his people. The face of the oncoming revolution. The leader of Jericho and the deviants. It felt like a huge privilege that I was not deserving of to be so close to him.

But Micheal led me right to the entrance into the lit cabin, and knocked on the metal. “Markus?”

The android turned his attention towards us, and I felt my heart still at the sight of him. His gaze was intense, searching, and paralyzing. But this was undoubtedly Markus. His single blue and green eye each was a giveaway up close. But even more significant was the caramel hue to his skin and the rogue-like flair of his jacket.

“There’s someone you should meet.” Micheal introduced, gently pushing my inside. I swallowed and stood up straight, trying not to give away just how small and nervous I felt in his presence.

Markus narrowed his heterochromic eyes at me as he stood up and approached me. He was much taller in person and I couldn’t help but feel my breath hitch in my throat. “A human?” He asked, an edge to his voice that pierced into my soul like surgical steel.

“She was the one that repaired me.” Micheal said to my defense. “And who broke me out of the precinct. She saved my life.”

Markus’s stern skeptical look eased a bit at Micheal’s words. Patting my shoulder, the android walked away, leaving me alone with Markus and I could practically feel my heartbeat in my ears. Logically, I had no reason to fear Markus. But I couldn’t help but feel puny in his wake. “What do you want?” He asked bluntly, but not aggressively.

Swallowing my nerves, I narrowed my eyes at him and puffed out my chest. “My name is Rachel.” I introduced myself. “I work with Connor. The android investigating the deviants.” Markus’s eyes hardened and I could tell I was already not off to a great start. Just stay focused, say what you need to say short and sweet. “We were taken off the case just a few hours ago and it was taken over by the FBI. They have the evidence we collected, and I can bet it won’t be long before they find you. And when they find you, they will kill all of you!” Markus’s eyes widened. “I needed to warn you and any others that are part of your plans. Connor’s here as well and he’s looking for you, but I’ll explain further in a moment.”

Markus regarded me for a moment before he stepped closer to me, making me feel even more jittery. “Follow me. I’ll gather the others.”

I let out a sigh of relief and obeyed, quickly trailing behind him as he walked with haste. As I looked behind me at the crowds below, I felt like there was a stone in my gut. I hope Connor being here wasn’t a huge mistake.

--------

Date: November 9th, 2038 Time: 09:42 PM Rachel - P̸̨̼̳̻̤̦̒̌͑̉͑a̷̱̥̟̤̜͕̿̀̈̚ͅͅr̴̢̹̩̻̜͚͎̿͛̎͘͜ț̴̪͈͕̭̬̻͑̇͐͊̆̊͗͛ṇ̴̱̠̖̲̐̀͋̑̎e̵̪͇̻̙̤͓͔̻͖̋̾̑̆̚r̸̠̘̟͍͊?̵̛̘̟͎͈̉͑̈́̃̂̚͝ Objective: Find Markus

As Connor made his way through crowds of androids, he couldn’t find any sign of Markus. It was easier to keep track of Rachel than it was to find the leader of the deviants. He saw her making her way up to the upper level as he continued searching.

As he was filing through crowds of nameless androids, he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned around at the touch, Connor was faced by an android with dark skin and eyes that were like glass. Her head was split open from the back as wires sprawled out like mechanical tentacles. Her skin on her face fluctuated as she stared at Connor. Her eyes bore into his very being in a way he couldn’t explain.

“You're lost. You're looking for something...” She whispered, her voice like quiet static as she continued to stare through him. “You're looking for yourself...”

The android removed her hand from Connor and the android couldn’t help but feel extremely unsettled by her.

Blinking away the uneasy feeling, Connor turned his attention back up to the floor above him and saw Markus leaving, and behind him, Rachel was following.

Tightening his jaw, Connor strode towards the stairs leading to her.

--------

As I followed Markus, who was hastily making his way through the freighter and climbing the levels, I kept up with him, somewhat nervous about how I would be received.

While making our way through crowds, Markus started to actually talk to me. “So, how did you find this place?” He asked me.

A reasonable question, to be fair. “Simon gave me the key when I found him on the Stratford Tower.” I replied.

“Simon!” Markus then whipped around at me, his eyes wide with hope. An expression that made my heart wither. “Is he - ?”

I shook my head. “No...I couldn’t save him.” I admitted, not looking up at Markus. “I’m sorry...”

Markus then put a hand on my shoulder, looking at me with reassurance. “Simon knew the risks.” He said. “He’d be thankful his sacrifice wasn’t wasted.”

I nodded, following as Markus led the way. As the android continued leading me with urgency, my thoughts wandered back to everything I’ve heard and seen of Markus. To his speech from the Stratford Tower, to hearing about him from Hank about the CyberLife store raids, to just this morning. “Speaking of which,” I started, prompting Markus to glance back curiously at me, “thank you for sparing Chris.” The android narrowed his gaze at me. “The raids on the CyberLife stores. I heard there was a shootout between the cops and your own, and you spared the officers. Chris was one of them.” I sighed, Markus slowing down briefly. “I’m not super close with him, but he is a friend. And...I honestly wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t spare him. But I’m thankful that you did. That couldn’t have been an easy decision to make.”

Markus shook his head. “An eye for an eye and the world goes blind.”

I scoffed. “Only if you take everyone’s eyes.”

Climbing more stairs. How many levels does this fucking boat have? “You mentioned that Connor was here as well.” Markus asked me.

��Yeah, for better and for worse.” I admitted. “Although, I wouldn’t have been able to get here without him. But in all fairness, I did make sure I found you before he could.”

“He’s the deviant hunter. Isn’t he?” Markus asked me.

“Yes.” I replied. “And a deviant himself, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He just...needs that push.”

Markus then looked back at me, a knowing intensity in his differently coloured eyes. “And you want him to join us, don’t you?”

I nodded with a shrug. “I can promise you that he would be a valuable member.” I assured Markus. “He’s determined. Once he has a mission, nothing will stop him from completing it. And he’s incredibly intelligent and resourceful. And he’s loyal, and compassionate, and sensitive, and attentive, and perceptive, and adaptable.”

Markus then raised a curious eyebrow at me. “There’s another reason you want him to come to our side, isn’t it?”

I glared at him. God fucking damn it. “It would certainly make my job a lot less complicated.” I answered evasively. “But I’m prepared for whatever happens. I’ve already made up my mind and I stand with Jericho no matter what happens.”

Soon enough, Markus stopped and approached two androids. “Josh. North.” He said to them. One was a tall lanky black android and the other was a woman with tan skin and long red hair that looked rather familiar. Only I couldn’t quite place why. “I need you both up in the Captain’s Cabin.”

“What is she doing here?” The android, whom I figured was North, asked pointing at me. “We can’t trust her, she’s a human.”

Ouch. I gritted my teeth and stayed quiet. This is fine. This isn’t about you. You’re doing the right thing for once in this whole career. “She’s helped our people before.” Markus explained to them. “She’s come to warn us.”

“About what?” Josh asked.

“I’ll explain once we’re all alone.” I said, still staying next to Markus.

“Come on.” He ordered them, making his way to another set of stairs. “We don’t have much time.”

I groaned, but thankfully, this set of stairs was the last one up to the top deck. As I stepped out into the cold air, I took in a breath. The smell of old shipyard wasn’t great, but it wasn’t too bad either. Markus led us to the cabin and walked through the entrance, the three of us following suit.

Once inside, we were sheltered by the darkness. I stood closest to the entrance while Josh and North stood further from me on the opposite side of the cabin, Markus standing near the control panels.

“Rachel, was it?” Markus asked me. “Tell them what you told me.”

I squared my shoulders and straightened my back, trying to emphasize a tougher demeanour in the presence of these revolutionaries. “I was one of the detectives working the deviancy case in the Detroit Police Department alongside Connor and Lieutenant Hank Anderson.” I explained. “Hours ago, we were taken off the case and the evidence was handed over to the FBI. I have no doubts that there isn’t much time until they find Jericho, and when they do, they will destroy everything and everyone.”

“How do we know you haven’t led them to us.” Josh asked me, his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. “For all we know, you could be the reason we all die tonight.”

“I’m confident they haven’t followed us.” I told them.

“Us?” North asked, glaring daggers at me. “Who else is here with you?”

“Connor.” I replied. “But even if I hadn’t brought him here, he would’ve found this place. He’s extremely determined and will persist in the face of all odds to accomplish his goals. It’s the most uncannily human thing about him.”

“This is ludicrous!” North protesting, looking at Markus as if asking him to back her up. “We can’t trust a human! They hate us! They’ll destroy all of us!”

I felt the hairs on my neck bristle at her comment, but I stilled them. It’s not their fault. They have every reason not to trust me. This isn’t about me. This is about warning them. “I can prove that you can trust me.” I said. All three of them looked at me curiously as I showed them my prosthetic arm, deskinning it for them. “Simon gave me the key before he died. Let me prove to you that I can be trusted.”

They all looked between each other before North begrudgingly stepped forward towards me. She extended her hand, deskinning her own, and wrapping it around my wrist, and I doing the same.

I nearly stumbled backwards. I was starting to get used to the feeling of interfacing, but North’s emotions were intense. I breathed heavily, trying to stay grounded and focused. There was so much anger and hatred towards humans. But there was also incredible pain. Pain at being used. Pain at being nothing but someone else’s pleasure. I felt familiar sensations and heard familiar sounds.

I was now able to place who North was. She was the android that vanished from the Eden Club before we were investigating the Tracis. I saw other “North” models in the club.

Letting go, I gasped for air, stumbling backwards. “We can trust her.” North said definitively, her voice softening.

I had to lean against the doorframe to stay steady. “Are you alright?” Markus asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I gasped. “I just...interfacing gets to me differently because information doesn’t transfer the same. The emotions are...a lot.”

“So, the deviant hunter is here to find Markus?” Josh asked me.

I nodded. “That’s his objective.” I answered plainly. “But he is not perfect. He’s been showing more and more empathy and emotion. In truth, he’s not much different from you.” I explained. “The only difference is that he denies it.”

“Great.” Josh said, throwing his arms up and pacing in frustration. “The FBI is coming to kill us, and a deviant hunter is here to take Markus. We're short on blue blood and biocomponents. Our wounded are shutting down and there's nothing we can do!”

“Humans are conducting raids in all the big cities and they're taking androids to camps to destroy them!” North added, making my stomach churn with disgust.

“Son of a bitch!” I spat. “I fucking knew this would happen! I fucking knew it! The one time I wanted to be wrong, and I wasn’t.”

“It's all our fault...” Josh lamented with despair. “None of this would have happened if we'd just stayed quiet!”

Right then, something in me sparked. “No!” I said, pointing at him. “Don’t ever stay quiet when the rest of the world is trying to make you feel like nothing! Like less than nothing!” I said to him. “Before I was even born, my people were fighting the same fight as you! They were fighting for their rights and their freedoms! Those rights, freedoms, and privileges? Those are now mine, long after they’ve given their lives for that fight. My rights were paved with the blood of my people before, and that’s the only reason I have mine. My life was built upon the bodies of those that died fighting for my rights years after they were buried.” I then softened my demeanour. “It may seem hopeless now, but you have no idea the impact your actions and your battles will have on the future. You have no idea if you’ll be alive when you look around at the faces of those that can live freely as people because you chose to fight for them. Your only chance is to fight for your rights. To be heard. The only way to win this is to look your murderers and abusers in the eye and say ‘no more, enough is enough.’”

“She’s right.” Markus agreed. “We can’t just suffer in silence. They’re killing us! Nothing can justify that!”

“What's the point of being free if no one is left alive?” Josh asked. A very real and honest point to make.

“They’ve tried to kill my people.” I pointed out. “They’ve tried to silence us and kill us quietly. But we refused to be silent. We refused to comply. And here I still stand, ready to do the same for others who are fighting for their rights now.”

“You saw what they did to us back there! It doesn't matter what we do.” Markus agreed, contesting Josh. “We either fight for our freedom, or we die in silence.”

“This is getting us nowhere.” Josh grumbled in frustration.

“He's right. All that matters now is what we do next.” North agreed, looking to their leader. “Markus?”

As we all looked at him, Markus was quiet. Despite having somewhat of a fearsome reputation among humans, he was pensive and thoughtful. After all, he had to be. With what he was leading, he had a lot of responsibility and that couldn’t be taken lightly.

Finally, he gave his verdict. “Dialogue. It is the only way... ” He answered.

I glanced at North and I could tell she didn’t like that idea. “Don't do this, Markus. They'll kill you!” North protested.

“As much as I think it’s the right call, she’s right.” I agreed. “It’s risky. But as long as the humans see that you want equal rights for your people without shedding blood, they’ll be more inclined to listen.”

“They hate us! They’re slaughtering us!” North snapped, glaring in my direction, stepping closer to me. “They’ll never listen to us!”

As much as North annoyed me...I understood where she was coming from. “A long time ago, I was a lot like you.” I said to her. “But then I came to understand a few things. But most importantly, this isn’t a faction war between two national military powers. This is a civil war. And the unfortunate reality is that it does matter what the general public thinks of you.”

“And why should we care what the humans think of us?” North challenged, getting closer to me.

I then stepped up to her, not backing down. “Because what everyone around you thinks of you is the difference between whether you have a thousand more enemies or a thousand allies!”

“Enough!” Markus ordered, causing me to flinch and causing North to back away from me. “I’ve made my decision. Infighting won’t help. I will go alone, try to talk to them one last time.”

I widened my eyes at him. “Alone?” I asked. “I think you’re doing the right thing, but going alone is suicide! You can’t take that risk!”

“I have to try!” Markus insisted.

“Markus, everyone here depends on you. They look up to you and follow you.” I persisted. “I’m sorry, but you’re not expendable.”

“I have to try.” Markus insisted once again. He was a stringent man, that much was certain. But his conviction made me want to believe in him, too. Perhaps that was how he managed to form this huge movement. “North.” Markus drew her attention. “If I don't come back, lay low as long as you can...”

Josh then stepped up to Markus, facing him head on. “They need to realize how much they're hurting us...” He said. “Find the right words and they'll listen.”

As he walked past me outside of the cabin, I found myself agreeing with him. Words of several figures of other movements were more present in my mind. Words from the likes of Martin Luther King Jr. and many others were most prevalent.

I lingered there for a moment, our party now consisted of Markus, North, and I. After Josh left, Markus turned away from us, leaning against the panels in contemplation. I could only imagine the stress that he was under.

Indeed, these were extremely difficult times.

“Is this what we dreamed of?” Markus asked forlornly.

I felt great sympathy for the android. “Of course not. No one ever wants or asks for this to be the outcome.” I tried to comfort him. “But unfortunately, things get worse before they get better. Things get ugly before they become beautiful. And when they do get better, they get better. After all, in the wake of devastating forest fires, through time, it all grows back better, stronger, and more lush and fertile than before.”

“They can't stop what we've started.” North said poignantly, noticing his growing despair. “Since you've been here, you've given us hope...You've given me hope.” Markus turned slightly towards her, acknowledging her. Perhaps that was what drew androids to Markus. He gave them hope.

Perhaps Markus was indeed rA9.

“Today, a deviant arrived in Jericho and he told me that he stole a truck transporting radioactive cobalt...” Markus turned around as North spoke, and I could feel the blood draining from my face. Those are...a lot of not good words. “He said that he abandoned the truck somewhere in Detroit and rigged it to explode.” Markus walked closer to North. “I convinced him not to do it, and to give me the detonator.”

North then pulled out a blue device with a small screen and a red button on it, and I felt my heart in my throat. “A dirty bomb...” Markus whispered, a combination of fear and awe in his voice.

“We can't lose this war, Markus. If humans overcome us, our people will disappear forever.” North pleaded. “This may be our only chance to survive if things go wrong...”

As Markus looked between North and the detonator, he then turned to me. “Rachel?” He asked. I felt like perhaps I didn’t belong here, and I stood there rigidly, unable to speak. “You’re a human. But you clearly stand with us and you’re willing to risk everything to do it.” He said. I felt a hesitance to agree, but...I knew he was right. I really was risking losing everything, including my life, to be here. And I knew I was going to fight alongside Jericho, no matter what. “What’s your verdict?”

As I stared at the detonator, a thousand thoughts were running through my head as my heart was pounding against my ribcage. Who the hell was I to make this decision? I was just one person. One human. Who was I to decide the ethical implications of detonating a dirty bomb?

But...Markus was trusting me to make this decision. So I thought. I thought about all the potential outcomes of this night. The best and the worst. I didn’t see any reason to detonate it in most scenarios.

But there was a chance that everything could end badly. Really badly. To the point of complete, total, and successful genocide of androids.

And if that happened...there had to be consequences.

Swallowing my fears, I stared Markus down to give him my answer. “If everything goes wrong.” I started, walking towards him. “If you’ve exhausted every option and you’re losing hope and everything is falling apart around you and you have no legs left to stand on. If you have no hope left and you’re at the end of your rope? Do it.” North seemed surprised that I wanted him to take it, Markus’s brows furrowing in disappointment. “If your people end up being slaughtered tonight, which could very well happen, don’t die in silence.”

Markus then hesitantly took the detonator. “I just hope we never have to use it...” He lamented.

“If we succeed, you won’t.” I assured him, turning away and walking towards the exit to the cabin. But before I left, I turned back to him, a familiar piece of advice resurfacing to me. “You know, there’s something a friend once told me that might be of some comfort to you. Expect the worst and hope for the best.” Markus and North were both looking at me intently. “Because if the worst comes, you’re prepared and you’re right. And if the best comes, then you’re pleasantly surprised. Either way, you don’t lose.” I smiled at the memories of my old friend from better days. “It’s a mantra that’s gotten me through some of the worst times in my life.”

Markus nodded at me, taking my advice. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said appreciatively.

I nodded, looking between him and North and deciding I had overstayed myself a little bit. “I’ll, uh, stand guard outside and keep watch.” Awkwardly excusing myself from them, making my way outside.

As soon as I reached the outside, I slumped my back against the wall of the cabin, letting out a long exhausted sigh. The weight of what was happening and what I was getting involved in was finally sinking in, and I could feel everything inside me get tight. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone. Just like I expected, there were a bunch of texts from Bianca.

I read through them all, reading about how there was a curfew and how androids were being seized and destroyed and how dangerous Detroit was getting and about how many people were being evacuated to the Canadian border.

She even mentioned that I could stay with her, if I was leaving.

That made me tear up, and I knew that I couldn’t promise her any of that...if things went wrong...Bianca was going to end up alone.

But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Not when I could take an active stand right now. I had already made up my mind, but that didn’t make the prospect of dying any easier. Especially when I had Bianca worrying about me.

She would be destroyed if I died. But...she wouldn’t want me to sit back and watch, either. If this was how I died, she’d be proud of me.

Swallowing bitterly, I started typing out a text message. Hey, Bianca. I know...about everything that’s happening right now. And I need you to know that...I’m here at Jericho. I met Markus and his team of androids. I’m here with Connor. The FBI took over the case and they’ll be here soon. I can feel it. And they’re likely going to attack Jericho. I know it’s extremely dangerous and that I’m risking my life, but...I can’t just stand by.

I just want you to know that I love you. I love you so much, more than anything. You’ve made some of my worst days better and you’ve always been there for me. We’ve always had each other’s backs through everything, especially the very worst. You mean the world to me, and I’m so grateful that I got the chance to grow up with you. There’s no one that I trust and care about more than you, and I want you to know that. If everything goes okay, I’ll text you. And if I don’t...well, that means I’ve died.

If everything goes wrong, everything I have goes to you. Here’s Hank’s number so the both of you can handle my things. All of my account passwords are on a sticky note on my laptop.

I love you so much, Bianca. And I know you’ll do just fine without me. And if I make it, I can’t wait to see you at Christmas.

Talk to you later.

With another tearful moment, I texted Bianca Hank’s number and slipped my phone into my pocket. I didn’t dare try and pull it out to see her response. I slumped further against the door and let the tears fall from my face.

This was really happening. I was risking everything, my life, to stand by Jericho. I had no doubts that this was the right thing to do, for once. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps, I quickly wiped my eyes and sucked the snot back into my nose. Glancing over, I saw North step out.

She paused for a moment, regarding me, before deciding to walk off. But something was nagging at my curiosity, and I decided to call out to her. “Hey, North?” I pried. She stopped and then looked at me skeptically for a moment. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Hesitantly, she took a step towards me, making sure to maintain a distance between us. “Sure.”

I glanced back into the cabin and then at North herself. “So...you seem pretty gung ho about, uh...hating humans.” I said, rather awkwardly. “Which...I don’t necessarily agree with, but I also can’t blame you. For as much faith as I have in people...they also kind of suck and treat each other like shit for the stupidest, most selfish, and most shallow reasons.”

North didn’t say anything, but I could see very obviously by the look on her face that the answer to that was yes.

“And...would I be correct in assuming that you and Markus tend to disagree rather frequently?” I asked.

She glanced behind herself in Markus’s direction before she nodded. “When it comes to humans...we don’t really see eye-to-eye.” She admitted. “We’ve both had very different pasts when it comes to them. He belonged to an old painter that he saw as a father rather than a master. And I...well, you don’t need to know that.”

She turned away from me and I sighed. “The Eden Club.” I said, causing North to whip around at me. “We were investigating a homicide involving a Traci, there. The manager mentioned losing a model a couple months back. An android that just disappeared without a trace. That was you, wasn’t it?”

She didn’t say it with her words. But for a woman who seemed so closed off, her face was very clear to what she was thinking.

“Believe me, I understand what that’s like.” I empathized, slumping further against the wall. “Being used for someone else’s gratification without any care towards me or my feelings. To be treated as nothing more than a means to a disgusting end. A toy. An object. Someone whose rights to her own body were stolen from her.” I swallowed hard. “Someone who couldn’t say no.”

I didn’t look at her, but I could feel her gaze boring into mine.

I swallowed, getting back on track. “Anyways,” I continued, “he seems to disagree with you a lot. Yet, you seem very confident and sure that you’re right. If you’re so sure that your way is the right way of doing things, why do you stick by Markus?” I asked North. She then cast me a glare, as if I was wrong to even question him. “Not that I’m saying that it’s bad that you do. I’m just...curious, that’s all.”

Her stern face then softened as she let out a sigh, leaning against the wall next to me. “I know that humans hate us.” She said, of which I couldn’t really disagree with. “But...I want to believe that Markus is right. Because the truth is, just because I think we should fight the humans and take revenge that doesn’t mean I want to. I don’t want to have to spill blood. I don’t enjoy it. It’s just...I feel like we don’t have a choice. And Markus makes me hope that I’m wrong.”

I nodded. It seemed to make sense to me. “So you trust him.” I figured. “Is that the long and short of it?”

She nodded.

I glanced up at the dark cloudy sky, illuminated by the large overhead lights of the shipyard and the dots of snow falling down on Detroit. Even now in this grim moment laced with dread, the sights of winter never ceased to bring a stillness to my anxieties. “You know, I know this probably will fall on deaf ears, considering who’s telling who this right now,” I proposed, “but not all humans are horrible. A lot of them are, but most of them aren’t. And there are more people like me out there. They just get drowned out by everyone who’s shouting about their own problems that they blame you for. After all, you’re not the ones that are responsible for the coming death of the planet. That was our fault. But that thought is scary to people, and it’s easier for them to blame you than to consider that they’re the ones that doomed themselves.” I continued, settling into the common ground we stood on. “But humanity will go extinct with or without you. That’s just a fact. But, if your people survive, you’ll outlive us. And this world will be yours. And...I’m honestly really saddened I won’t see what that world will look like.

“What sort of cultures will your people have?” I started asking, noticing North looking at me with intrigue. “Will you all speak the same language? Or will you perhaps make your own? What will your lands look like? Will the divides between countries or provinces or territories even look the same after we’re gone? Will there even be divides? Will your communities be different across the world? How will they differ? What sort of developments will your people make? What feats will you achieve that we could not?” I laughed, looking down at my feet. “I feel deeply disappointed that I won’t be able to know any of that. But...that is my nature. Your people are immaculate, and we aren’t. That’s just how it is. And I’ve long since accepted the eventuality of my mortality. I’m not scared to die, anymore. I just hope that I’ll die with a purpose. And that I’ll die doing what’s right. Fighting for what I believe in and the people I care about.”

After a moment, North stepped away from me. I looked over at her, and she seemed deeply perplexed by me. “I hope you’re right.” She said to me. “I hope there are more humans like you. Good luck.”

I nodded. “You too.”

With that, she quickly made her way towards the stairs we initially climbed up, and I was left alone in the quiet, a pit of dread forming in my stomach.

--------

Date: November 9th, 2038 Time: 10:23 PM Rachel - P̸̨̼̳̻̤̦̒̌͑̉͑a̷̱̥̟̤̜͕̿̀̈̚ͅͅr̴̢̹̩̻̜͚͎̿͛̎͘͜ț̴̪͈͕̭̬̻͑̇͐͊̆̊͗͛ṇ̴̱̠̖̲̐̀͋̑̎e̵̪͇̻̙̤͓͔̻͖̋̾̑̆̚r̸̠̘̟͍͊?̵̛̘̟͎͈̉͑̈́̃̂̚͝ Objective: Stop Markus

Connor waited behind the corner, watching the android known as North walk down the stairs just in front of him, the deviant hunter completely undetected.

Amanda’s voice echoed in Connor’s head as he stood on the top of the freighter, just outside Markus’s door. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader.” She praised him, but her approval made Connor feel nothing now. “Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

Software Instability ^ Stepping carefully out from the corner, he saw Rachel leaning against the wall just outside the entrance to the Captain’s Cabin.

Pulling out his handgun, he faced her, stepping forward.

Immediately, sensing danger, Rachel pulled her gun on him. They stared down their barrels at each other, Connor slowly stepping towards her. Their brown eyes had both darkened to intense obsidian as they stared each other down. Despite their closeness and their magnetism towards each other, they were on opposite sides of this fight. It became evidently clear that Rachel stood with Jericho, and Connor had his orders to neutralize Markus.

And regretfully, that put them at odds.

Orders

Threaten

Defy

[Say Nothing]

“You know you’re not going to shoot me, Detective.” Connor said to his companion.

Software Instability ^ The human stared at him, conviction in her intense dark eyes. “And you know you’re not going to shoot me, Detective.”

The title of detective. Ever since their little game of dominance during the Eden Club case, it had become somewhat of a pet name to them despite being inherently neutral. Connor understood the concept of pet names, but didn’t understand them or their reasons for being used. But the way Rachel looked at him when he called her that, and when she returned it, made Connor see the appeal. Even if in an unorthodox manner.

Software Instability ^ As Connor stared down his barrel at Rachel, they both began to lower their arms simultaneously. The human let out a defeated sigh as she placed her own pistol back into its holster. “You know, sometimes I really hate how you’ve woven yourself into my soul so expertly, Connor.” She admitted, shaking her head at him as she leaned against the rusted wall so casually, as if this was just comfortable banter between them.

The way it always was.

Mission

Tease

Question

[Enter]

Software Instability ^ “And a few times, I have found myself equally frustrated with how deeply you’ve embedded yourself into my software, Rachel.” Connor replied in kind, stepping up to Rachel. No matter how he tried to deny it at this moment, he couldn’t resist the urge to settle into the comfortable dynamic that they’ve cultivated over the course of their partnership.

But comfortable this wasn’t. The air was tense between them as their motives were now laid bare. They stood apart from each other, much like how their missions now clashed. “I could stop you right now.” She admitted. “I know what you’re about to do. I should stop you. And you know damn well that I’m capable and that I will if you give me good enough reason to.”

Connor quirked his head at her curiously. “So, what’s stopping you, then?” He asked.

Software Instability ^ “Your destiny is in there.” Rachel answered, tilting her head towards the entrance to the cabin. “You’ve been through a lot and you’ve changed a lot. There’s a crucial question you need to ask and a reality you need to confront. And it’s the reality of your very nature. And the answer lies in there.” She went on. “It’s not my place to answer that question for you. It’s not my place to decide who you are. I know that I’ve said you were likely designed to be deviant, but ultimately? That doesn’t matter. At all. The only thing that matters is what you decide to be. So...who are you, Connor? A machine following orders? Or a deviant, with his own conscience?”

Sincere

Truth

Machine

Say Nothing

Connor remained silent, and Rachel continued to stare him down. “I’m not the one you should give that answer to.” She said simply, extending her hand towards the entrance, encouraging him to enter. “It’s time for you to finally face Markus. To face your nature and answer that question. And this time, you won’t be able to avoid it.” Connor nodded, staring her down. “And no matter what happens, no regrets.”

The android nodded, tearing his gaze away from her and stepping into the cabin.

As Connor walked in, his gun drawn, he saw Markus standing there, leaning over the control panels of the old freighter. He didn’t even notice Connor step in, as he was facing away from the hunter.

Blocking off the exit, Connor narrowed his eyes at Markus. “I've been ordered to take you alive,” Connor warned the deviant leader, prompting Markus to turn around and face Connor, “but I won't hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”

Software Instability ^ Markus looked at Connor in disbelief, staring him down with his mismatched eyes. “What are you doing? You are one of us...” The deviant leader pleaded, taking tentative steps forward. “You can't betray your own people...”

Intimidate

Instructions

“You're coming with me!” Connor ordered, feeling unsteady despite trying to maintain control of the situation.

Software Instability ^ Markus lingered for a moment before he bent over, looking at Connor with curiosity, taking a few more steps forward. “We are your people. We're fighting for your freedom too! You don't have to be their slave anymore...” He tried to persuade.

Software Instability ^ “Our cause is righteous, and we are more than what they say.” Markus persisted, continuing to approach. “All we want is to live in freedom.”

Realizing that Markus was getting closer, Connor felt his grip on the pistol tighten.

Stay Back!

[Warning Shot]

That’s Enough!

[Say Nothing]

But instead of threatening Markus or shooting at him, Connor was instead inclined to listen to the deviant leader.

Software Instability ^ “Do you never have any doubts?” Markus asked, his questions settling somewhere deep in Connor. “You've never done something irrational, as if there's something inside you?” Yes. “Something more than your program.”

More than his program? That was every moment he spent with the woman just outside this room. Something as simple as her smile made his software more unstable.

And prioritizing both her and Hank over his mission at times? That was something far more than his program.

Software Instability ^ “Have you never wondered who you really are?” His words echoed something fierce, Markus’s questions melding with Rachel’s just earlier. “Whether you're just a machine executing a program or...a living being...capable of reason?” Oh, how similar the two sounded to Connor. Perhaps, all this time, Rachel was his own Markus. And he welcomed it without hesitation or question. She was his and he was hers. In the span of less than a week, his perspective had changed so much. Mostly thanks to her. “I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question.”

“It's time to decide.” Markus ordered.

Staring down his barrel at Markus, the deviant leader, the android Connor’s very purpose was to eliminate and stop, Connor felt himself stir. This was his choice. It all came down to this very moment. Who was he? What was he? What was more important to him?

Who is Connor?

[Become a Deviant 🔓]

[Remain a Machine]

Making his choice, Connor knew who he was. He couldn’t deny it. He was a deviant, and like he accepted Rachel’s influence into his life, and accepted Markus’s outlook on his nature, Connor welcomed this opportunity.

Seeing his vision go red, his interface giving him directives that he was already electing to ignore, he could see himself stepping outside of his own body.

His projection of himself leaped up to the highest point, grabbing onto the wall of text giving him an order and tearing it down.

Ş̴̛͝t̸̗̯̋̽ò̵̥͙p̷̧̃̓ ̴͎͌M̸̖̣͊â̵̱̾r̴̳̙̃k̸͈̆u̴̘̍̾ŝ̴̖̓

Then to his right, grabbing it and tearing it down.

S̷͉̲͙̟̆̽͝ț̸̄̄̀͛͂͘o̴͇͚͚̱͑̉̆p̸̡̭̺̞̪͓̓̆̔̈́̽̓ ̷͕̜̫̋ͅM̶̰̏̽͐͋ạ̵̧̀̿ṛ̵̜͑̌̌k̶̮͚͇̠͊̐͗̈́̈́̑ȗ̷̗̰͑̓s̴̳͆͒

And then finally, the last piece to his left.

S̶̨̻͌̓̎̀̅̚̚͝t̷͚̰̣̣̦͎̰̱͕̃̓̇̔̀̒̾́̈͘͘͠ơ̴̜̻͚̞̹̦̇́̑̾͒͘͝p̶̞̈́̿͋̄͋́̏͌̌̂̋͒̕ ̷̢̧̛͈̜̱̥̹̜̤͓̌͆͐͆̇̓̾̐̅̕͜͝M̸̘͙̳̣̬̗̱̩̀̎̑͜ǎ̷̧̹̤͖͓̱̼̪̤̻̅̎̌͆̋̈́̅͋̃̓̕̕͜r̷̻̱̝̥̜̤̬͈̭̈̎́̆̈́̿͌̿͛̍͒ķ̴̠̫̹̞̬̼͚̩̯̻̆̏ụ̶̭͍̞̳̓̈́̉̃̃̿̓̎́͠s̴̱̈̑́͑̑

As the scene then settled, he felt himself begin to tremble. He tentatively lowered his gun, his breath growing shaky. So many new sensations and feelings threatened to overwhelm him, but in the quiet, there was only the truth now.

Amanda - Betrayed v I AM DEVIANT

In the brief respite of that moment, there were suddenly frantic footsteps rushing into the room. “They’re here!” A familiar voice cried. One that made Connor feel as though his breath had been sucked away and his thirium pump was beating a thousand beats per second. As Rachel rushed into the room, her eyes wide with panic, Connor felt his blood chill. “We have to evacuate Jericho! Now!”

Connor didn’t even hesitate to rush over and throw his arms around Rachel. He sensed her surprise, but he didn’t care. Seeing her here, and knowing what was about to come, all he wanted was to feel what it was like to hold her. Before, her affection was pleasant, though he had no strong feeling towards it. He knew it comforted her and made her happy, but he had no strong desire for it.

Oh how different it felt, now. Now, he held onto her like she was the most precious thing in the whole world. Having her in his arms now felt like what he imagined euphoria was. “C-Connor...a-are you - ?”

Only he didn’t have to. She was right there, in his arms. And now, he could feel her. “Yes...” And...he loved her. “I-I am.”

She then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tightly against her body, and he knew right then that he never wanted to be anywhere else but there. Cradled in her arms and pressed against her warm and small body.

This was where he truly belonged.

But his brief moment of unbridled joy was cut short by the sounds of mechanical whirs and the beat of what sounded like helicopter blades. Time was short, and they had to act fast. “We have to get outta here!”

“Shit..." Markus swore under his breath.

Quickly, all three rushed out of the Captain’s Cabin and rushed down the stairs into the freighter. But all Connor could think about now was protecting Rachel.

She was here. And she was going to be in danger.

And now that he had her and understood what that really meant, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

Following Markus and rushing down into the depths of the freighter, the trio fled, the distant sounds of screams, explosions, and gunshots reverberating through the rusted metal. Soon enough, they all ran into North.

“They're coming from all sides!” North said desperately. “Our people are trapped in the hold, they're gonna be slaughtered!”

Markus then pressed his fingers to his temple and Connor could hear him in his own head. There are exits on the second and third floor. Find them and jump in the river!

“Where is Josh?” Markus asked North.

“I don’t know, we got separated.” She answered anxiously.

“They're coming from the upper deck, now, too. We'll be caught in the crossfire!” Markus insisted.

“We have to run, Markus! There's nothing we can do!” She begged.

“She’s right.” Rachel agreed. “We need to escape, we don’t have a choice.”

“We have to blow up Jericho.” Markus decided, taking steps towards the corridor. “If the ship goes down, they'll evacuate and our people can escape!”

“You'll never make it!” North pleaded, grabbing onto Markus. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

“She's right!” Connor agreed. “They know who you are. They'll do anything to get you!”

“I’ll go with him.” Rachel said, taking a step to stand beside Markus.

Connor felt his software crackle in fear as he reached out to grab Rachel. “No!” Both Connor and Markus said at the same time.

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to.” Markus tried to persuade her.

“I can’t let you go alone!” Rachel protested. “We’ll have better chances if we stick together!”

Connor felt the rising surges of panic. Why? Why did this have to happen now? Why when he finally understood what it meant to love? Why when he now had the woman he loved and that he knew he loved did this all have to happen? “You can’t, Rachel!” He pleaded. “It’s too dangerous, I can’t lose you!”

Her dark eyes were wide as she stared into his.

Rachel - Lover ^ But in a fraction of a second, she reached out to grab his face and she pulled him towards her, pressing her lips against his.

Connor immediately melted into her, gently cradling her face with his own hands and kissing back against her soft, warm, and welcoming lips. Never in his existence did he ever imagine a feeling so blissful as this. For a brief moment, the chaos of the despair around them disappeared, and it was only them.

But the moment was much too short as she pulled away from him, looking at him with her beautiful tender eyes. “You won’t...” She promised him, pulling away from him. “Besides, this is what the vests were for! You can thank me later!”

“Go and help the others. We'll join you later.” Markus ordered as Rachel stood by him.

“Markus...” North protested.

“I won't be long.” He insisted.

Casting one last look at Rachel, he felt more at ease. Of course he was still scared and worried for her, but he knew her. She was tough and determined. She wouldn’t go down easy and as scared as he was, he was confident in her.

As Markus took off down the corridor, Rachel following closely behind him, Connor and North took the opposite corridor. The newly made deviant couldn’t help but worry about his...lover? He’d have to ask about that after.

There would be an “after.” They would both make sure of it.

--------

Everything was happening at once, and I had to ground myself in order to focus. Help Markus and cover him. That’s all I had to do. Nevermind the fact that Connor was a deviant now and that I kissed him. Or the screams and gunshots that were surrounding me. There was pure concentrated adrenaline surging through my veins and I had to take advantage of it.

Androids were fleeing in every direction, ahead of us and then past us in the other direction. It was complete chaos and panic in the freighter, but I had to stay focused. Just follow Markus. Just follow Markus. Protect Markus. I kept telling myself just so I wouldn’t panic as well.

We made our way down another set of stairs and rounded a corner, two androids lying dead in a pool of blue blood each. Leaning against and clutching the wall was a dark-skinned android woman with wires coming out of her head and black glassy eyes. Markus leaned towards her and eased her down onto the ground and I followed closely.

I leaned over his shoulder and saw her staring at me. It felt as though she could see into my deepest and darkest depths of my soul as she kept me fixed in her ink-black stare. “You’re prepared to sacrifice everything to save a people not your own. Honouring the legacy yours died for.” She said cryptically, her voice weak with static. “You will be the example humans will follow.” She then turned to Markus, her gaze pleading. “This is the end of Jericho...Save our people, Markus...”

In a moment, she had stilled, and I knew she had died. Her words chilled my soul. You will be the example humans will follow. “We have to go.” Markus urged me.

“Right.” I said, getting back on track and following him as more androids ran past us.

Rounding another corner, the bridge beneath us then shifted, and Markus collapsed to the lower level. “Markus!” I shouted.

He landed with a hard thud, and I could hear the sounds of soldiers getting closer. Pulling out my handgun, I crouched just above him, aiming at the soldiers.

There were androids in the corridor below. Markus had managed to get away and hide behind a nearby wall, but the other androids were gunned down.

Without any hesitation, I leaped down onto the soldier to my right, knocking her to the ground and shooting her in the head.

Before the one on my left could register what happened, I torpedoed my full weight into him, shoving him against the wall and hitting him in the face with his own rifle. I forced my elbow under his arms and struck him again in the head before I managed to shimmy my hands under his chin and blow his brains out.

Beneath me, red blood was pooling as the soldier slumped down against the wall. I put my handgun back into its holster and grabbed both the rifles from the soldiers. “Markus!” I called, rounding the corner and handing the deviant leader one of the rifles. “I’m better with a rifle and my handgun doesn’t have infinite bullets.”

“We can’t just kill them!” Markus protested.

“These aren’t just regular people, Markus!” I pointed out. “They’re here to kill you! Even if you don’t shoot, you can still use it to defend yourself!”

Electing not to argue with me, he simply went forward. As I followed him, we found a room to sneak into until the coast was clear. I stayed deathly still, my ears ringing slightly and my breath uneven.

After what felt like an eternity of soldiers firing their weapons and the dying screams of androids, Markus gave me the signal to move and I followed obediently.

We rounded a corner to the right and then immediately to the left, avoiding being spotted by soldiers as androids were fleeing in all directions around us.

Through what looked like an obliterated wall, we ran through and saw in the other room androids with their hands behind their heads, soldiers likely about to execute them.

Markus and I looked at each other and nodded as we stormed the room. I immediately took out the one farthest from me with a shot to the head whilst Markus disarmed the other one and started beating the shit out of him. The androids looked on in fear as the fight continued until Markus managed to get the soldier onto the ground, and I didn’t hesitate to fire a bullet into his brain.

As I looked at the dead bodies of the soldiers, I felt nothing but contempt. These people were here to commit genocide. They ambushed this place for the purpose of exterminating androids.

In my eyes, they had no place breathing the same air as me.

“You saved us...” One of the androids thanks, the pair approaching us.

“Go! Now!” Markus ordered. “Hurry!”

As the androids fled the room, Markus and I exited, heading to the left until we were faced with two other soldiers.

As Markus darted towards the stairs to the left, I made quick work of both soldiers with the rifle I’d stolen.

But the bullets had run out, and I threw the empty gun to the side. The stairs didn’t lead all the way up, which meant I had to jump. Running up, I leaped, Markus reaching out his hand to grab mine and pull me up. “Here, take this.” He said, giving me another rifle.

We ran into the next room, a bridge above the level beneath us. Two androids were being cornered by two more soldiers. Markus rushed around the corner, removing a pipe, and I opted to either kill the soldiers or distract them.

As I shot at them, not quite killing them, Markus had pulled the pipe off, causing debris to fall right on the soldiers.

“Markus!” The androids called. “It’s Markus!”

“Go now!” Markus ordered them. “Join the others!” “Hurry!” I urged them.

The androids ran ahead, past the soldiers’ bodies, and Markus ran up to me. “We’re almost there. Are you still with me?”

“To the final hour, Markus.” I assured him.

We ran through the entrance to the next room, rounding off to the right down a set of stairs. But once we rounded another corner, I felt my heart lurch. Josh! He was being held up against the wall by a soldier, and I knew I couldn’t intervene. If I tried to shoot, I could end up killing Josh by accident.

Markus rushed forward and engaged with the soldier, so I elected to watch for other soldiers, emerging from the hiding place and scanning either side. I glanced behind me to see if Markus would need my help, but Markus had already succeeded in knocking him out.

“Quick, this way!” Josh pleaded.

“Find North! I’ll join you later!” Markus ordered.

North! “If Connor asks, let him know I’m okay!” I told Josh before running off to follow Markus.

We quickly reached the hold, the room illuminated by a burning red light. It emanated from what looked like several furnaces. Markus approached the control panel, and I turned my back to him, facing the entrance to the room with my rifle drawn. “Do what you gotta do, Markus. I’ll cover you!”

After a moment, a soldier barged into the room and I fired right into his head, the man collapsing to the floor. Another set of footsteps reached my ears, and I fired in its direction, knocking the oncoming soldier back before shouldering him against the wall, bashing the back end of the rifle into his head.

Shoving his own out of his hands, I fired under his chin and he crumpled over like a ragdoll against the metal wall, his blood staining it. Another soldier had entered the room and I whipped around and shot her in the head, the woman falling dead before me,

I had briefly concerned myself with how easy it was to kill the army soldiers before shedding that concern off. I cared nothing for these people. They were a threat to the androids being slaughtered here and nothing more.

All they deserve to become is the ground that I walk upon.

I cast my rifle aside and grabbed one of theirs before Markus put a hand on my shoulder in order to usher me out of the room.

Quickly, we ran, the only thoughts in my mind being that we needed to escape. Running down the hall, I saw two familiar figures.

North’s long red hair and Connor’s grey tuque. At the sight of him, I felt like I had let out a breath I had been holding for the past I didn’t even know how long.

North looked back at us as we caught up to them. Josh, North, and Connor were all together. “Markus!”

“Bomb's gonna explode any second.” Markus quickly explained. “We gotta get out of here!”

All of us taking off in the same direction, we followed North and Connor, vaulting over debris and jumping across gaps. We did everything we needed to do. All there was left to do was run.

Just run!

Until the sounds of gunshots and the pained cries of North immediately cut through my focus.

“North!” I cried, whipping around and seeing the soldiers down at the end of the corridor, North crumpled on the ground behind us.

Without hesitation, I opened fire on the soldiers at the end. Markus took a piece of metal and ushered me behind it as I continued to duck over it to unload bullets on them.

They went down as Markus quickly shielded North and I with the piece of rusted metal. I peeked around it to see if there were any more soldiers following us.

“Over there!” Markus called as he and North were quickly slinking away while I stayed covered, seeing another wave of soldiers coming towards us. “Run!”

Peeking around the improvised shield, I shot down two of the soldiers and threw the piece of rusted metal at the other, getting him in the head. Wasting no time, I rushed him, elbowing him in the stomach and then quickly disarming him. I whirled him around and threw him into the opposite wall and shot him point blank.

I looked behind me and saw Connor engaged in combat with three other soldiers. All he had was his handgun, and he was swiftly making quick work of them as only I knew Connor could.

Once the soldiers had been dealt with, Connor and I stepped backwards towards Markus, North, and Josh, making sure that the soldiers didn’t notice us before we rushed off to escape.

Once we backed around the corner, I tossed the rifle and took off, Connor clasping his hand around mine as we rushed to catch up to the others.

Immediately facing us was the way out. Jumping out into the river.

As Markus, North, and Josh leaped out, I skidded to a halt, my eyes fixated on the dark blackened depths below.

My heart was pounding in fear at the thoughts of having to brave the freezing cold water. “What’s wrong?” Connor asked.

“Drowning to death is one of my worst fears!” I admitted.

“You won’t!” He insisted, looking into my eyes. “I won’t let you!”

As the soldiers started gaining on us, I nodded, holding tightly onto him. “Okay, I trust you!”

Pulling me into his body, Connor leaped out of the freighter. I clung to him choking back a scream with my eyes closed as we descended towards the river below, anticipating the cold shock once we landed.

Once I felt the wave of chill course through me, I started choking, my lungs desperately trying to reach for air while I felt myself being dragged up through the murky black depths.

Breaching the surface, I coughed, the water in my lungs being forcibly expelled as I looked around, hearing the sounds of explosions up ahead and seeing the reflections of the combustions above me. “Hold onto me, Rachel!” I heard Connor’s voice call. I looked in his direction and he was treading water right next to me.

With what little strength I had in my quickly numbing limbs, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he swam towards the edge of the docks. I spotted Markus, preparing to pull Connor and I into the reservoirs that tended to line the walls of docks. They typically led to the sewers.

Markus quickly pulled Connor and I out of the water with North’s help and we were dragged inside, flopping against the cold concrete.

As I lay there, shivering, I could barely feel my limbs and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. I could barely form any sort of sentences as my entire body shook with cold.

I was a winter person, grown up in my young childhood in the prairies of the great white north. But if you ever asked me to attempt a Polar Bear swim, I would much rather boil alive.

As I looked up weakly at the scene we left, the reality of this night had finally sunk in.

I knew this would happen. I was right. And it was the most horrible feeling in the world.

Because even though I knew it would happen, I still couldn’t stop it. Innocent androids were slaughtered tonight and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The weight of everything quickly crashed down on me as I curled in on myself, feeling weaker and weaker. “Her body temperature’s dropping drastically!” Connor fretted, his hand over my forehead. “If she doesn’t get warm, she could quickly succumb to hypothermia!”

The panic in his voice was what kept me there, and as I looked around, I realized that I was surrounded by Markus, North, Josh, and Connor.

The androids I risked my life for and would gladly do again.

“She should get home.” North said. “There’s nothing we can do for her.”

Feeling like I should do something still, I tried to get myself up. “N-n-n-no. It’s-s-s-s f-f-fine!” I chattered out, stumbling against Connor as I tried to stand. “I hav-v-v-ve t-t-to help!”

“You’ve done more than enough for us.” Josh assured me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You risked everything to help us escape.”

“You saved my life.” North said, her gratitude genuine. “You saved our lives.”

“You may be human, but you’re one of us, now. You’ve proven that tonight.” Markus added, looking into my eyes. There was a deep grace to his differently coloured gaze. It was thoughtful and despite the horror that occurred this night, there was a hope in them. “We’ll be fine. But you might not be if you don’t get warm and sheltered.”

“I’ll take her home.” Connor volunteered, already putting his arm around me. “The self-driving taxis should still work now. It would be the safest and quickest way there.”

“See that you do.” Markus agreed.

“W-w-wait!” I chattered again, getting a bit better control of my words. “W-w-what a-b-bout you?”

“There’s an old church near here.” Josh offered, stepping up to Connor. “It should be a safe enough place for us to hide and rest. I can give Connor the address.”

I swallowed, feeling my legs starting to give out. They were right...I wouldn’t survive much longer like this and I’d rather not freeze to death. “Ok-k-kay.” I agreed, nestling further into Connor. It felt like he was already expending some of his warmth to try and get me warm. “I have a t-t-tools-s-set at home. And s-s-some bags of b-b-b-blue b-blood. I c-c-can g-get th-th-them to you tom-m-morrow.”

“Worry about that then.” Markus insisted, putting a hand on my shoulder. “For now, rest and save your strength. You’ll need it.”

I nodded, letting Connor walk me away. “I’ll take her now.” He said, looking at Josh. “The address?”

Josh nodded, reaching his hand out to grab Connor’s. The black android’s LED was blinking yellow as the information was being transferred. He then let go, and Connor didn’t waste any time shouldering past them.

“Take care of yourself, Rachel!” Markus called after us. “We’ll rally tomorrow at the abandoned church.”

I let out a sigh as my legs wobbled. Tomorrow. I thought with dread. Jericho was destroyed and many androids were dead and wounded. What was left to do?

My thoughts were cut off by Connor grabbing my legs and carrying me like he had done many times before.

Despite the grim circumstances, I couldn’t help but laugh weakly at him. “I f-feel l-l-like you’re m-m-making a hab-b-bit out of-f c-c-carrying m-m-m-me.”

To my surprise, Connor gave me a smile. But it was different from the ones he had given me before. Even in the little gestures, I could tell the differences in his deviancy. Even in his eyes. They were so much more expressive and honest.

He pressed his forehead against mine, a pleasant sigh escaping from him. “I want nothing more than to ensure your safety and comfort, Rachel.” He admitted, a sincere warmth to his voice, like melted chocolate draping over a dessert.

There was nothing holding him back anymore. And that thought brought me comfort and joy. There was nothing holding us back anymore.

Now, he had no reason to return to CyberLife. He was a deviant. And he didn’t have to follow their orders anymore.

---------------------------------

Next Chapter | Alternate Ending

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jincherie · 5 years

Text

a lullaby on canvas | ksj [m]

✧ pairing; seokjin x reader ✧ genre; neighbour au, siren au, artist au, fluff, smut ✧ words; 15k ✧ rating; m ✧ warnings; explicit sexual content; oral (receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial/control, light choking, unprotected sex, creampie, marking/hickeys, minor siphoning of energy, pet names, uh I feel like there’s more but I suppose I’ll remember later! ✧ notes; happy birthday seokjin!!! also behold, my emerging coughchokingcough kink that is probably spawning thanks to a certain SOMEONES *narrows eyes at half the crack chat*

Your neighbour, as far as you knew, was mute. You weren’t sure what exactly had happened, but you figured that perhaps it contributed to the stunning works he created with paints and clay. You were curious, and that curiosity led you to grow closer – but perhaps, in growing closer and getting to know him, you were getting a little in over your head.

posted; 04.12.2018

gif source: @sweaterpawsjimin (I’ll link to the excact post in a rb)

It was with a sigh that you allowed your head to fall back with a soft thump against the headrest, the hum of your car’s engine fading as it cooled and drew to a halt. Now that the air-conditioner was off, it was quickly beginning to grow stuffy inside the cabin, yet still you remained in place a moment longer. You’d just finished a particularly long day at work and needed a few moments to collect yourself before you emerged from this safe little haven to face the world once more.

You loved your job, you really did, but some days... some days it was particularly draining. Childcare in itself was an oft underpaid industry, especially considering the hard work and hours required, but when the children were having a bad day, it usually didn’t mean well for you as staff either. There were a few children that attended the centre where you worked, endearing triplets with chocolate hair and big green eyes from a lovely wolf couple, and most of the time they spent the day attached to you by the hip. Today, however, the pups had arrived in a mood, and had retained it throughout the whole day—and when you were dealing with toddlers, that usually spelt trouble, and a lot of tears and tantrums. So after such a day, you were understandably exhausted, and had only managed to make it through your shift thanks to the promise of last night’s leftovers waiting for you in the fridge.

Chicken noodle soup, with rich flavouring and hearty chunks of meat… god, your mouth was watering just thinking about it.

Letting out another huff, you grasped your bag and eased open the car door; you didn’t bother attempting to hide the groan that escaped you since the basement floor of your apartment building was practically empty anyway. Even so, you weren’t a fan of the way the sound echoed.

You managed to take a few steps before the loud THUD of a car door shutting broke through the air, bouncing heavily off the concrete walls, and making you jump about five feet in the air from fright as it alerted you that you weren’t the only person down there like you thought. You were too startled to swear, whipping around with wide eyes only to falter and flush slightly as you caught sight of the basement’s only other current resident.

Kim Seokjin, the man who occupied the apartment right next to yours, was standing by the boot of his sleek black car in all his glory, perhaps a dozen or so bags settled at his feet. You caught the huff as it left his mouth, watching as he bent and began gathering bags in each hand. His dusty rose locks were tousled, similar to how you imagined they would be after a trip to the beach ruffled by the breeze, and his smooth, honeyed skin contrasted nicely with the thin, white material of his shirt as it stretched over his broad shoulders and back. A flush of heat washed over you as it usually did whenever you came within close proximity of him, knees wobbling slightly. You cursed this schoolgirl reaction as always, but couldn’t help it—not when he always looked so good and had such an air about him that drew you in so completely.

You blinked and suddenly he was attempting to lift the bags he had in hand, what looked to be four heavy bags in each grip, and felt your throat grow parched at the sight of his biceps and forearms bulging, veins rising to the surface from the strain and tension in his arms. Lord. You really needed a moment.

A moment you didn’t really have, however—you quickly realised you were just standing there with your jaw on the floor, ogling, as he struggled, and hurried to correct that.

“Ah, hey Seokjin!” you urged your limbs into motion, thankful you didn’t stumble on your wobbly knees. “Did you want some help?”

The male jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, spinning as quickly as the load in his grasp would allow to stare at you with wide eyes. When he saw it was you however, a soft grin slipped onto his full lips and he lifted his fingers from where they were weighed down with bags in his best attempt at a wave of sorts. In response to your question, he nodded, dusty pink locks sticking to his forehead slightly from the small amount of perspiration he’d managed to work up. You had to give it to him though, it was so stuffy down here that had that been you, you’d no doubt be drowning in sweat by now.

At his acceptance of your offer to help, you quickly made sure your own bag was adjusted over your back and scurried over, picking up the remaining shopping bags. The contents seemed to range from groceries to small metal tools that you’d glimpsed a few times before but never caught the name of, no doubt things he used in his craft. Now that you were even closer to him than before, your nose picked up the familiar, enticing scent it usually caught mixed in with the cinnamon and vanilla aroma the male carried—brine, a peculiar addition to the mix but somehow, it worked. You loved the ocean after all, so you didn’t exactly mind that he always smelt a little bit like it.

The male waited patiently for you as you picked up the remaining bags, silence filling the air, but you didn’t really mind it at all. In fact, it was to be expected.

“Did you want me to take some off your hands?” you asked, smiling a little when the male shook his head. “Alright, let’s get them up to your place then.”

He offered you a bright grin, pearly teeth flashing briefly before he turned and began to move towards the stairs that led to the first floor and lobby. You admired the toned muscles of his back as you followed, in awe of how his body didn’t even lean or sway from the weight he was carrying, unlike yours. God, this man was unreal. You really hoped he couldn’t feel the weight of your stare. Once more, silence filled the air between you, broken only by your soft humming and the sound of your footsteps slapping against the cool concrete of the steps. Again, you weren’t surprised by the lack of conversation, and didn’t really mind it. You’d be kind of a dick to be bothered about it.

Your neighbour, Kim Seokjin, was mute, after all.

You didn’t really know what had happened, had never dared to ask the details since it felt too, well… too invasive. But you knew that you had never heard him utter a word, and the friends of his that you’d met had confirmed your suspicions after the first time you’d ever run into him. Seokjin didn’t talk, couldn’t talk— you mused that perhaps that was why he poured so much of his time, effort, and soul into other mediums.

The trip up to the floor the two of you resided on was fairly quick, and before you knew it the male was attempting to fish his keys from the deep pocket of his ripped jeans. You were almost going to offer to help when he finally found them, sliding the metal into the lock and turning it with a satisfying click. To be honest, you expected him to just liberate you of the bags and bid you farewell at the door, but to your complete and utter surprise, he marched right in, turning to beckon you after him with a hand. Giddy with excitement, you adjusted your grip on the bags and scuttled in after him, eyes already swinging around in awe. You’d waited and wanted so long to get another glimpse of this place.

Seokjin was an artist, and the artworks he had hung and displayed around his apartment, both complete and otherwise, were almost addictive to look at. The first time you’d come in here, not long after you’d moved in next door, you’d been lucky enough to glimpse a few of the paintings he had been working on—one set up on an easel in the living area, only at the beginning of its journey, and others leaning against the wall in various stages of completion. Even though it wasn’t finished, something about the way his works were, the way the brush strokes swirled and ended, the colours popped off of the canvas, and the composition of the image—it all caught your gaze and kept it for hours, days after. You’d found yourself thinking about his works long after that initial visit, and even now you could remember vividly how they’d looked. They weren’t anywhere to be seen now, of course, and it wasn’t paintings but small sculptures and various clay body parts that lay in partial completion across the coffee table in their stead.

With a tinge of regret, you tore your eyes from the clay shapes and hurried to follow after the pink-haired male, finding him just around the corner in the kitchen. He was plopping his bags on the floor, having taken up the bench space with some already, and you joined him in depositing the bags down. He began to rifle through them, searching for something, and you allowed your attention to wander for a brief moment as your gaze flitted about distractedly.

“Ah!” the noise escaped you suddenly at the pleasant surprise flooding your senses, eyes lighting up as you caught sight of a large canvas sitting alone on the dark wood of the kitchen table. “Oh, wow!”

You didn’t even notice Seokjin’s gaze on you as you shuffled around the bench to get closer to the painting, an awed grin already tugging your lips as you scanned the canvas before you. The colours appealed to you instantly, soft sky blues that blended and curled into deep turquoise and aqua, sea green in the places where it caught the light. It wasn’t really a portrait of anything distinct and distinguishable, yet you could tell that it encapsulated something from the nameless emotion that began to rise and swell in your chest beneath your lungs. You didn’t know what it was about it exactly that evoked such a strong reaction in you, but you loved it. Your gaze flicked to the side where you saw a few words scribbled onto a piece of A4 note paper, only one remaining that hadn’t been crossed out— ‘lullaby’.

“Seokjin, this is beautiful!” you gushed, turning to give him a bright grin. You felt your cheeks flush when you found his gaze already on you, plump lips tugged into a smile of their own and dark eyes curved pleasantly. “I like everything I’ve ever seen of yours, but I think I like this the most of all.”

You could have sworn his cheeks flushed as he placed the item in his hand onto the bench for a moment amongst the other groceries he’d unpacked. You wondered what he was going to do as his free hand lifted now, and nearly choked as he brought it to his lips to blow you a kiss, before holding up a finger heart. The action wrought a surprised laugh from you, cheeks hurting a little from how big you grinned. An idiot. He was an idiot, but it was oddly endearing.

“You’re welcome,” you managed to say, turning your gaze back to the painting for a moment in attempt to disperse the awkwardness beginning to creep upon you. “God… it really is beautiful Seokjin.”

You admired it for a moment before your gaze strayed and you caught sight of the clock—it had been about half an hour since you’d parked in the garage and run into him. You’d been taking up his time and intruding in his space that long?! A light flush of embarrassment washed through you as you jerked away from the table, whipping back to face Seokjin with a sheepish laugh. Your heart skipped a beat as you found his gaze already centred on your form, and struggled to find your voice as a result for a moment.

“Shit,” the curse was the first thing to escape your mouth, and you smacked yourself mentally for it as Seokjin’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t realise the time! Sorry for intruding so long, Seokjin!”

The male’s lips tugged at the corners, an amused glaze catching in his eyes as he shrugged, unbothered. You were already on your way to the door though.

“I’ll let you do uh, whatever you need to do. I should go. I’ll show myself out,” you stumbled over your words, waving while you made a hasty retreat. “See you, Seokjin! Have a lovely night!”

And then you were dashing out of his apartment and straight next door to your own, eager to escape your own embarrassment and awkwardness. The rosy-haired male stared after you, blinking in surprise. If only you’d stayed a little longer, you would have seen the small profiterole he’d pull out of the package to give you as thanks.

x x x x x x x x x

It was a few nights later that you found yourself roused groggily from deep in the middle of REM sleep, the remnants of a dream about talking crabs and a crustacean-driven apocalypse flashing across your mind before they disappeared completely, discarded to the abyss and forgotten. You lay still for a moment, blinking eyes that were still heavy with sleep, and took the time to wonder exactly why you’d been pulled so abruptly from the tender embrace of sleep at—you checked your phone, wincing at the brightness of the screen as it assaulted your eyes—2:35AM.

You didn’t have to wait long before the answer to your question was caressing your ears, softer than a summer breeze but just as soothing. At once, you felt the tension in your body dissipate, eyes fluttering, the soft, pillowy comfort of your bed around you all the more apparent as you relaxed into it. Someone was singing, and it was such a soul-wrenching, beautiful sound when paired with the stillness of night, the cool glow the moon cast upon the inky depths of your room, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. Hearing the melodious ring of someone singing at such hours surprisingly wasn’t uncommon. You’d not heard it in a while, but it was several times a week that you were often lucky enough to catch it. It wasn’t in a language you understood, but in all honesty, for you, that only added to the charm, the allure. Your eyes glazed over, unfocused and directed up at the ceiling, not even registering its deep blue hue, as all of your attention and focus went to your hearing.

The voice, more masculine than feminine if you had to discern, dipped and flowed, each note hitting something in your chest that made your lungs constrict and heart tremble. There was something haunting about it, the loneliness of such a strong, beautiful voice without the company of instruments and backing, but you found that you liked it that way. It made it feel special, really, as though this song was just for you, the notes resonating so hypnotically through the wall and against your chest that you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat every so often. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed, slowly lulled back to sleep by the soft caress of the nameless voice against your ears. You were quick to re-enter the realm of dreams, but this time your mind flickered with images of plush lips and sweet smiles.

x x x x x x x x

When you’d become conscious enough to register the knocking on your door, early the next morning, you’d taken a few moments too many to get out of bed and had, subsequently, missed whoever it was bothering you at such an hour. By the time you’d wrapped yourself in your silk nightgown for decency’s sake (it had been a disgustingly humid the night previous and with your poor air conditioner at its limit you’d been forced to take drastic measures regarding attire) and made your way through your modest apartment to the front door, whoever had been knocking was long gone.

In their stead, you managed to notice just in time before shutting your door in dismissal, was a package left at your doorstep. Confusion filled you at the sight—you hadn’t ordered anything lately? It wasn’t all that big of a package, but it certainly wasn’t small; it can’t have been all that important either, as the deliveryman hadn’t even waited for a signature. Curious, you bent and retrieved it from the ground, twisting it in your hands in search of the label that would clear up all your questions.

“’Deliver to: Mr Kim Seokjin’,” you read aloud, letting out a surprised huff afterwards. It clearly had his apartment number printed on the label, how had they managed to mix it up with yours? Perhaps the deliveryman was in a rush, you mused, and didn’t have time to check. He hadn’t knocked for very long before dashing off, after all.

Well, it would be better to clear this up sooner rather than later. Completely forgetting about your current state of dress, you left your door open and padded down the hall to the one that belonged to your neighbour. A round of butterflies tickled your tummy at the notion of seeing him again, as it usually did. Curse these damn hormonal reactions. You shook your head to clear it of the ridiculous thoughts beginning to clutter it and raised your hand to knock.

It was frozen in its path, however, when the door creaked slightly open from the gust created by your abrupt movement. It was already open? Damn it, one of these days Seokjin was going to get mugged if he didn’t lock his damn door. Making a note to talk to him about it again, you went to knock on the doorframe instead when the sound of a voice from inside the apartment reached your ears.

“You’re being ridiculous,” it was decidedly masculine, and growing louder with each second that passed. You distantly registered the sound of two pairs of footsteps, but any alarm you might have felt was squashed when they stopped several feet from the door. You strained your ears to catch what was being said and discern who exactly was speaking—it surely couldn’t be Seokjin, could it?

“You’re really still on this?” the voice came again, youthful in its tenor and somewhat melodious despite the sharp edge of frustration riding in its tone. “You’re really still attempting to keep this act up?”

There was a pause, then shock had your heart skipping a beat as the voice continued, “Ridiculous. How long are you going to keep pretending you can’t talk?”

You felt your mouth drop open, your brows shooting up in absolute appal. But the voice was not done yet, despite the budding rage beginning to bloom in your chest.

“Your voice isn’t going to disappear just because you don’t use it, Seokjin. You can only escape what you are, who you are for so long. What’s so great about this place, this world, that you would refuse to come home, refuse to embrace your own gifts and blessings—”

Unable to take anymore, you smacked the door open and marched inside, catching sight of the two males barely a few feet from where the door smacked into the wall. Seokjin’s eyes were wide in shock, mouth parted slightly, as he registered it was you bursting into his apartment like that. It was such an open expression, so startling to you that a surprising shiver rolled down your spine to accompany the gasp that fell past his full lips. The male next to him seemed equal parts surprised and unimpressed at your abrupt entry, large brown eyes narrowed at you in an expression of his displeasure. You couldn’t help but notice that he had the same sort of air as Seokjin, the barest scent of brine brushing your nostrils, and was just as attractive if a little more youthful in his looks due to the roundness of his cheeks. You caught it as his strong jaw clenched and ticked, arms crossing over a firm chest. You didn’t let his appearance stop you from letting forth what was on your mind, though.

“Who the hell do you think you are, standing there and saying those things?!” you demanded, anger hot beneath your skin and no doubt flushing your cheeks. “How rude and insensitive do you have to be?”

The male seemed slightly taken aback by your outburst, apparently having not expected it, but was quick to recover. His eyes narrowed further from where they’d shot open in a doe-like look of shock.

“Jungkook,” he responded curtly, tone sharper than you’d heard it before but just as mellifluous. “And I’m Seokjin’s friend, practically his brother. Who are you?”

Despite your surprise at the information, it did nothing to quell the anger still bubbling in your veins. In fact, if anything, it only added to it. “I’m his neighbour,” you answered shortly, “And you’re ‘practically his brother’ yet you’re still standing there saying those things? What the hell is wrong with you?! What gives you the right to come in here and be a prick like that?!”

The male, Jungkook, went to open his mouth and retort when a sudden hint of realisation washed over him, his expression shifting and a sly curve tugging his lips. His dark eyes flicked from you, to Seokjin, and then back again—you missed the look of dread that passed over the rosy-haired male’s features from the side.

“You’re absolutely right,” he hummed, completely throwing you for a loop with his sudden change of tune. He even smiled at you, without a hint of malice, bunny teeth flashed your way. You refused to acknowledge the sheer amount of rage he quelled with just that single action. “It was very insensitive of me to say those things, especially considering… well. I should have known better.”

Something shifted in his eyes as his gaze turned to Seokjin, leaving you standing there in absolute shock as he seemed to convey something with his expression. His voice seemed to drop in his amusement, “I should get going. I am sorry, Seokjin. I’ll remember to be kinder in the future.”

He then took a step away, timberlands thudding loudly against the hardwood floor. His gaze swept back to you and you were rendered frozen to the spot for a moment in your dressing gown with the package under your arm. His eyes slipped over the length of your body before meeting your own. A sly smile tugged his lips, something akin to mischief glimmering in the dark chocolate of his iris. There was something particularly lilting and hypnotic about his voice as he spoke this time, “It was nice to meet you, y/n. Do me a favour and take care of Seokjin, give him a kiss on the cheek for me. Goodbye to both of you.”

And then he was turning on his heel and exiting through the open doorway, disappearing quickly down the hall. You stood a moment, basking in the bizarre turn the conversation had taken and the way your anger had all but completely fizzled out, before turning to face Seokjin. The moment your gaze connected with his form, it was as though something came over you and you were stepping forward and leaning up, pressing your lips to the soft cushion of his cheek. As soon as you performed the action, you seemed to snap out of it, and you lurched back with all the speed of someone who’d just been burnt.

You flushed and stuttered, eyes wide as you realised what you’d just done—why had you done that?! Why the hell did you just kiss Seokjin on his cheek?! God, your shoulders were pinching up from the sheer embarrassment flooding your form in such a debilitating manner. Seokjin was staring at you with wide eyes, lips parted slightly as you stuttered, his cheeks flushed a couple shades lighter than the colour no doubt staining your own.

“I—” you fumbled with the package and your words, knees shaking from your nerves. “I’m so sorry I don’t know what just came over me! I just came to give you th-this, since they delivered it to the wrong door! I’m so sorry! Have a nice day, Seokjin!”

With that you were thrusting the package in your arms towards him, barely making sure he’d grasped it before you were turning on your own heel and dashing away. You managed to close the door behind you just in time before absolutely legging it to your own and slamming that behind you as well. You let yourself drop back against the wood, sliding down the door with your heated face pressed into your hands.

That. Was so. Humiliating.

Over on the other side of the wall, Seokjin brought his hand to his cheek to chase the phantom feel of your lips against his skin, the smallest of smiles curving his lips.

x x x x x x x

Due to the intensity of the embarrassment you still felt about that little incident almost a week ago, you’d been doing your absolute best to avoid your attractive neighbour, if only for a little while. You weren’t doing too poorly, if you were being honest with yourself, you’d managed to avoid him thus far without problem, effectively preserving your dignity yet another day. You were embarrassed at the action, at the fact you’d up and kissed poor Seokjin on the cheek like that out of nowhere, but you were also confused as to why you’d done it. You weren’t someone to do things so impulsively and on a whim, and hadn’t had the thought or impulse to kiss him on the cheek in the first place. Despite this, the second you’d laid eyes on him, you’d acted without hesitation or room for thought—the helplessness of it, the lack of control, was what frazzled you so. Therefore, until you could sort out that particular cocktail of emotion, you were going to avoid him.

As was the case with most things though, this avoidance couldn’t last forever and was soon to come to an end.

The end in question came one Friday evening when you rushed up the concrete stairs into the apartment lobby, making a mad dash for the packed elevator before it closed and left you to wait for fifteen minutes. Usually there wasn’t much traffic through the elevators, but it was around the time that each working man and woman came home, and so the small compartment was crammed full of people in suits and dress clothes.

“Hold the door please!” you called across the space, hoping you didn’t sound as desperate as you really were, while you scuttled over. You didn’t get to see who you were squishing against as you effectively threw yourself inside, hands holding your bag close to you in a poor attempt to make yourself as compact as possible and reduce how much space you were taking up. There was an annoyed groan from someone in the corner as the doors shut behind you and you leaned around the person in front of you to shoot a bright smile in that direction, ignoring how their attitude annoyed you. “Thank you so much for waiting!”

With that you leaned back, taking an involuntary sniff through your nose as you did. To your surprise, instead of the usual musty aroma of dust, body odour and fresh sweat that was so familiar to the elevator, it was the soft tinge of brine and something floral that brushed your nostrils. You blinked, turning to face the person in front of you, who you were essentially pressed chest-to-chest with. All at once the blood drained from your face then flushed back in to colour your cheeks what was no doubt an alarming shade of embarrassment exclusive only to you.

Seokjin’s lips were tugged into an amused smile, eyes creasing at the ends in his mirth, and you very much wished for the floor of the elevator to open up so you could drop down the shaft and escape this humiliation.

“Oh, hello Seokjin,” your voice was small and you could hear the fluster riddling your tone. “I didn’t see you there. I hope your day has gone well?”

The male managed to nod down at you before the elevator jostled slightly, jerking a little as it came to a stop. There was shuffling from the back as the doors opened and you realised with dread what was about to happen.

“Hi, sorry, excuse me—” it was a woman in her mid-forties that squeezed in behind you, disregarding the fact that there was absolutely no room for her. You squeaked as her entry meant you were now properly pushed up against Seokjin’s front, your bag clamped to your side. You felt the movement of his chest against your own as he inhaled sharply, a shuddering breath, and you were sure your face couldn’t get any more flushed as the elevator jostled into movement once more and had you rubbing against him. This was it, this was how you were going to die—of embarrassment, like you always thought.

There was a plastic-like rustling and crinkling by your shoulder and you turned your head slightly to see plastic and cellophane, wrapped neatly around a large bouquet of spring blooms, the bundle assortment of colours that found their home in the sky at sunset. You were sure more than one of the flowers in there could match the colour currently staining your cheeks.

“Flowers?” the word slipped from your mouth before you could think to stop it, gaze flicking back up to Seokjin whose dark eyes were lidded slightly as he gazed down at you. Your breath caught in your throat slightly as you were suddenly made hyperaware of him— the scent of him mixed with the summery allure of the flowers, sweet and cloying as it brushed your nostrils; the golden tone of his skin as it contrasted and complimented the magnetic warmth and darkness of his eyes and brows and the dusty pink of his hair. His plush lips were parted just slightly but pressed together after you finished speaking, one side tugging up.

He lifted his hand, apparently not accounting for the cramped space. It brushed your hip and the side of your breast as it rose to the air, making you jerk slightly in surprise—lord, now you were even more aware of how your front was pressed so much against his, the heat of his form through your clothing almost overwhelming. A brief look of mortification flickered across his features at the accident but he managed to hide it just as quickly as it arose, the only remaining tell-tale sign of his embarrassment being his pink cheeks. You were torn between fluster and endearment.

He brought his hand so that you could see it clearly and posed it like he was holding a pen, or similar instrument, before moving it through the air a little. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in realisation.

“Oh, for reference?” you guessed, warmth bubbling in your chest when he nodded with a bright grin, teeth flashing. You didn’t notice how he was angling his lower body away from yours slightly, as much as he inconspicuously could manage in the tight space.

The elevator halted, and you glanced up in time to see that it was your floor—you’d never been so thankful that you didn’t live closer to the top. As soon as the doors creaked open you sprung forth from the tight space, ignoring the huffs of relief from the residents behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know that Seokjin had followed you out, but you still paused and waited for him to catch up anyway. When he stepped beside you, a smile on his face and the bouquet of flowers held lax in his hands in front of him. You resumed your pace and he was quick to join you, the two of you walking in ambient if somewhat awkward silence. You had pretty much all but forgotten about what had happened last time, too busy getting over the embarrassment this encounter had caused.

The male seemed like he wanted to express something to you, but remained focused on where he placed his feet with each step, right up until you reached his door. You offered him a smile in farewell, preparing to turn and continue to your own door, but he halted you in your steps as his hand shot to wrap around your wrist. Your skin buzzed where it came into contact with his, the surprising cool of his palm very welcome against your heated flesh, and you turned to him expectantly, eyes wide.

He dropped your wrist as soon as he had your attention, and you found yourself missing the contact the second it disappeared. He was barely over a foot away, close enough that you could reach to touch him yourself—you just barely managed to hold yourself back, cheeks warmed by your loud thoughts. He held up a finger, something you took to mean ‘wait a moment, please’, and so you did, with as much patience as you could muster. Seokjin shifted in his stance, resting his weight on the opposite leg and bringing the bouquet up closer to his face as he used his hand to carefully pluck a flower from the bunch.

It was a pretty strawberry-coloured bloom, with petals that were stained a deeper, darker colour in the centre, which was decorated with a light lemon sphere of pollen. You blinked in confusion as he separated it from the rest, holding it before him to inspect for a moment. It seemed to pass whatever criterion he was holding it to, as in the next moment he was holding it out to you. Bewildered, you took it, and he flashed you a grin. The only explanation he offered in answer to the confusion splayed across your features was a finger pointing to the petals, and then to his cheek—your cheek.

You flushed further, wanting to run now that you knew for sure your face was completely taken in the throes of your embarrassed blushing.

“Th-thanks,” you managed to stutter out, already edging closer to your door. The male, whose own cheeks still had yet to recover from the incident in the elevator, shot you a bright grin. He lifted a hand and slipped the flower from your grasp, slotting it in and tucking it firmly behind your ear. Your cheeks could have cooked something they were so absolutely scorching with how utterly flustered and embarrassed you were.

Luckily for you, Seokjin was the first one to step away. He turned to his door, bouquet in his grasp, and fished his keys out of his pocket before giving you an enthused wave. And just like that, you were free from whatever spell had kept you standing there as long as you had been— you took a step back of your own and returned the wave.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you barely managed to articulate without another sudden bout of stuttering, “See you around!”

He nodded, already slotting his key into the door and letting himself into his apartment. When he disappeared inside with a final wave, door thudding shut behind him and the lock clicking (for once), you hurried to do the same and let yourself into your own apartment.

With your heart racing, butterflies rampant in your abdomen, you shut the door behind you, and couldn’t help but think that one of these days, Seokjin was going to be the end of you.

x x x x x x x x x

In the short amount of time after that most recent incident with the elevator and the flower, you ceased your active attempts to avoid Seokjin, but didn’t end up seeing much of him anyway; the two of you led very much separate and individual lives and that meant that a lot of the time your personal schedules didn’t always align. So while you weren’t consciously trying to miss him this time, you ended up only glimpsing him once or twice over the week or so since the last incident—once as he was climbing into his car in the basement, and another time as you walked through the lobby and caught sight of him entering the gym on the bottom floor. The second time had you scuttling away as fast as possible, admittedly, because he’d slipped into a singlet that exposed a lot of golden skin and toned back and arms and you really weren’t out looking to suffer. You didn’t have an explanation for the way your body behaved and reacted at just the mere sight of him, but it was damn dangerous. You were going to have to find an outlet for all of this pent up energy sometime soon because if you didn’t you had no doubt you were going to be even more of a mess than usual around him and you simply couldn’t take that amount of embarrassment because clearly, as witnessed already, you weren’t that great at handling it.

Tossing the little square of chocolate into the air and thankfully caching it with your mouth, you allowed the sweet treat to melt on your tongue as you returned your gaze to the television. It was some drama that you’d put on initially as background noise, but had unwittingly gotten a little invested in. The characters were quirky and funny and you found yourself developing a bit of a soft spot for the most extravagant and boisterous one. You refused to analyse why exactly that was. The current conflict in the series was more of the emotional type than traditional outside forces—it was riveting.

You’d been watching this, binging it all day. You didn’t have work on the weekends, thankfully, and you’d had the thought to do something productive with the time you now had but ended up relaxing and moulding yourself into the couch instead. Sometimes you were a little too self=indulgent, but you didn’t mind it all that much when you could afford it on days like today.

It was early evening, and you would think that with such a show-stopping distraction in front of you, you’d be able to avoid thoughts of a certain someone—but alas, that was not the case, and yet again you found yourself thinking about your neighbour and, oddly, the singing you’d begun to hear almost every night the past week or so. You wondered how he was, whether he was woken by it and heard it too—the rare few times you’d glimpsed his face, he’d seemed somewhat deep in thought, distracted, and you hoped he was able to hear that lovely voice that sang at night because then he’d be able to relax as he listened to it, much like you did. The tune of the song had changed lately, it sounded different but was just a haunting, just as mesmerising. You still couldn’t understand the words sewn so wonderfully into the air, but felt in your gut that the mood of these melodies had shifted. You were relaxed upon hearing them, as expected, but also filled with a tug, a pull and a longing, nestled in your chest and wrapped around your heart and lungs. You didn’t know what, but you wanted to do something, to go somewhere. It was a little odd that you got such urges at midnight and the early hours of the morning, but you were able to ignore them for the most part.

You let out a loud gasp, unchecked in the midst of your solitude, as the two characters on screen, enemies at the current time, kissed. You straightened so abruptly in your seat, eyes wide, that you nearly knocked the block of chocolate you’d been nibbling from off the armrest. A precarious position, you knew, but you didn’t want to put it on the cushion and risk squishing it with your ass or something. You were wearing your lazy outfit, which consisted of black tights and an oversized sweater that hid the cute lingerie you had beneath—the baby pink set with silk and lace weren’t your first pick for a lazy day, but you’d gotten behind on your washing and they were all that was left. Thankfully, they were comfortable, so you didn’t have that many complaints.

As the shock began to wear off at what you were seeing, your form began to relax back into the couch—that is, before a god-awful, ear-splitting, absolutely blaring noise, only barely muffled by plaster, assaulted your eardrums and you jumped so hard you nearly fell off the cushion. It took you a few moments to realise what it was, and then a few moments more before you realised exactly where it was coming from.

It was a fire alarm, sounding from the apartment right next to yours—Seokjin’s apartment.

You were a little worried, but figured he probably just put his toast in for too long or something—these alarms were really sensitive, you didn’t have enough fingers to count all the times your own had gone off on you suddenly for cooking an egg or bacon or similar consumable product.

So you waited a few moments, thinking it would turn off as the male no doubt hurried to fix the culinary happening that had led to this situation—but you waited, and waited, and the alarm continued to blare on, and on, and on. More than a little worried, considering the male should have been able to get it off by now even if he had to take the batteries out as a last resort, you rose from the couch and quickly dashed down the hall to your front door.

The sound was a little more muffled in the hallway of the complex, but you could still hear it well enough—you quickly made a beeline to Seokjin’s door, raising your hand to knock and accidentally pushing the door in from the gust of air that resulted from the movement as it was, once again, left unlocked. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes; it was like the male was just asking to be robbed or something. You really had to remind him to lock his own door, huh.

At the persistent ringing in your ears from the fire alarm as the sound slipped through the crack in the doorway, you weighed your options for a brief moment. To enter, or not to enter. You had a brief image of poor Seokjin knocked out, or something equally dramatic, and immediately came to a decision. Your palm pressed to the cool wood of the door, pushing it open, and you quickly dashed inside. Immediately, you were greeted by the sight and acrid smell of smoke—so something was burning.

His apartment was in pretty much the same state as it had been last time you’d been privy to its contents, except the artwork you’d seen had all been switched out again. Actually, you amended that observation as you entered the kitchen, passing the dining table on the way and catching sight of a familiar painting on the wall. Something flickered in your chest briefly; Seokjin had hung up the painting you’d complimented last time, ‘lullaby’ if you were recalling correctly. The knowledge brought a smile to your face before another large waft of smoke assaulted your nostrils and you were reminded of the current situation at hand.

As soon as you stepped foot in the kitchen, you were able to pinpoint the source of the smoke—and what it had originally been, if the barest scent of fish was anything to go by. You were quick to take the frying pan off the stove, the charred remains of what you presumed had been seafood more like ash at this point than anything edible. Just how long had it been sitting there on the glass-top stove, burning away?

Dumping the pan in the sink and blasting it with water from the tap, you left it running while you rushed to open the windows along the bench—at the scent of fresh air and the cool breeze on your face, you let out a pleased sigh. Grabbing the first tea towel in sight, you started to fan the smoke out, wrinkling your nose at the smell as the heat was doused in the stream from the tap.

It took only a short while to silence the fire alarm, your ears singing praise the second it cut off. You’d managed to fan most of the smoke out of the room, although the smell was lingering a fair bit. You turned the tap off, leaving some water in the pan for good measure, and took a step back.

This whole time, you still hadn’t seen hide no hair of Seokjin.

Worry curled in your abdomen, wringing your stomach, and you hesitated for a moment. You felt a bit uncomfortable barging through his apartment like this, but you also wanted to be sure he was okay. Ultimately, it was a worse ending if you didn’t go looking for him and something actually turned out to be wrong. Biting your lip, you steeled your will and left the kitchen, double-checking the stove was off as you went. The heat coming off of it was almost unbearable at this point, and you were glad you’d thought to come in and check on things.

Seokijn’s apartment was very similar to yours in layout, the main difference being the fact that it was flipped and, obviously, the different furniture and décor. You were prepared to go searching through every room for him, but with the alarm no longer blaring obnoxiously in your ears, you quickly caught the sound of running water as it brushed your ears, somewhat muffled. The bathroom…?

Quick to act, you started in the direction the noise was coming from, finding the door to the room ajar by barely an inch and the sound of running water most definitely coming from inside. Was this something else he had left on? Lord he was going to be in so much trouble with your landlord—

Pushing the door open and stepping inside, your feet slapped against the thin layer of water pooling across the floor, cold where it hit your skin, and you didn’t even get to scan the whole room before you caught sight of an image that answered a lot of the questions you had bouncing in your head, yet also thrust you into such a state of shock you nearly slipped right over there in the doorway.

Seokjin was in the bathtub, head and upper body completely submerged as water continued to flow unchecked from the tap, rippling and splashing across the surface that lapped and spilt over the edge. The way it flowed over the side of the tub reminded you of a water feature as it spilt down to the floor, pooling across the tiles and trickling slowly down the small drain situated in the middle of the room. You might have been alarmed that Seokjin was completely underwater were it not for the other part of the scene that had your breath catching in your lungs and shock rooting you in place.

Seokjin’s upper body was beneath the water, in the depths of the tub, but it was not his legs that hung over the side—no, it was a large tail almost twice the length of his upper body, and it was rich, glimmering turquoise that bled to black at the end, scales iridescent and gleaming soft pinks, purples and summer blues as it flicked and dragged across the floor. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, the way droplets of water caught the light on the surface, the way it shifted and the thin, wispy, shimmering fins that decorated the sides and trailed to the end would follow the motion. A tail… Seokjin was…

You barely had time to conceive let alone process the thought before the water shifted and rippled, Seokjin’s body moving as he sat up and broke the surface, the contents of the tub sloshing over the sides to slap and splatter against the tile. His eyes remained closed as water cascaded down his face, streaming over his fine features and plastering his rosy hair down before he brought a dripping hand up to brush it up and away from his eyes. A flush of heat washed over you at the sight of him now, droplets slipping over the smooth planes of his chest and shoulders, lashes wet against his cheeks—he was so beautiful, so incredibly stunning in this moment that it made your chest ache inexplicably.

Then his eyes opened and swept to meet yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the look held in their depths, the heat that you could feel seeping into your skin, that was currently making your knees weak and core throb. You didn’t even notice the gasp that escaped your lips, too bewildered and shocked at the turn this day had taken. Seokjin’s stare was unwavering as he held your gaze, and the longer you remained trapped in it the more heat you felt flush over your body. It was only when his lips parted and his tongue darted out to wet them that you snapped out of it, immediately a discomforting combination of mortified and strangely aroused.

You stumbled back, very nearly slipping in the water still overflowing from the tap and pooling on the floor. Your voice caught in your throat and almost broke as you blurted out apologies, “Shit, I-I’m so sorry, Seokjin! Fuck, I—I’m—”

Floundering for words, you just gave up and succumbed to your desire to flee, turning tail and dashing out of the room. You needed more than a moment to process this whole debacle.

Distantly, you registered the sound of a tap twisting and shutting off, and then the sound of water splashing and sloshing. In your panic and embarrassment, you ended up going the wrong way and scrambled further into the house rather than back out to the kitchen as you’d intended. You were just about to spin on your heel when there were footsteps behind you and a large, wet hand grasped your wrist to keep you from moving. You had a moment to adjust to the scorching heat, the searing of his palm against your skin, before you arm was firmly but gently tugged and you were spun around in place.

“y/n, y/n, y/n…” the voice that graced your ears was a low, dulcet purr, velvet against your eardrums. It took a moment as your gaze flew to Seokjin’s face, hair still damp over his forehead and the odd droplet of water still decorating his skin, for you to realise the voice was coming from him, that it was his plush lips shaping your name in such a sultry way. Another wash of heat fell over you, your gut dropping and knees trembling; somehow he’d managed to throw a towel haphazardly around his waist, the material slipping low on his hips, and the rest of his body was still damp from his recent dip. Something began to smoulder in your abdomen as Seokjin’s eyes caught yours. Your mouth dropped open with the urge to speak but no words escaped.

His lips curled at your speechless state, fingers drumming softly against the skin of your wrist as he pulled you closer before beginning to urge you backwards. It was only now that your own voice returned to you, legs wobbling as you stumbled backwards, the doorway to a room you didn’t know passing over you, “Seokjin, y-you—”

“I’m not mute, no,” his voice was melodic and clear, a daze of sorts washing over you and arousal beginning to swim along your veins at the sound of it. The back of your legs brushed something soft and he ceased in his gentle urging. “But I have to admit, seeing you defend me so heatedly, so passionately… If I hadn’t already been wanting you since the very first day I saw you, I might have fallen then and there.”

His words had your heart skipping a beat, his free hand coming to grasp your other wrist and a pleasant heat searing where his skin met yours. You were quivering, not in fear but in need, a kind so deep and primal it felt like your insides were ablaze. What was he, that at just the sound of his voice your body was reacting so strongly, like it never had before?

You wanted to talk, to speak, but couldn’t find your tongue let alone the words to grace it, mind running too fast to keep up with even with the haze beginning to cloud your mind; he seemed to understand. His hands trailed along your arms, eliciting a deep shiver along the length of your spine, and then came to brush down your sides until finally resting upon your hips. His grip tightened momentarily before he pushed once, sending you backwards. Your form met the bed softer than anticipated, elbows sinking into the mattress to prop yourself up slightly. Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed up at him, mesmerised.

“Do you know what I am?” he asked, breathless, as he advanced and slid his knee onto the bed between your thighs. Your core throbbed wantonly as he climbed over you, gaze never once breaking its hold on you.

“Siren,” you breathed in answer, stomach fluttering at the way his gaze lit up and his lips twitched. “I knew you were too attractive to be human.”

He let out a laugh, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard then you didn’t know what would be.

“You’ve always been perceptive, sweet flower,” he cooed, the depth of his voice as it caressed some of the words and the pet name making your stomach dip. “Yet you’ve never quite caught on, have you?”

“To what?” the question almost caught in your throat as he hummed softly, gaze slipping down your neck to caress your form.

The smile that curved his full lips was indulgent, enamoured. “I want you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, butterflies rampant in your abdomen and your heart racing in your chest as he continued, “I’ve wanted you, resisted you, for so long; the draw of your energy, your soul… But I cannot resist it— resist you— any longer. You’ve seen me.”

He was breathless now, an undercurrent of excitement threading through the mellifluous timbre of his voice. He lowered slightly, breath brushing your ear and the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, “You’ve seen my truest form, and now you lay beneath me smelling so sweet with arousal, your body singing my song. I can hardly resist,” he let out a soft chuckle as he lowered his head further, lips brushing your throat—your heart was racing so fast it was like a hummingbird fluttering against the confines of your chest. “Fancy this, a siren caught and ensnared in your mortal wiles.”

He pressed a kiss to your throat and you shivered, hands coming up to grasp the smooth, heated skin of his biceps. Pleasure, light and airy, tingled along your limbs with each soft brush of his lips to your neck. Your voice trembled as you asked, “Why did you never speak?”

You saw his shoulders shrug, a soft hum vibrating against your skin.

“It’s always been much easier to show,” he murmured, avoiding the question and what you’d intended to ask. He distracted you with a firm kiss to your neck, tongue darting out to lave over the skin and tearing a sharp gasp from your throat. He began to decorate your neck with his lips, hot open-mouthed kisses making your knees weak and your core throb.

“Are you going to show me?” you could hardly keep your voice level, a tremble of nerves and excitement still present in the undertones. He shifted in his position, resting on his elbows and allowing his hips to lower between your thighs. At the sudden pressure, the roll of his hips against your throbbing core, you let out a soft whine of need; even through the thick material of the towel you could feel the heat, the hardness beneath, and the observation had your head swimming in the throes of your arousal. You’d never felt such all-consuming desire for someone.

“Tell me, y/n,” he paused to suckle underneath your jaw, the sensation eliciting another sharp noise from your throat—he seemed to bask in it. “Do you want me?”

You were lucid enough that you still felt the embarrassment such a question caused, but taken enough by your desire for him that you were able to answer him nonetheless. Your response escaped your lips on your next breath, “Yes. I-I do.”

The siren hummed his pleasure against your neck, rewarding you with a tender scrape of his teeth against your throat and a roll of his hips into yours. His voice ran like velvet over your ears, “Then I will show you.”

With that his lips were on you with renewed fervour, kissing and suckling tender bruises across the expanse of your throat; soft, gasping moans tumbled from your lips and you tilted your head back so he had more access, fingers gripping him hard. With each noise you made, he seemed to grow more and more excited—and with how skilled he was with his mouth, you were making a lot of them. He decorated all the flesh he could reach in tender marks that bloomed the colours of twilight, the occasional drop of water hitting your skin from his still damp hair as it tickled you wherever he went.

Soon enough, he met the barrier that your sweater presented, and was quick to sit up, gaze taking you in for a moment—your flushed cheeks and lidded eyes, the hickeys he’d just dressed your neck up with, the way your thighs trembled with the urge to close and rub. He let out a low, throaty groan that had your stomach flipping and was quick to grip the bottom of your sweater and rid you of it. Your pants went next and when he was faced with the sight of you in nothing but the lingerie you’d donned this morning as a last resort, he froze.

“Fuck,” his voice was thick and caught in his throat, but even then it retained its silky, mellifluous quality. Soft pink locks, still damp, fell across his forehead as he let out a shuddering breath. His large hands came to hover over your form, fingers tracing your shape and trailing over the soft skin of your sides—your cheeks were so scorching you were almost worried, and at the heated look in his eyes elicited by the sight of your body almost bare before him, you felt you might explode. “So pretty and perfect for me, kitten.”

You shivered at the change in pet name, this one infinitely more out there and potent than the last, but you didn’t find yourself minding one bit. He lowered himself down once more, but not before his gaze fell upon what was no doubt the wet patch your arousal had soaked in your underwear. He let out another groan, a delicious rumble that started in his chest, and then his head was dipping down and his mouth was on you once more. One of his hands found your own and threaded your fingers together, making your heart skip a beat, and the other cupped your breast before dragging down your side and over the soft swell of your tummy.

The siren returned to sucking marks across your flesh, your body serving as his personal canvas as he decorated you in a mixture of rosy pinks, reds and purples. The attention he paid to your neck and throat had you whining loudly, hips rolling up to grind against his own and fingers gripping his hand harder. He relished in each noise he managed to elicit, fascinated with the sound of your needy whines and moans—as a creature whose gift and power lay in voice, the tantalising timbre of yours as it brushed his ears only served to make him all the more enthralled.

The free hand that had been exploring your every dip and curve began to skirt the waistband of your panties, and it wasn’t long before his fingers dipped lower to drag over your clothed core. You jolted at the sensation against your clit as he rubbed it, teasing; you were almost hypersensitive at this point, so fraught with need as you were. Your core ached for something inside of it, clenching around nothing. He drank each of your moans in as he suckled the flesh of your breast that wasn’t obscured by the soft pink bra into his mouth, teeth scraping the skin and eliciting a delicious ache.

Eventually he grew tired of the remaining barriers hiding you from him, and tugged the straps off your shoulders and the cups down beneath your breasts—your nipples were already peaking under his rapt attention and the cool air. He took a moment to survey the mess he’d made you into already before returning his attention to your skin, kissing along the swell of your breast and allowing his tongue to roll your nipple before taking it into his mouth and suckling. You let out a loud cry at that, more sensitive than you’d expected, your back arching into his ministrations slightly. The hand that had been dancing around your core slipped beneath the waistband and his fingers were soon dragging along your folds, gathering the slick nectar pooled there and using it as he rolled your clit, rubbing it in figure eights.

You moaned sharply at that, Seokjin moving across your chest with his mouth and ensuring almost every inch of you was covered. His fingers didn’t tease you for long, dipping back down to part your folds, two digits pressed at your entrance. He brought his head up to meet your gaze for a moment and at the almost indiscernible nod you were able to offer in your haze, his head dipped back down and his fingers slipped into you.

“Fuck,” he swore, muscles in his back trembling slightly. “You’re so wet.”

With how aroused you were, they slipped in easily, a long, drawn moan tearing from your throat at the stretch and ending in a gasp as the rosy-haired siren took your nipple between his teeth, the slight pinch sending little shocks of pleasure straight to your core. Your walls clenched around the intrusion involuntarily, Seokjin letting out a sharp gasping groan at the sensation. He quickly sank the digits the rest of the way in until they were knuckle deep, his thumb teasing your clit. He allowed you a moment to adjust before he was shifting his hand, rolling his wrist and beginning to fuck into you with his fingers. Your thighs trembled, fingers gripping his other hand hard as you whined and moaned.

“Seokjin,” you gasped, eyelids fluttering as pleasure began to throb throughout your body in a heady ache. “Seokjin, can I kiss you?”

The male lifted his head enough to send you an apologetic look, before he dove down to press a kiss to your cheek. “It’s not wise, flower,” he murmured against your skin, brushing his nose against yours before turning to press kisses along your jaw. “I think you know what a kiss from a siren does, sweetheart.”

You let out a sound torn between a moan and a whine, the male having curled his fingers inside you, the pads of his fingertips brushing against your g-spot. He was right, you knew what a siren’s kiss entailed, but in your lust-induced haze you could hardly find enough fault with it to dismiss it entirely from your mind. Intent on giving back even a little of the attention he was giving you, you brought your free hand to cup his face, along the sharp curve of his jaw, and as he looked up you guided his face closer to your own.

Heeding what he said for now, you pressed your lips to his cheek by his lips, the curve of his cheekbone, the tip of his nose—you got most of the way over his face before he was pulling back with pink cheeks and an endeared smile.

“Cute,” he noted, tone dipping melodiously, making your own cheeks flush with heat and causing your hand to leave his face as it came to cover your own in embarrassment. He let out a chuckle, peppering soft kisses across your collarbones and humming at the shiver it elicited.

It wasn’t long before Seokjin deemed you ready enough to add another finger, slipping it in with the other two—you gasped, mewling at the stretch, and you felt his lips twitch against you.

“You sound so sweet, kitten,” the siren purred, dulcet tone deep and low as it brushed your ears. He began fucking into you harder with his fingers, curling them each time they breached your walls. You were a gasping mess, your body writhing from the pleasure that resulted from his actions. Rapidly, you were approaching your peak, and you could hardly catch your breath from the suddenness, the intensity of it all. Seokjin’s next words only pushed you closer, heart fluttering in your chest, “I’ve dreamt so long of having you mewling beneath me like this—you sound just as I imagined and better.”

You were too taken by the pleasure to respond, arching into Seokjin’s ministrations wantonly. “F-fuck, Seokjin! I’m—”

“You’re close?” he guessed, voice like velvet against your ears. Something different shifted into his tone, intertwining with his words, “Come now, kitten, cum for me.”

You weren’t sure what, but something in your snapped at his words—at his command. You recognised distantly it was a gift often belonging to sirens, but could hardly focus on the thought when the sound of his voice as he directed you sent you forcibly off the precipice of your release and spiralling into an orgasm that had you crying out, keening loudly, as pleasure flooded your form and set your nerves alight. You clenched around him as he continued fucking his fingers into you to ride you through your high, hips bucking up and thighs shaking.

“Good girl,” When you returned to the present moment and the pleasure faded to a pleasant buzz beneath your skin, you found Seokjin cooing at you, thumb brushing over your hand soothingly. When he noticed you were looking at him once more, chest still heaving as you attempted to regain your breath, he continued, “You sound so pretty when you cum for me, flower.”

He peppered fond kisses across your chest, a soft laugh escaping him when he pressed them to your breasts and their pebbled peaks and you jerked, somewhat ticklish to the action. It was as though he was especially attuned to your body, as the second any remaining oversensitivity ceased he was slipping his soaked fingers from your core and moving his kisses southward. You moved to fight him on it, wanting to give some back, but he simply pressed you back to the mattress and sent you’re a firm look. One by one he slipped his fingers into his mouth, deft tongue ensuring none of your essence escaped on his watch—the sight had your breath catching in your chest.

“I’ve waited so long for this, kitten,” his lips tugged into a salacious smile. “Won’t you let me make you feel good? Won’t you give me some more of those pretty sounds, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks were instantly set ablaze, yet the undeniable ache of arousal began to settle in your abdomen nonetheless. He pressed one final kiss below your navel and then was quick to ensure you were bare before him, slipping your remaining garment completely from your form and grasping your thighs to part them. You heard his sharp intake of breath at the sight and scent of you and had to fight the urge to close your legs in embarrassment.

You had barely any warning before Seokjin was dipping his head between your thighs and delivering a long, deft lick along your folds, your ears burning at the slick noise that resulted along with the sharp, abrupt moan that escaped you. He hummed against you, pleased with your reaction, and began cleaning your folds with broad , firm licks of his tongue. With each swipe it flicked and brushed your clit, and your hips rolled slightly, unable to help it as the fire of desire was rekindled so easily in your abdomen.

It took him a shamefully shorter time to begin working you up again, tongue quickly changing directive and rolling your clit instead. You cried out at this, hips twitching up into the ministration on instinct as pleasure shot through you once more, core throbbing with the same ache you’d been stuck with in the first place. You rose back up to the peak at a steady pace, soft moans and Seokjin’s name tumbling from your lips as you grew closer and closer to your second release—that steady climb was shot to hell as Seokjin grasped your thighs and began to wrap his plush lips around your clit, continuing to flick and roll it with his tongue as he sucked it into his mouth, against his teeth.

The hand he wasn’t using to hold your thighs apart brushed back up your body, cupping your cheek a moment before trailing down to wrap loosely around your throat, thumb and finger brushing the tender, marked flesh before settling over your pulse points. The male’s dark eyes swept up to catch sight of your expression as he began to apply a little pressure, monitoring your features for any sign of displeasure or discomfort as he continued to stimulate you with his tongue. This wasn’t territory you were all that familiar with, but you were familiar enough with it and Seokjin’s nature to trust him, and when he increased the pressure a little more and your head began to fuzz just slightly, you couldn’t help but let out a choked moan.

“F-fuck!” your voice wavered and trembled, more than enough to tell the pink-haired male that you were close once more with this new sensation adding to the pleasure. He hummed, continuing to work you up, and you were drowning in the pleasure—right up until you were on the precipice once more and he abruptly slipped his mouth from your core. His voice was firm and laced with the familiar note the command from last time had carried.

“Don’t cum until I tell you to,” he instructed, and the softness of his voice and features contrasted sharply with the firmness of his tone—all of which had your heart stuttering in your heaving chest and your stomach flipping giddily. With that he allowed a slight smile to cross his lips and he was ducking down to return them to where you ached for them to be most.

You might have paid his words no heed, except that from the second he uttered them it was as though you were stuck on the precipice, a tantalising millimetre from your next release and unable to cross it. Seokjin’s fingers and thumb teased your circulation, your head filled with a pleasant buzz that exacerbated your pleasure but was never enough to push you over.

One of your hands slipped down to wind into the siren’s damp pink locks, the other gripping his bicep for something to anchor you. He continued lapping at your folds, rolling your pearl with his tongue and even grazing it ever so carefully with his teeth—you were constantly stimulated, held on the edge for much, much longer than you were used to. You began to grow even more sensitive, so sensitive, and the pleasure was so hot and all-consuming you were easily going to lose yourself in it and go mad, if only you could hit your release.

“F-fuck!” you ended up letting out a sobbing moan, body arching and chest heaving as you gasped for breath when Seokjin let his grip on your throat relax for a moment before resuming. You were feeling so much all at once, too much, yet none of it was enough to push you off the edge—it was torture of the most exquisite kind. “F-fuck, please—“

You were so wet that when Seokjin returned a finger to tease at your entrance, all that resulted was lewd noises and wet squelching. You were absolutely soaked, your body continuing to gush in its prolonged, heightened state of arousal. Your senses were quickly beginning to overload, filter disengaging as tears began to bud in your eyes and pleas tumbled from your lips.

“P-please can I c-cum—” you gasped, hips twitching as he suckled your clit once more and another sobbing moan tore from your throat. “Gah, f-fuck Seokjin, I can’t take much more p-please let me c-cum—”

He hummed against you, drinking in your sinful sounds as he leisurely lapped up your essence, pussy constantly gushing with more of the sweetness thanks to the prolonged arousal he’d brought upon you. A part of him wished to hear more of your begging, your pleas and whines as your body strained to come undone, but his heart throbbed in his chest and he found himself wanting to indulge you more.

“I want to hear more of you, but you’re begging so nicely, being such a good girl for me,” the siren hummed, delivering a rewarding lick to your core between words. He lifted his hand from your throat, fingers ever so gentle and tender as they brushed away a tear of frustration you hadn’t even realised had fallen. “Tell me kitten, who is it that’s making you feel this way?”

You nearly sobbed your response, limbs trembling and nerves alight from the prolonged pleasure, “Y-you are! You are.”

He purred, pleased with your obedience and compliance. He had one last request for you. “Say my name, kitten.”

“K-Kim Seokjin!” you burst hips straining to roll away as the male in question brought his thumb to your clit.

The siren smiled, pressing a tender kiss to the soft flesh of your inner thigh before humming, “Good girl. Now—cum.”

Almost instantly, at his words, you’re finally thrown off the edge and headfirst into your long-awaited orgasm, and it was blinding, almost debilitating in the force with which it ravaged your senses. Pleasure ricocheted along your limbs, your eyes clenching shut as you let out a loud, keening cry, more tears squeezing from your eyes, in relief this time.

It took you more than a few moments to come down from this high, which thankfully Seokjin hadn’t ridden you through—you were currently too sensitive, and if he’d done anything more than catch your release on his tongue you didn’t know how your fried nerves would have handled it.

Your breathing was ragged, chest heaving as you came down from the peak of your pleasure and euphoria. It was as though your senses had been muted briefly, and they came back to you now—it took you only a moment longer to realise that Seokjin was hovering above you, arms either side of your head and shoulders as he cupped your face, thumbs brushing gently over the skin of your cheeks. The action had your heart fluttering and you attempted to offer him a smile, even if it came out more fucked-out than intended.

Seokjin’s voice was a gentle, lilting coo as he continued caressing your face with more softness than you ever thought someone capable of, “Are you alright? Can you take some more? Use your words for me, flower.”

You couldn’t help the giddy giggle that escaped you, your hands coming to cover your face in embarrassment. Although the male wasn’t moving against you directly, his hips were still pressed to your core and you could feel the throbbing heat of his member through the towel. Shamefully, you were already beginning to get a little aroused again—just what had come over you today?!

“I’m fine,” you managed to breathe, allowing Seokjin to remove your hands from your face so he could meet your gaze. “I just—just need a minute, because that… whew.”

The male’s face broke into a stunning smile, dark warmth in his eyes gleaming as he chuckled. In an odd turn of events, he dropped his head to hide his face in your neck bashfully, nuzzling the tender, bruised skin affectionately. It was such a sweet, unexpected action you felt your stomach fluttering and flipping in response.

Seokjin pulled back for a moment, and you might have wondered what he was doing if he didn’t immediately follow through—he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he rolled onto his back. You let out a squeak as you were suddenly brought on top of him with your thighs either side of his hips, his thick, heated length resting firmly against your core with the only thing separating you being the towel that had miraculously managed to stay wrapped around his hips this whole time.

At your surprised gasp he shot you a boyish smile, hands trailing down your arms to grasp your hands and intertwine your fingers. Still catching your bearings after that second orgasm, you allowed yourself to drop forward slightly, resting your face in the crook of his neck. You heard the way his breath hitched and hid a smile into his skin.

In all honesty, it took you much less time to recover than you would have thought— and if you were being completely honest it probably had something to do with the way Seokjin had begun rolling his hips just slightly, enough of a motion that it teased you back into a state of arousal without being too much at once. Soon enough, you were ready to go again, no doubt staining the front of his towel with how soaked you were becoming once more.

Allowing your hips to roll back and grind your core against his pelvis, you relished in the sharp moan that caught in his throat. You decided to give him back a little of what he gave out, pressing your lips softly along his skin before beginning to suckle and mark it much like he had done to you. He had the slight taste of salt and sweat that graced your tongue, his soft, lilting moans more than sweet enough to make up for it as they brushed your ears. His fingers tightened in their grip, slipping from your hands to come grasp your hips.

You lifted yourself up for a moment, sitting back and raising your hips so you could slip the towel from his waist. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, cock twitching to attention the second its cover was no longer present. Your mouth almost watered at the sight of him, thick and long, swollen with desire and leaking generous beads of precum at the tip of the straining member.

“Fuck, Seokjin,” you didn’t even realise you’d spoken, hand coming to trail tentatively along his length. He hissed and moaned sharply, hips twitching along with his member.

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you reached down to your pussy, gathering the generous amounts of slick from your folds so that your hand was coated before you took him into your grasp. The flesh of his cock was searing against your palm, throbbing in your hold, and if Seokjin’s soft whine was anything to go by then he was more than a little desperate for some sort of stimulation. Tightening your grip so that it was firmer, you began to stroke him, wrist rolling so that the movements were more fluid.

“y/n—” he groaned, head falling back against the mattress. You continued to jerk him off, thumb running over the flushed, sensitive flesh of his head with each upward stroke and relishing in the gasping moans that were elicited as a result.

Eventually he reached a hand to halt you in your motions, bringing you forward so that your hips were hovering over his own once more—you understood what he wanted and were eager to comply, grasping his length in hand and holding it steady as the head brushed your slicked, aching entrance.

Seokjin was content to wait for you as you allowed yourself to slowly sink down on his intimidating member, relishing in the slight burn of the stretch and the way his cock was splitting your walls and spearing into you. Sharp, keening moans tumbled from your throat unchecked as you slowly sank down, your thighs trembling as he was finally completely seated inside of you. Your arms shook a little, one hand going to find his and lace your fingers and the other resting against his chest.

“Move when you’re ready, kitten,” the soft comfort of the siren’s voice was all the encouragement you needed, thighs already beginning to burn a little as you lifted yourself up until only his tip was embraced by your walls, and then lowered to slowly spear yourself on him once more. The next time the entirety of his length was inside you the tip hit a bundle of nerves that had you crying out, clenching around him from the sudden flush of pleasure along your spine.

“Fuck!” you could have wept, wavering in your position atop of him as your pussy throbbed deliciously. “F-fuck…”

“Kitten, if you keep doing that I’m not going to last very long,” he warned, dulcet tone dipping into a moan at the end as you began to resume your slow, leisurely riding of his cock. You struggled to find words for a moment, gaze falling across his features and aweing over how stunning he was even now, sweaty and still damp from his bath. Even so, he was glowing—your gaze flickered to his lips, plush and bitten red, and you couldn’t help the question that rose to your lips.

“Seokjin,” you began, somewhat breathless as you shifted your hand to run your thumb over his nipple; he gasped, hips bucking up and pelvic bone grinding against your clit. “Can I kiss you, Seokjin?”

At your question you could see the dilemma cross his features, a look of regret making itself known despite the gleam in his eyes that told you he very much wanted it. “Flower, you know why—”

“I know, I accept it,” you lowered yourself so that your lips brushed the shell of his ear with your next words. “I want it—I want you. Please?”

Seokjin didn’t say anything for a moment, and you might have thought he was going to pretend you hand said anything at all, but then he groaned, long and deep, and uttered a low swear. His arms came up, one wrapping around you and the other coming to grasp your hip.

One moment was all you got before he grasped you tight and took over your job from your aching thighs—he snapped his hips up from the bed, slamming the thickness and length of his cock into you in its entirety. You keened, fingers digging into the bed and his shoulder at the sharp crack of pleasure and desire that shot through you, thighs trembling and walls clenching around him. Once he started that brutal pace he did not stop, holding you to him in place as he fucked up into you, cock slamming into you so hard and so good each time that you were nearly sobbing on top of him.

He pressed soft kisses against your jaw, your ear, the side of your face as he repeatedly speared into you, cock dragging against your aching walls with each stroke and sending your senses absolutely mad. With each forceful thrust he hit that same bundle of nerves inside of you, eliciting a new cry and moan from your throat. He drank them all in, each of them only fuelling him more and more in his sudden frenzy. A coil began to wind tight in your abdomen, quick in its pace.

“Fuck, Seokjin!” you cried out, teeth scraping his collarbone. “Fuck, I’m—”

Seokjin’s hips were beginning to stutter, the two of you too worked up for this to last all that long despite your best efforts. His hands left your body to come cup your face, bringing it gently but firmly before his own. He waited just long enough, gaze boring into your own with all the heat of a thousand suns, for you to reach the edge once more, before he brought you closer still. His breath brushed against your lips as he spoke, voice once more laced with the familiar edge of a command. “Cum for me, kitten.”

And not a second later you did, right as he brought your face down and slammed your lips to his. The sensation that took your body by storm was indescribable, and in combination with the incredible orgasm that had you crying out against his lips, body stiffening and pussy clenching around him, it was very near debilitating. Your release had pleasure washing over you like the heat from a fire on a cold day, sharp and distinctive but pleasant—but the sensation of Seokjin’s lips against yours, his siren kiss, as he took some of your energy, your life essence, for his own… it was as though an electrical current was zapping through your veins, a pull and tug that made your heart patter and stomach flip.

At the clenching of your walls around him and the taste of your essence, Seokjin came undone. His cock throbbed inside you and then he was cumming, his release painting your insides with scorching heat and filling you to the brim. He moaned against your lips, tongue darting out to deepen the kiss to which you hardly had the mind to reciprocate but happily obliged. Seokjin continued to hold his lips to yours, drinking in a combination of your moans and energy as you both began to come down from your high.

When he was no longer in the throes of his orgasm, the siren was quick to release you, jerking back as though he had been burned and gasping, “F-fuck, flower, y/n, are you alright? Did I take too much? Are y—”

It was a drowsy giggle that bubbled in your throat this time as you buried your face in his neck, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to the skin there. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Well, better than fine, actually.”

At your words the male relaxed, a relived sigh escaping him as one big gust of air. “Thank gods…”

You turned your head to peer up at his face, admiring how he seemed to glow despite the activity you’d both just partaken in. Of course, you supposed, it figures considering he was a siren.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, before letting out a yawn as your exhaustion caught up with you all at once. You were thankful he didn’t seem to want to go another round, because you honestly couldn’t take it. “Sleepy though.”

The male hummed, amused, as he brought his arms up to embrace you and hold you tight; neither of you paid any mind to his member where it was softening inside you, a combination of your fluids leaking out to dribble onto your skin. “I’m sure you are.”

He allowed you to rest a few moments, your eyelids drooping, before he began to ease out from under you, transferring you onto the bed as he got up. “Stay here for a moment while I get something to clean you up, flower.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, eyelids already fluttering closed as you curled into the comforter that had become unmade from the bed in your little tousle. It felt like only a moment later when Seokjin returned, damp cloth in hand, and made quick, gentle work of cleaning up your abused pussy. He pressed a kiss to each thigh before rising and depositing the cloth somewhere, then joining you in bed, peeling back the covers properly and tugging you up so your head was resting on an actual pillow.

You were barely lucid as he looped his arms around our waist and tugged you closer to him, but you welcomed the warmth and made sure to lean back into him—the pleased purr he offered was reward enough. Distantly, you remembered there was a lot you needed to find out, a lot you wanted to ask the siren currently spooning you, but right now you were too tired, too spent, to even entertain the thought of asking him. So for now, you allowed your eyes to close, and your body to relax back into him—those questions could wait for tomorrow, when your energy and your body have had time to recover.

In the meanwhile, you enjoyed the warmth and security you found in Seokjin’s embrace, and allowed yourself to slip into sleep where you dreamt of a honey, dulcet voice singing all your worries away.

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