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Chance

Chapter One: Dancing in Silence

3631 words

Original Idea:

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

The cacophony of night that most coastal cities had was entirely lost on the quiet, lonely streets of Gotham. It wasn't a silent city by any means, but its citizens had learned a long time ago that nighttime was not their domain, and as fantastic as some of those night-liers were, Gotham knew it was best to leave the night to its own, and let the bats do their hunting.

Most of Gotham knew that, anyway.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, President of the class in the French foreign exchange program, fashion genius, and proud owner of at least 3 brain cells, was lying wide awake at 2:30am in a bed in a luxury hotel room at the heart of Gotham City, desperately trying to figure out if cereal was a soup and feeling remarkably as though she had been lied to her whole life.

The hotel room, which she was finding she disliked more and more the longer her brain went without sleep, was a mess of creams and browns and golds when the lights were on, but in the dark, with only the faint street light filtering through the balcony doors' curtains, everything was the same vague gradient of grey to black. She much preferred it like that.

Marinette lay on her back, sheets tangled at the corners of her bed after hours of tossing and turning, her arms and legs splayed out in a manner not unlike a starfish that had been asked for a high-five, and her black hair flopped out of the two now virtually-useless buns perched atop her head, loose strands sticking uncomfortably to her wide-eyed face.

She had half a mind to wake up her roommate, Chloe Bourgeois, who had been asleep for the last hour and a half, and ask her opinion on the matter. Even considering what 'the wasp', as Alya had taken to calling her, was going through physically at the moment, and that she'd put Sabrina in a choke-hold for almost a full minute last time she was disturbed--with precise details of how she would personally destroy anyone who dared bother her nap again--and only let go after she'd given Sabrina and everyone who saw the incident one (1) more chance to live.

It probably wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, Marinette was about to die from over-internalization, and she was genuinely considering putting her life on the line for answers.

Mari shifted to her side and stared at the gap in the curtains, one of the narrow slices of light that leaked through them leaving a stripe of color down her face and abdomen, illuminating her plain black sports-bra and green basketball shorts she'd stolen from Adrien after accidentally ruining her own fuzzy Pj bottoms mere hours before. If anyone else had been awake, they would have also seen the light glinting off the peculiar, vein-like markings that spiraled around her torso, their lines intertwining with themselves and leading up to two small marks just above her shoulder blades.

Marinette openly scowled at the double doors to the hotel balcony.

'I'm going to go insane.'

With a sigh as quiet as she could manage, Mari sat up, climbed to the foot of her bed, rifled under her dresser for her suitcase, and fished out her specially altered red-and-black hoodie, the matching pair of black leggings with red spots, and a pair of sneakers. Sliding into them in almost total silence--she doesn't count the muttered French that may or may not have been cursing when she stubbed her pinkie toe on the end table--she opened the glass doors at the end of the room and slid outside for some fresh air.

Stepping out onto the small balcony, Mari inhaled deeply and stared at the city. The lights were loud, even though the noises weren't, but the colors outside felt better, and she found she could think more clearly without the suffocating blackness of the room surrounding her, glaring at her with thinly veiled chartreuse and belly-hair-brown.

Mari looked up, the waning crescent moon sending a crooked smile her way as she did so, and she smiled right back.

The sky looked different in America.

She turned, mouth twisting into a knot, and stared at the 'french' doors that led back to her room, having half a mind to just go back inside… but her designer's heart craved a better view, and the stifling heat of her bed was exactly the kind of thing that would keep her awake longer.

Nodding resolutely, Marinette marched toward the doors, and leapt up precisely as high as she needed, fingers gripping the ledge above it with a strength that belied her small stature. Hooking her foot over the top of the door frame, she hauled herself up and began scaling the building, using every ledge and window she could. Her seemingly delicate hands were covered in calluses after years of sewing accidents and other... extracurricular activities, so the rough concrete and brick was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

Chloe liked to 'joke' that she probably didn't have fingerprints anymore, and could definitely get away with murder. Marinette snorted, smiling to herself as she pulled herself over another window ledge, her brain temporarily distracted from cereal soup by that particular conversation that had kept the three of them awake far past curfew.

Chloe scoffed from her perch on the largest bed, tossing her head to flip her white-blonde braid over her shoulder as she dipped the little brush back into the fingernail polish container.

"Oh course I'm not talking about actually murdering anyone, Bumble-Bug." She said, delicately coating her pinky fingernail in pearlescent midnight-blue polish. "All I'm saying is that if, hypothetically of course, somebody, nobody in particular, at say… the school, happened to end up dead in a ditch somewhere," she dipped the brush again. "And there happened to not be any fingerprints, the police couldn't pin a thing on you. Ask Sabrina, she's doing an internship at her Daddy's place."

Shaking her head, and biting her lip to keep herself from laughing, Mari turned her attention back to applying her own rose-gold polish.

A few specks of Gotham's finest hotel were unintentionally scraped off the border of a window and tumbled to the pavement below. Mari grunted, adjusting her grip on a gargoyle-like figure near the edge of the roof to better secure herself so she could find another foothold, unintentionally scraping her palms in the process. She grinned.

"Y'know Ladynette," said Adrien, his mop of sunshine-blond hair coming into view as he sat up from where he had been lounging on the floor, still waving his hands in an attempt to dry the sloppy black and green nail polish he had insisted he do himself. 'We just have to take it off before I go home! Father won't know if we don’t tell him!' "Bee's got a point. I'm not saying I would appear as Chat to give you the best alibi in history, but I'm also not saying I wouldn't." He tapped the side of his nose, effectively smearing the nail polish on his index finger all over the inside of his eyelid. "You're the star student, after all."

Marinette couldn't take anymore, and collapsing into a giggle-fit, accidentally spilling the rose-gold nail polish all over her fuzzy pajama pants in the process. It took far too long to calm down, but when she did, Chloe and Adrien had already found replacement pants for her.

Mari returned to the present as she, with a final shove, found herself on the roof of the very prestigious hotel her class was staying at during their 3 month exchange program. Her entire class.

'No one in particular my foot.'

Mari stood near the opposite edge of the roof from where she'd climbed up, letting the cool, damp midnight breeze play with her hair, as she breathed a deep sigh.

Cereal was soup.

…

Kwamiis, she'd been hanging out with Adrien too much.

Her thoughts stilled for a moment, though her mind continued at breakneck speed as memories of her loved ones filled her up to bursting. She closed her eyes and let the images chase themselves in circles for a little, drinking in the feeling of the night and the faint smell of coastal rain that sank into her bones.

Gotham was officially her second favorite city.

The mood was briefly soured as her brain, still dutifully chugging along as the speed of light now that she had nothing else to think about, began turning to darker subjects. Mari sighed, her whole body sagged in exhaustion and her fingers twisting around the ponytail that was wrapped around her wrist as said darker thoughts began playing on repeat in her head, the face of at least two thirds of her misery laughing at her misery, though she wasn't on the roof to laugh at her.

‘Lila.’

Marinette's fiddling with the ponytail ceased as she began bouncing her leg, her hands moving up to readjust her buns in a vague hope of making them slightly less disastrous.

‘Oh boy, Lila…’

Liar and life-ruiner extraordinaire.

The reason her only friends were suddenly transferred to new classes even though she herself had tried a dozen times over to do just the same.

Mari sighed, tugging at a nasty tangle the ponytail-holder had somehow created with her bun.

At least she still had Alix and Kim. As much as she loved Chloe and Adrien, Adrien couldn’t do anything to rock the boat without his father forcing him to quit public school, and since Chloe’s father had finally been replaced as Mayor, she didn’t have nearly as much power as she used to. Besides, the class was against her to begin with, and it had only gotten worse as Lila began to spin her web.

Alix and Kim on the other hand, while they couldn't convince many people of Lila's schemes, they could punch people in the face. Mari actually cried when they told her they both got suspended for a week after doing just that the day they found out Lila was nothing but a liar, (Alix did the punching and Kim cheered her on) and while she insisted they never do that again, she brought them 'thank you' goodies every day for six months after that.

Her thoughts cheered up significantly after a few forceful topic-changes and as they continued to wander, a tune bumbled its way to the surface and, having nothing better to do at the moment, she began humming it. What the song itself was called she didn't remember, maybe it never existed to begin with, but the melody was quiet enough to be soothing, and it was calming, if a little haunting.

A few measures into her strange melody, Mari found herself half dancing-half fidgeting to the beat of her imaginary song, incomprehensible words playing through her mind as the night dragged on and Gotham continued on in semi-silence.

Mari was midway through one of the ballet moves Chloe had dragged her to classes to learn, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Mari cut her movement off mid-flow and stood stock still.

Someone was on the roof with her.

Years of constantly living life on the edge of both a mental breakdown and a life-or-death battle was the only thing keeping her from blindly round-house-kicking whoever it was in the face and running off into the night. Fight and flight instincts could fudge a delicate situation, and whoever was up here could simply be getting some air, like her.

Maybe she should have let her instincts run the show.

She barely had time to register she was still humming--being forced to communicate in the most dire of circumstances had made the moments where she couldn’t shut herself up more often than she’d care to admit--when an arm that felt as though it was made of steel and iron was pinning her left arm to her back as a knee, which she assumed belonged to the owner of the steel and iron arm, slammed into the middle of her back and began forcing her to the ground.

In the split second before her face made contact with the gravel on the rooftop, Mari had one single thought racing through her head.

She knew this hold.

She’d done it a thousand times in the back alleys of Paris on odd nights.

This was the hold that would break your arm if you struggled.

The hold designed to keep the victim still and in pain.

The hold to intimidate and contain.

The hold made for criminals.

Hah.

No.

Faster than even she expected, Mari twisted her body completely around and successfully out of his hold, eyes narrowed in determination.

C R A C K

‘Well.’ Mari rolled away from her attacker, clutching her broken arm to her chest. ‘That’s going to be hard to explain to Mlle. Bustier in the morning.’ Mari recovered quickly--She'd felt more pain than a broken arm and won a fight before: and a non-functioning arm wasn't going to stop her now.--and regained her footing just in time to see a young man, probably about her age, in a truly shocking outfit with the most bizarre color coordination she had ever seen-- Okay not the most bizarre. She'd fought Akuma after all, and some of those deserved to be taken down on their fashion sense alone--pull out a katana from seemingly nowhere.

‘Wait…’ She thought as she dodged the katana swipe and dropped to the ground in attempt to swipe his feet out from underneath him. ‘Him and his traffic-light costume look familia--’

“Robin!”

Marinette froze as none other than Batman--The Actual Honest To Goodness Batman--swung onto the roof just behind her attacker.

Mari would’ve fangirled if she wasn’t so high on caution juice.

“Father,” apparently-Robin said, not breaking eye-contact with her, the blade of his katana less than an inch from her throat now that she wasn’t fighting back.

‘Wait… wait, isn’t that called adrenaline?’

“Robin, why were you attacking a civilian.”

‘Oh glory Batman is speaking to Robin, he’s speaking with Robin and they’re talking right in front of me--’ Mari blinked. ‘Civilian?’

“Tch,” Robin’s lip curled slightly, though otherwise he didn’t move. ‘Oh. Right. I’m not wearing my mask. “Father this isn’t another civilian.”

‘I mean he’s right, but I’m right here--’

“She’s clearly a villain.”

‘Okay WHAT?!’

“And what makes you say that?” Mari’s mouth moved in her own defense before she’d formed a proper argument.

‘FrICK.’

Silence.

Silence punctuated by Batman’s stare.

Which of them he was looking at was a mystery, but he punctuated the lack of noise nevertheless.

‘I’m sorry Batman: One of us is going to die tonight and it’s probably going to be me if your son doesn’t say something soon.’

“Tch.” Robin’s head rolled slightly to the side; an exaggerated eye-roll if she’d ever seen one. “You’re up here, alone, ballet dancing, and humming a stupid creepy tune.” Mari blinked at him incredulously. “It’s highly unusual in Gotham for anyone to preform their own... musical theater routine, at 4 in the morning mind you, unless they’re extremely unbalanced and have a bomb planted sixty feet below the mayor’s office.” 

“You…” She took a deep breath in, moving her broken arm as carefully--and casually--as she could. “You tried to knock me unconscious, fight me, and potentially take me to a police station for questioning... because I was awake at 4am.” Well, if Batman’s stare wasn’t burning holes into Robin’s head before, it sure was now. Robin, to his credit, relaxed his defensive stance slightly, even as a scowl darker than any she’d expect on his face dragged whatever hope she had of reasoning down with his mood.

“Robin?”

Batman had said 9 words since his first appearance, and somehow Mari knew he was on her side.

She and her motor-mouth could learn from him.

Robin snorted softly and stuck his nose in the air, though any fool could see it was over a sense of wounded pride rather than genuine haughtiness. Or, anyone who’d been friends with Chloe for more than a week, anyway. He finally relaxed his fighting stance, however, and stood with his back ram-rod straight and his arms crossed over his chest.

“It isn’t my fault she was being stupid.”

“And it isn’t my fault you couldn’t just use basic human communication to inquire as to my true intentions.” Being starstruck is overrated.

“If you were really a villain you’d take advantage of that.” He snapped, glaring at her.

“If I were really a villain,” Mari retorted with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to dance out in the open in celebration of my latest unfinished scheme.” Mari crossed her arms. ‘Owowowowow no that’s bad don’t move broken arm that hurts--’ “Especially not when it’s nighttime and the Batman Squad are out and about. Besides, you can be physically prepared for an attack while still brokering a deal. It’s how being a superhero is supposed to work, isn’t it? Get the villain talking so you can assess the situation and the threat without potentially risking any civilians in the way?” ‘I just back-talked Robin. And by extension, Batman.’

Mari could feel her blush burning her skin to ash.

‘Batman please take your son and leave so I can die in peace I’m--’

“You’re very correct, Miss.”

‘S a y  f r e a k i n g  w h a t n o w.’

Mari whipped around, her loose hair smacking her in the eyes as she did so, to see The Actual Freaking Nightwing standing on one of the rooftop gargoyles and grinning at her. 

Her heart had stopped functioning a long time ago, and it appeared her lungs were now bent on doing the same.

“Being a superhero is about more than just punching crime in the face. Though I gotta admit that’s the fun part.”

“Until crime punches ya’ back,” the ghost of Marinette’s soul replied through her somehow still-living body. “Then you just have a black eye, injustice, and a whole lotta paperwork.” Nightwing burst out laughing, and slid off his gargoyle to walk over and give her a clap on the back.

“It’s official,” he said, his grin wide and friendly. “You’re my second-favorite civilian.” Mari’s soul transcended to the next dimension. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I-I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, monsieur.” ‘I’m Freaking Nightwing’s Second Favorite Civilian. How in the ever-loving hECC, did I end up here? How has my life come to this? Is this where I die?’

“A pleasure to meet you Marinette,” Nightwing said with yet another grin, as he stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m sure you already know who we are, but based off your French accent you probably aren’t from ‘round here: I’m Nightwing.” He gestured to Batman’s looming figure. “The silent Night is Batman, and--”

“I suppose Traffic-Light boy is Robin, then?”

‘MOUTH WHAT THE HECK YOU CAN’T OPERATE WITHOUT EXPLICIT PERMISSION FROM THE BRAIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING GOING ROGUE LIKE THAT YOU’RE OFFICIALLY ON PROBATION--’

“No-- wait I'm sorry I didn’t mean it like that I swear--”

It was too late.

Robin had frozen in place, his face a mixture of shock and an emotion she couldn’t place.

Nightwing was doubled over with laughter.

Batman’s face seemed to always be an emotionless, impenetrable mask in the short time she’d known him, but Mari could’ve sworn she saw the faintest of smiles. It was gone in a moment, but it was there.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had made Batman, actual honest to goodness Batman, smile.

Well, if she wasn’t dead before, she was now.

“We’re sorry for the trouble Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Batman when it seemed like Nightwing wasn’t going to recover anytime soon. “I hope Robin didn’t hurt you too badly.” Marinette welcomed the distraction, though she was still redder than her hoodie. She waved her non-broken arm dismissively.

“He didn’t, Monsieur Batman. Je--err, I, am perfectly fine. I’m sorry to have disturbed your patrol.” Batman gave her the tiniest of nods. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I'll get back to my room. It’s very late after all.”

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“You too, mon--err, Sir.” Marinette started walking toward the side of the building to climb back down, when a door in the center of the roof caught her attention.

Oh.

She paused halfway to the entrance, gnawing at her lip.

Mari turned around sharply.

“Robin?” The three caped crusaders paused. The boy in question gave her a sidelong glance, shooting her a quizzical look that may or may not have been laced with faint distaste. Not that she blamed him. “I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless for a moment.

“I’m sorry too. I hope I didn’t hurt your arm too badly.” he nodded to her curtly. “Have a good night, miss.”

And then they were gone.

A wave of exhaustion hit her like a truck, and she had the sudden realization she was supposed to be asleep at 4:30 in the morning.

She turned and opened the rooftop door, thanking anything and everything that the door was unlocked, and closed it softly behind her, leaning heavily against it and biting back her groan of pain.

Hiding a broken arm was painful.

Mari stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, absorbing everything that had happened.

Her face split into a joyous beam.

Adrien and Chloe were going to go berserk tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

Nightwing: “Hey, B-man. Bat-guy. Bro-man. Bat-dad. Can we please keep her? Please?”

Batman: “Not that it’s up to me, but we can’t. At the very least not unless she can fight.”

Robin: “Father, she broke her arm getting out of my hold and didn’t bat an eye at it.”

Nightwing: “The bean did what now.”

(also have a sketch i did. i’m sorry it’s not great but i just... i lov her okay?)

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

Bangtan MC  ≽ I.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 7.9k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The outline of the green bus threatened to leave me behind. I increased my pace, my toes cursing every stride I took in these pinching heels. The engine of the bus began to roar, black smoke coming from its muffler, as the wheels began to turn. The leather briefcase in my grip struck against my knee as my motions became desperate. Even as I called out in a senseless attempt to catch the vehicle, I remained there along a busy street in Seattle, defeated. 

I let out a grunt from the cage of my clenched teeth. A twitch bugged my eyebrow in frustration as I pulled out my phone and worked to endure the idea of taking an Uber home. I could quite literally see the forming clouds above me, shunning any kind of sunlight that the midday had to offer. After spending the majority of the night before slumped over my desk and sitting the entire morning through a briefing, I was more than ready to kick someone’s head in.  

After fidgeting with a buffering app, finally typing in my address, the screen was ripped away by the caller ID of an unsaved number. 

The phone vibrated in my palm while I stared at the area code. An entirely different sentiment engulfed me completely. The 530 number from Northern California brought an uncomfortable weight in my chest and a hollow ring in my ears.

There was an extensive hesitation on my part, a ball of it, caught in the dryness of my throat. There was only one soul in California that bothered to call. He did once in a year or so, mostly around my birthday. However, this number was different. I watched it ring a few more times as I continued to ponder. Possibly a new number? 

I sighed and answered it all the same. 

"Dad?" 

I questioned. 

However, I was met with a far more tormenting voice. One that only cursed me in my worst dreams. It had been years since his voice had settled upon my ears and suddenly I was 18 years old again, shivering at his sound. 

I was left fruitless, shaken, and unable to move. My entire mind was wiped clean, left with a blank set of notes. No concept, no words, not a single pitch came from my lips. 

He simply spoke in my ear,

"Come home, (Y/n)." 

Then the line went dead.

 That's all it took, that's all I needed to hear, to know that something terrible had happened. As I began to run home, the skies over me began to weep.

-

It was painless, effortless, to just drop everything and leave. It was as simple as breathing. Brushing through the door of the apartment complex, passing through the rooms, with not a single personal attachment to hold me back. 

My bedroom was a color scheme of white and gray, only the most fundamental of furniture and details. This never became my home.

 As I changed into a clean set of clothes, dark jeans, a plain t-shirt, and dumped my heels for boots; there was nothing that I was leaving behind. I grabbed my double rider jacket off of the hook and fished the keys to my Harley and my 23 out of the drawer. I slammed the door shut and never looked back. 

Walking through the basement of the apartment building, I found myself raging through so many thoughts that my mind was practically meaningless. I was so aware that all of my worries were the wrong kind. I should have been outraged about my father, why it was that he didn't call me himself. 

He hadn't bothered speaking to me since my aunt, who I had been living with, passed away six months ago. She was the only thing I cared about in this city and without her, there was nothing left for me here. 

Instead of being furious with him, instead of calling him and demanding answers, I pounced the second I had the chance to come home. I didn't care about anything else. Though, that's how seven years in exile left me, pitiful, and crawling back. Rather than being angry at my father, agitated at the thought of seeing him after so long, my mind was only set on him. 

His voice replayed in my head like a record and the way he said my name was a lukewarm echo. And the worse part of it all? 

I unveiled the gray tarp off of my Softail Harley. The tooled leather was like velvet under the cooling lights of the garage. 

And the worse part of it all is that I would have an entire eight hours to myself. Just me, the road, and my bike with Kim Namjoon's call leading me home to Blackburn California.

- 

"Pass me the wrench, will ya?"

I eyed the floor that was covered in bike limbs and oil. I scavenged for the instrument he needed and found it under a lost tire. Whistling for his attention as he turned around just in time to catch the wrench in his hand. I smiled as my dad kneeled on the floor beside his old Fatboy. I walked up behind him and watched him work underneath me. My hand rested on the letters sewn into the back of his leather cut. 

The top rocker read 'Bangtan' across the back. The center patch showed the opening doors of Bangtan, along with the MC cube. And the bottom rocker, the territory that we claimed, 'California'. A cut signified much more than just a leather vest- it meant you were someone important. For my father, who was the founder and active president of the charter, it meant absolutely everything.

"What's the matter with it? The clutch?"I asked, squinting my eyes and looking over his work. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a square from my case of Marlboro.

"Yeah." He sighed and stood back to his feet. "The clutch plates are probably locked together." 

"Well, what do you expect?" I chuckled with the cigarette placed between my lips. "You've had this Fatboy sitting in the bar for two years like some statue. Poor thing is neglected." 

This was the first bike he ever bought with his own money. It was a 1990 Fatboy, cherry red- a true beauty. He turned around to eye me, except that his eyes fell down to the smoke in my mouth. I cupped my hands over the flame I used to light the end and raised a brow at his stare. He reached over to seize the cigarette from my mouth. 

"What the hell did I tell you about smoking?" He said, holding the square in front of me.

"That you didn't care?" I reminded him with a smile. He stared at me for another moment, attempting to do his best impression of a scolding parent but ultimately broke into a sneer.

"I didn't care as long as I didn't see it." He corrected me and placed the cigarette into his own lips. I humorously rolled my eyes as he turned back to his baby. "This is what we're going to do,"

He said while mounting the bike with his feet planted to the floor. "I'm going to put the bike in gear and pull in the clutch lever. Now if I roll the bike back and forth the plates should come unstuck."

"Do you want me to get some heat in that oil and see if it'll help loosen things back up?" I asked.

Although, before my dad could answer, the engine of another motorcycle roared into the garage behind the bar. The light of a Street500 Harley blinded me momentarily. My father moved off of his bike while I walked out of the incoming Harley's way. I had a pretty good idea of who it was anyhow. 

He thrust down his kickstand and removed his black helmet to reveal his bleached undercut. 

"I was hoping you were still here, old man." He laughed, stepping off his bike and making his way toward my dad. 

"Something wrong with it, Namjoon?" He suggested. With a rag, he wiped his hands clean from any grease as Namjoon put an arm around his shoulder. I cut my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest.

"It's not running well with the choke on." He explained. I watched as my father and he walked up to his bike to get a closer look. "It stalls when I turn the choke off and when I turn the throttle." 

"It's probably because you left it parked in the garage for two months without draining the gas," I said coldly.  

Namjoon turned to look at me as I walked but beside them, taking a look for myself. I could feel his cold stare on me as I inspected his bike. 

"I think she's right, Joon." My dad said, patting his shoulder. I smirked and shot Namjoon a glare. I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for my father to tell him to fix it himself. "(Y/n) will get started on it in the morning." 

"What!?" I hissed in disbelief. My eyes darted from my fathers to Namjoons, who wore a returning smirk on his face. I could feel my face heat with rage. "That will take hours! I have to drain the old gas, change the spark plugs, replace the air filter, and clean the clogged carburetors!"

"Well, now that you've graduated you'll have plenty of time on your hands' sweetheart," Namjoon said as my dad took a drag of my cigarette and agreed. 

I could kill him. 

I could not believe my father would have me working on Namjoon's bike. What kind of man can't even fix his own Harley? The thought made me sick. I knew how to change the oil on a Harley since I was six years old! Before I could even think to say another word against the idea, the door extending from the bar opened abruptly. 

"Hey! I've been calling you." I saw another cut walk in that belonged to Seokjin. He and the current prospect, Yoongi, gathered around my father. 

"What is it?" He asked. I could hear it in their voices, something must have happened for them to come looking for him at such a late hour.

"The mayor is here... he wants to speak with you," Yoongi said in a hushed tone. 

I automatically knew that Namjoon and I were going to be dismissed. Any club business could not be discussed in front of nonmembers. Immediately, I tried to create an excuse to dismiss ourselves from the situation.

"I'll follow you home Namjoon," I called out catching everyone's attention. "I'll get started on your bike in the morning." 

He simply nodded his head, knowing as well as I did, that this was not our place. Namjoon moved to get on his bike while I gathered my stuff from the counter behind me. 

"Actually," My father suddenly spoke up. Both of us paused to see who he was referring too. "You can stay, Namjoon. It's time you learn a thing or two."

My father barely spared me a glance as he continued, "Prospect, follow (Y/n) and make sure she gets home."

"No problem." He responded. I could feel the color rise to my face as tears threatened to brim my eyes. There was an ache in my chest that could only be explained as heartbreak.

-

It was memories like those that flooded my mind, swarming my thoughts like a plague, and they haunted me all the way home.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was five years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a leather cut and a Harley. For me, being in a motorcycle club was better than being the Queen of England. From the first time that I wandered into the clubhouse behind my father's bar- I knew I had to be a part of them. I knew that I had found the place where I belonged. Bangtan was like nobody else, they did what they wanted- when they wanted. No one ever stopped them or told them otherwise. It was being a part of something much bigger than yourself. It meant being somebody in a town full of nobodies. With my father as president, I knew everyone, and everyone knew me. I thought myself the most fortunate of girls. 

But I was young, I was naive, I didn't know just how unfair the world could be. 

The night had fallen deep. The roads deserted from creation. The air flowed differently down here, with no restraints, liberating. It felt real in my lungs. Seven years of my life had slipped through my hands and as I passed the sign welcoming me home, I could not recognize the world around me.

Welcome to Blackburn

Where Blood is Thicker 

I rode through the empty town, the distant memories of my adolescence whispering within the wind. Recurring nightmares had brought me back through these routes time and time again. Straight from my bones, deep from inside, a fantasy of total catastrophe. They were nightmares I loved to hate because the hopeless endeavor was better than having nothing at all. 

The street lights followed me all the way home. Turning into Ivory Lane, at the very end of the street, is where my youth was left behind. Undeniably the finest, largest, house in the neighborhood. As I pulled up to the front, there was light pouring from each window, the long driveway held 15 Harleys and five cars. A full house and a party I would surely crash. 

Removing my helmet and parking my bike, I subconsciously began to pace toward the front door. It was like I was in another one of my dreams, not knowing what I was doing, nor what was waiting for me on the other side. By every step, I felt more lost and at home at the same time. Everything was the same and yet nothing felt familiar. Like a lost spirit, I simply opened the door and let myself in. 

The door opened into the large foyer, where stairs circled around the left and a hallway led me deeper into the house. I stepped noiselessly, past my father's study and the dining room, following the disembodied voices coming from beyond. The warm light of the house made me feel senseless, not understanding what exactly I was walking into. 

I found myself at an impasse, deep in the house, where the kitchen was in the room to my left and the living room to my right. It felt like I was in a stranger’s house with voices I did not recognize. It was all so unreal. Choosing to explore the living room I stepped to the right. 

I found people scattered around in multiple conversations, no one who stood out in particular. I looked for any sign of a familiar face. The room smelled of alcohol and tobacco. Not a soul had noticed me walk in, it looked like a small gathering, not any kind of celebration. There was rock music playing softly in the background of the people's voices. There were women and their children and older men who I did not know. It looked to be just a few hang-arounds, outsiders that were friendly with the club.

My eyes scattered around the room, not knowing what to think. If I should stay- if I should go? I didn't know what I was doing here anymore. That was until my eyes landed on a group at the far end of the room. 

Then, Namjoon was the only thing I could see.

I stared at him as he sat gathered between other guys. His black eyes switched from person to person as they spoke to him. He wore his cut and fiddled with his knuckles. His hair, that he used to bleach and cut himself, was now its natural black color and styled to the sides. He looked like a grown-up, far from the person that I remembered. 

It felt like I stared at him for hours but it wasn't long before he felt my stare and found me for himself. His eyes dropped dramatically, changing. from a look of focus into one that was shaken. All of his attention was fixed on me and I could feel the weight of the room fall on my shoulders. 

I spent the last seven years thinking about what I would say to him. What he would have to say to me. Except I felt frozen in place as he rose to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

A voice cursed behind me. Her tongue caught the attention of everyone in the room. Their eyes began to watch me intently while their whispers of curiosity filled the air.  

I shuffled to the side, turning to see both her and Namjoon. I became trapped between them on either side, with a crowd of strangers in front of me, like a jury. 

The girl that they knew would have never had the courage to stand here in front of everyone. The girl that they knew would have never come back but I wasn't that girl anymore. I wasn't 18 years old and everything I wanted to say then- I would say it to them now. 

"This is my house." I reminded her.

Jaeeun scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair was a thick, black bob, with a single streak of white, that framed the side of her face. She always wore dark clothing, black and berry colors mostly. And around her neck was a black diamond necklace she was never seen without. The years had been kind to her, she looked like she always did. The wicked stepmother who stayed young forever.

"This hasn't been your home for a long time, sweetheart." She shook her head at me. Jaeeun's stare was as cold as ever, black eyes that looked like a cryptic abyss and fine aging lines cut into her pale skin. 

"Mom," Namjoon cut in, reinserting himself into this situation. He walked between us, facing his mother and attempting to keep her calm as he assured her that, "I called her."

Jaeeun's arms came uncrossed at his words. It felt strange as if Namjoon was somehow defending me. She looked at him in disbelief, the frustration becoming more pronounced on her face, as Namjoon spoke. "She has a right to know."

The seriousness of his voice was alarming, my eyes turned to look at him but I didn't find any answers from his avoiding gaze. Jaeeun's eyes were fixed on him. The conversation quickly became an argument between only them two.

"A right to know and a right to be here- are two entirely different things, Namjoon." Jaeeun raised her voice. Her entire demeanor seemed overwhelmed as she placed her hand over her forehead. Namjoon took notice as well as he stepped to lend her a hand but she exploded. "You could have told me!"

Her voice cracked and tears slipped from her eyes. Entirely caught off guard, I didn't know what to do, I had never seen Jaeeun break down. Namjoon sought to console her by laying a hand on her shoulder but she forced him away. "Like I don't have enough shit going on already!"

I could tell that she was embarrassed to be crying in front of people. It wasn't until a friend of hers came up behind her for comfort. I could only watch as she eased Jaeeun onto a nearby chair where she could relax.

The room fell silent as everyone remained still while Jaeeun regained her composure. I was caught up in my own agenda to care about anything else. Everything just tasted wrong.

"Namjoon," I called for him. He left his mother's side and joined me under the archway of the living room. I caught a glance at Jaeeun's glare as he left but I ignored it and spoke in a low voice. He leaned in to avoid our conversation falling to her ears. I sighed. "What am I doing here?"

"For fuck sake, Namjoon." Jaeeun breathed. She held a cigarette between her lips as her friend beside her brought a lighter. Namjoon cursed under his breath. "You haven't even told her yet?" 

"Told me what?" I didn't intend to raise my voice. The anticipation was causing terrible ideas to flow through my head. 

Suddenly Namjoon took a hold of my hand, the touch alarming me further, as he stared at me sympathetically. I shook my head and yanked my hand from his touch. My heart began to beat in my ears as I stepped back from him. 

"No..." 

I said trying to remove the terrible thought from my head.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)."

He said, stepping closer. 

"No!" 

I yelled.

A weight came tumbling down on me, like the burden of the world, I felt as if my night terrors had crawled into my reality. My head was consumed by the pressure of news. My skin frosted with chills as I stumbled out of the room. 

Bumping into strangers, I abruptly felt cornered as they stared at me with pity. I couldn't seem to retain any form of air in my lungs, every breath came out of my mouth like a cry for help. My house became a real horror scene, and my only impulse was to leave. 

"Let her go! That's all she's good at..."

I pushed through the people behind me, stepping as quickly as my feet would allow. I ran through the way I came in, all the way to the front door with tears trailing behind me. My vision was clouded with the pain that emptied my chest. 

The night breeze crystalized the stain my tears left. My body trembled in a mixture of numbness and despair. The door opened behind me and footsteps simulated my own. 

"(Y/n), wait."

He followed me down the brick driveway, only intercepting me when I stopped to mount my bike. I ignored his call and avoided his stare. I was fiddling with the strap of my helmet when I saw his foot land on my footrest.

"You took the eight-hour ride here? You've got to be exhausted." He stated. 

I felt a rush of rage boil my blood, a result of years of repressed anger. I looked at him from underneath my hair and said in an imminent tone.

"Get your foot off my bike."

Namjoon stood his ground and only released his hold on my bike as a sign of good faith. Except, he continued to hold me in his stare, his eyes a mirror reflection of his mother's. I sighed and looked away in defeat. 

"How did it happen?" I asked. 

That was the question I feared the most. No matter what the answer was- I wasn't here. I couldn't even recollect the last words we had spoken to each other. 

"He was riding on the US-50..." It was hard for him to look into my watering orbs. Namjoon shifted his eyes to the floor, his black hair brushing against his forehead. "He collided with a semi-truck."

My arms rested on the fuel tank of my bike, burying my face from his sight, as I continued to break down. I pressed the tears from my eyes, the droplets tapping against the cold metal, as soft cries left my mouth. 

I couldn't get the image out of my head, it replayed, once after another. My imagination created the sound of the impact. The black crows of the desert that flocked away as a result. The bloody aftermath plastered on the bumper of the semi-truck.

"I loved him too... He was my father too, (Y/n)." Namjoon spoke with pure sincerity. But all I could do was shake my head and dismiss his truth. 

"But he wasn't," I threw my helmet on the floor and stood off my bike. With the little force I could work up, my hands pressed against the leather cut and shoved his chest, causing him to trip over his feet. "He was mine!"

"He practically raised me- taught me what it meant to be a man." He explained, visibly hurt by my comment. It sickened me to hear him give my old man such credit. 

"He was barely a father." I spat. 

"Yes! He was complicated." He admitted, taking a step back and lifting his hands in defeat. He used his dominant hand to push his hair out of his frame, licking his lips in apprehension. "But he was smart and he always did what he thought was right." 

I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to praise him for another minute. Namjoon sighed from his nose, taking a slow pace toward me as I continued to look away. The space between us became less and less until I could feel his body heat radiating on me. I resisted his tempting stare but he managed to make me melt at his touch. He took my chin in his fingers and guided me to his eyes. "Those complications killed him, (Y/n). That's why he let the road take him."

"What are you saying?" I snapped a look at him, removing Namjoon's hand from my face. "You think my father killed himself?" 

"It's the only explanation." He simply declared. As if the answer was so simple. "The driver of the truck said that he just came out of nowhere."

"Bangtans don't kill themselves-" I was ridiculed by his words, finding it hard to accept that he would believe them himself. 

"Don't worry." He hushed me. "No one else knows... I wouldn't let him get stripped of his patch."

He obviously did, nevertheless. Namjoon was ready to pull me in and wrap his arms over my shoulders. He embraced me with pity as if I was in denial about the situation. There wasn't much that I was sure about in my life, not a lot was stable. However, my fathers' courage, his willingness to keep moving ahead was unparalleled. It was the soldier in him.

“You’re not listening to me!" Once again, I pushed him away from me. "He would never do that. For someone who claims to have loved him so much you know very little.”

"(Y/n)," Namjoon said softly, he looked entirely exhausted. It was the first time I was actually analyzing his exterior. He displayed bags under his eyes and his skin was drained of color. “You don’t know what it's been like these past few years.”

His words left a larger impression on me than I would have expected. He was right. I didn't know anything about him, my father, or the club in the past seven years.

I was an idiot to have spent so many years dreaming of coming home. I thought I was lost before, that this was the place where everything would make sense. Now I feel more lost than ever. Nothing felt familiar here in Blackburn, everyone was a stranger.

"Come on," Namjoon called my way. His mouth dusted the most gentle of smiles as he waved me over with his hand. "Let's go back inside." 

"Are you sure?" Using the back of my hands, I cleaned my face, from the horror I could only imagine. "I think Jaeeun still wants me dead."

He smiled, revealing a pair of dimples that cursed him as a child forever. He knew, as well as I did, that I was only half-serious. 

"I'll handle my mother." He assured me. 

I followed behind him, catching up to his side as we walked together up the driveway. I took a moment to examine his clothes. He wore black jeans and a cloudy blue button-up under his leather cut. He also had a bowie knife tucked into a sheath that was clipped to his pocket. And even though I couldn't see it, I would bet my life on him also carrying a handgun hidden under his shirt. 

"Oh," He stopped us right before the front door. His facial expression winced as he remembered something. "No one… knows why you actually left. People think you just ran away."

He explained, presuming that the news would bother me. However, I didn't expect any less from Jaeeun.

"Of course they do," 

-

Namjoon led me to the leather couch in the middle of the living room. The set was surrounded by strangers and a glass coffee table. I sat to the very edge of the couch, crossing my leg over the other, in an effort to take up as little space as possible. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to relax.

"Namjoon." A voice called for him across the room. I didn't need to turn around to know it was club business and Namjoon looked at me apologetically. I assured him that I would be fine. 

He caressed my shoulder before vanishing behind the couch. My hands ran up my lap, feeling the texture of the denim under my hands, as I questioned what to do with myself. I peered down my body and adjusted the sleeves on my jacket. 

"You want some coffee, doll?" I was slightly surprised by the silky voice. Standing over me was a young woman, younger than me, with a fresh coffee pot in her hand. 

"Oh! Uh..." I quickly looked down at the glass coffee table before me. There were some clean mugs resting upside down, beside jars of cream and sugar. "Yeah, sure." 

Instantly, I bent over to reach for the nearest mug at the same moment she did. 

"I got it." She promised. However, in a second of panic, my hand already bumped against hers and tipped the mug over. 

The glass hitting against glass made me uneasy and embarrassed as a few heads turned in our direction. I cursed under my sigh and removed my hands from creating any more chaos. I could only push my hair out of my face and behind my ears as I apologized.  

Without glancing my way, she reassured me that it was fine. I watched as she poured the steaming brown liquid into the mug. She set the pot to the side and reached for the jar of cream. 

"Black is fine." 

She nodded and handed me the mug with a brief smile. I held it between both of my palms, the heat almost being painful, and I thanked her as she stepped away. 

I brought the steam close to my nose, shutting my eyes and breathing in deeply, awaiting the aroma to keep me conscious.

"You have to let them do that for you." Jaeeun's voice spoke from behind. My eyes fluttered open to see her stepping around me. I followed her figure carefully as she took the seat next to me. "It's how they show you respect."

I scoffed to myself. Jaeeun looked better composed than before. That's how she operated, though. There was no time for crying, feeling sorry for yourself, none of that mattered when people depended on you. I figured that was admirable. 

"Why does it matter? That respect is only because of my father, not me." Jaeeun smirked and agreed. "Everyone thinks I ran away nevertheless. Not much respect in that."

She could hear the bitterness that lingered in my mouth. My poor attitude annoyed her. 

"Oh, cry me a river, sweetheart." She cursed under her breath. 

"How do you do it, Jae?" I cut her off sharply. Turning my body to face hers without intimidation. "How-How do you keep all the lies intact? All the secrets buried?"

She lifts her eyebrow, almost amused by my anger. I asked, "Aren't you tired?"

Jaeeun cut eye contact with me and took in a long breath as she worked to remain unbothered. I watched her fix her hair as a distraction, loathing to realize that my judgment struck a nerve. Yet, she swiftly regained her confidence and even dared to lean in close to me.

"For my family?" She prompted. Her black eyes staring almost past me as her mouth dropped into a dead frown. "Never."

Without another word, she rose from her place and left me alone once again.  I stared down into the black coffee, just barely making out my reflection before bringing the rim up to my lips. Being a forgotten memory in this town hurt me more than I wanted to admit.

"(Y/n)." My head turned, my eyes pursuing across the room, where I spotted Namjoon by the entrance. His hand singled me over through the blurred crowd of people. 

I abandoned the coffee on the table and made my way into the lake of bodies. As I walked down my path, the faces turned to see me coming and one by one, they parted the road. Not even a graze came in contact with my shoulder while I approached his awaiting figure. I pressed near him as the masses allowed me too. 

"Are you okay?" 

Jaeeun must have left a sour expression on my face, he seemed concerned as he read my eyes. He even dared to reach his hand out to cup my face in some sort of aid, but I was ready to stir it away, a little vigorously. 

"I'm fine," I said rigidly. Namjoon took notice of my discomfort, my cold behavior, and so he stepped back to proffer me space. 

"Uh," He cleared his throat. I scanned him up and down, as the awkwardness spread in his demeanor. "He wanted to say hello." 

My brows furrowed, confused as to what he was saying. Yet, I followed in his eyes as they led me out into the hall. I sensed his presence as he lingered behind me, his footsteps slower than my own. The lonely hallway almost suggested a trap, as I turned the corner around the staircase, I found no such thing. Assembled in the foyer were a group of leather cuts. With their backs turned to me, I could not make out any of their faces. The heavy noise of my footsteps rang over their conversation and they turned in my direction.

"(Y/n)!"

 I gasped. Shocked, completely caught off guard, to see a familiar face. With nothing but a smile, his arms came wrapping around me.

"Jimin." I laughed, shocked at the years gone by without having spoken his name.

 It was the first time that someone's face brought me memories that were worth reliving. My high school years were only significant because of him. I didn't know it at the time but he was my best friend. The reminiscences of a simpler time threatened my eyes with tears.

When he pulled away, I almost could not classify the man before me. But there was no one else that could mimic that smile, his eyes disappeared and his teeth took the spotlight. 

"I-I can't believe it's you." I smiled. His hands rested on my shoulders as he inspected me from head to toe. "When did you patch in?" 

"I requested a prospect about two years after you left." He explained. Jimin took a step back and pushed his hair out of his face. I used to poke fun at the fat on his cheeks but I couldn't now. He looked great, from his tight jeans to sharp jawline, I was genuinely appalled. "We both did, actually."

Jimin moved aside to reveal the standing figure behind him. "You remember Taehyung, don't you?" 

He stepped out of the shadow, the light overhead casting contours on his face, another image far from what I remembered. But his strong brows and long-lasting eyes haven't changed. He licked his lips at me and shot a polite smile. 

"Y-Yeah, of course." Shuttering lightly, I figured that we didn't know each other well enough to hug. He wore a bandana tied around his forehead that heaved his brown locks. "I see you finally stopped dying your hair red." 

"It was the only way they would let me prospect." He chuckled. 

I didn't know him as well as I knew Jimin, even though they were always together, the conversations between us just never went anywhere. It didn't surprise me in the slightest to see him in a cut. Bangtan was seemingly the only topic we could discuss that endured more than just a few words.

"Yeah, there is no way the vote would have been unanimous if you would have kept that hair." A loud voice laughed behind the two. 

The owner appeared over Taehyung's shoulder, continuing to laugh in his ear. I could distinguish him by his very voice, Hoseok, who began prospecting at the same time Namjoon did. 

"Yeah? I still might do it one day, just to piss you off." Taehyung said, shoving Hoseok's shoulder playfully. 

"You'll be the only one looking like a fucking strawberry, dude." Another face came wandering in, this time behind Jimin. It was only next to Jimin that I was able to recognize who he was.

"Jungkook?" He revealed a pair of bunny teeth and his 16-year-old image flashed in my head. "Last time I saw you, you were following Jimin around like a puppy. Good to see things haven’t changed" 

They all began to tease and ponder the poor boy, Jimin especially, reached his hand up and lightly slapped his face. Jungkook could only laugh off the taunting as he looked back at me.

"Things have changed, (Y/n)." He purposely deepened his voice and with a smug look, pushed Jimin out of the way. With his hand hooked around his belt, he danced a slow walk toward me. "Now I'm 23 and… 5′10." 

He let his eye drop into a wink and I shivered with a deep cringe. I couldn't help but burst out laughing, trying to withhold the obnoxious cries with my hand. The rest of the boy's laugh echoed my own. Everyone except Namjoons, it was only seconds later that he came up from behind me, elbowing the young member away.

"Cute, Jungkook." He stated, certainly not finding humor in Jungkook's flirtatious act.

"Honestly Jungkook, you're sick, her father just died," I noticed Seokjin as he spoke from behind the group, Yoongi just beside him.

"It was a joke." Jungkook protested as he stumbled back beside Jimin.

"It won't be a joke when Namjoon murders you for messing with his sister," Yoongi scolded.

"Stepsister." 

Namjoon and I bluntly corrected, at the same time. 

Our severe voices caused everyone to stop laughing, questionably staring in our direction. My head went blank as soon as I realized what had happened. The silence expanded to us and I hastily looked away from the situation. 

"Where's the prospect?" Namjoon asked taking the pressure off the prior incident. 

"He went to go find me some smokes," Taehyung replied and with perfect timing, the front door behind them opened abruptly.

"I got them!" 

A voice called making his way around the group of boys with a pack of red Marlboro. Taehyung moved quickly to seize the cigarettes from his hand without a single thank you. 

"Say hello, prospect." He said pushing the young boy on his back causing him to stumble forward into my line of sight. 

Caught by utter surprise, he stared at me bashfully. I tilted my head as I examined his features carefully. Something about him looked familiar however he was so young, I could almost deny that I knew him at all. I just couldn't figure it out. He looked at me with pleading eyes, almost as if he was praying that I would recognize him. He had to be at least 19 years old now, which would put him at the age of 12 when I left. 

Then it clicked.

"Yeonjun?" 

When he smiled, in a matter of seconds, my heart completely melted. My face broke into a grin that ached my cheeks, my eyes glossed with more tears as I walked up to him. He lived just down the road, I used to babysit him when his mother took night shifts at the hospital. I placed my hand on his shoulder and got a better look at his face. I couldn't help but complain. "You lost your baby fat." 

The boys teasingly ‘aww’ed at him, Jimin dramatically clenching his heart with his hand. Taehyung wrapped his arm over Yeonjun’s shoulder and began poking at his cheeks. He could only stand there and take the banters of his elders as it was a form of hazing for prospects. However, Yeonjuns head remained held high as he proudly said,

"I told you she would remember me." Taehyung, who he was specifically speaking to, could merely roll his eyes and let the prospect enjoy his victory.

As happy as I was at that moment, I couldn't help but fall mute, the truth of everything just sort of unraveling in my mind. Seeing Yoenjun was a testimony of how much I left behind, the little things I didn't know I cared about so much. The people I used to know had moved on without me. Everyone was so different and changed into better versions of themselves. I began to question if I had really done the same. I felt robbed of the person I could have been, the person I thought I was meant to be. Blackburn was a family community, everyone knew each other- now, I was just an outsider. 

I heard the boy's laughter cut short, my train of thought lost by the screeching sound of tires coming from outside. All of our heads turned to follow the noise. Down the hall where the front door stood lonely, we moved as a group, our feet trying to get a clear image of the outside. There was just enough darkness to see through the glass shapes cut into the frame of the door. The street of Ivory Lane was cleared except for a gray van parked parallel in front of the house.

Before I could think to question anything, the side door slid open and three masked figures appeared, in their hands were fully automated KG-9s. 

"Get down!" 

Namjoon's voice was all that I heard before my body was hitting the floor. Someone's weight was on top of me, acting as a shield, as the following movements were full of total chaos. 

Thousands of rounds firing off, causing the windows to shatter into pieces. My arms covered over my head, shards of glass scratching against the leather of my sleeves. My cheek pressed against the wood as I heard the screams of the souls in the house, women, and children. 

I raised my head to see Yeonjuns face over my shoulder. His forearms rested on either side of my head, I saw the fear in his face, the way his eyes were shut tightly. I took a look at the rest of my surroundings, Taehyung and Namjoon were leaning against the wall, their hands working fast to load their handguns. 

"Cover me!" Namjoon yelled over the firearms. 

My heart was pumping adrenaline throughout my body. But the thought of my family home being shot up while grieving my father's death fueled me with red rage. It was blinding. 

I forced Yeonjun off of me, my knee pinning him down on the floor where he would remain clear of any bullets. 

"What are you doing!?"

I  stayed crouched as my arms reached behind me. My hands felt for the Glock 23 that I had tucked into the belt of my pants. The heavy metal was cold in my hand, I clicked the safety off and rose on my feet.

"(Y/n)!"

I moved quickly, my gun pointed out toward the door as I reached quickly yanking it open. I found the three men retreating back into the van. My brain didn't hesitate to take the aim to the one in the middle, pulling the trigger over and over again, my arms resisting the gun’s kickback. The bullets went cutting through the air, piercing holes of the van until one finally broke through the skin of his shoulder. He struggled to reload his gun as his two partners jumped into the van. 

"(Y/n)! Get back!"

Bullets behind me came firing at the van, shattering the window of the driver. I kept firing at the already injured figure, his friends running to get him in the van as they were trying to flee. They pulled at his arms, dragging him into the van as he finished reloading. With a click of his ammo, he aimed his gun at me but I fired first. My bullet went right through his kneecap causing him to fall off the moving van. His partners had no option but to leave him behind.

"(Y/n)!" Namjoon yelled as my feet moved, sprinting, toward the man bleeding out on the street. 

He laid on his back, holding his disjointed knee in one hand. He wore a ski mask and black clothing. I kicked away his KG-9 with my foot and aimed my gun at him.

"Put your hands up! Put Your hands up!" I commanded. He followed them without hesitation. Namjoon and Taehyung came running up behind me. 

"Put the gun down, (Y/n)," Taehyung said calmly but I didn't budge. I could only stare angrily at the blue eyes I could make out through the holes of the mask. My hand began to tremble from rage. I wanted to shoot him, I wanted to shoot him so very bad. "People are watching, (Y/n)."

I glanced back at the house where people were gathering behind the broken windows. I took a deep breath, shaking to remain calm, and lowering my gun. 

Namjoon and Taehyung moved in, holding him down as they removed his mask. I didn't recognize him in the slightest, he was white, with thin white hair and ice-blue eyes, at least 40 years old. 

"I’ve got PB ink here," Taehyung said to Namjoon as he raised his arms to reveal tattoos. 

"Help! Please help!" A scream filled the night, coming out the front door was a woman. Her face contoured in pain as wails left her mouth. She held a young boy, pressed against her chest, drenched in blood. "My son, please!"

She begged as Jimin helped her hold the boy up. His hand was stained with blood over the wounds on his chest and abdomen. But the boy's body was unresponsive, lifeless, he was already gone. 

That's when everything went silent for me. My ears hollowed with a ring of white noise. I felt my hand loosen as the gun fell from my grip. As the metal hit against the street, I stepped back toward the gunman, trance-like. His eyes barely caught mine before I stomped my foot on his face.

"(Y/n)!"

I growled through my teeth as I felt the cartilage of his nose crack under my boot with the first stomp. The ones after that beat his teeth into his mouth. Gashes of blood leaked into the curves of his face. He begged and cried for me to stop but I couldn’t.  

Taehyung wrapped his arms around my waist, I fought back, but he lifted me and tore me apart from him. 

Masterlist ≽

Suncity

Hoseok x Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 1323

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Going on vacation with Hoseok was supposed to be fun, but he can’t stop obsessing over every little thing until you tempt him with something sweet. 

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You had never seen a place so bright. The golden rays of the summer sun reflected on the bleached white stone of the buildings lining the alleys and pathways you had walked since your arrival to the the quiet city. Cobblestone steps trailed along beneath the toes of your sneakers dipping and jutting out of mortar crevices in a disorganized pattern you couldn't quite comprehend. It seemed every building was constructed to evoke the feeling of the ever present quaint summer written about by novelists and poets on damn near every continent. It seemed you had stumbled into the embodiment of a city made of sun nestled into the French countryside hidden from the pressing noses of a demanding world. The peace was one you were desperate to keep, but one your husband was obliviously disturbing.

“Babe, did you grab the key card to the hotel before we left? I can’t find it…” Hoseok’s inquiry trailed in the determination of his hand hurriedly digging into the contents of his backpack.

“Front pocket. Under your external phone charger,” you hummed.

A low grumble of “I already looked there” emitted from the strong plains of his bronze chest that made itself obviously visible from under a half buttoned white collared shirt. He was correct, he had looked in that pocket, but at that time, he had been looking for the tube of sunscreen that was nestled comfortably in the left side pocket where he had sworn his sunglasses had been when he went looking for those not ten minutes ago. He had looked through every pocket of the backpack well over fifteen times, but each time he was searching for a new, surely forgotten, lost item.

You had stolen glances at his frantic search each and every time he asked for something else in between the moments you spent taking in the breathtaking architecture you had paid good money to see. The descent into the city from your hilltop villa hotel had awarded you with beautifully designed structures often with intricately laced ironwork and windows ornamented with delicately carved floral or lace patterns. You had so much of the city left to see in the week you would be spending there, but it seemed only one of you would be paying any attention.

A startled confirmation filtered through the air as you passed a small cafe brewing rich aromas of dark coffee along with the delectable scent of pastries you could only identify as something made up in your sweetest dreams. A couple sitting on bistro chairs just outside the cafe doors shared a piece of cake you enviously wanted along with the twin cups of espressos sitting just by their elbows. You were not keen to turn away from the enticing offerings when you heard the clank of the external phone charger, but allowed your husband to hold your attention for the two seconds it would take to confirm that you were right.

“When did you put it in here?” his pout protruded accusingly.

Your gaze fell to the slope of his lower lip tracing the dip to sun-tinted cheeks that led to the honey eyes of a man you had sold your heart to with the truest promise of forever.

“When you told me to before we left the hotel,” you smirked, taking the now liberated key card from his hand and placing it back into the pocket with a pointed capture of his gaze pinned to yours. Deft fingers also replaced the charger then tidied the mess with a rough tug of the zipper to secure the contents back inside. “Ok?”

Finger-brushed hair fell into the downcast turn of his bowed head. “I’m sorry. I must have forgotten.”

The swelling of your heart pressed into the tightly held bones of a rib cage that was used to this kind of pressure. Hoseok was always fretting over every little detail of your lives together down to the most minuscule things you would have never thought of were it not for him. He wanted you both to be as happy as you possibly could, almost to an unrealistic degree, and you knew he would only end up disappointed when things didn’t go according to his plan. Like now.

“Baby,” you cooed, fingers dancing through the mess of his silky, disheveled hair, “Stop worrying about everything. We have everything we need. We’ll be fine.”

He barely had the courage to meet your eye, finding it easier to scuff the toe of his balenciagas into a rather large crack of the road where you two stood. When you two had planned the special trip, he had promised the only thing he would pay attention to was you. It would be a week where you could spend every moment in each other’s company without distraction or interruption. This trip had been an apology, a way for him to make up for always being busy with work that often took him out of the country. The solemn expression he wore told you he felt he was doing a rather lousy job at apologizing and you couldn’t stand it.

“Hobi,” you mimicked his whiny pout, but went a step further to wrap your arms around his waist in order to duck your head low enough to see his face. You were glad there weren’t any shimmering tears in his beautiful eyes, but the look still wasn’t ideal. “Baby, should we drink a cup of coffee together? Hmm? What about sharing a pastry?” A slow smile began to grow on his face at the tone you only used when you wanted to be saccharine sweet. Triumph sparked in your veins. “Honey, let’s enjoy sweet things together. Please?”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth enticing you to press petal-soft kisses into the dip of his dimples, the ghost of his smile, along the high sweep of his cheekbones until your lips smoothed over the tip of his nose. He was giggling now, content with the loving affection you were never shy to give him.

“Ok, ok. Let’s go get something,” he conceded.

Giddily, you laced your fingers through his longer digits to give you the leverage you needed to tug him into the cafe you had been desperate to enter. The patrons and baristas inside greeted you with tender smiles that were no doubt in response to the attention you had paid to your husband just outside the tiny haven, but you felt no embarrassment from their knowing gazes. Instead, you found a quiet table nestled in the corner of the shop and ordered two espressos with a slice of cinnamon coffee cake in botched French all while Hoseok kept his loving stare trained on your every move. He didn’t turn away from you nor did he say anything until your order appeared between the two of you.

Cutting a small chunk of the cake with a fork, he extended it out to your awaiting mouth. You both laughed when a small dusting of cinnamon fell into the seams of your lips, but before you could clean it up, Hoseok leaned over the small table and laid his lips against yours allowing his tongue to wipe up the remaining confection. Rose painted across your cheeks at his actions.

“Mmm, just as sweet as always,” he grinned turning the rose on your cheeks the color of valentines.

“You’re such a cheese ball,” you grinned.

He chuckled, enjoying the weightlessness of the moment before allowing his features to fall into a more serious demeanor. “You know I love you, right?”

The question didn’t necessarily perplex you, but you didn’t like the underlying uncertainty.

“As much as I love you,” you confirmed.

Sheepishly, he smiled, and it was in that moment that the glowing city outside was unable to compete with the golden radiance of the man who carried the sun in his eyes.

DYAD | vii. keep it together | MASTERLIST

venom symbiote x reader

words: 1k+

warning(s): n/a

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

Dark clouds pulsed with thunder overhead. The light of morning still hadn't pierced through their blanket but you guessed it was only a matter of hours until the sun's first rays would shine down upon San Francisco's streets. That's if the oncoming storm wouldn't beat it first.

You shivered, arms wrapping around your body in an attempt to wring the chill from your bones. Every muscle in your body ached, and it would've been so unbearable you swore you could collapse if it weren't for Venom's endurance keeping you steady. You looked down at your feet, the fact that you had bolted from the lab in nothing but a worn out hospital gown barely beginning to register with you. You glanced around, suddenly grateful for the desolate hour so rarely seen in such a big city.

Passing by a closed store, you caught your reflection in the glass. A grimace twisted your face. Your hair was beyond disheveled, not to mention in dire need of a wash. Your eyes were bloodshot, accented by the dark bags that hung just below them. You sighed, walking away in disdain.

Your appearance is the least of our worries, you know

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten we're definitely being tracked down by those creepy fucks from the lab." you groaned. "I mean look at us, I might as well have a giant target on my back! Oh, wait."

You have me

"Yeah, nothing like an 8-foot wall of alien muscle to hide in plain sight. Real subtle."

Venom settled, growing quiet in the back of your mind. But it wasn't the same quiet that would fill the gaps of silence between conversation where there was nothing more to say. They were observing. Flashes of images that you realized were your surroundings filled your brain - eyes adapted to low light filtering through the dim-lit sidewalks and into the various shops you happened to pass by. It was almost like having eyes on the back of your head. It literally was like having eyes on the back of your head.

Soon enough, the images had also settled. And for a moment you were confused, continuing to walk without a word of the strange occurrence. Until suddenly you felt something crawl beneath the gown. You skidded to a stop, looking down at yourself as you saw Venom's signature inky black substance cover parts of your body.

"Hey, what are you -?"

You watched with disbelief as Venom solidified, their gooey flesh shaping itself into recognizable shapes that you soon realized were clothes. In a matter of seconds, black pants and a simple black shirt appeared on your body beneath the gown. You were at a loss for words.

Better?

"Y - You can just..?"

My dear vessel, hiding in plain sight is what I was made for

"Don't call me that." you said as you pulled the gown off your form, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. "But..thanks. I guess."

Your attention abruptly shifted to the sky as the first drops of rain hit your face. Your attempts to shield yourself were in vain as a clap of thunder heralded harder rainfall, and you ducked under a building's canopy that barely provided enough dry space.

Before you had the chance to complain, you felt Venom move again, the same viscous slime running over your "shirt" and covering your arms. In the blink of an eye you were met with a black hoodie.

"You sure know how to stick to an aesthetic."

What can I say, black is my color

~~

A thick silence filled the lab like churning water, and Dora Skirth was sure she would drown.

She had seen Drake cross before, but this was different. Even the air around them was charged with dormant energy waiting to burst. He uncrossed his arms, unclenching his jaw as his gaze shifted from nowhere to her. She was loathe to admit her hands were shaking, and in attempt to hide it she wrung them, eyes straining to focus on anything other than the man standing across from her. She had already counted the various containers and test tubes that sat on the shelves behind him twice over, but there was nowhere else to turn to.

"I've just been..troubled...by what we've been doing."

Drake nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I get it. I get it. We've all been troubled, it's the nature of what we do." He leaned against a desk, suddenly looking uncharacteristically weary. "But I need you to tell me how your charge managed to escape under your supervision."

Skirth shook her head, visibly uncomfortable as she stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I-I can't - I have no idea."

"Men died because of your mistake. Good men. We can't fix this unless we begin with your patient. Because they're going to die. All because of you." He took a step closer. "They will die unless we bring them back here, where you can help keep them alive."

She stepped back, shoulders tensing when she hit the surface of a wall. Drake continued walking until he closed the gap between them, stopping within mere inches of the woman's face. Her blood ran cold.

"Dora, I promise - from here on in - we'll do things differently. That's what you want, isn't it? You just have to trust me."

Her eyes wandered to her feet, fingers suddenly entangling themselves with each other once more. She gulped, biting the inside of her cheek. Her nails dug so deep into the palms of her hands she was sure she would draw blood.

"It was me."

Drake's eyebrows raised, but still held a skeptical disbelief.

"I-I let them out. It wasn't their fault, just..please don't hurt them."

Her mind cringed when she flinched at the feeling of Drake's hand on her shoulder, fingers digging through her lab coat and into her skin. Looking into his eyes, a cold chill ran down her spine. A thin, small smile replaced Drake's stern expression but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, Dora," Skirth looked away. As Drake stepped away, the door to the room opened, and a man in a similar white coat to Skirth's stepped in. In his hands was the handle of a cart, a large transparent tube on its surface. Skirth could feel her heart beat through her chest, and a jolt of fear paralyzed her every muscle.

"You were never a good liar."

Within the tube was a deep indigo substance, roiling in on itself in an infinite loop.

"But, you were our best." Drake flicked his head toward the symbiote as he walked out. He was as calm as the silence before a storm. "Open it."

As the tank's glass retreated with a cold, distant hiss, Skirth stumbled backward only to find herself in a corner.

"N-No..no!"

A look of pure fear twisted her features as she bolted for the exit, nearly tripping over herself before the door closed at the last moment. The sound of its lock clicking ringing through her ears like a death sentence.

She turned around, finding the symbiote staring right back at her with nonexistent eyes. In the seconds before the alien lunged at her, she screamed.

~~

Rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie, you yawned, leaning back against the cold metal of a dumpster as the first rays of the sun hit your face. Folding your arms behind your head, you looked up at the sky.

Although you finally escaped the prison that was the Life Foundation, you didn't feel free. If anything, you felt even more trapped, and though you hated admitting it, Drake was right. What were you going to do? You were sure you had long since lost the lease on your apartment, and there were no friends - no family - that would even think about letting you stay for a night. Unless....no. No. You hit your head softly against the metal behind you, growling in frustration. This is exactly what he would want, you could practically see the smug look on his face. But you promised yourself you would never go back to him. No matter what.

But what else was there to do. It wasn't just you that was in danger, there was -

Are you alright?

Venom's voice was soft, cutting through the white noise like a knife through butter.

You sighed, smiling sadly. "I..No, I'm not."

This man, he can help us, can he not?

You cringed, not wanting to think about him any more than you had to. "No - well, yes and no." Your hands curled into fists, clenching and unclenching. "It's complicated."

It's better than nothing

"Venom, you don't -" you sighed, distracting yourself with loose pieces of gravel. "You don't know him, he's...he's something else." you whispered, flicking a rock at a brick wall.

Your jaw clenched, inhaling deeply. "Can we talk about something else? Please?"

Out of nowhere, your hoodie seemed warmer, comfortably snug against your body like a firm hug. A low rumble that you could swear sounded like a purr reverberated in your head. You closed your eyes.

"I'm sorry."

What for?

"...Everything." If you could fold your arms closer to your body, you would've. "I wanted to get us out of this mess but..why does it feel like I've just made it worse?"

A small tendril spiraled from your hoodie, twisting and reshaping itself into a smaller version of Venom's disembodied head.

"You couldn't have known."

"I know but..still." Your mind went back to the grotesque forms of Venom's companions, their lifeless bodies pooled at the bottom of their tanks. It made your skin crawl just thinking about it. "Whatever your intentions were, you deserved better. You all did."

Venom became silent, a passive rumble echoing through your chest. You turned to the side, mind lost in the oncoming bustle of passerby. You hugged your knees close to your body.

"You said there were some missing. Did you...know them?"

Somewhat. One of them was what you would call a team leader. They were called Riot

"They sound lovely." you said with a sarcastic drawl. "What'd they look like? If they escaped I could keep an eye out."

Big. Gray. Kind of a dick. You can't miss them

You snorted, the first genuine bout of humor you registered in what felt like forever.

"I'll keep that in mind." you said with a faint smile.

Open And Shut The Importance Of Air Intake Filters For Tools Enclosures

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Regardless of the type, shades require regular cleansing. The Distinction Between Janitorial And Hygiene Cleaning Franchises Those who carry out the work are commonly referred to as custodians, janitors or cleaners. While summer can offer a super time to get caught up in your faculty cleaning, nothing should be hit and miss. The greatest way to make probably the most of summer’s downtime is to arrange a written plan. A written plan of proposed cleaning and upkeep, prioritized by the significance may help your commercial cleansing company absolutely understand what's most necessary to you. Janitors and constructing cleaners ought to perceive general building operations. They ought to be capable of make routine repairs, such as repairing leaky faucets. Janitors and building cleaners should get along well with their supervisors, different cleaners, and the people who live or work within the buildings they clean. 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Two strategies to scale back hospital census throughout SARS-nCoV-2. Also, consideration of swimming goggles for eye protection .

Two Hundred and Seventy-nine - Underwater no futari, 3.0

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! Sorry for the delay; I was quite literally exhausted yesterday, and just plain forgot to post. Hopefully some cute teamwork makes up for it. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Seventy-nine - Underwater no futari, 3.0

The rain had been coming down sporadically for three days. It was never a gentle spring mist; it always came in in full tempest mode, gradually subsiding to a drizzle before fading away, only to begin again three hours later. Today, for the third morning in a row, Roy had made the wet, muddy trudge into East City Headquarters from his car, shoulders drawn up against the weather and a spare, clean pair of boots beside his desk.

Riza was waiting in the office, the pronounced fall of her bangs and the limp feathering of upswept hair at the back of her head attesting to her own rained-on morning parade. She smiled sympathetically at Roy’s moody expression as he paused by the office door to remove his boots.

“Good morning, sir.”

He didn’t answer, but his look said it all. ‘What’s good about rain like this?’

She didn’t bother to counter the unspoken retort, but tilted her head away, avoiding a surreptitious kiss on the cheek. “Hakuro was here about ten minutes ago. He has to travel unexpectedly, so you’ve been tagged as duty officer for the rest of the week.”

“What?” Turning he ignored the clean pair of boots, snatching up the letter on his desk as she pointed to it and hastily skimming the contents. “Huh… wonder what called him away like that.”

Riza wasn’t smiling. “If I had to guess,” she said quietly, “he’s gone to complain about you to the new administration. He doesn’t trust the results of the hearing that cleared us of involvement on the Promised Day and he’s doing everything he can to prevent you from using the confusion to rise up in the ranks.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Do you have confirmation on that, or is it just hearsay?”

“Confirmation.” She smiled slyly. “He complains to his secretary a lot.”

“Colonel!” A young voice sounded from the doorway, and a second later, a young boy with tousled brown hair swung through the door frame, out of breath and looking panicked. He skidded to a stop, bending to brace both hands on his knees. “Colonel…needed in…Administration…. Emergency….”

“Cameron, slow down.” Moving to help the boy into a seat at Fuery’s vacant desk, Roy crouched on the floor beside the chair. “Take a deep breath and try again.”

Gulping down a huge breath of air, Cameron pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Administration sent me up because you’re the duty officer,” he explained. “You need to go down there and see what’s going on. There’s water everywhere.” He looked up as Riza arrived at his side, his eyes huge. “It’s halfway up the stairs from the subbasement.”

---------------

The Administration office was a flurry of activity; clerks ran every which way, paper flew when it wasn’t lying damp on the floor. A phone rang somewhere, going unanswered in all the chaos. Roy and Riza stood in the doorway, surveying the maelstrom before venturing into it. Riza bent so she was closer to Cameron’s eye level.

“Why don’t you go back to our office and let the others know what happened when they show up. You’ll only get trampled here. We’ll come get you once things are sorted out.”

The boy nodded and bolted off again, and Riza straightened. “Might as well take the plunge, sir.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Together, they made their way through the crowded office toward the wide staircase at the rear. A human chain of sorts had formed along one wall, leading down toward the basement, sodden boxes and random files being passed up to higher ground.

They found Havoc at the top of the flight of stairs leading down into the still-dark subbasement, gazing dubiously at the water that began only seven stairs down from where he stood. Another seven stairs were under the water, fading from sight in the gloom.

He turned as the two officers approached. “Spotted the confusion on my way in and came to investigate,” he said grimly. “Doesn’t look good, Boss.”

“What’s causing it?” Roy asked, crouching to see how close the water came to the ceiling of the room below. “We’ve never had a problem before, and I was under the impression there were measures against this happening.”

“The drainage pipes, yeah.” Havoc shook his head. “From what I was told, all the pipes run together at one point and around there, it’s gotten clogged. So the water is backing up into the subbasement. Luckily, all the files here have copies in the Central office.”

“…A clog in the drainage pipes….” Roy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the course of action that that suggests. ”

Havoc grinned. “Especially when you’re probably the only one onsite who can handle it? There’s no other alchemist on base that can do circleless alchemy,, and without a pulse sent down the pipes, the water level will just keep rising.” He hooked a thumb back over his shoulder. “I can go grab a towel from the infirmary for once you’re done.”

“Make it two,” Riza said, already shrugging out of her jacket. “I’m going to help.”

Reluctantly, Roy joined her, getting rid of jacket, waistskirt, boots, and socks, and rolling up his pantlegs to the knee before gingerly wading into the water. A thought occurred and he tossed his watch back to land on his folded clothes just as Riza stepped into the water. She shuddered briefly, then accepted his steadying hand before moving with gritted teeth until she was waist deep.

One of the administration clerks tossed them a flashlight, calling “You only need to send the pulse down one of the pipes, enough to dislodge the blockage, and the drainage should start up again automatically.”

“Right.” Passing the flashlight to Riza, he waited until she illuminated the path ahead, then struck out, trying not to show too much revulsion at being immersed in water this way. It wouldn’t do for his expression to be noticed when he should be trying to set a good example.

The nearest pipe was in a corner to the left of the stairs. Riza kept the light clenched in her teeth as she swam ahead, then hoisted herself onto the top of a shelving unit. Taking the light in hand, she shone it down into the murky water. “There it is.”

One hand grasping the edge of the shelves, Roy took a deep breath. “Can I claim this as hazard pay?” he asked darkly. “I’ll catch my death of cold, doing this.”

Riza smiled. “I’ll make sure you receive some form of compensation. But don’t prolong the inevitable, sir, or you really will catch a cold. Best just to get it done and over with.”

He grimaced. “Right. Here goes nothing….”

He clapped before he sank underneath the surface, then doubled over and kicked, propelling himself down toward the rough cement floor. The light filtered down through the water, shifting and swaying as his movements sent currents rippling through. The drain lay illuminated just ahead, and Roy released the breath he’d taken to allow himself to sink farther. His palms pressed to the iron grating covering the end of the pipe, and he released the energy that had built up in his palms.

A noise like dull thunder came through the water, and a vibration shook the bones in his arms. A second later, he heard a gurgling sound, and felt an invisible current tug at his clothes, pulling them toward the drain. Planting his feet on the floor, he pushed off, rising quickly to the surface.

Riza helped him pull himself halfway onto the shelving unit; the gurgling sound was gone, replaced only by the sound of quietly lapping water.

“It’ll really get going in another minute, and we should be away before it does,” he commented. “But first….”

He reached up, tugging her down by the collar of her shirt to plant a damp kiss on her lips with a grin. “Finally. You denied me one earlier, and we haven’t been alone since. Figured that if I had the chance….”

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If cooking grids are heavily soiled or show a large amount of carbonization, we use a restaurant degreasing solution, as necessary. ● Griddles: If not cleaned regularly, grease can accumulate into a gummy layer on griddles which will then carbonize into a hard, difficult to remove substance. Our technicians deep clean using a non-abrasive griddle cleaner, and will re-season the surface, if needed. ● Warming and Holding Equipment: Our technicians clean and sanitize your warming and holding equipment, including its removeable trays, self-contained removable tops and the interior of the equipment. ● Restaurant Gas Ranges & Electric Ranges: We remove all drawers, trays and chutes that trap or collect grease and crumbs on the range and give them a deep clean. Our technicians also thoroughly clean around the pilot areas and the burners to remove any food or spills that could ignite and cause damage to the burner area. 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Additionally, we will check air vents for accumulation of debris, and wipe or vacuum clean. ● Rotisserie Ovens: In rotisserie ovens, grease will drip from the meats as they rotate in the oven. Our technicians professionally clean the spits and the rotors from the oven, as well as the inside of the oven to remove grease and food particles ● Waffle and Crepes Machines: Our technicians will remove stuck-on batter on the baking plates, and clean the exterior housing and handle. Other areas of the kitchen our technicians will clean include: ● Faucets and Sprayers ● Sinks ● Undercounter Warewashing ● Disposers and Grease Traps ● Matting and Treads ● Restaurant Dishwashers ● Distables ● Dish and Glass Racks ● Hot Food Tables ● Restaurant Steamers ● Refrigerators ● Equipment Stands and Filler Tables

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The Wichita Household Services Guarantee We walk through your kitchen outlet with you to create a detailed breakdown of what you feel and what we recommend should be detailed. From detailing the ceiling tile/grid to the FRP walls to the interior/exterior of ANY piece of equipment in your restaurant kitchen, we can handle it all. Post cleaning, we perform a comprehensive walk-through to ensure all tasks have been executed per the Wichita Household Services Standards

BEST RESTAURANT KITCHEN CLEANING SERVICE  IN WICHITA WICHITA HOUSEHOLD SERVICES REQUEST MORE INFORMATION.CLICK HERE CONTACT US: Wichita Household Services We Offer Cleaning Junk Removal Movers Handyman Services Call: (316) 448-3558 SERVICE AREA: 55 Cities within 30 miles of Wichita, KS: Andale, KS | Andover, KS | Argonia, KS | Augusta, KS | Belle Plaine, KS | Bentley, KS | Benton, KS | Buhler, KS | Burns, KS | Burrton, KS | Cheney, KS | Clearwater, KS |Colwich, KS | Conway Springs, KS | Danville, KS | Derby, KS | Douglass, KS | Elbing, KS | Garden Plain, KS | Goddard, KS | Greenwich, KS | Halstead, KS | Harper, KS | Haven, KS | Haysville, KS | Hesston, KS | Hutchinson, KS | Kechi, KS | Maize, KS | Mayfield, KS | Mcconnell AFB, KS | Milan, KS | Milton, KS | Mount Hope, KS | Mulvane, KS | Murdock, KS | Newton, KS | North Newton, KS | Norwich, KS | Peck, KS | Potwin, KS | Pretty Prairie, KS | Rock, KS | Rose Hill, KS | Sedgwick, KS | South Hutchinson, KS | Towanda, KS | Udall, KS | Valley Center, KS | Viola, KS | Walton, KS | Wellington, KS | Whitewater, KS | Winfield, KS | Yoder, KS ZIP CODES: 67001 – Andale | 67016 – Bentley | 67017 – Benton | 67020 – Burrton | 67025 – Cheney | 67026 – Clearwater | 67030 – Colwich | 67031 – Conway Springs | 67037 – Derby | 67039 – Douglass | 67050 – Garden Plain | 67052 – Goddard | 67055 – Greenwich | 67060 – Haysville | 67067 – Kechi | 67101 – Maize | 67106 – Milton | 67108 – Mt Hope | 67110 – Mulvane | 67118 – Norwich | 67120 – Peck | 67133 – Rose Hill | 67135 – Sedgwick | 67147 – Valley Center | 67149 – Viola | 672xx – Wichita | 67204 – Park City or Wichita | 67219 – Park City or Wichita | 67220 – BelAire or Wichita | 67221 – McConnell AFB | 67226 – BelAire or Wichita | 67543 – Haven #Wichita #junkremoval #handyman #householdservice #movers #cleaning

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There had been a sense of dread festering beneath Feldspar’s surface since Dreamweaver’s announcement. Many had already begun to take notice of odd happenings here and there prior to it, but now that their suspicions had been confirmed, the air was thicker with unease than before. Transactions in the market were carried out in whispers; dragons kept their young indoors and their eyes on the top of the wall. No one wanted to be the final crack that burst the dam.

Dawn recalled the morning’s proceedings with a lump in his throat. Dreamweaver had requested a second Meeting of the Flights; all had been in attendance, save Plaquemine, who, along with the clan heir, was still abroad in his homeland. All was well across the Sea. It was the first bit of good news they’d had in an eon.

They had each given their reports. Most had been speculative. There was too much happening all at once, and every story they had heard secondhand was as reliable or unreliable as the next. Without a way to filter rumor from truth, they could only play at anticipating the endgame.

Once they had all fallen silent, Dreamweaver had stood. Their head held high, their shoulders stiff, they had announced that the Emperor’s predicted path had been altered drastically. Apparently, something within the Hewn City had caught its attention. It had made its way down along the eastern coast, and up into the City through the area surrounding Thunder’s March. No one had been harmed, to their knowledge, but it was now poised to strike both Feldspar and its allies at its leisure.

“The Lightweaver is in deliberation with Her peers,” they had informed. “If the Emperor is not dealt with by the residents of the Hewn City, then I have been assured She will see to its extermination Herself. Our allies in Clan Aphaster have closed Thunder’s March, and I have instructed the Wardens to evacuate our Gate Towns. As of this moment, the Hewn City is under strict lock-down; no one may enter, and no one may leave.”

It wasn’t the idea of a total lock-down that made Dawn shiver now. Traffic into the Hewn City consisted largely of cartographers and historians, many of whom were swiftly swallowed by the City itself. He was certain someone would complain should the Hewn City remain in quarantine for very long, but thankfully, that fell well beyond his jurisdiction.

No, what he was worried about were the implications. Emperors awoke now and again, but they so rarely ravaged populated areas that they had become more like campfire stories to frighten hatchlings than any real threat. Both of the Emperors that had been recorded in recent history were docile: Silas and Samuel in Feldspar, and a hulking brute in the Warren far to the west.

With time, the stain they had left on the Imperial breed had begun to fade. Now an Emperor had devastated large swaths of the northern plains, and taken up residence in one of Sornieth’s most cursed locations.

It was only a matter of time before something gave.

“Excuse me?”

A finger, lost under copper rings, tapped Dawn’s shoulder impatiently. Already stammering out an apology, he turned to face the stranger, and stopped abruptly.

They could have been a drake or a dam (or a rook, if so inclined); their features gave away nothing, and the cloth across their eyes further obscured their identity. He assumed they were a Pearlcatcher, noting the sandy-colored orb in a sling at their hip, but they appeared to lack the breed’s trademark horns, which would have shown even under their glamour. Judging by the dust clinging to their clothes, they must have traveled a long way.

However, their most distinguishing feature by far was their radiant aura. It was not visible, but its presence was so overwhelming that Dawn moved to shield his eyes regardless. This must have amused them, because they flashed him a wide, pointed grin.

“Are you Dawn?” they asked. Their voice was sweet, but just the slightest bit gravelly.

“Y-yes,” Dawn stuttered, “I am. You’re--you’re not from around here, though. You should really speak with Dreamweaver first, because if it’s residency you’re looking for, they--”

“Oh, I’ll speak with them as well,” the stranger assured. “I thought I ought to do you the courtesy of apologizing first, though.”

Dawn’s eyes darted around the square, searching for familiar faces. He had decided that this person made him very nervous. There was something not quite right about them; he got the feeling they enjoyed his social ineptitude a little too much. “Apologize for what?” he asked timidly.

The stranger cocked their head. “Oh, you haven’t heard?” They tutted and took a moment to fret to themselves before feigning sympathy. “You poor dear,” they said, “you haven’t heard. The Lightweaver’s decided to rectify Her mistake.”

“Wh...what does that mean...?”

“It means...” They placed a consoling hand on Dawn’s shoulder. His skin rippled with revulsion. “Imperials no longer have Her favor, and you’re no longer suited to your position. She’s sent me to replace you.”

[ Like my work? Here’s my ko-fi! ]

Best Shop Vac Service and Cost in Wichita KS | Wichita Cleaning Company

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Looking for the best shop vac service Near Wichita KS? Wichita Cleaning Company is the best cleaning services in and around Wichita KS. Cost of Shop Vac Service? Free estimates. Best Cleaning Services in Wichita KS.

REQUEST FREE QUOTE TODAY! SHOP VAC SERVICE WICHITA CLEANING COMPANY is a fast, free and easy way for homeowners like you to get estimates from vacuum service contractor pros in your area! Wichita Cleaning Company provides homeowners with estimates for their vacuum service projects. It is recommended that you get at least four vacuum service estimates before making any hiring decisions. VACUUM SERVICES Besides being able to offer the best quality vacuums to our customers, we are also able to offer you some great vacuum services as well. Keep your vacuum in tip-top shape with our warranty repair services and a yearly check-up! SERVICE & REPAIR Warranty Service Most vacuums will give you years of service if properly maintained. Unfortunately, vacuums are usually used and ignored until they are problematic or inoperative.

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Best Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service and Cost in Wichita, KS|A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita

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Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service near Wichita, KS: Are you looking for the Best Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service near Wichita, KS? A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita, roadside Assistance is our specialty. Broken down, flat tire, air leak, out of fuel...we've got you covered. You can count on the certified technicians to provide you with knowledgeable service. Cost? Free estimates! Send us a message or call us today. Best Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service around Wichita, KS. We serve Wichita, KS and other areas. Get a Free Quote Now!

BEST SEMI-TRUCK ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE SERVICE IN WICHITA, KS WICHITA, KS SEMI-TRUCK ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE

Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service near Wichita, KS: Roadside Assistance is our specialty. Broken down, flat tire, air leak, out of fuel...we've got you covered. You can count on the certified technicians at A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita to provide you with knowledgeable service. Our technicians will arrive promptly & provide professional service. A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita provides on road service On Road Services Provided: ● Mobile Truck & Trailer Repair ● Mobile Tire Repair & Replacement ● Towing & Recovery Services ● Jump Starts ● Re-fueling ● Reefer Repair ● Locksmiths ● and so much more Breakdown Assistance For: ● Accident Assistance ● Heavy Duty Trucks ● Medium Duty Trucks ● Trailers ● Refrigeration Units ● Construction Equipment ● Buses & RV's Fast, Affordable, Dependable 24-hour Road Assistance

Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service near Wichita, KS:Call us at any hour of the day or night, and we will send a mobile repair truck equipped with the necessary tools for semi-truck and other commercial vehicle repairs to your location. Our mobile mechanics carry the right tools to service many commercial truck repairs and will respond quickly with replacement fuel or tires.

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Benefits of Roadside Assistance in Wichita, KS

If you find yourself stranded with an inoperable vehicle, give us a call. Our roadside assistance service can help get you back on the road again. With roadside assistance from A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita Tire Service, you can rest easy knowing a staff member is on the way to change or repair your tire with the best tools for the job. Even if your flat tire happens at 3 a.m., you can call us, and we will be there to repair or change your tire.

At A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita Tire Service, we realize that flat tires don’t just happen inside normal business hours. Anytime your vehicle hits the road, a flat can (and sometimes does) occur. Think of our 24-hour roadside assistance as your little insurance policy.

The next time you need a flat tire repair, look to our roadside assistance for help. Prompt and professional assistance is only a phone call away.

Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance ● Jumps Starts /  Pull Starts ● Fuel Delivery ● Tire Changes & Repair ● Battery Service ● Freeze Up Thaw Out ● Electrical Bulb Replacement ● Coolant Hose Repair ● Fan Belts ● Air Filter/ Fuel Filter ● Brake Chamber Replacement ● Air Leaks ● Low Air Pressure Repair ● Filter Repair ● Engine Shut Down Diagnostics ● Trailer Repair ��� Antifreeze Leak ● Electrical Lighting Repair ● Engine Shutdown ● Check Engine Light ● Bent Wheel ● Broken Trailer Axle ● Loose Axle ● And More ....

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Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service near Wichita, KS: The immense weight of semi-trucks make them somewhat difficult to rescue from on or off-road breakdowns; fortunately, the experts here at A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita provide 24/7, direct-to-location semi-truck towing service that’s guaranteed to save you from being stranded in no time.

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COST

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Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance Service near Wichita, KS: A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita offers commercial truck roadside assistance services. This is a great and inexpensive service that can easily save you thousands of dollars. Here are the benefits:

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FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

What services are included with Commercial Semi-Truck Roadside Assistance?

These are services covered for eligible vehicles. Additional terms and conditions may apply. ● Towing up to 25 miles for light- and heavy-duty fleet vehicles. Additional miles will be prorated in 1/10th mile increments. ● Jump starting a dead battery or making other minor roadside adjustments to start the vehicle. Expenses for more extensive repairs, parts and labor are an additional cost. ● Delivering three gallons of gas or diesel fuel. This service covers delivery of the fuel only and does not include the cost of fuel. ● Removing a flat tire and replacing it with your spare tire. The service provider will change a flat tire with its inflated spare. If no spare is available, the vehicle may be towed. ● Winching is offered for light-duty vehicles that are safely accessible from a paved public road.

Is there a limit to how many times I can use Roadside Assistance at no extra charge?

There is a limit of 4 service calls per vehicle annually.

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● Access the Roadside Assistance section of your Reveal app to call the Roadside Assistance number provided. ● Give the 8-digit vehicle code shown in your app to the service representative. ● They will prepare a request for service dispatch. You’ll need to provide your location (the nearest major street or intersection). ● The service provider will offer an estimate of when a representative will arrive.

Can I use Roadside Assistance on restricted roadways?

Service may be limited by local traffic rules and regulations, such as restricted roadways and toll roads. In such areas, only certain service vehicles are authorized to perform service. The Roadside Assistance representative can assist you with your options.

Do I need to register all vehicles on an account to have Roadside Assistance?

Yes, all vehicles on an account need to be registered for Roadside Assistance.

When I activate Roadside Assistance, how soon does it start?

Your coverage becomes effective immediately after you activate it on your account.

How do I activate Roadside Assistance on my account?

You will be notified through Reveal when your account has been enabled for Roadside Assistance. You can then follow the instructions on how to activate Roadside Assistance for all vehicles on your account using their Vehicle Identification Number (VIN).

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BEST TRUCK REPAIR SERVICE IN WICHITA KS A1 MOBILE MECHANICS OF WICHITA REQUEST MORE INFORMATION. CONTACT US NOW! Contact us: A1 Mobile Mechanics of Wichita 24-hour mobile mechanic roadside assistance services in Wichita, KS! CALL: (316) 201-9247 MOBILE MECHANIC WEBSITE: www.mobilemechanicwichitakansas.org Service Area: 55 Cities within 30 miles of Wichita, KS: Andale, KS | Andover, KS | Argonia, KS | Augusta, KS | Belle Plaine, KS | Bentley, KS | Benton, KS | Buhler, KS | Burns, KS | Burrton, KS | Cheney, KS | Clearwater, KS |Colwich, KS | Conway Springs, KS | Danville, KS | Derby, KS | Douglass, KS | Elbing, KS | Garden Plain, KS | Goddard, KS | Greenwich, KS | Halstead, KS | Harper, KS | Haven, KS | Haysville, KS | Hesston, KS | Hutchinson, KS | Kechi, KS | Maize, KS | Mayfield, KS | Mcconnell AFB, KS | Milan, KS | Milton, KS | Mount Hope, KS | Mulvane, KS | Murdock, KS | Newton, KS | North Newton, KS | Norwich, KS | Peck, KS | Potwin, KS | Pretty Prairie, KS | Rock, KS | Rose Hill, KS | Sedgwick, KS | South Hutchinson, KS | Towanda, KS | Udall, KS | Valley Center, KS | Viola, KS | Walton, KS | Wellington, KS | Whitewater, KS | Winfield, KS | Yoder, KS ZIP CODES: 67001 – Andale | 67016 – Bentley | 67017 – Benton | 67020 – Burrton | 67025 – Cheney | 67026 – Clearwater | 67030 – Colwich | 67031 – Conway Springs | 67037 – Derby | 67039 – Douglass | 67050 – Garden Plain | 67052 – Goddard | 67055 – Greenwich | 67060 – Haysville | 67067 – Kechi | 67101 – Maize | 67106 – Milton | 67108 – Mt Hope | 67110 – Mulvane | 67118 – Norwich | 67120 – Peck | 67133 – Rose Hill | 67135 – Sedgwick | 67147 – Valley Center | 67149 – Viola | 672xx – Wichita | 67204 – Park City or Wichita | 67219 – Park City or Wichita | 67220 – Bel Aire or Wichita | 67221 – McConnell AFB | 67226 – Bel Aire or Wichita | 67543 – Haven

Snowfall (jikook)

Name: Snowfall Rated: T Pairing: Jikook Summary: Jungkook was ready to give up living having spent two years in a hospital and it took falling in love with Park Jimin to know that life was worth living for if he could see him smiling at him so prettily, eyes turned into pretty crescents and bubbling laughter filling his dull life

Warnings: attempt at suicide, angst with a happy ending

It was amid a chilly morning in Busan that a young man had gazed longingly out the window. The sun seemed to shine brightly, or at least looked as though it was desperately trying to, it’s efforts in vain as only glimpses of its warm rays filtered through the gray clouds beginning to embrace the city. The young man let out a soft sigh, breath slightly shaky and weak. He clutched onto the dull green covers over the plain thin white sheets with as much grip as he could, letting himself fall back onto the pillow.

“Good morning Jungkook-ssi”, a voice chirped, far too bright and familiar to the young man’s liking. His gaze never faltered from the sky outside, merely humming in acknowledgement before she continued. “You’re up quite early, but no worries. Why don’t we have get your check up over with, so we can get you a nice breakfast?”

He finally broke out of his trance, turning to the young woman in her dark blue top and matching blue pants walking in with a moving table, beeping machine following along with extensive chords sliding along the marble floors. Jungkook followed the movements as thought trying to distract himself from the true reality of his situation. But it was inevitable, she was at his side in seconds a bright smile at her face, rehearsed. And everything hit him again like it did every time.

The white walls, the heavy smell of medicine and disinfectant, the machines, the syringes waiting to yet again plunge into his skin. The inevitable fact that he was dying in a hospital in Busan and had been here for almost two years, stagnated, not getting better or worse. “I suppose that’s what has to be done. No options left when you’re dying”, he had murmured softly, and it was then he saw her expression falter for a few seconds, almost seeing the sympathy in her gaze.

She regained her previous smile quickly, pretending she hadn’t heard him as she gently pried his arm from under the sheets to check his pulse.

~~xXXx~~

“Please, I’m begging! Give us a few more days. We’ll pay for this month’s expenses, but we just need a bit more time”, Jungkook had heard his mother beg. He felt sick, not because of his actual illness, but because of the burden he was being to his family. He cried silently, feeling helpless and pathetic. What could he do? He couldn’t tell his mother that he didn’t need to be here. He could barely even move, much less help them someway.

“Mrs. Jeon, we understand your son is very sick, but there are more people who are just as sick if not more who are able to pay. It’s our job, but we’re just put in a tight spot. The treatments and checkups, and attentions all come at a high price.” Jungkook could tell that was the doctor speaking and he sounded annoyed and frustrated. The more he spoke, the more the black-haired male clenched his eyes knowing each word was surely making his mother miserable. He knew just how fragile and sensitive she could get and the man telling her that her son was disposable, was surely breaking her heart.

“I hate this. I hate myself”, he sobbed rubbing at his tired eyes hearing the pleading of his mother, heavy on his conscious.

“Jungkook honey, you’ve been awfully quiet these past days. Sweetie, is something wrong?” his mother had asked him on her visit. She looked tired Jungkook had noted, dark circles under her eyes, and she never seemed so aged to him as she did now with her wrinkles much more prominent and exhaustion evident. She had pulled a chair close to the side of his bed, ruffling his dark black hair, coaxing him to speak. He shook his head to assure her, but they both knew he wasn’t fine. In fact, he felt much more tired than other days.

“It hasn’t snowed yet, has it? Is it winter yet?” he asked, and she had retracted a bit, looking at him, truly seeing him. His clammy pale skin and frail body and the lack of shine in his eyes. Her eyes brimmed with tears because she understood what he had meant. The questions simple enough, but spoke volumes of his feelings. Even in his current state, he refused to be a burden and his mother knew he felt that way. Jungkook had been in the hospital for so long never allowed to go outside, time itself was unknown to him. He could never tell the time or day or season, only being able to guess from gazing at the mere window in the small room; the only room his family could afford.

She brought him into her arms again, trembling, and apologetic. “No, it hasn’t snowed yet, but it will soon. And the first snowfall will be beautiful just like you my sweet boy”.

“No.” She let their foreheads touch as she looked at him curiously, her eyes still red from crying, waiting from him to continue. “It will be beautiful like you, my warm and kind mother”.

~~xXXx~~

And Jungkook had lived that way, everyday having to bare through the same routine. It was tiresome, lonely, and boring. He was already accepting the fact that he was okay with dying. If anything, his mother would be saved, given the rest she needed from working so much to pay for his hospitalization. Upon his mother’s request, he’d been allowed to wander around the hospital in a wheelchair. He took this opportunity to both make a decision and take advantage of this chance. This was it.

Today he would stop being burden. He smiled to the nurse as she gently laid a blanket over his legs. She seemed caught off guard, but returned the smile. She would never understand why he’d smiled that way. She would never have realized what he was planning. He’d missed his mother and Busan. Miss the crisp air that would hit his face when he was young and running along the beach. His mother’s warm laughter and bright smile as he pointed to the seagulls crying and squawking as the waddled or flew around. The sun hitting his skin.

However, even if he chose to live, he’d never get to experience that. He’d be stuck here, in a timeless place forever or until his mother couldn’t convince them to let him stay anymore. He rolled out, passing a few other patients along the way. He was determined, much more so when he saw the open way towards the staircase. It was easy enough to just use his remaining strength to wheel at a high speed and let himself fall deep down.

He didn’t hesitate, he grasped onto the wheels, letting his fingers grasp on the rubber. He licked his lips once then twice as he looked around for any onlookers who could catch on to his plan. It would be easy to do it, and no one would suspect anything, but an accident. He’d accidentally rolled to far, with little strength to stop his fall. Finding no passerby, he began a slow pace, casually looking around as though he was exploring, innocent enough. He slowly increased the speed not a subtle as before, mustering a bit of courage and determination he had left. He was at full speed now, feeling his freedom at the tips of his toes, but suddenly it was gone. In a blink, it was replaced by softness and light aqua green scrubs.

“Woah there!” a sweet voice giggled. He looked up, eyes wide at the sight. He was mesmerized and in a trance of the cute young man blocking his way. Ethereal could be the only way to describe him. Soft blonde locks, cute button nose, and eyes a honey brown that turned into crescents from the dumbfounded expression on Jungkook’s face. From his attire, Jungkook could tell he was also a patient. “You seemed in a hurry. Eager to explore?” he continued to speak, and his lips were the prettiest shade of pink that Jungkook almost forgot that moments ago he was about to commit a grave sin. He heard the male speak again as he crouched down slightly to get a better look at him.

“Huh?” Jungkook could only say, eyes wide in surprise as though a deer caught in the headlights.

“I said my name is Jimin. Park Jimin. And yours, cutie?” he asked and Jungkook blushed profusely, shocked that someone could have that effect on him.

“J-Jungkook. J-Jeon Jungkook”, he murmured shyly, looking away. He heard that sweet bubbling laughter again and yet again he was reminded of the beaches of Busan from his sandy blonde locks to that refreshing laugh and smile. Even his crescent eyes reminded him of the moon on a warm night.

“Now Jungkookie, I know what you were about to do, and I don’t think it’s a wise decision on your part”, he spoke up as he literally skipped to grab on the handles of Jungkook’s wheelchair and turn him into the opposite direction of the staircase.

“Hey! Let go, Jimin!” Jungkook protested, at most it was weak, his resolve melted by the latter’s positivity and sweetness, but he had to try. Try to regain back his will and his purpose. Jimin ignored him, humming happily as he led them past the hospital rooms and towards the elevator. Jungkook simply huffed letting himself relax because it seemed that no amount of protesting would work on the blond. “Why do you even care?”

“Because life’s too short, to simply end it in self-pity and anger. Once you feel your life slip away through your fingers and you realize you did nothing to savor the bit of life you did have, you’ll leave this world with nothing but regrets. Why live so sadly, when you can do what you can to enjoy your last moments, right?”, he said losing a bit of the cheerfulness from before. Jungkook looked up at him, but said nothing. He felt those words meant so much more to Jimin than to him, but somehow, he felt they hit him deep in his heart like a pledge.

“Jimin”, he spoke softly. He wasn’t really calling him, and he didn’t mean to really say anything, but he wanted to test the name out on his lips. Like he knew he’d be saying it a lot and it felt nice to know someone was there when his mother couldn’t. It was reassuring and safe and…warm

“It’s hyung to you, brat. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re younger than me”, he laughed quietly and the tension before had unraveled into a comfortable one. Teasing and playful. They found themselves on the roof soon enough, confusion written all over the younger’s face.

“How come we’re here?” he asked the blonde who scoffed.

“How ungrateful! Your hyung did you a favor and got you some fresh air. The least you could do is be thankful”, the other chastised playfully before wheeling him towards the edge near the railing.

“I don’t think we can be here, hyung”

“I know, but breaking the rules occasionally is okay. I bet you missed this. The fresh air, I mean”, he mumbled and Jungkook couldn’t argue with that as a small smile finally reach his face. “You’re cute”.

They stayed like this in silence, looking at the city below them, could hear the faint sound of the waves from the beaches from afar. It was nice. And just like that the two of them gasped in awe at the small flakes of snow that began to fall, cold but welcomed by them both. They looked at each other, breaking in joyous laughter as they looked up and greeted the first snowfall together. It was a moment neither would ever forget.

~~xXXx~~

“Jungkookie?” Jimin had mumbled in between bites of his blueberry muffin as he sat at Jungkook’s side. The black-haired male turned to him, not realizing he’d been ignoring the blond for a while, his attention set on the window. He at least had the decency to look ashamed, but Jimin had dismissed his embarrassment with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, kookie. I was just wondering why you’re always looking out that window?”

Jungkook felt warmth reach his cheeks at the nickname. He was still shocked at the ease in which Jimin had wormed himself in his daily lifestyle. According to Jimin, the days were finally getting warmer and spring was finally upon them. That was two months ago. Two months since Jimin stopped him from ending his life. It became a routine that Jimin would visit him at all time, or stick by him. At night, when the nurses gave less rounds, the blond would crawl into his bed, whining about his own being cold and lonely.

“You’ll pull at my IV shorty!” Jungkook had giggled at the incessant amount of wiggling Jimin was doing while trying to accommodate both of them into the same cramped bed. The blond glared at him with a cute pout, but said nothing more as he laid his body flush against the younger’s, snuzzling his face into his side.

“Shut up, you’re like my personal human heater. And I’m not that short! You don’t even look tall”, he whined, and Jungkook hummed as he wrapped his arms around him being careful of the blond’s own IV on his wrist. It was domestic, and it was home.

“Jungkookie! You’re ignoring me again”, the blond whined, crumbs stuck on his lip. Jungkook unconsciously reached to take the crumbs of his lips and put his thumb in his mouth humming at the sweetness of the dessert. The furious blush and playful smack to his shoulder was rewarding enough before he began to organize his thoughts. “Y-You idiot! D-Don’t do t-that.”

“Sorry, hyung”, he wasn’t sorry at all. “But to answer your question… I really don’t know. I just feel like I’m waiting for something, but I’m not sure what? It’s strange, isn’t it?” he chuckled bitterly. He felt softness at his cheek and he realized too late that Jimin had kissed his cheek softly and was already retracting with a bashful smile. He looked as though he had done the action without realizing.

“S-Sorry…it’s just you were too cute…a-and I… I just really like you, Jungkookie. I’m not asking you to return my feelings b-but I just…ah”, he was rambling, tiny hands waving in front of him defensively, red bright on his chubby cheeks, fluffy hair going up and down as though he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar and was trying to defend himself. It was endearing, and Jungkook waited no longer to pull him by the collar of his ugly patient top and pecked his lips with his own softly.

Jimin was dumbfounded, blinking rapidly in a daze when Jungkook retracted just as quickly, fidgeting with his fingers like a love sick high schooler. They were both men in their twenties and here they were acting like newbies. “I l-like you t-too”, he confessed, both males laughed awkwardly before they smiled at each other lovingly, goofy smiles plastered on their faces. The beginning of a love, without thinking of the consequences. It was a blissful moment, no words needed to be said after, a fact that they were together unspoken but well known.

“And just so you know, I don’t think it’s strange. I think I too was waiting for something, but we both wait for different things, don’t we?” Jimin had finally broken the comfortable silence slipping his hands into Jungkook’s own, their fingers lazing. It felt good. It felt right, how perfectly their hands fit even when Jimin’s was tinier.

“Yeah? What were you waiting for?” Jungkook had asked patiently. He had seen something in Jimin’s eyes as though he was hiding something dark, something he never thought he’d tell him. He rubbed his thumb on Jimin’s palm a sign that he didn’t have to say anything, that he was merely curious. That everything was okay. But then Jimin looked at their hands with a soft smile. His gaze seems to take in that one moment as if memorizing it. He eyes wander to look at Jungkook, his expression morphing into pure unaltered adoration and love, before his eyes yet again became those charming crescents the younger fell in love with every time. He kissed his lips once again, sweet and chaste, and pure before responding without an ounce of hesitation.

“I think…I was waiting for you”.

~~xXXx~~

It was in the following days that Jungkook noticed two things. One, he was recovering. His mother had gushed in happiness and he too took notice of the color that his complexion had taken, no longer possessing pale skin, his body beginning to regain its weight. It was a miracle the doctors had said. How much progress he’d been having when a mere two years ago, he seemed on the brink of death. Second, his hyung had seemed a bit off in the prior weeks.

“Jungkook-ssi, you seem to be very cooperative. The nurses have even pointed out how much brighter you seem these days. They say there’s only two things that can get a man to be this well-off. Food or a woman. We both know the food here is not the best, so we’ll go with a young lady. Who’s the lucky gal?” the doctor chuckled as he scribbled down a few notes of Jungkook’s progress. Even his mother brightens up at the doctor’s words as she looked to her son with a teasing and knowing smile.

Jungkook blushed much to his own chagrin before he smiles. “Not a girl, but his name’s Jimin. And I cherish him very much. He’s made my stay here bearable”, he chirped, and his mother smiled at him warmly. She was at ease knowing her son was in good hands especially if her son was in not only better health, but also high spirits. She was grateful to see the shine back in his eyes, hope and love filling them until even the sun couldn’t compare to them.

“Well that’s lovely”, the doctor had smiled as well, giving them a final greeting before heading out. And speaking of the devil, or better yet, an angel in Jungkook’s opinion, he saw the familiar mop of sandy blond hair pop in the doorway before the cute cherub face of his boyfriend came into view.

“Jungkookie! I came to vi- oh my! I’m s-sorry! I didn’t know you had a visitor. I’ll c-come back”, he apologized profusely, and Jungkook was shocked that his mother had beaten him to stop the blubbering blond from leaving.

“No! Come in. You must be the Jimin my Jungkook seems smitten about”, she responded kindly as both males blushed furiously. Jimin waddle inside, and if Jungkook hadn’t been so nervous and embarrassed, he would have cooed.

“Y-Yes I suppose…I’m Jimin. Nice to meet you”, he bowed respectfully.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jungkookie’s mother Jisoo”, she giggled, teasing them both with the pet name Jimin had faithfully called Jungkook.

“Moooom”, the younger whined as Jimin and his mother had broken into animated conversation. Even so he was content to see them getting along so well and for once he felt everything was going right. Jimin was the hope and spark he was missing to finally get better. Jimin was all he needed. It wasn’t long before, Jungkook had slipped into a peaceful slumber, his chest rising slowly up and down. Jimin looked his boyfriend with adoration as he slipped his hand into his hair softly as though he was afraid he would hurt him.

“You love him, don’t you”, Jisoo had interrupted him. It was too late to feel embarrassed, so he chose to nod, his eyes glistening as tears threatened to fall.

“More than you’ll ever know”, he muttered softly.

“oh, believe me, I know. You look at him the same way I looked at his father. Complete devotion. I understand that it hasn’t been long since you two met, but its obvious when someone loves the other. You offered him happiness and joy he had lacked for so long. What did he offer you?” she asked him caressing his cheek gently like a mother to a son. She had completely accepted him, affection felt through her warm hand on his face. He placed his hand over hers, tears finally cascading down his face.

“Hope…Hope to live.”

Her smile had only downturned a fraction, analyzing him slowly. His complexion was familiar, bony hands, and bags hidden well through the makeup she realized he was wearing. A sick young man.

“Oh, Jimin”.

~~xXXx~~

“Hyung, are you okay?”, Jungkook asked the blond one day, but froze at the sight before him. He wanted to speak up, to move forward and pull the blond into his arms, but he was frozen in horror unable to move a finger from the entry way. Lately, Jimin had stopped visiting as often, less were the nights where he’d crawl in his bed to nag at Jungkook and hold him close. Less were the bright smiles, replaced by strained and pained ones, ones that never reached his eyes.He looked tired, awfully so, but yet he always held Jungkook’s hand gently and lovingly. And he saw now the reality of what Jimin had been hiding from him.

This time around, the younger had decided to visit him. His heart broke seeing the blond struggle to stand. He groaned, holding back grunts of pain. He finally managed to stand on his own feet, but it looked so utterly painful. He took a step, a cry escaping his purple, feverish lips before he stumbled and fell forward. He sobbed and Jungkook broke from his shock and ran to him, tears already threatening to spill from his lips. Jimin coughed, heavy and hard, struggling to breathe. His eyes were wide when he saw Jungkook at his sides.

He was so broken and helpless and so unlike the self he always showed Jungkook. He felt helpless and stupid. How could he not realize that his boyfriend had been in so much pain, had been this sick. “H-Hyung…oh my god…hyung”, he sobbed as Jimin weakly clutched at his shirt, blood painted on his lips.

“J-Jungkookie…please…I’m sorry. I don’t want to die”, he cried and Jungkook shushed him as he cried out for help. Begging someone to come aid the blond in his arms. The younger realized just how small the elder was, how fragile he was.

“Kookie. Kookie…Kookie”, the elder repeated in a mantra, afraid that his life could slip away at any moment and that Jungkook would be gone if he stopped speaking.

“I’m here, hyung. I’m here, love. I’m not going away…Please someone help!” he yelled in an almost rage. The nurses ran in, pulling a reluctant Jimin from Jungkook’s grasp. Jungkook however much he begged, was asked to leave, that his presence would only alter the already distraught and anxious patient.

Jungkook didn’t believe in a higher being, but that night he’d prayed that Jimin live. Begged that his health go back to the way it was if that’s what it took for Jimin to get better.

“Please, if anyone is above there. Please let him stay. Let him stay with me”, he sobbed and not even his mother could console him once she’d gotten news about the incident. She kept him company all night, he was hysterical and wanted to rush over to the other male’s side. To his Jimin. But the doctors had informed that he was in intensive care until further notice.

“Tell me he’ll be okay. Please”, Jungkook had begged to know, wanted to be assured so that his conscious could be at ease. The doctor lips were in a tight line.

“Its not in my hands anymore, Jungkook-ssi. We’re doing all we can, but it’s up to Jimin-ssi to fight off his illness. We can only hope that he can resist the strong medication and treatments”, he explained, proper and professional, but the younger could tell that Jimin was in critical condition and that death could knock at his door any moment. For a moment he lost all hope all over again.

~~xXXx~~

Two weeks gone by and Jungkook was still on edge. He didn’t know anything and anyone he asked always responded by saying that they were not authorized to speak of his health because of confidentiality and the patient’s parents.

However, today he was finally released from the hospital. “Wow, who knew I’d finally get to see you out of this place. I knew in my heart that you would make it through this”, Jisoo had hummed happily, clutching tightly onto him as he finished placing on for the first time in three years a set of normal black jeans and white t-shirt.

Three years. Today, a year ago was the fateful day he’d met Jimin. The day his life changed completely. He clutched onto the small bouquet of white lilies he’d asked his mother to buy him. She noticed his sad expression, knowing well he was not fully content about his recovery at the moment. “He’ll love them. He always did say lilies were his favorite especially the white ones, like snow.” She tried to ease him, give him courage.

It worked it seemed, a hopeful smile at his lips. And he ran, ran towards the one he’d longed for. Wanted to thank him for giving him happiness and hope. For giving him his unconditional love and care. Thank him for being him. His lovely Jimin.

He saw the blond’s room in his sight. “Jimin!” he yelled running into the room trying to catch his breath, lilies tightly against his chest as lovely as his boyfriend. He gazed up after fixing himself, bright smile on his face, but it fell just as soon.

He felt himself pale. No, this had to be a mistake. He wasn’t gazing at his boyfriend, not his beautiful smile, not his glowing eyes, but an empty bed. No monitor, no body, no nothing. Empty. Just like Jungkook’s heart as it shattered into a million pieces, the bouquet of lilies falling limply on the floor. He fell on his knees in disbelief. He was gone. And he was too late. Never got to tell him the extent of his feelings, tell him just how much he meant to him.

The tears fell before he could tell. Heavy like his pain, heavy like his regret. He was still shocked not processing what was going on until he broke, kneeling forward until his fists and forehead touched the floor and he sobbed loudly.

“No…please…anyone but him. Come back please”, he begged to no one, the nurses didn’t dare comfort him or ask him anything simply going about their business and cleaning the room and fixing the sheets, surely for a new patient.

“Oh my god! What’s wrong, Jungkookie?” he heard a familiar speak laced with concern. He felt small petite hands on his back and he whipped up so fast in disbelief, stray tears still falling down his face. Jimin was there, alive and well and beautiful. He was just fine, perfect even and glowing. “What’s wrong? Are you in pa-”

He didn’t manage to finish before Jungkook had tackled him onto the floor, lips pressed against the blond’s in a bruising and deep kiss. Jimin hummed, arms automatically going around the black-haired male’s neck. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that Jimin was here in his arms and he was now kissing him, longing evident. “Jimin, y-you’re here”, Jungkook muttered breathlessly kissing all over his face, his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, and his lips.

“Of course, I am. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were that worried and oh gosh, I feel horrible. The empty room must have alarmed you, baby”, he began to ramble again like the first time he’d confessed to him and then he noticed Jungkook stare at him blankly. “W-What? Why are y-you looking at me like that?”

“Say it again”, Jungkook was breathless, he loved Jimin’s new pet name. The blonde was confused. “Call me like that again.”

“Baby”, Jimin caught on, realizing he’d said it like it was natural. Jungkook pecked him once again on the lips so many questions lingering.

“How? How are you here? I swear I thought I’d lost you. One moment, you were dying, and I was so scared…I thought I’d never get to see your beautiful face again”, he was so relieved as he grabbed Jimin’s face between his hands, fearing he’d disappear again.

“Kookie, I’m sorry. The doctor could only explain it as that downfall before the break. Like a fever that gets really bad before it suddenly goes away. I had been having a good recovery, but all the medicine and treatments were taking a toll on my body. I had a fallout, but as soon as it came down, I got better and stabilized. And here we both are ready to get out of here”, he grinned.

Jungkook was glad this was all over. He reached over for the abandoned lilies and was rewarded with the most bashful smile on Jimin’s face as he pulled them against his chest and sniffed at them, content and so happy. “Come on, there’s one more place we need to see before we leave”, Jimin had a glinting his eyes as he guided Jungkook to the only place they’d gone very weekend after the first snowfall when they met. The rooftop.

It was cold, but neither cared as they held hands and neared the railing to look over the city. “Jungkookie, I have a confession to make”, he began softly, even a bit fearful. “That day we met…I was intending to do the same thing you were planning on doing with that staircase”.

The younger was at a loss of words. No way. “You mean you were planning to”, he didn’t dare finish his sentence once Jimin nodded in affirmation.

“Yeah…I was planning to jump from right here. This place exactly. I was angry, upset, and depressed. I was dying. My personality was terrible. Everyday was a fight with the nurses, aggression was the only thing I could do to cope with my situation”, he explained grimly as if regretting his actions.  It was evident in the way he slumped his shoulders as Jungkook listened intently. Jimin gazed at him once before he looked back at the city as if recalling the day, they’d met.

“What was the point of getting treatment when I was going to die anyway? But that day I was set on making it all end. I sped my way towards the elevator, and I hadn’t seen you until your chair crashed into me. It was ridiculous to me. I was faced with such a cutie, the glint in your big eyes told me of your purpose. I saw myself, but I also saw you were younger and you seemed in worse condition than me, and yet I was complaining more. I noticed the purple on your arms from the needles, that hopeless look in your eyes and all I wanted to do was hold you. Tell you that it was going to be okay. I couldn’t let you do it, but if I was going to give you that advice I might as well follow through myself as well”, he chuckled a few tears ready to escape.

Jungkook clutched tighter onto his hand. Knew this was something Jimin had kept with him for a long time. “We were both young, spent a good few years from our teenage years to adulthood here all pointless because we were stuck on the idea that we could die. But after I saw you I knew I had to do something. And you brought out a side of me I didn’t know was there. I was never as happy as I was when I was with you and getting to see your eyes light up when were together, that cute bunny smile bright and on display made my heart race. In that moment more than ever…I wanted to live. You made me want to live and fight to live. I didn’t lie when I said I had been waiting for you. It was all because of you”, he finally turned to Jungkook.

He was looking at him properly, oh so grateful. “All because of you…Jungkook…I love you”, he finally muttered and Jungkook felt the air leave his lungs. He let his hands reach Jimin’s eyes to wipe the tears as he tried to hold back his own. They were a mess for all the right reasons.

“Idiot, I should be saying that to you. The only reason I wanted to live was to see that smile and those cute eyes of yours, and your perfect self, smiling at me. Because I wanted to see you holding onto to me when I woke up in the morning, wanted to see you crawl late at night in my bed holding my hand. All of that and more. I love you too so much, Park Jimin”, he mustered the courage to say before their lips met again this time for much longer and much sweeter than the others. And as they stayed closed like this, hands laced together, tears of joy falling down their cheeks, they felt the snow begin to fall. The first snowfall of yet another year, and many more that were to come because they were leaving this place, leaving all the pain and hurt behind. Together.

Jikook one-shot present for my friend Jen from our VANTES secret santa event

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