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oneoftheextras · 4 months ago

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lockjaw | j.t six

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 8k

chapter warnings: tension, almost fight, fluff

proof-read by my girl: @madschiavelique

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“Hello! What can I get for you both today?” the barista beamed at you both, her smile radiating the warmth of genuine welcome.

She handed you both a laminated menu which you took, but Jayce hesitated slightly before he accepted the double-sided paper, not quite enjoying the feeling of the plastic against his skin.

“Oh, hello!” you greeted her back and let out a long “Uhhh,” of thought. You’d been so concerned about whether this café was suitable that you hadn’t even thought about what you wanted to eat.

You glanced up from the menu and saw that Jayce was having as much trouble as you. “If you would like a moment to decide that’s okay!” the barista continued her kind smile, “Just find a table and come up to the counter when you’re ready.”

Jayce moved the menu towards you and pointed to the drink he wanted and you nodded, “I think we’ll need a minute for food but drinks are good to go,” you spoke to the barista but your eyes flitted to Jayce, awaiting his nod of confirmation, which he provided.

You gave her your drink orders and paid, then walked through the small cafe looking for somewhere cosy for the two of you to sit.

Considering it wasn’t that big of a building, there were quite a few tables for its potential customers - small circular tables with only two chairs for intimate exchanges, ranging to large booths for a gathering of people, the options were overwhelming.

“Where do you want to sit?” you whispered to Jayce as if it were a secret between the two of you, the pressure of wanting to make this outing perfect making you recede within yourself. As if all your confidence had been used in the previous confrontation.

Jayce shrugged and glanced down at you with a tilted head, his expression changing slightly when he saw your shy demeanour. He surveyed the room for a second and then started walking towards a four person table by a wall of bookshelves, peeking over his shoulder to make sure you were following him; you were.

He pulled out two of the chairs on one side, giving you the option of which of the two you wanted to sit on, before walking to the other side and sitting in the one he’d chosen for himself.

Whilst the chairs themselves were aged and made of hardwood, the owners had arranged an assortment of cushions and pillows on top of them to make the surfaces more comfortable for longer stays. You picked up the pillow from the chair you didn’t sit on and put it behind your back, sighing with the relief that it brought.

Jayce didn’t seem that bothered by the hardness of his seat as he pulled the plush cushion out from under his body and presented it to you. You laughed gently and shook your head, “Two is enough for me, but thank you,”, at your words, he placed it on top of the seat next to him and gently pushed it down as if he were telling it to stay put.

There was a beat of silence between you, the only noise being the busy ambiance of the people around you. The subtle ‘Psst’ of the coffee machine nozzle blowing out fresh steam. The clattering and clinking of cups and cutlery. It was just enough to keep the awkwardness away from your table.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you apologised, finally breaking the silence between you. Jayce gazed up at you, his forehead wrinkled at the raise of his eyebrows and his ears bounced at the sound of your voice; his head still tilted downwards as he inspected the menu but his attention was now on you.

His eyes searched yours, possibly looking for where your sentence was going. “In the other cafe-” you clarified, even though you didn’t need to, Jayce knew what you were talking about, “-I didn’t think it through properly, and I should’ve checked beforehand to make sure it was okay for you,” your eyes lost contact with his, the guilt you were feeling forcing you to look anywhere but him.

“I just didn’t expect it from them,” you pulled the sleeve of your top up over your knuckles and played with the fabric, “I’ve been going there since I’ve lived here and they’ve never been like that with anyone,” you knew you were rambling but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

You cleared your throat, you were unintentionally making excuses for them, and they didn’t deserve that. Jayce didn’t deserve that.

“They were assholes to you, I’m sorry,” you said firmly and regained your confidence enough to look back at him. It was as though his eyes had never shifted from when you’d started talking; he studied your expressions as you spoke as if he was going to have a test on it later that day.

You felt visually dissected by him, and you could tell he was searching for something specific beneath the word vomit that was being expelled from your mouth, but you didn’t know what.

He blinked slowly at you and you felt a wave of reassurance flitter over you, but before you could verbally dig yourself deeper into this apology hole the barista appeared at the end of your table.

“Got those drinks for you!” She put the two mugs down on the table with such delicacy that the ceramic clicking against the wood was almost inaudible. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she left again with a happy “Enjoy!”.

Then it was back to the silence. Even though you’d already apologised, and everything in your gut told you not to linger on the subject and to move on, your heart couldn’t let it go.

The urge to bring it up again teetered on the edge of your tongue and you weren’t sure if you could balance it well enough for it not to topple over and fall out of your mouth.

His attention had returned to the laminated menu, reading every item with a curious intensity. There was a perfect excuse to change the subject onto what he wanted to eat, if he liked the music that was playing, or even if he was warm enough where you were sitting, but the roots of guilt were too deep into you that you felt like you needed to rip them out before the infestation was incurable.

“Why did you leave?” You asked before you could stop yourself and his body stopped moving at the mention of the situation, as though the thought of it turned him into a statue like a memory-medusa.

His vision went from the menu, to you, to the table, then back to you again.

He put the menu back down on the surface and laced his fingers together in front of him, seemingly in thought.

You should’ve left it alone, moved on with the afternoon and allowed him peace, but you were being selfish. The need to remove this guilt off of your shoulders had overpowered the conscious thought to let him move on, and that only pushed the stone of anxiety deeper into your stomach.

“It doesn’t matter, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you quickly tried to erase the question ever coming out of your mouth, but no matter how hard you inhaled, the words wouldn’t go back into your body.

You read the menu in front of you with such forced focus that you weren’t actually reading the words on the page, the same thoughts swirling around in your mind and overpowering any cognitive ability you had left to take in the letters and form any coherent sentences.

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see his fingers unwrap themselves from each other and his arms lift from the table. You locked your eye line onto the menu, actively ignoring what he was doing, feeling as if you had done enough damage for one day.

After a few moments he tapped the table and slid a napkin over to you, the white square landing diagonally over the text you were pretending to read. In black ink, the word ‘Safer’ was scribbled - parts of the tissue had ripped from the force of the pen tip, but it was legible.

You took the napkin in your hands, holding it delicately as if it would rip apart if you moved too quickly. “Safer?” you read it aloud and returned your gaze to him. His eyes flicked to the napkin and then to your face, nodding once.

“As in, it’s safer here?” you queried, the tight knot in your chest and your incessant need to overthink apparently making you forget the question you’d asked him.

He closed his eyes and exhaled with, what you regarded to be, annoyance. His shoulders relaxed as he opened them again and jutted his chin towards the exit. “Outside? Do you want to leave?” your heart sunk at the prospect that you’d only made the situation worse, making two mistakes in one day.

He shook his head side to side, his brown locks mimicking the motion in front of his forehead. No. He tapped the napkin twice with the ballpoint of the pen, harder than he had before and widened his eyes with his mouth slightly agape like he was mentally repeating what he was trying to say but the wavelength wasn’t reaching you. Your brain was too full of everything you’d done wrong today.

“I-” you started, looking down at the word and back to him as if viewing it another time would somehow rearrange the letters into a way that would form the sentence he was trying so hard to get to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your eyebrows raised with sympathy from their previous state of confusion.

He reached forward quickly and spun the napkin back towards him, clicking the pen with his thumb and starting to scrawl more words onto the fragile surface. One letter in and you watched the delicate fabric tear from the force he was pressing down, making it completely unusable.

The hand that was holding the tissue in place swiftly scrunched it up in his palm, the same hand coming to massage his nose with frustration. His shoulders rose with a deep inhale, he held it for a second, then pushed it out of his nose as a way to calm down.

A minute of you watching him rub the indent between his eyes with his index finger and thumb felt like hours. Multiple times you had opened your mouth to say something but closed it again, not being able to find any words that would comfort anyone but yourself.

The usual comfortable silence between you was tainted with tension you didn’t know how to relieve. The pangs of nostalgia picked at your heart with involuntary memories of weaponised silent treatment.

But Jayce wasn’t him. It wasn’t like that with him, his silence was not a battle against you but one within himself and you needed to be patient with him.

“It’s okay,” you finally said, and he opened his eyes to meet yours again, his fingers still connected to the bridge of his nose. A cautious smile strained onto your lips, “I’m sorry I pushed, and I’m too much of an idiot to understand,” the second part of your sentence was supposed to have humour to it, but the moment it left your lips his frown deepened. He shook his head at your self-deprecating remark, clearly not liking the way you were speaking about yourself, but he softened his gaze and lowered his hand.

“We can talk about something else if you want?” you spoke with a new gentleness, trying to navigate the situation properly. You didn’t wait for him to answer before you threw another question at him, “Have you decided on what you want to eat?”.

Jayce stares at you and blinks as if he’s trying to keep up with the barrage of questions coming his way. He lowers his head to the menu again and exhales out of his nose twice in a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips.

He appreciated how hard you were trying to make him comfortable, it made the thrums of his own frustrations fizzle out into a calmness he wasn’t yet used to.

He laced two of his fingers through the handle of his mug and sipped his drink, reeling back for a moment as the hot liquid burned his top lip unexpectedly. His tongue ran over the sensitive flesh to soothe it as he looked down at the foam like it had done it intentionally.

As if watching him sip his coffee made you remember that you too had a drink, you mimicked his movements, lifting your cup to your mouth and blowing on the top layer of foam, not wanting to make the same mistake he did.

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, he turned the menu with his other hand and pointed at what he wanted.

A loud grumble sounded from across the table, Jayce’s stomach seemingly agreeing with his choice. “You must be so hungry, I’m sorry!”, you said as you collected the menus off of the table and stood, the legs of the chair audibly creaking against the floor from the speed your thighs had pushed it backwards.

“I’ll go order the food and I’ll be right back,” you tapped the table twice with your knuckles and headed for the counter.

You stared at the words on the page, repeating what Jayce wanted over and over in your mind as you stood behind an older man. He was taking his time querying all the different syrup flavours that they had to offer.

You didn’t mind waiting. It gave you a moment of reprieve to catch your breath and slow your thoughts. Jayce was patient, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d pushed that patience to its limit already, and this was your first real day together.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you woke up tomorrow morning and he was nowhere to be found with how badly today had gone. Your chest cramped at the thought.

“Hi, are you ready to order?” The barista’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hi, um, yes!” You stepped forward and put your hands, and the menu’s against the counter, relaying what Jayce wanted and then your own choice.

You were pretty sure you’d remembered his order correctly, you prayed you had.

“Great, we’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready,” she finished scribbling on her notepad and punctuated it with a full stop, “You’re number six,” she handed you a wooden spoon with the number six drawn onto the convex side with black sharpie.

You took the spoon and started to turn when you spotted a pile of whiteboards and pens behind the partition that separated customers and staff.

“Excuse me?” You called out to her as she reached through the gantry, a hand - who’s owner you couldn’t see - took the paper slip containing your food order from her fingers.

She twisted her head around to you, giving you her attention once more, her face expectant and awaiting your question.

“Are those whiteboards for customers?” You asked, the inquiry feeling a bit silly now that you’d heard your own voice make it audible. “It’s just-“ you continued, over-explaining yourself again “-Your companion is mute?” She finished your question for you with an expression of understanding and sympathy.

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed, a little taken aback that she knew what you were going to say before you could vocalise it, “That’s why we have them!” She grabbed one of the whiteboards and individually picked up a black, blue and red marker.

As she handed them to you, she must have noticed your surprised expression, or it was extremely obvious that you were out of your depth as she started to explain in more detail.

“It’s common for our hybrid friends to choose not to speak, most of them have been through a lot, it takes time for them to re-find their voice,” there was a sad but hopeful lint to her words, as if she’d experienced it personally.

The implication that Jayce may speak one day made your heart thump an extra time. You’d heard him chuckle and clear his throat multiple times, so you knew he had the itinerary needed, but hearing someone else say it filled you with optimism.

“Although, not all of them do,” her interjection dampened your internal celebration. She must have seen the excitement on your face and not wanted to give you false hope, “My nana had a hybrid who never spoke a word to her for her whole life, but she was the funniest person she knew, apparently.”

Whilst you wanted to stay and chat to the young girl, you glanced over your shoulder to make sure Jayce was still content while he waited for you.

He was sat sideways in his chair, one arm on the backrest and the other on the table as he observed his surroundings in more detail. You could spare a few minutes to maybe learn something that might help you make him more comfortable.

“She never spoke to her?” You asked, encouraging her to continue her story, “Not a word! All their communication was written,” she grabbed a cloth and started to wipe down the nozzles of the coffee machine as she spoke.

“My nana is the one who opened this place around 30 years ago, I think? And she was adamant we have enough whiteboards and pens for every table, that’s what mom said anyway,” she grinned as she retold the memory. It was nice to know this was a family owned business of people who genuinely cared for hybrids.

She dropped the cloth onto the counter, “I won’t keep you from your afternoon, but if you want more info about hybrids we have a couple of books,” she pointed to the bookshelves by the table Jayce had chosen.

“Is it that obvious I’m new to this?” You laughed and rubbed your elbow with your hand, the girl raised her hand and made a pinching motion with her fingers, “A teensie bit,” she played along with your humour.

“But it’s okay, we all start somewhere! You’ve made it harder for yourself by starting with such a large breed, but if the connection’s there, that’s all that matters!” She reassured you, the cadence of her voice carrying that of someone much over than she seemed.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at her with gratitude and left her to her job, returning back to Jayce.

Waiting for the food to arrive was much less awkward than before you’d ordered. Whatever tension you were feeling you’d seemingly left somewhere on the journey between your table and the counter.

The two of you sat in silence, taking turns to sip your drinks and take in your surroundings.

Jayce’s attention was on the ceiling where there was an intricate painting of ivy vines and leaves intermingling with, what you presumed to be, fake ivy pinned to the same surface. It gave the interior a more at-home-in-nature type of vibe.

Meanwhile, you were observing him. The way his curious eyes followed the trail of greens and ambers from the corner of the room to the expanse of the ceiling above you. The way his throat bounced with every swallow of his coffee, and his lips turned up into a satisfied and content smile.

His side profile was angular; the slope of his nose just after the slightly raised dorsum emphasised the tip nicely - it would wrinkle intermittently whenever a new scent found its way to his nostrils. His rounded lips, although scarred with harsh lines, were outlined almost-perfectly by his coarse beard.

The strands of hair from his moustache were beginning to peak over a bit too much, and you realised he would probably need to shave soon if he didn’t want to be eating it with his food.

As if he knew you were analysing the shape of his mouth, his lips parted slightly as he continued to admire the artwork above him, giving you a glimpse of the canines that you’d seen in different context this morning.

You couldn’t help but wonder what his voice sounded like. It wasn’t something you could rush, nor could you hold onto the expectation that you would hear it. But you could still wonder nonetheless.

Would it hold the same soft, patient, gentleness that you’d seen in his eyes?

Before your thoughts could take you any further, your plates were set down in front of you and you began to eat.

You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were until the first morsel of food connected with your tongue, your tummy immediately grumbling as if you weren’t actively feeding it.

He ate faster than you, and you realised he had the same sensation. The last time either of you ate was last night, and you were most certain that he hadn’t gotten proper rest.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to eat, I shouldn’t have dragged you around town,” you covered your mouth as you spoke to make sure no stray food flew at him despite having an empty mouth.

While he chewed the last few bites of his meal, he reached for the whiteboard marker and popped off the lid, scribbling on the board’s surface much easier than he had the napkin.

‘Stop apologising’ he’d written in hurried handwriting. You read it as you swallowed your mouthful, your instinct was to say sorry again but as you opened your mouth to do so he gave you a scolding look.

He didn’t need to write it down for you to understand he was saying ‘Don’t you dare’.

“I do that a lot, don’t I?”, he closed his eyes and nodded as he put the last piece of his food into his mouth and savoured the flavour. He didn’t seem annoyed, but you made a mental note to not say it as much.

“Okay, I’m never going to apologise to you again,” you joked, trying to fight the curl of your lips, but his raised eyebrow made you crack.

It was nice, sitting there with him. Comfortable.

When you’d finally caught up to him and cleared your plate, he picked it up and slid it on top of his, placing them both towards the end of the table so the server could retrieve them easier.

It was moments like these that you forgot what his file said about him. Feral tendencies and behavioural trouble seemed like the furthest thing from his repertoire.

Instead, he replaced where your plates had been with the whiteboard, rubbing out where he’d chastised you with the same napkin he’d ripped earlier and drew two horizontal lines and two vertical lines over the top of them.

As you were tipping the last of your drink into your mouth to wash down your food, you hummed excitedly as you recognised what he was doing. Tic-tac-toe.

He picked up all three of the pens and presented them to you with a gaze that said ‘Choose your weapon’, for this battle, you chose blue. He put the black pen down, having selected red as his sword for this tournament.

He gestured to you to start and you realised he was letting you go first. You twirled the pen between your fingers as you looked over the whiteboard, trying to decide which space to put your circle in.

“It’s been years since I’ve played this,” you recalled as you observed the grid. From your memory, going first almost always guaranteed a win because the other player would always be on the defensive, trying to counter the first player’s moves, it seemed like he was almost doing you a favour by letting you begin.

With an air of confidence, you put your blue circle in the top middle box. Before your pen had even lifted from the board he’d put his cross in the top right box, next to yours, with two swipes of the pen.

You narrowed your eyes with a sly smile, and he returned your expression with a raised eyebrow. Oh, it was going to be that type of game.

You had learned your lesson by underestimating him previously, but you wouldn’t make that same mistake again. Readjusting your posture so your elbows were on the table and your back an unhealthy arch, you inspected the board.

The circle and cross next to each other stared back at you as your brain mentally drew all the different moves you could make, he would be the one blocking your victory after all.

He watched you think. The way you chewed your bottom lip and your eyes darted to each square then back to the scribbles already on the board, the light crease in between your eyebrows whenever you reached a conclusion where he would win, and the subsequent shake of your head to erase the invisible game you were playing with him in his head.

He liked seeing you serious about a game, it sent a rush of adrenaline through him, finding a worthy opponent was difficult.

He could probably guess where your next circle was going to go just by how often your eyes locked onto the square, and he was already planning his own measures to stop you succeeding. He was correct in his assumption when he followed your pen to the middle left box.

You hoped your tactic would work - cutting off the middle box of the left and top so he wouldn’t be able to predict where you were going to go next, and so he couldn’t win on those lines.

He would surely take the bottom left so you couldn’t complete a trio on the left column and leaving the middle box unprotected for your taking - then you would have the option of winning horizontally or vertically.

The red pen drifted towards the left corner and you couldn’t help the grin that started to creep its way onto your face, soon victory would be yours.

Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he swiped two lines in the bottom right corner.

Your smile dropped, your plan had failed. But then your mouth parted as your eyes finally relayed the information you were seeing to your brain, the middle right box was blank and he was one move away from winning.

Promptly, you drew your circle in the space, blocking his pesky red cross from triumphing over you. Although you hadn’t given yourself time to think about your move, it was the only one you could make that wouldn’t end the game immediately.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his throat and causing you to glance up at him. His lips were parted and his tongue caressed the tip of his fang for a moment before resting back in his mouth, the glint in his eye was almost identical to the one he had once his food had arrived. Hungry and ready to pounce.

You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your throat, the few microseconds it took for him to raise his pen building the suspense of your fate in a way that made your heart race.

You’d lost. Even though the game was still in motion, you could tell by his eager expression that he had you exactly where he wanted you. With threads of hope that you could still turn this around, but he was three steps ahead of you on a hill you couldn’t see over.

Eventually, he slowly drew his red cross in the centre square. Ironic, you thought you were being clever by not taking that one to begin with, but now it was your downfall.

The tip of his pen was still against the whiteboard when he raised his eyes to lock with yours, his golden irises held anticipation but not for how the game was going to conclude. No, he knew that from your first move, it was more so for your reaction. He wanted to consume your realisation of your defeat, and drink in the helplessness of knowing that whatever move you made, he had won.

You blinked rapidly, breaking the eye contact with him and taking in your situation. It took you a moment to register what had happened, but then you saw it. The only spaces blank were the top left, and the bottom and middle left - he could win with either the top or bottom left by making a diagonal red trio.

When you’d understood you’d lost you thought it was just by one space, but knowing that he had a selection of ways that he could claim his victory made you comprehend exactly who your opponent was.

One square would’ve been an honourable loss. However, the way he’d not only given you an advantage by going first, but so swiftly pulled that advantage out from under you and given it to himself was nothing short of impeccable.

“You win,” you straightened your back and spoke softly, starting to put your pen down in defeat. He tutted and you didn’t need to see his face to know that he was telling you the game wasn’t over yet. To surrender so close to the end would be to rip his reward from him.

Your fingers hadn’t left the pen yet and you’d already conceded to his wishes, drawing a lazy circle in the bottom corner and securing his success.

He folded his arms on the table in front of him and watched you pull your pen away hesitantly, as if the longer you took the longer you could live in the moment where you hadn’t lost.

The hand that was holding his pen came up to rest on his face as he tapped his cheekbone in mock deep thought, he smirked smugly as his eyes went from the whiteboard to your face, his lids slightly hooded but you could still see the gold of his irises piercing you with indiscernible contemplation.

He’d already won, so why was he dragging it out? You squirmed in your seat under the pressure of his gaze, and you saw his smile deepen. Ah, that was why.

Deciding that he’d tortured you enough, he put his cross in the top left box and drew a diagonal line through his three territories, signalling him as the winner.

You exhaled deeply and leaned back in your chair, examining the board to try and figure out where you went wrong, how he’d so quickly gotten the upper hand on you, but you were coming up blank.

He erased the whiteboard and re-drew the grid and you were all too happy to try and even the score.

The rest of the games were draws. As much as you wanted to win, the mixture of overthinking his moves and second-guessing your own meant that, no matter how hard you tried, he beat you. But the flash of his teeth and curl of his lips made it worthwhile - you didn’t mind losing if it made him happy.

You tapped your phone screen, having noticed that the cafe was starting to quieten down with empty seats, it was getting late. “I think they’re closing soon,” you said with regret, watching him wipe the previous game off of the board with the napkin, “Is there anything else you want?” you asked as you stood from your chair.

He thought for a moment and shook his head as he continued to clean up the board and put the pens on top of it in a neat line.

You picked it up and put your hand over the pens so they wouldn’t roll off as you walked and returned it back to the counter. You began to turn back around to the table and make your exit when you saw a cupcake in the bakery cabinet, vanilla sponge with a little bit of frosting and a strawberry, cut in half, nestled on top.

Immediately you asked the barista for it, you remembered in Jayce’s file that he liked strawberries and his favourite type of cake was vanilla - although, the document did state that vanilla was the only flavour they were able to get him to try in the short span of time he was there, but at least you knew he didn’t hate it.

You paid and she passed the treat to you on a little ceramic plate, you held it like it was the most precious thing in the world; this was your cargo to carry to its destination. However, as you slowly spun to return to Jayce, your shoulder collided with someone walking quickly behind you.

A sudden gasp left your lips as the cupcake wobbled but remained standing, and you gazed up at the moving target you’d accidentally hit. Another canine hybrid. His hair was a gradient of black to white from the roots to the ends, but with no uniform pattern, light grey being the dominant colour you could see - emphasised by the pointed grey ears sticking out from the wavy mess. A husky, if you had to guess. “I’m-”, “I’m so sorry!” you both spoke at the same time, but you were the one to finish your sentence first. He regarded you with icy blue irises, slightly obscured by the playful but curious hood of his lids.

“It’s fine, shit happens,” he shrugged with one shoulder, ironically the one you’d collided with, his voice was melodic with a slight raspiness to certain words. If this had been the first hybrid you ever encountered you would’ve never second-guessed if they could speak.

Internally, you scolded yourself. Automatically assuming that every hybrid was incapable of dialogue because they were different from you is not what they deserved.

Whilst you were in thought, you must’ve been staring at his shoulder because his hand came up to grab it dramatically, “I mean, ah!-” he bent his knees to dip as if he’d just been hit, “-I think it might be broken, you really did a number on me!”

There wasn’t a single drop of sincerity in his voice or his features as he scrunched up his face and grit his teeth in faux pain, the bridge and nose piercing bobbing with the sudden contraction of the muscle.

He opened one of his eyes to see your reaction, his face still a performance of agony, and his bottom lip pouted as if it took a lot of concentration not to break his character.

Then you laughed, hesitantly at first, but when he joined you it flowed easily.

You thought an awkward silence was going to follow, but his voice filled your ears again. “I haven’t seen you here before, first time?” he lowered his hand and his genuine tone returned.

You nodded, “Yeah, only found out about this place today. It’s nice!” you glanced around the cafe as if you were seeing it for the first time again, mainly to avoid his eye contact. Whilst he had a comforting aura about him, the light blue of his eyes felt like they were boring into your very soul.

“Well, I don’t get to come here often, but I’ll certainly remember a face like yours,” he wasn’t subtle in his compliment, but if there was any doubt of the intention of his words, the mischievous one-sided grin would’ve been all the evidence you needed.

You exhaled out of your nose as a bashful laugh escaped you. Despite his forward nature, this man was charming, you could tell he wasn’t serious in his advances but his playfulness was a breath of fresh air.

The man’s eyes trailed behind you and up, his smile remaining but his eyes lost their joyful lint. You turned your head to glance behind you but felt a tug on the back of your sweater, pulling you backwards and making you take a few steps back.

Jayce moved one step forward, placing half of his body in front of yours and between you and your new acquaintance.

The atmosphere shifted in a bubble around the three of you, the rest of the cafe unaffected by the unspoken argument between blue and golden gazes.

You didn’t need to see Jayce’s face to know his features were hard and apprehensive as he stared down at him, you could tell by the way he adjusted his shoulders. The smaller man tilted his head to the side, chin raising and back straightening to try and make himself look bigger.

It was like watching two peacocks bristling their feathers at each other. You reached your hand out to touch Jayce’s bicep but refrained from making contact, afraid that it might make the situation worse, “Jayce, it’s okay. He’s friendly,” you spoke softly but strongly. Maybe sounding confident would put him at ease that you weren’t in danger.

Jayce’s ear twitched towards you, hearing your words but his body language didn’t change. “No harm meant, big guy,” the husky reinforced your statement with his own, but folded his arms over his chest defensively. You swore you caught a glimpse of redness on his knuckles, but it could’ve been from the cold weather.

The tension in the air wasn’t fading and you could feel that both of them weren’t willing to back down anytime soon.

“Jayce, stop!” you called his name, this time not shouting but firmly and direct as an attempt to get his attention away from his potential opponent. “Listen to her,” the younger man jutted his chin towards you without his eyes leaving Jayce.

You flicked a stare towards your new friend, a gaze that told him that he wasn’t helping the situation, but before you could vocalise your thoughts to him a man came jogging towards the three of you.

“Abraxas!” His voice carried a command that you could never dream of speaking to Jayce with. Once he was level with you all he looked between the two hybrids, “Is he causing trouble?” The man panted, clearly out of breath from his speedy approach.

The husky - who must have been Abraxas - turned his head to the man with offense, unravelling his arms from his chest and extended his arms out either side of him with annoyance, “I didn’t do anything! We were chatting and this guy-” he raised his arm to gesture at Jayce but his sentence was cut off by the man’s hand pushing against his chest sharply to make him stand behind him.

You noticed how Abraxas’ ears drooped slightly at the action, but it had done the job of silencing him.

“He always does this,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “These bigger canines are hard to control sometimes, you turn your back for one second and they’re starting fights,” he spoke with a cadence of comradery with you, as if he was talking to someone who would mutually understand.

But it made you think. If Jayce got out of hand, would you stand a chance at calming him down?

Your gaze drifted back to the side of Jayce’s face as you cautiously stepped in front of him again so you could converse with the man. The fabric of your sweater was still pinched between his fingers and you felt the resistance of his gentle tug once he’d deemed you were close enough.

“It was all a big misunderstanding,” you explained, trying to portray with your voice how silly this whole altercation was. “At least your one is quiet, I can’t get him to shut up most days,” he chuckled, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Abraxas, who seemed just as offended as before at the comment.

“I’m Henry, by the way,” the man extended his hand for you to shake and you resisted the urge to check with Jayce before you shook it and gave him your name. “Us canine owners have gotta stick together,” there was a noticeable crease beside his eyes when he spoke, showing his age. “Well, this is actually our first day together,” you corrected him and gestured to Jayce, who was still tense. “Ah!” Henry glanced between the two of you as if he had secret information of events you were yet to experience, “They can be a handful, but looks like you’ve got a good one,” his eyes trailed over Jayce as if he was examining him.

“This is Jayce,” you introduced him, missing the side eye that Jayce gave you as you freely offered up his name to this stranger, “Nice to meet you Jayce, sorry about the trouble,” Henry extended his hand for him to take as well, but you weren’t surprised when it was left hanging in the air.

“Well,” Henry dropped his hand and turned back to you, “I wish you luck! I’d offer you my number as a support line, but I wouldn’t want to impose!”, “Yes, please, that would be great!” you waited for him to finish speaking before you interjected with your acceptance out of politeness.

The truth was, after the events of today, this was going to be hard. You didn’t want to keep making mistakes that would backtrack any progress the two of you were making. The man took out his phone and passed it to you so you could input your number, “I’m very new to this, so any help is appreciated,” you gave him his phone back once you were done and felt your own phone vibrate with a text after he’d typed you a quick message. “You’ve certainly made a bold choice for your first hybrid,” his eyebrows jumped as his eyes lifted from his phone and to Jayce, again looking him up and down, “Any questions, shoot me a text.”

He said his goodbye and made his exit, grabbing the sleeve of Abraxas’ jacket and forcing him to walk with him, you could hear the muttering of scolding fade with them.

Jayce seemed to relax when it was just the two of you again. You thought about doing the same thing Henry had done and reprimand him for almost starting a fight, but the sympathetic expression he held told you that he already knew.

“I got you a cupcake,” you changed the subject and his features softened as he regarded the plate you’d been holding in your hand the entire time, “I hope you like it.”

He took the cupcake off of the plate, picking the strawberry off of the frosting and holding it in his palm. He bit into the sponge, almost eating the whole thing in one go, and you held your breath with anticipation.

His tongue wiped away any traces of the frosting that had attached themselves to his moustache and he hummed whilst nodding his head, showing his enjoyment. You let out your breath.

“Are you okay to eat it while we walk? I think they’re closing,” you twisted your head to see the members of staff wiping down tables and putting the chairs on top. Jayce didn’t give you an answer, but started walking towards the door instead.

The evening air was much colder than when you’d arrived, the sun having set a few hours ago and the only illumination you had was the streetlamps.

Jayce had finished his cupcake before you’d even caught up to him outside. He picked up one half of the strawberry and placed it into his mouth, the red berry seeming no bigger than a small candy in his palm as he presented the other half to you. You shook your head, “No, I got it for you,” but he moved his hand closer to you, insistent on you having it. You reached up and hesitantly took the strawberry half between your index finger and thumb, the tips of your skin gently brushing against his palm; it was warm, really warm, with a roughness to it that you didn’t want to question.

Placing it into your mouth, you chewed with a thankful smile as he licked the part of his hand where the sticky residue of the fruit had leaked and brushed his hands off against each other.

“Shall we go get some snacks for home?” you said once you’d swallowed, the word ‘home’ seeming foreign to say to someone other than yourself, reminding yourself that it was now his home too.

His nod certified your next plan of action and you led him to the closest store you knew would be open. He stayed close to you as you roamed the aisles, picking up what snacks you wanted and encouraging him to do the same. As you approached the register you passed the stationary section and an idea came to you. It would be impossible for you to pick something up without Jayce noticing, so as casually as you could, you picked up a sketchbook and a metal tin of drawing pencils. You remembered how interested he was in the artist earlier and wondered if he wanted to try it himself.

By his unchanged expression, you assumed he didn’t notice, or thought it was for you.

You paid and continued your walk back to your apartment, the inky black night sky now hung fully above you, it really was getting late. There was too much light pollution in town, all the neon signs of bars and restaurants, with the bright street lamps, meant that any attempt at observing the stars would be pointless.

Has Jayce ever seen the stars? You thought to yourself. He must have, from his years of not having a roof over his head. But had he ever stargazed without the fear of what the dawn brought? You made a mental note to yourself to take him further out of town one day to do just that, maybe even camping?

You were so deep into your mental to-do list that you barely noticed when Jayce had stopped walking. His head was tilted towards the high rooftops of the tall buildings, drinking in the LED lights that you’d seen so many times since winter hit.

You shuffled next to him and stuffed your hands into your pockets to protect them from the chill, taking in the bright white snowflakes and tinsel that draped from roof to roof. In some sense of it, this was probably the equivalent of Jayce seeing the stars for the first time, under different conditions.

To you, it was a simple and repetitive thing that the council organised every year, but to him it was the first time seeing the festive lights. You thought about how it must feel, to have a moment of wonder so late in your life, one that you had taken for granted as a child, but a glance at his face answered your question.

The pulsing glow radiated in the glossy surface of his eyes, as if the stars themselves had nestled into them to twinkle and shine, recognising another celestial body. The soft hue of the whites, green and reds reflected against his skin, illuminating him like he too was a celebration to be marvelled at.

It astounded you how anyone could treat this man so poorly. His features were so full of longing and affection that he wasn’t yet ready to share with another living person, an adoration that begged to be allowed to the surface. But the festive lights were an exception, they couldn’t hurt him.

You opened your mouth to usher him along, to mutter a quiet “Let’s go home,” but you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt this moment.

So, you patiently waited for him until he was ready. Viewing the lights you’d seen in various different places throughout your life, they were always similar designs, but this time through a new lens. Appreciating them from a new perspective, the perspective of Jayce.

lockjaw:

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pedgito · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

content warning | no outbreak!joel, f!reader that is mentioned to have hair that can be pushed back but no exact length, descriptions of outfits, lots of w*ed smoking/consuming ed*bles, a quick mention of a burn, joel being a good neighbor, he's still the biggest girl dad, age gap implied but readers isn't specified, joel's not afraid to go for what he wants, most of the interactions happen while they're high so please keep that in mind when reading, lotsa boob worship, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, mentions of joel being sterile, strangers to friends to lovers. this was written over the course of a weekend don't look at me

word count — 8k

The first and only time you see him is when you’re moving in next door, trudging in the moving boxes on your own as he seems to ready up his own truck full of boxes, followed by two younger women who seem to be bickering at him and he bypasses them with a smug smile on his face—he’s older, so you came to your own assumption that it was probably his daughters.

That’s all you know about him.

Outside of the fact he drives a truck, works long hours, and that his name is Joel.

The girl with the begrudging smile and worn out converse called his name while you were throwing away your trash and trying to not seem like the nosey neighbor.

He comes, he goes. The roar of his truck is all you hear and you never really see him outside of an occasional swish of his curtains through your own windows, but occasionally you leave your trash can out by the curb longer than necessary and it magically appears at the beginning of your driveway.

Now, you don’t want to point fingers—but the only ones tucked away are his and your own, leaving the other neighbors to fend for themselves.

It’s a simple gesture, kind.

You want to thank him but you never get the chance.

You’re curious if he’s a night owl—lights staying on even into the early hours of the morning, shadows crossing around his living room that you can see from your bedroom window, tossing and turning most nights as you struggle and struggle to fall asleep.

You’ve learned methods to help, plenty—if you ever remember to charge your vibrator it was usually your first choice, a quick release of some of the built up tension over the day and you could eventually find it easier to fall asleep. But, your tried and true method was weed.

That was it. Sometimes you didn’t even need much—an edible to curb the anxiety that filled you, a puff or two at the pen you had stashed away in your bedside drawer, but most of the time it was occupying your mind with the work of rolling the joint before smoking it out your bedroom window that helped the best.

However, tonight was different.

You toss and turn and fling the blankets away that stick to your skin, the broken ceiling fan doing nothing to quell that muggy heat that was permeating in your house from earlier in the day—it just sat frozen, menacing and taunting at you. You search through the drawer at your bedside for the small tin case covered in stickers of various interests and things you enjoyed, kicking the sliding backdoor with your foot as you traveled through the living room to your kitchen and stepping out onto your back deck.

It’s still hot, but the breeze allows a noticeable difference.

You work quietly, hunched slightly over the railing and using the faint glow of the light hanging beside your backdoor, just finishing up rolling the joint as you bring it to your tongue and the distinct creak from the house next to you grabs your attention—the sliding door mimicking your own.

Your heart races and you don’t know why. It could be one of the girls, still strangers but somehow you find it easier to look that way if it was them—Joel was intimidating, the aura he carried within just a few seconds of a glance.

It is him, unfortunately—and suddenly you feel the need to hide your stash, tossing the tin box in the cheap plastic chair you bought when you first moved in. Tucking yourself away as you light the joint and bring it to your lips.

He’s being surprisingly noisy, chair scuffing the deck as he moves it around and you look at him curiously from across the way, a fence and several feet of grass dividing you both. You can see the mug clutched in his right hand and his left hand filled with a few various things. A phone, for sure—lighting up in his hand before he lays it on the table beside him, lifting a leg over the lounge chair in a straddle-like motion before he sits down.

And he does seem like a smoker, not that you have proof or theory—it was just the vibe, but as he lights the item in his hand and takes a slow drag you quickly realize there's not an ounce of nicotine in sight. It’s clear when he catches your gaze and his brow furrows slightly, noting the similar item tucked between your own fingers and you can’t help but laugh to yourself.

You don’t say a word. Neither does he. But, he does offer a weak smile when you grab the tin box from the chair, nodding in acknowledgement. Your entire body flutters to life for some weird reason that you will absolutely blame on the THC obscuring rational thought.

Thankfully, sleep comes easy after that.

–

But, it doesn’t stay that way.

Most of the time you stay tucked inside, especially on the days and nights when the heat wasn’t as ablaze as usual, but there is usually a day or two out of the week where you find yourself outside—sometimes you lounge, or pace, but it never fails that the moment you step foot outside your backdoor, Joel does too.

Once a week, rarely twice—though it does happen, both of you find yourself in quiet submission as you smoke and enjoy the peace, even with the constant click of crickets and lighting bugs that seem attracted to both of your houses, flying around your backyard in a small swarm.

And you wanted to keep your distance, not wanting to impose on his space but your two months into these unspoken nightly meetings when your cheap lighter finally decides to shit itself, offering nothing but dull sparks against your overworked thumb, trying and failing to light the end of the joint.

Joel had been watching, an amused smile growing on his face as you cursed and tossed the lighter into your yard out of frustration—you’d grab it later, whatever. Eventually you sigh, giving up on it for the night and turning to pack away your stuff before Joel is calling over to you from his side of the fence, heart dropping into your stomach at the sound of his voice.

“I got a light,” He offers, “if you’re interested?”

It’s definitely a question. A proposition. An offering.

You scratch at your brow and hesitate for a millisecond, not giving yourself enough time to debate your answer before you’re mumbling “Fuck it,” and taking the path down the steps and to the gate that separated your yards, watching as he stepped toward you all in the same breath, feeling so much more intimidating this close—the smell of him, musky and sweet. His hair was wet, too.

He took a shower, got dressed, and immediately decided to step back out into the humid heat of Texas summer.

You pluck the lighter from his grip with a soft tug, flicking open the top. It was a good lighter, not the crappy three-pack you bought at the gas station down the road—it was chrome, engraved with a JM, and soft to the touch. You admire it for half a second before you attempt to light the end of your joint, still tucked between your lips.

But, as fate would have it, you make a fool of yourself. It wasn’t that you couldn’t get it lit, but that the wind was being your worst enemy in a situation where you just wanted to smoke the goddamn joint and go to bed.

Joel puffs at the joint between his lips and breathes out the smoke through his nose before he huffs out a low laugh and nods in your direction, reaching his arms over the fence and beckoning with his fingers for you to hand the lighter back over. You nearly go cross-eyed as his hands come toward your face—much larger than your own and far better at keeping the flame strong, he peeks around his cupped palm and waits for the end to turn a bright orange before he pulls away and you eagerly pull the smoke into your lungs.

“Thank you,” You tell him, rubbing your bare feet into the grass beneath you, patchy and poorly cut from your own mow job, but you were working the best with what you had—even if it was an ancient lawn mower you snagged at a garage sale that only worked half of the time.

You didn’t like to ask for help, hated it. But, here you were, taking help from a stranger.

Well, neighbor.

It didn’t feel fair to call him a stranger anymore, even if you’ve only spoken a little under ten words to him.

“No problem, sugar,” Joel responds and your cheeks burn with heat, that distinct nervousness spreading throughout your body that couldn’t be mistaken with anything else, “curious, though—you ain’t ever thought about investin' in a good lighter?”

You shrug, tapping away the ash gently with your fingertip and taking another puff, “Why? My neighbor’s got a perfectly good one himself?”

Joel raises his brows in unison and smiles slightly, he laughs. It’s more of a lazy chuckle.

“I… have more. I just lose them a lot. Besides, they’re only like ten bucks a pack.”

You’re waiting for him to cut the conversation short and walk back to his chair, but he finds himself leaning, arms tucked and crossed over the fence, oblivious to how daunting this felt to you—the man you’ve been so helplessly curious about for months suddenly standing in front of you and interested, unbothered…not at all what you expected from him.

“Thanks for constantly moving my trash bins,” You tell him randomly, blowing the smoke out through your lips as you tilt your chin up, “I always forget.”

Joel makes a face, wordlessly offering an “I know,” with his eyes and you roll yours in return, following it with a laugh as you pop a hip out slightly, leaning most of your weight onto one leg and crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly remembering how bare you were under your thin top, assuming you’ve probably already given him quite the show already.

Though, Joel seems like the type of man to be nice enough not to point it out.

You perk up suddenly, asking the first thing that comes to mind.

"Can I ask a question?"

Joel nods.

“What’s the JM stand for? On your lighter.”

“Sweetheart,” The laugh shakes his entire chest, “come on now.”

From sugar to sweetheart—you were clearly making quite the impression on him.

When you don’t respond he answers your question.

“Joel. Miller. I figured that was obvious,” He says, stubbing out the end of his joint into the wood on his side of the fence.

“Oh.”

“It’s on the mailbox.”

Curious, you leave him for a brief moment to slip through the side gate of your yard and….yeah, sure enough.

“I swear I’m not always like this,” You tell him as you make your way back over, forcing away the smile that was creeping its way onto your face.

“Too bad,” He responds, carding fingers through his still slightly damp hair before running his open palm over his beard, scratching at his chin, “s’pretty entertaining.”

“O-kay,” You answer, sarcasm smothering your tone, “I think it’s my bedtime, Joel Miller.”

“Goodnight then,” He bows his head slightly, “neighbor.”

The tone of it makes you snort with a soft laugh, flipping him off as you depart.

Suddenly, Joel Miller doesn’t seem all that scary.

–

The next week is suspiciously quiet, to your surprise. You’ve opted out of keeping yourself inside now that you had a friend to keep you company, but when he doesn’t show up after a few minutes, you can’t explain why you feel disappointed.

Next week is the same, his house suspiciously dark.

You can’t pass judgment—he could be busy, tired, or there could be no reason at all.

But, the need in you is there—for what, you’re not even sure.

By the third week you’re ready with a peace offering, a truce.

That night his lights are on and he’s even moving around, somewhere in his kitchen you’re assuming, but instead of sneaking out into the backyard you’re crossing over your front lawn and into his, seemingly fresh mowed and smelling of wet grass, having been under mostly rain showers all night and you knock at his door.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the door opens and you smile at the sight of him, sleep pants hanging low on his hips and his shirt slightly raised by his stomach. He looks exhausted, eyes puffy with sleep as he rubs at them with his knuckles, but he doesn’t look displeased at the sight of you—in fact, he almost smiles in response.

One rolled joint in your left hand, a second in your right. It’s a wordless gesture that makes Joel scoff in amusement and nod you inside of his home. His home. That you’ve never seen until now. You were in his house and it was the most casual thing in the world. You don’t linger for long, following him toward the sliding door to his backyard but the place feels…homey. Lived in. So much unlike your own and disorganized in a way that showed years of age and memories, pictures scattered along the walls and years of personal crafts that you couldn’t examine for as long as you wished.

“Sorry I disappeared,” He acknowledges the unasked question, even though it lingered on your tongue, “—got a huge job at work, getting the site ready has been a pain in my ass.”

You share the lounge chair, taking a seat against the part of the chair that was propped up while Joel opts for the end, giving you a comfortable amount of space to stretch out if you wanted but also, and maybe instinctively, trying not to pressure you into feeling like you had to share space with him.

“Can I ask?”

Like a goddamn broken record, Joel chuckles at that. Full and genuine as he lights the end of the joint and wordlessly helps you, the same cupping motion of his hands that you welcome this time, almost eagerly.

“Ya gotta stop askin’ that,” Joel says, “especially when you’re just gonna ask anyways.”

Well.

“I’m a carpenter. Long hours, got a bad sleep schedule ‘cause of it. Pays good, though.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Not interesting at all, I know.”

“No—no, I mean. I don’t know what I was expecting you to say. That sounds…fun?”

“If you think busted knuckles and an achy back is fun—but I’m old, can’t really escape that.”

You laugh under your breath and inhale the joint between your lips, blowing it out as you speak.

“You are not old, Joel. Come on.”

“I’ve got two fully grown daughters in college and a 401k callin’ my name in about a decade.”

“So, what? Fifty five? Fifty six? You can do better than that.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You shrug at him, a satisfied smirk stretching over your face.

It’s a back and forth game you play for a while—nights spent at his house where you bicker back and forth, offering snacks and occasionally getting the royal treatment of dinner or a late-night breakfast if Joel was feeling too antsy to sleep.

He never flirts, really. Despite how you don’t cover up around him for his own sake, always showing up in your sleep clothes that barely allowed for any modesty or the summer clothes that clung to your body and hugged your curves, allowing his eyes to trace and outline all over your figure as much as he wanted to—and sometimes he did, catching his gaze on you for a brief moment before it fades.

But, the first crack in his hard facade comes over a late night meal of pancakes and bacon, grabbing the blueberries from his fridge as he fries the meat on the stove, his elbow bumping the fridge door and knocking the small plastic box of blueberries out of your hand and to the floor, a surprised yelp coming from your throat as you scramble to catch them all.

“Shit, shit—I’m sorry, that was my fault.” You apologize, picking at the blueberries that didn’t make it, shoveling them into your hand and Joel leans down slowly, kneeling as he scoops the tainted blueberries into his own hand and dumps them in the trash.

“My bad, baby—that was on me,” It flows off his tongue with ease and if he realizes he’s said it, he doesn’t acknowledge it, “damn grease popped at me—go on, sit down. I’ll clean the rest up and we can use up what’s left.”

You both enjoy your meal without a blip, not daring to address the slip-up—he peppers you with sugars and sweethearts and the occasional honey when you get a little too combative over a topic, but never baby.

The second time is less surprising and more of a comfort, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Again, struggling with his lighter—this time your hand is holding one of those sparklers you haven’t touched since you were a child—leftovers from the bunch that Sarah and Ellie, his two daughters had brought home over the holiday. You never came over, despite his insisting invitation and running into his brother Tommy on the way home the night prior to the Fourth of July. He'd insisted too.

It just won’t light—and Joel had made the mistake of getting a few of them wet when he’d cleaned off his deck that night and suddenly you’re wondering it’s just a dud.

You hover the flame, mind drifting as you watch the flame grow and you don’t realize you’re burning yourself until Joel is pulling the items from your hands, dropping you back down into reality as you feel the sting, the sudden burn to your thumb as Joel says something that you don’t quite hear at first.

“Sweetheart, you gotta pay attention—“

You look up at him meekly and he pulls you inside with a nod of his, turning on the cold water and pulling your hand under the stream.

“Where’d you go?”

You raise your eyebrows in question, the lingering high drifting off from earlier in the night.

“Oh—just, kinda spaced out, I guess?”

Joel rubs his thumb over yours gingerly and turns off the water, grabbing you a clean washcloth stuffed with a couple pieces of ice to soothe the burn for the time being.

“Baby, you really gotta be more careful.”

Your head snaps over to him as he threw a damp paper towel into the trash and watches the sudden realization cross your face—looking for uneasiness, fear, worry; but in an instant, your body relaxes and you shake your head.

“I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You see the way his lips part slightly, almost as if he’s gearing to add a, “Me too,” for a different reason, but it never comes.

Near the end of summer, you find yourself there again.

But, things feel different.

“So, I’ve got a surprise.”

Joel leans up at your words, arm resting over his knees as you plop the bag down on the table beside the chair—Joel looks slightly worried, eyes flicking toward you and back at the bag.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never tried edibles.”

“It’s not really my thing, sugar—”

“Joel, you’ve been smoking longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Now, you know that don’t mean a damn thing.”

You shake your head in fake dismay, slipping your hand into the bag to grab a few pieces.

One for him…a couple for you.

“Aren’t those supposed to be pretty strong?”

You shrug, “I think it depends. Person to person. I’ve never tried these before, but I’ve never had a bad trip, so…”

Joel’s eyes linger, finger poking at the small, cube gummy in your hand like a child discovering a new toy.

“Hey, we’re doing this together,” You offer as a half-assed comfort, “so if it sucks, it’ll suck for both of us.”

Joel doesn’t seem to need much convincing, though. He plucks the gummy from your palm and places it on his tongue, watching as you do the same and you chew, settling back on your palms at the end of the chair, feet outstretched and crossed in front of you as you stare up at the sky.

It was a Waxing Gibbous moon, not quite full but nearly there—it hovered over Joel’s house, just enough light to illuminate the space between you two. And you wait in comfortable silence aside from the low hum of music playing inside Joel’s house, dark inside now that he had turned off all the lights as you had followed him outside.

He always spent more time out here with you than he intended nowadays.

By a half hour, you find the idle conversation quickly divulges into things more obscure, your gaze lingering on the sky longer than you realize and Joel speaks to you softly, your heart pounding slowly in your ears.

“It ain’t going nowhere.”

You turn to him slightly, blinking a few times before you realize what he’s referring to.

“Oh. Well, obviously. It’s just pretty. I could stare at it all night.”

“Can’t blame you,” Joel responds, but his eyes are nowhere near the sky.

Oblivious, your gaze lingers upwards still, leaning back so far on your hands you feel yourself slip and yelp, only caught by Joel’s hands nearly a second short of a serious head injury.

“Come here,” Joel beckons, fingers wrapping around your bicep as he pulls you forward until your back is against his chest and he allows you to lean into him, feeling him clear his throat behind you as he keeps his hands a respectable distance despite how easily he’d move you into this position to begin with.

Commendable? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely.

If you couldn’t feel the hard, solid line of his body at your backside it wouldn’t bother you so much. And the heat of his body, scolding to the touch like a furnace. He ran hot, that much you already knew just by a few faint touches before but this—it overwhelms your senses.

You try to distract yourself, noticing the carved out wooden statue of a cowboy riding a horse while it was rearing back, you squint your eyes before perking up with a sudden question.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Get what?”

You giggle slightly, tapping at his arm to grab his attention before you point in the direction of the statue placed by the stairs, “That thing.”

“Oh, that—I…made it.” He looks away with a sudden embarrassment as you quickly twist your head up to look at him in complete and utter shock—he scrunches his face up and dares to take a peek at you from his peripheral and his face heats up when he sees you looking so rapt.

“Joel, that is insanely fucking good.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” You mock his tone, “how long did that take to make?”

Joel tries to think—it’s been years now. Sarah was barely out of grade school and he had just adopted Ellie, it was all a blur anymore with both of the girls in college now.

“A month, on and off between jobs. It’s just a piece of junk, really.”

“Joel, shut up.”

Joel can’t hold back the even bigger laugh that escapes him at your bluntness.

“It’s just a hobby.”

“A hobby you seem to be really fuckin’ good at.”

Joel shrugs and you decide to leave it be, relaxing back into his chest more comfortably, though his arm lingers more closely to your body, fingertips resting against your bicep that slowly start to move on their own, whether by Joel’s own conscious movements or just by nature of seeking touch. It’s a gentle trace, it tickles and you shrug your arm slightly to which he responds with a gentle squeeze.

By the hour mark you find that Joel hates when you ask about his statues or some of the homemade structures in his backyard—littered throughout along with an old playhouse that you can only assume belonged to his daughters, much outgrown and covered in vines and weeds, intertwined through cracks in the wood.

He hates it so much he actually tries to distract you with something else. Anything.

Unfortunately, nothing really works. So, he changes gears completely.

“What’s with the sundress tonight?” Joel asks suddenly, the playful lilt to his voice hidden behind a sudden need for authority over the situation. “Gettin’ all dolled up in the middle of the night.”

“It’s new,” You say with an eagerness, rubbing your finger over the silk fabric of the dress, “do you like it?”

“You really askin’ my opinion?”

Of course. I bought it for you.

“Do you have one?” You say instead.

“It’s nice,” He runs his pointer finger and thumb over the strap on your left shoulder that slips down, lingering against your skin as his palm covers the expanse of it.

His touch feels far away but so intense, head swirling with thoughts you can’t follow—there’s a primal need there, though. And you can’t tell if he feels it too. If it’s just the weed in your system or if it’s weeks and weeks of built up tension boiling over the edge.

This is the closest Joel has allowed you to be—he’s relaxed, his barriers are down and the hand lingering on your elbow is careful but explorative, his fingers trailing to the middle of your chest, flipping the small silver necklace around your neck under his fingertips, feeling so delicate. More importantly, he feels your heart, stretching the palm out wide and over your skin.

“Y‘alright?”

You nod and shuffle your feet, planting them on the end of the chair as you pull your knees up, the dress falling just at the apex of your thighs, barely allowing any modesty and if you spread your thighs even a half inch—

Joel breaks his eyes away, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest despite your rapidly beating heart.

“That heart of yours is racin’, sugar. Are you sure?”

Again, you nod. But, the subtle shift against him forces his fingers lower as you adjust yourself higher, ass pressed right against his groin and it does no favor for Joel, who’s fingers dip just below the fabric of your dress in the process, grazing down the center of your chest.

“You nervous or something?”

Nervous, no. Joel didn’t make you nervous anymore. The heat between your legs told you otherwise, and the need for touch was impossible to ignore and maybe just for a moment—just a second, you could let him. It would solve this ridiculous ache that had grown between your legs.

Joel seems so in tune with you and he sees the way your eyes are locked on his hand, unmoving but the half of his fingers tucked under the top of your dress.

“You don’t make me nervous, Joel.”

That wasn’t necessarily the question—and suddenly, you realize your misstep, looking up at him suddenly to catch the intense look on his face, almost like he was anticipating your gaze. His bottom lip is slightly parted from his top, face flush from the summer heat but his eyes are dark, follow the path of your face until it lands on his hand and then he speaks.

“What is it then?”

The way you press your thighs together at the sound of his voice, low and heated, spoken behind a gaze that made you feel small but admired.

Touch me. Make it better.

You don’t say it, it’s only a thought.

But, Joel is a mind reader. He never leaves your sight, but his hand moves on its own accord and squeezes your breast gently. His rough and calloused palm is a stark contrast over soft skin and if you would have made any sign of not wanting this, he would’ve pulled away.

Instead, your chest cants under his touch and your head nods without an answer to his question, because he already knew.

“Lemme see ‘em, sweetheart,” It takes little effort to pull the straps down your shoulders, his other hand pushing the fabric just below your breasts, allowing them free and Joel makes a soft, low noise behind you as he covers your chest with both hands, thumbs grazing over your nipples as they pebble under his touch, “that feel better?”

Not good. Not alright. Better—was he helping you? Was he soothing that ache he’d created?

“Y-Yeah, yes.”

He’s just as curious, squeezing the flesh in hands and occasionally letting his finger trace down your abdomen as your dress shifts and shifts until it’s barely a means to keeping your modesty over your lap, hands pressed down at the space beside Joel’s hips as you push yourself up until your head is nearly level with his, his hands squeezing your tits together as you sigh. He hooks his chin over you shoulder and watches, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back.

“You need more?” He asks, “Tell me, baby—I’m right here.”

The baby rings through your head like a warning bell.

Once was an accident, twice a coincidence, three times…

Stop it. Stop it now and you won’t have to face the awkwardness after your high wore off and you both had a night to sleep and think and regret—but you find yourself nodding anyway.

Why was Joel any different from a random hookup? Other than being your neighbor, slowly coming to what you consider to be a friend, crumbling apart before you as he hikes your dress up over your hips and grips it tight.

You nod to his question.

“Take those off,” He speaks over your shoulder and you don’t need persuading, fingers hooking into the underwear clinging to your hips and down, over your ankles as you kick them away and almost instantly Joel’s hands are on your knees, spreading you wide, his palms squeezing at the inside of your thigh, “shit, look at that—“

He dips a finger down the center of your pussy, through the slick pool of accumulated pleasure and pulls away, shiny and glistening against his fingertips as he breathes against the shell of your ear, “All that just from me touchin’ you?”

You could answer—keep dragging out this game of cat and mouse that had started between you but instead you reach for his hand, placing it against your cunt as he cups it with his palm, dragging the two middle most fingers up and down the seam, circling over your clit briefly before they’re plunging inside of you with ease, aided by just how wet you were—your pussy throbs around his fingers.

Words are few and far between outside of the soft, mewling noises you make into the side of his face as your arm comes up and wraps around the back of his neck, yanking at the short hair at his nape and dragging your mouth along his cheek as you breath out in short huffs, his other hand coming down to circle at your clit with no preamble—straight for the kill and eager without saying it.

His grip is heavy, forceful as his fingers pump in and out of you pussy with little care, the soft squelch of your arousal around his fingers forcing the heat to climb to your face and you feel his jeans rutting into the backside, desperate for relief just as much as you but too selfless to speak up about it.

And you feel the crest in your chest, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy flutters around his fingers, a shout that is quickly muffled by Joel’s hand as it covers your mouth, the fingers still buried inside of you and working you through the aftershocks as he shushes you gently. Your body feels like it’s vibrating, legs shaking slightly as he removes his fingers and squeezes tenderly at the inside of your thigh, feeling the dampness from his fingers spread over your skin before they’re climbing their way up your body, along your skin until he’s bringing them to his mouth silently and cleaning them up like he’d made a mess of his meal, your eyes widen at the sight and you feel overtaken, flooded with desire that you can’t sit and suffer with any longer.

“Knew I was right in callin’ you sugar,” He teases, catching your face in between his fingers as you turn to kneel between his legs, “so damn sweet.”

His fingers tap at his thighs, rough denim under his fingertips to match his overworked, weathered hands and you can’t help but admire, knowing they had been buried inside of you a few moments ago and you bow your head, popping the button of Joel’s jeans as he casually reaches for your hips, kneading the muscle of your thighs as he watches, helping you situate his jeans far enough down his own thighs that you can slip your hands past his boxers, straining against the weight of his cock, hard and aching as it reached up toward his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to,” He tells you, but you scoff slightly in amusement, not wanting to know how frazzled you look, half-lidded and bloodshot eyes under the moonlight, bare aside from the newly bought dress at your waist and Joel is most definitely still staring at your tits, his eyes dragging up to your face a few seconds too late, “I’m guessin’ we should of talked through this first but I just wanted to make you feel good—”

“You think I feel obligated?” Your eyebrow raises up slightly before you’re pulling his boxer down just enough that his cock springs out, bobbing away from his stomach slightly and you only allow yourself half a second to react.

He’s big, from root to tip you know it is the biggest you’ve ever had and you’re waiting for the cocky remark, the begging for compliments and thoughts that you hear so often during these halfway thought out hook-ups but this wasn’t that. It was weeks of build up, the tension line snapping under the weight of your unspoken desire for each other.

“Joel—”

“Don’t go boostin’ my ego,” He chuckles, “—not you, baby.”

You laugh softly and dip your head, feeling his hand curve over and through your hair, down your neck before it settles against the middle of your back and he brushes the stray hair from your face, allows his finger to rest behind your ear as you tilt your head and lick a long stripe up his cock, flicking your eyes up briefly to catch him staring, mouth closed and unnaturally stoic for a moment, like he’s holding his breath.

“Show me,” You plead with him, “whaddya like?”

You move down slightly to roll your tongue along his balls, the weight of it in your mouth as you suckle and feel his fingertips scrape gently along your skin, allowing a few moments of your own exploration before he’s wrapping his hand around his shaft and using the other to grip your chin and rubbing the tip against your half-open mouth, forcing a dribble of spit between your lips and letting it trail down the tip before he feeds his cock into your mouth, tongue spreading flat over the underside and keeping him in your eye-line before it’s nearly impossible, feeling him guide you down until his cock nudges the back of your throat with a slight sting, eyes watering.

“Look at that,” His voice is low, gruff as it rumbles in his chest, “makin’ it all fit in that pretty little moutha’ yours.”

You quickly realize that Joel enjoys watching you feel consumed by him, choking on his cock as your head bobs up and down with fervor, a gentle guiding hand against the back of your head as you breathe through your nose, feeling him nudge the back of your throat over and over and over until you find yourself fighting for air and oblivious to the symphony of curses Joel was spewing above you as his neck was tight, straining as he tipped his own head back against the chair.

And he looks too fucking good to pass up on. You rise, pulling at the collar of his shirt to grab his attention and his eyes open wide, his pupils blown out and dilated as he watches you move, biting at your bottom lip as you shuffled your legs over his hips to straddle him.

“Can you fuck me?”

“Can I—sweetheart, you sure?”

You give him a look of flippant disregard, too impatient to pace through the steps of sureness. But, Joel is focused suddenly, pulling your attention to him as his palm finds your face, cradling your cheek and rubbing his thumb over the shape of your lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” He tells you.

“Yes, Joel.” You answer him impatiently, “I just—I mean I don’t have anything, but…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that,” Joel chuckles, ��been out of commission for a while, sugar.”

You can’t help to release the giggle that bubbles in your chest at that.

He’d had kids, a family at some point—but that wasn’t his life now. He was a renewed bachelor, experiencing all the things he’d put on the back-burner to be a good and proper father. While this hadn’t been at the top of his list, or even anywhere on it really, you can see the happy satisfaction on his face with how comfortable he’s grown in the time you’ve gotten to know one another.

“Can’t tell,” You comment slyly as you lift up on your knees, allowing Joel to shift his jeans further down until they’re bunched sloppily at his ankles.

Joel rolls his eyes fondly, “Go on, baby.”

He watches, eyes following your hand as you grip his cock at the base, rubbing it along the center of your cunt, gliding through messy arousal and finding some excitement in the way he squeezes at your thighs a little too hard, fingers curling around the back of your knee as the head of his cock catches against your clit, again, again, barely allowing him to press inside of you until finally, a few harsh pleas balancing on his tongue that quickly dissipate as you sink down onto him inch by suffocating inch.

You breathe out slowly, watching Joel as he watches you, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock as it settles inside of you, only allowing the slow, gentle rock of your hips as you adjust.

His stomach flexes under your touch, fisting your hands into his shirt and lifting it out of the way before Joel gets the hint and strips himself completely, kicking his jeans off weakly as you sigh, squeezing gently as his shoulders and feeling his hands grip at your backside, into the soft flesh of your cheeks and you strip the wrinkled fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere behind Joel’s head as you fingers grip along the edge the bar of the chair above his head, lifting your hips in time with his movements as he keeps a firm hand on you, allowing soft puffs of groans to fall from his lips as your tits bounce with the frantic movement and Joel leans forward, capturing the side of your breast between his teeth, a gentle bite that causes you to squeak.

It’s quickly soothed by his tongue before he flicks it over your nipple, circling the peaked and pebbled nub before he’s sucking it between his teeth, eyes locking on yours from the depraved angle it allows you, still able to spot the few shining grays of his hair in this light. You card your fingers through his hair and arch your chest into his mouth, “J-Joel, maybe we should move this inside.”

He shakes his head, mouth still stuffed full with you as you moan out loudly when he smacks your ass in one gentle but solid swing and you want to blame his boldness on the dwindling drug in your system, but somehow you come to the conclusion that it was just Joel, unbridled and wanting. Of you.

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” Joel disagrees as he pulls back, “no one gives a damn ‘round here, anyways.”

“Says you,” You laugh weakly, whimpering softly as he snaps his hips into you with sudden force, his hand reaching for the back of your neck to urge you forward, forgoing your body for your lips and it’s more intense than anything else going on around you—his cock stuffed inside of you, the fingers on your skin, it didn’t matter for that brief second of a first touch, kissing you sloppily as you moan into each other’s shared space.

“Well, I do—got this one neighbor,” He jokes, “nosey as shit but damn is she a good fuckin’ time.”

You gasp as he pulls you close, free arm wrapping around your back as he slips his tongue past your lips, using the opportunity as your lips part to devour you in an instant and you pull at the stands of his hair in turn, kissing him back with a harsh pressure that begs for more.

“M’not nosey,” You defend lamely, “just—fuck, curious, ya know?”

“Thank god for that,” Joel sighs, and your pussy flutters before squeezing around him, “oh, fuck baby—do that... do that again.”

You do, teasingly, watching as Joel curses under his breath and leans back, watching you move against him without shame, a hand pressing against your stomach to guide you to lean back slightly, “Look at that, sweetheart—makin’ a goddamn mess on me.”

The short, coarse hair at his groin is wet and sure enough, covered in the messy slick of you and mixed with the thin sheen of sweat that had covered both of your bodies in this sticky heat.

“You like the idea of gettin’ high and letting me fuck you?” Joel questions amongst the pound of your heart in your ears, the heat of his gaze quickly driving you toward the edge again. He chuckles, “Dirty—dirty girl. Was that what you’ve been plannin’ since the beginning?”

“Would’ve let you fuck me either way,” You admit, only a half-truth. You weren’t sure if you’d ever pluck up the courage had Joel not made the first move, but you’re damn sure glad he did anyways, “and with a cock like that, god—”

“Easy,” Joel warns, “givin’ me a complex the way you were looking at it.”

“It’s big, Joel.” You admit, pushing the stray hair that had fallen down over his forehead away and back into this messily quaffed hair, “You like knowing I can barely fit it all in my mouth, don’t—don’t act coy about it.”

He’s not—he’d been more than willing to allow you to choke on the girth of him until you begged for mercy, but given his normally gentle nature with you, he wasn’t going to take it that far.

Your brow drags up in a pinch, moaning as his thumb presses against your clit and circles, presses down gently, just the right amount of everything to drive you to near insanity. Your thighs squeeze against his own where he has you spread out, hands balled up into fists that punch gently at his chest.

“You’re right there, baby—gotcha, I gotcha.” He murmurs, watching you intently as you grip at the arm wrapped around your back to keep you upright, fingers digging into his bicep as you tip over the edge, legs shaking through the second orgasm he’s given you that night, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start to see the flurry of stars in your darkened vision.

Your limbs give out shortly after, falling against his chest as he snaps his hips, just near the edge himself as he groans, grunts, breathing hotly into the curve of your neck and you rub at the little spot behind his ear that makes him chuckle, “Want it all inside,” You tell him through a cloud haze of need and pure desire, “can you do that, Joel?”

“Fill you up, sugar?” He asks, sounding a little taken aback, “If that’s—if that’s somethin’ you’re comfortable with.”

You nod eagerly and he loosens the reins completely, lifting one of your legs until you can plant a foot near his hip and he pounds into you, pulling back when he feels the impending orgasm grow in his gut, hot and intense. He watches as he comes inside of you with a few slow snaps of his hips.

“Shit,” He curses after a drawn-out silence, helping you move off of him and into a more comfortable position between his legs as he grabs lazily for his shirt, cleaning up the mess of your wet arousal against his skin and letting the spoiled shirt rest over his groin for modesty, breathing in slow, full breaths.

It’s been too long for him and he knows it.

Joel reaches for the dress that caught on the edge of the chair by his head and hands it over, watching as you slipped it over your head, legs still spread out over his own and he can’t help but draw his eyes to the sight of his come dripping out between your legs and he grins subtly, motioning you forward with a tired finger that you look at curiously before scooting forward an inch, thinking he may wipe something of your face, arrange a piece of hair back into place, but instead he’s slipping his ring finger inside of you and it forces a surprised gasp from your chest.

You laugh airily and swat his hand away, “Stop that,” You tell him.

“Just makin’ sure you don’t waste any of it, sweetheart.”

You snort, flipping him off half-heartedly as you reach for your underwear, standing up to pull it back up your hips and under your dress, swaying slightly on your feet after having been sat for so long.

You sigh, pushing your hair back with your hands, suddenly feeling sticky and gross in the aftermath and Joel seems to notice, slowly redressing himself as he stands.

“Why don’t you shower?” Joel suggests, leaving his jeans unbutton but pulled back up his hips. Shirt balled up in his hand.

You look geared to say no, but Joel sweetens the deal.

He looks at his watch, nearing two in the morning.

“I’ll make us an early breakfast,” He offers, shrugging with a lazy smile, “I mean—early early, because I know you’re probably starvin’. I know I am.”

“Only if you’ll make the blueberry pancakes.”

Of course that was the ultimatum.

“Deal, sugar—go get your ass in the shower.” He nods toward the house and you laugh, running away from the hand that pushes at your back.

So, maybe Joel wasn’t the scary neighbor you assumed him to be. But, you couldn’t deny the bursting affection that was growing in your chest for him and that was even more terrifying.

And when he serves up the pancakes to you, hair damp and dripping down your back and onto the shirt he’d lent you, a small square of pancake balanced on a fork that he feeds into your mouth, you feel it.

He's still shirtless, barefoot against his kitchen floor.

“We can—we can do this again, right?”

Joel smiles, looking down at the plate as he cuts off another piece.

“I’ve been waitin’ an entire summer to get the courage to do that, or even ask you on a proper date—we can do whatever you want, sugar.”

“Dates are overrated,” You shrug, “I like this better.”

“Good,” Joel grins, “least now I can mow that lawn of yours without feelin’ bad for asking.”

“Excuse you—I do just fine on my own,” You gasp with mock offense.

You’re lying—that mower was a piece of shit and Joel could see the way your face quickly melts into embarrassment, laughing quietly behind his fist.

“I like helpin’ out,” He tells you with a shrug, beginning to list off a few things he could help work on around your house, eyes drifting off as he went through the mental list, oblivious to the sudden closeness as you leaned over the counter and capture his lips, closed mouth with both of your cheeks puffed full of pancakes.

“You ramble when you’re high,” You tease him, “it’s adorable.”

Joel grimaces at the word but relents when he sees you smile, wide and spreading out across your entire face, snatching the fork from his hand while he’s distracted.

“So, same time next week?”

“Deal, sweetheart.”

Joel doesn’t care that you show up empty-handed the following week.

And frankly, neither do you.

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pasca #pedro pascal characters #my writing #um i have no reason other than pure horknee-ness

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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Note

i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333

tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3

Home is whenever I’m with you

Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words

He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.

But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.

“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."

You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.

And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.

What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom?

Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.

His mom is safe.

A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.

That’s good to hear. Is he fine?

Not great, but he's managing.

That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.

You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.

Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.

And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck

“Spence, what are you—”

Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”

“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”

“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”

You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

“How’s your mom?”

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”

Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”

He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.

“Do you want anything? Water, food?”

He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”

"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”

You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”

You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”

"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."

He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”

He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.

“You grew out your facial hair.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness.

You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."

“Really?”

“It’s growing on me.”

His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.”

You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.”

"Why would you think that?”

He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”

You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”

He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”

You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”

He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."

He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.

“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.

“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”

He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.

You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.

You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.

Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year ago

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I Want You to Stay (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of implied of domestic violence (PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 20.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii we're close to the end! I've been enjoying this journey with all of you; thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I continue to work and study. On another note, pls savour this! Hehe

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The weekend after your site visits passes by excruciatingly slowly.

You zone out while watching your variety shows the rest of Saturday. On Sunday, you do errands and clean your apartment. Whether you’re lying on the couch or moving about, you find yourself constantly stopping, wondering how Jungkook is doing.

You could say that the trip ended on a good note. The drive back home had you sharing both the silence and conversations about growing up with your friends and finding refuge in your favorite places. He was smiling as you narrated your stories and while he told his. He was engaged most of the time, drifting away for only some short moments before coming back to you.

There was a different emotion in his eyes when you said your goodbye after he dropped you off, though. You could see gratitude in them but also sadness, as if the memories from the night before and from 20 years ago lingered. You know enough about that, too. Good memories can override bad ones sometimes, but in some cases, they only do so for a while, and they can only do so much.

The image of him of looking afraid from that Friday night is etched in your mind. The way he heaved, how he gripped your wrists as if in desperation for the sounds to stop, and the emptiness in his eyes as the thunder continued to roar keep you up at night.

You felt so constrained at that moment. There wasn’t much you could do that would be appropriate, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t wish you could’ve done something more to comfort him, to tell him that no matter how scared he was, he wasn’t alone. That night and the morning after, you saw the most human side of Jungkook - the one that buries a lot of memories, that deals with pain and loneliness, the part that’s fearful of others seeing him stripped bare, that cowers in his own corner until the storm has passed. You saw him as someone who needs a companion but is too scared, maybe too stubborn to reach out. He looked familiar because he looked like you.

All you could do was hold him in any way, protect him from the monsters outside and maybe within, and show him that whatever hurt, gentleness could make it hurt less; hopefully it could slowly heal the ache, too.

That’s what you learned all these years - all the fear and pain you experienced as a child slowly turned into scars because of your mother’s grace and your best friends’ kindness. You don’t know who gives any of that to Jungkook, and you hoped that during that moment, you were able to give even just a fraction of what you received.

Even if he kept his distance, you stayed close because you knew that that’s when he needed you the most. And you won’t ever forget the way his eyes softened during that ride home; you won’t forget the smile tinged with apology and gratitude that accompanied the silence. You knew it was his way of expressing emotions he couldn’t verbalize and you could only wish that he knew that you accept them, that you understand.

You stop yourself from sending him messages a few times, not wanting to invade his space if he prefers to be alone. Maybe he’s figured out a way to cope. Maybe he’s moved on from the incident and wants to just forget about it. Regardless, the last thing you want is to push him away by being too close, so you do the hard thing and wait for the start of the week to see him again.

You enter the car that Monday morning with Mr. Ri’s soft eyes greeting you. You ask if he’s feeling better and he says he is, expressing his disappointment at not being there to drive you and Jungkook last week.

“How was he?” He asks, knowing that the weather was pretty bad.

“He wasn’t good,” you answer dejectedly. “I think he had a nightmare. I had to calm him down. And he… he told me what happened at that cabin when he was young. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was. He was just a kid. He was only excited about the trip because he thought his parents were joining him and his brother,” the elder man says. “And well, that was when they had to be separated for safety reasons. Then that incident happened. I think he’s carried that resentment towards them ever since.”

“Were you there?”

“I was the one who found him,” Mr. Ri answers, baring his own pain at having witnessed a young Jungkook being so scared. “I noticed he was missing and I searched for over an hour. It was a big area and the ground was wet and I couldn’t hear him because of the rain. When I finally found him, I carried him back and stayed with him until he woke up. He was so frightened and he… he wasn’t the same after. There was this constant fear and this desire to just be left on his own.”

You force the scene of a young Jungkook yelling for someone under the rain out of your mind. Perhaps the detachment in his eyes that you always see is a remnant from that time when he’d felt so helpless and alone. You don’t know how someone can carry that with them for 20 years. You don’t know how someone heals from that either.

“I know he’s not your responsibility, ___. You’ve done so much for him already,” Mr. Ri continues in your silence. “But no one has shown him kindness the way you have and he's learned to accept that now. He needs it the most during those times. If it’s not too much, I hope you can continue doing that.”

“I intend to,” you respond. It had been natural for you to be gentle, to be patient, and reluctant he may have been at the start, you know your persistence helped him as well. “He’s done so much for me and I don’t think I’ll ever get to thank him for that.”

“Is that why, then?” He wonders. “Is all this just to repay him for the times he was there for you? Or is there another reason?”

You meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and the sullen, almost guilty look in yours tells him that there's more. When you look away, he learns it’s something you don’t want to accept, something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s okay, you know?” He says, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking and maybe he does. “We can’t help what we feel sometimes.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you sigh.

“I know it isn’t. But I just think that being honest about what you feel helps. It may not be easy but you owe it to yourself to find the happiness you deserve.”

“But I don’t know what that looks like.”

“You do,” he insists. “Maybe you’re just scared of what chasing it would mean. But if you allow yourself to truly feel what you feel, then it would be clear what you’d need to do. Just remember that whatever decision you make, you’re gonna have to stand by it, okay? You can’t regret any of it.”

You let his words settle, knowing that they come from a place of pain. But still, you ask a question you’ve been meaning to for a while now.

“Do you regret the decision you made back then?”

Mr. Ri prolongs the silence. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he answers.

“Everyday.”

Your heart breaks for him. You know what he did all those years ago, and knowing that it continues to haunt him pains you. You don’t want that burden. You don’t want one decision to determine how the rest of your life is gonna go with no way to make up for it. You suppose that’s what will happen to you, but you’ve got time to change all that. Maybe you just need the courage to do it.

“The debt I owed kept me from chasing my happiness,” he continues. “You’ve paid yours so don’t let it stop you. You just have to be brave enough for it.”

You nod, meeting his eyes through the mirror this time in understanding and gratitude, letting his words comfort you as you exit the car.

You walk towards Jungkook’s penthouse in anticipation, as the worry of how he’s been creeps in again. The moment you enter, you get your answer, as you hear the sound of leather hitting leather, the loudest it’s ever been. You could hear him heaving, almost breathless with every movement, but he grunts in between, and you hear the frustration in his every breath.

From your position in the kitchen, you can see him in the far right corner of his gym, throwing one punch after another, his face wincing in pain, his body gradually giving in as he slows down. He hugs the punching bag with one arm while his free hand continues to jab at it until eventually, that stops, too. He releases it then spreads his body out on the floor as he tries to catch his breath now. You can feel his exhaustion; there’s desperation, too.

He stays there for a while, and you wonder if he’s releasing whatever negative emotions he’s had these past days just now, or if this is what he’s been doing everyday since he got back.

He sits up, and you look away the moment he glances at your direction. He heads your way, nods at you in acknowledgment, then gulps down the energy drink that he takes from the fridge. His drenched white shirt sticks to his body, but it’s his bruised knuckles that catch your attention. You don’t know if these wounds are from this morning or from the days before but regardless, he acts as if they’re not there. You doubt if he even feels them sting.

Perhaps this is how he copes with anything - tiring himself out, expending all his energy until he’s numb, releasing his emotions in a way that doesn’t require him to be honest or to even say anything. Maybe this is how he accepts; maybe it’s how he moves on and forgets.

He drags himself towards his bedroom then you make your way to his closet to prepare his clothes. You return to the kitchen soon after and decide to make some fried rice. It’s the one dish you make that might make a difference to his mood this morning, so you get to work and cook with what you can, deciding that it’s definitely one of the most delicious ones you’ve ever made.

He finishes his morning routine later than usual. When you walk towards him to fix his tie, you try to hold his gaze, wanting to tell him in your own way that you’re there if he ever wants to talk, but he only glances at you before looking away. You’re unsure of the cause of his somber disposition but the sadness in his eyes causes a crack in your heart. It’s different, you think, and you don’t know how else you can comfort him.

“I made some fried rice,” you tell him as you walk to the dining table.

He follows, taking his seat then quietly eating his meal as you go through his schedule. He merely hums and doesn’t ask questions, only speaking up when you bring up last week’s site visits, with him saying that there’s no rush for that, and that you’ll talk about it some other time. It’s what tells you that what happened last Friday isn’t something he’s really gotten over. Maybe there are still remnants from that night - of fear, of discomfort; perhaps a bit of shame. And you don’t blame him. They’re what you felt after the incident at the restaurant and after your injury. Being helpless in front of someone is confronting; there’s so much of yourself that gets exposed, and you suppose it’s not something that Jungkook is used to.

You share in the silence, glancing at him to see if what you’ve prepared is affecting him in any way, and you don’t miss the subtle satisfied look he makes once he finishes his meal. It’s what prompts you to push it a little. You stand up, take an ice pack from the fridge, then retrieve the first-aid kit from the drawer. Taking a seat next to him, you lay your palm out on the table, gesturing for him to give you his hands to treat.

“There’s no need,” he says, turning away again.

“I let you push my wheelchair,” you remind him. “And I let you dress my foot.”

“You were injured.”

“And you have gashes on your hands,” you point out. “Which means you’re wounded and you can’t leave those exposed. So please, would you let me do this for you?”

There’s a hint of desperation in your voice, as if all you want is for him to give in and let you help him. You’ve been trying to meet his eyes since you arrived and he’s been the coward who avoids it every time. But the last thing he wants is for you to think that he wants to push you away because he doesn’t; he just doesn’t know how to act around you after what happened last Friday. It may have ended with your unspoken forgiveness and your smile telling him that he’ll be alright, that you’ll be alright, but the past days haven’t been good to him.

In an effort to show you that he’s not angry, he moves his hand towards yours ever so slightly. He doesn’t look at you when you take his left hand and put it over your palm, but he does feel his heart skip a beat at your touch. You place the ice pack over his knuckles, then you move it over to his other hand so you can put antiseptic cream on the one that’s free.

You’re so gentle with him even when tending to his wounds. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially now, as he sees you make an effort in letting him know that everything’s okay and that you’re around in case he needs anything.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what he needs right now. After last week’s incident when he blamed you for not checking the weather, he felt ashamed. He’d apologized for how he used to treat you right before that, and then he went ahead and did all that again over a fear of his that he couldn’t get over, one that came to light that night.

You saw it all - that part of him that he despises, that he keeps hidden, that he’s burdened by.

That was another thing - you were the one who woke him up and kept him steady. Perhaps it was a nightmare he was having, but it’s also always been the way his body reacted to the rain and the thunder because of what happened when he was a child. But you saw him bare and terrified, a side of him he wasn’t sure you’d want to see or be around for. You saw him weak and helpless, things he never wants to be in front of other people. You experienced him being honest and not in control, and that made him feel unguarded.

You held him steady though, grounding him when he was slowly losing himself to the fear. Your hands on his head kept him in the present, pulling him back when his mind would travel to that fateful rainy evening in the woods. Your calm and soft voice sounded like a lullaby to him, fighting away the loud sounds that have haunted him for years. It soothed parts of him that were hurting, and you’d done it so naturally, so easily.

It’s what prompted him to share with you the memory he just can’t erase. And you told him that he could call you when it happened again so you can both replace the bad memories with good ones. Maybe you want him to be brave; he thinks that’s not something that he is.

Maybe that’s why he’s been this way since he got home that day. There’s a lot of emotion he doesn’t know how to express nor even properly name. He’s sure they’re negative though, and somehow that makes him even more ashamed. He doesn’t like not being in control. He doesn’t like being that bare and uninhibited, especially in front of you, the only person he doesn’t want to scare away.

He spent the entire weekend boxing and running around the Han River parks in hopes that all the tiredness would help keep his mind off things. But somehow, it always ended up thinking of you. It wanted to hear your voice once more; it wanted your touch.

He has them again today and he feels undeserving. Yet you’re here, healing his physical wounds and everything else that’s hurting within in the ways only you know how to. And he just wants to pull you close. He realizes now that even on days when he hates himself, you’re the one he wants to be around. Somehow you make that hate a little less than before.

“All done,” you say after placing the fabric bandage on his knuckles. “Minimal movements, okay? And ice them when you can in case something’s swollen.”

“I will,” he says softly, retrieving his hand and feeling your touch still linger, knowing he wants more of it.

You proceed to discuss some events he needs to attend all the way to the office with no mentions of how either of your weekends went. He wonders how you spent yours, hoping it was better than his. He wonders, too, if you thought about him the way he thought about you. But you seem focused on work matters for today, perhaps thinking he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. And you wouldn’t be wrong.

He gets to his room where he sighs in relief once he sits on his desk chair. It’s now that he feels the soreness and fatigue, as all he wants is to go home and lay in bed for the rest of the day. But he can’t afford that, so he pushes on, surviving a morning meeting and slowly going through each of his emails. He’s surprised when you serve him his favorite beef brisket for lunch, and your soft smile as he thanks you is his bright spot for the rest of the afternoon.

He powers through reviewing documents right after but his eyes start falling, prompting him to just lean back on his chair for a good few seconds before getting back to work. You knock on the door not long after, and then you place a cup of chamomile tea on his desk.

“I need about five espresso shots, Ms. Cho, not this,” he sighs, the tiredness in his voice evident. But you don’t seem taken aback by his words.

“I disagree, sir,” you reply. “This is to help you calm down. There’s also a couch right there. There’s a reason why it’s big and comfortable.”

He picks up on what you’re suggesting, and he shakes his head in response.

“I’m not gonna sleep here.”

“No one will know,” you shrug. “But you know it’s okay, right? I can’t imagine how tired you must be. You’re not Superman, Mr. Jeon. Plus, Mr. Jung would take naps here after long nights or during hectic days. It’s normal. And it might just be what you need.”

“I’ll decide what I need, Ms. Cho,” he says defensively. “I wouldn’t want my staff sleeping on the job so why should I?”

Jungkook regrets the words right as he says them, especially when he sees your face fall the tiniest bit. But you recover, saying that you understand then turning to head out. But you fix the pillow on the couch and place the blanket on the armrest before leaving, and he knows that your stubbornness is often a reflection of how you care.

So he takes a sip of the tea and eventually finishes it, indulging you in this way, but given the morning he’s had, his body gives in. He decides, like you said, that he needs a nap, and he doesn’t miss the victorious smile on your face that he sees from inside when he calls to instruct you not to disturb him for the next half hour.

With the dim lights and air purifier, he falls asleep right as his body hits the couch. When he wakes up 30 minutes later, he feels infinitely better; now he can focus and be productive.

You see the lights turn back on from outside and it’s your signal that he’s woken up from his nap. You wait a while before asking to enter his room to say that his father requested a meeting due to start in an hour. Jungkook’s putting his coat back on and you walk towards him to help.

“Was it good?” You ask, fixing the creases and aligning his necktie.

“Yeah,” he hums, not meeting your eyes again. “You were right, I needed that. And the couch really is comfortable.”

“That’s good. You should listen to your assistant more often,” you tease.

“I really should,” he smiles now, soft and reserved. “But I do feel better. Thank you.”

You exit his room and feel accomplished. You believe, like what others have told you, that showing him a bit of gentleness will prompt him to be a little gentler to himself, too. He works too hard sometimes, and taking a break when he needs it is one thing, but of course, it’s not everything.

The rest of the week goes by fairly similarly. Jungkook always looks tired, and it makes you wonder if he’s able to sleep properly at night or if he just overexerts himself during his morning workouts. He’s quiet when you’re not discussing work matters, making you miss your casual conversations. And though he acknowledges your occasional teasing remark, he doesn’t tease back like he’s been doing recently.

He has his moments of frustration but he’s mostly serious when you glance at him. He’s less engaging, too, and you suppose that’s what bothers you the most, as you realize that you enjoy talking with him, you enjoy getting to know him through your exchanges, allowing you a peek into his world that you know is reserved for very, very few people.

You suppose that whatever he’s dealing with is something he wants to go through on his own. Accepting your fears is one thing; accepting that you exposed all those to someone else is another. It’s why you try, in your own ways, to lift his spirits, wanting to let him know that he has nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to you.

You get him lunch from his favorite restaurants everyday, you add sweets to his servings of coffee or chocolate milk, you smile at him more, encourage him frequently, and during the times when he seems distant, you don’t completely move away. You reach out just a little bit, hoping that he’ll know that you’re around even when he doesn’t feel much like himself. You don’t want to match his detachment with your own.

It seems that you got your point across. On Friday, he dismisses you after he insists that he wants to stay back to work on a few things.

“___,” he calls out as you’re about to exit his room. “Thank you for being patient with me this week. I… I needed that.”

You turn around and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from meeting your eyes this time. He’s noticed you try to hold his gaze all week; you always lingered, too. Maybe it’s your way of comforting him or saying that you understand him. He felt both of those but he couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge them. There was a lot on his mind as he dealt with the frustration and shame of what happened, of how exposed and unguarded he was in front of you.

But you didn’t complain; you didn’t push him to engage or share anything. Even his moments of frustration were met with kindness and his silence was received with assurance. You tried to cheer him up in whatever way you could, and he could feel you just giving him time to be on his own.

He hopes he didn’t push you away. There were so many times when he just wanted you around so he could see more of your smile and hear the calmness of your voice; those always made him feel better. Whatever fears he had about how you would think of him after the incident have dissipated, as you look softly at him in understanding. He doesn’t need to say anything more, as you seem to know exactly what he means because this whole time, you seemed to also know exactly what he needed.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Jungkook,” you smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Jungkook returns to his usual self the week after. He says he went to one of their properties in Gwangju over the weekend where the weather was good and the long drive helped him stay focused and rejuvenated. He doesn’t say much of what he’s feeling and you expect that, but you’re glad his little trip gave him some peace somehow.

You, on the other hand, were left to deal with your growing feelings for him while downplaying them to your best friends. They came over for their regular visit on Saturday and while they were sympathetic with Jungkook over what happened, they still reminded you to be cautious. Once you cross a line, there’s no going back, and once you fully admit to what you feel, you can’t unfeel it; not acting on it becomes too hard and in your case, complicated.

The week is like any other but with much anticipation, given the upcoming annual team building that everyone’s excited about. This is one of the things that the support team was worried wouldn’t happen under Jungkook’s leadership, but you assured them early on that it was mandatory. And with him having loosened up and feeling more comfortable around them, you have high hopes that he’ll enjoy it as much as everyone will.

It’s why on that Saturday, you find yourself in the mall to buy the things that you’ll be needing for those three days that you’ll be spending in one of the Jeon properties in Gangwon. The venue changes every year and the villas by the lake are perfect for spring this time. Your shopping list includes all the materials for the activities and some other things Jungkook requested, like a certain book that he doesn’t have time to buy.

You enter a bookstore and as you try to find what you’re looking for, something else catches your eye. You may love the library for the space more than the books, but there will always be those that pull you in and make you curious. Even if you only read picture books when you were younger, there were a few short stories and poems that piqued your interest. You never finished them but you did manage to get through several pages.

The one right in front of you - with its pastel colored cover and simple yet intriguing design - feels like one of those. To your delight, it’s a short story collection, and your smile is immediate as you go through the pages, with each story being accompanied by illustrations that feel so personal. This would be a nice read while you’re lounging at the villa’s deck or even on your balcony, you think.

Another book catches your attention. The title is familiar, and you realize it’s one of the classics that you were required to read in high school. It has a new cover, and you see that it’s a new edition to celebrate its 30th year. You go through the pages as well, thinking back to when you had to force yourself to finish this some 15 years ago. It looks more fresh now, and definitely more enticing.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?”

You look up to find a tall man with deep-set eyes as the owner of the voice who’d interrupted your moment of book appreciation.

“I’m okay,” you dismiss him. “I don’t need assistance.”

You politely smile then return the books in their respective spots, ready to head out and search for what you came here to buy.

“Are you not going to get those?” The man presses. “You seemed to be interested in them and—”

“Were you watching me?” You ask, taken aback.

“Uh, no. I mean, not in the way you think,” he answers in panic, seemingly nervous at how it looks. “I wasn’t being creepy or anything I just… I…”

“Do you even work here?” You interrogate him, your alarm bells ringing at this man’s odd behavior and the absence of a nameplate that the other staff have on.

“I actually work for the company that published those books,” he says, his head down as if in embarrassment. “And we just put those out this week and I’m checking around to see people’s reaction and I realize now that it’s incredibly foolish of me to stand around and observe customers because it’s not only creepy, it’s also terribly disrespectful. I’m so sorry.”

There’s guilt in his eyes and it’s something you can recognize. You decide he’s being sincere and engage him a little.

“So… you work at Rkive Publishing?” You ask as you glance at the books. “As what?”

“I’m an editor, actually,” he answers, revealing his shy smile and dimples. “I’ve spent months on these books and thought, what better way to know people’s impression than to see them for myself? It seemed better in my head. I guess I wasn’t being subtle.”

“No, not really. I was kinda having a moment but then you popped out of nowhere,” you say, laughing to ease the tension. “But uh, the covers are stunning. I liked the personal touch of the short story collection and this classic looks a lot more interesting than I remember.”

“That’s uh, that’s good,” he grins, mostly to himself. “Our production team did really well in putting them together and to see the final products is incredibly satisfying, even more so when customers feel the same.”

“I don’t really read books but these just caught my eye. It’s a good way to pull people in,” you admit.

“That’s nice to know,” he smiles again. “I feel pretty fulfilled just knowing they got your attention. Even if you won’t buy them.”

He doesn’t seem like he’s guilt-tripping you but he still apologizes for how it sounds.

“I just… feel really strongly about how these pieces connect with people, even if it’s fleeting,” the man continues. “I just got over excited but thank you for not shunning me away.”

“I don’t think connections are fleeting, though,” you remark, surprising him and even yourself. “Even if it’s a thought or a memory or an impression… they stay with you in one way or another. I mean, every time I enter a bookstore, I’ll probably think about those covers and remember these books and maybe the excitement I felt. That’s still something, isn’t it?”

There’s appreciation in the man’s eyes as he takes in your words.

You may not be a book nerd nor an artsy person but you’ve been more introspective lately about the things around you. You don’t know if it’s the desperation to relate with anything and everything but if there’s one thing that working on the Arts Center has pushed you to do, it’s that pursuit of connection - with your surroundings, with people, and with yourself. You suppose that’s where all this is coming from, and the stranger in front of you whom you’re somehow connecting with right now understands that.

“It is something,” he flashes a smile again, the joy in it radiating and softening his very manly features. “That’s very reassuring, thank you.”

He steps aside and nods, perhaps giving you the space that he thinks he invaded, which in hindsight, you’re glad he did.

You bow in acknowledgment and head towards another aisle to look for that leadership book that Jungkook asked you to get. You immediately find it then make your way home, all the while thinking about your earlier encounter and how the briefest conversations can make you reflect about things and as you learn, lead you down a path you didn’t expect.

To appease your curiosity, you research about Rkive Publishing and learn that it’s a ten-year old company that works with up-and-coming local authors. It has also taken on special projects such as publishing classics for their milestone releases and some translated works. The man you met, who happens to be the editorial director, is a poet as well but apparently finds as much happiness in putting pieces out for people to enjoy as he does in writing them himself. He doesn’t seem that much older than you but he’s seen the world and in the eyes of an artist, you can’t imagine how beautiful and heartbreaking that must be.

You go down a rabbit hole of reading some of his poems and even some interviews he’d done when he set up the company years ago. You learn that he loves to write about the complexity of relationships, the fragility of human emotions, and the search for permanence in an impermanent world.

His words are captivating. You want to pick apart his brain to know more about what he thinks about humans’ need for connection despite our fear of them. You want to know what makes love the way it is, why it creates and sustains and ruins those who feel and have them. You want to know if he thinks that each person is capable of love, if that’s what makes us human, or if our humanness derives from the inadequacy of love - of what we give and what we receive.

You read a bit more about the books they’ve published and the authors they’ve worked with over the years. It’s midnight by the time you finish, and other than deciding that you’ll go back tomorrow to buy that short story book collection, one other thing fills your mind - the thought that there’s a reason for that encounter earlier, and it’s probably to lead you to finding this company and the production officer position that happens to be currently vacant.

The soft eyes that greet you from across the table where the books are placed is a welcome sight this time. The man from yesterday flashes you a shy smile and you greet him with your own.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon but I’m glad that you’re here,” he says as he approaches you.

You raise the book you intend to buy. “Connections aren’t fleeting,” you remind him. “I couldn’t really stop thinking about this since yesterday. And uh, curiosity got to me and I looked up Rkive Publishing. You’re doing great work. I read that you’re working on translations of several books, too.”

His eyes light up as he talks about wanting to attract a wider audience, given the increasing interest in Korean culture. The story of your people appeals to many because it’s shared, and he says that’s one beauty of art in whatever form - the meanings are endless, and they weave together to form something enduring and constant. That’s what he and his mother hoped for the company when they founded it a decade ago, he narrates, and he has the tough task of creating that avenue for such art to affect more people without diluting its meaning.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling again,” he shakes his head. “I just get so… yeah. I’ve just never met a buyer who actually searched us up after seeing our books on the shelf. I’m trying to engage more people. Our sales team said that’s one way to establish our presence.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him. “I may not be as passionate about anything as you but I understand feeling strongly about something. And if I’m being honest… there’s another thing that caught my eye about your company.”

“What is it?”

“You have an opening for the production officer position. I… I was impressed and looked up career options.”

“Ah, so you’re interested then?” He asks excitedly.

“I am. Although I don’t have any experience in publishing or anything related to books or literature for that matter.”

“Relevant experience is the qualification,” he hums. “I’d ask more but I can do so during the interview. What do you say?”

“That’s if I’ll make the shortlist,” you laugh. “Although I suppose my executive assistant experience is relevant enough.”

“Oh, it definitely is. That is no easy task.”

“Well, I hope meeting you like this won’t make any future application inappropriate,” you say.

“Not at all. That position has been vacant for a while. And we’re looking for two. It’s not always the role that those in the industry go for. I suppose it’s made for those looking for a career change,” he playfully winks. “But seriously though, think of this encounter as part of the process. You’ve done your research about us anyway, which kind of means you’re already a step ahead. It’s only a matter of actually applying, which I hope you do.”

“It’s an option,” you hum. “This wasn’t something I initially considered but it’s amazing how certain moments shape our decisions, isn’t it? I mean, they’re not really fleeting.”

“Of course,” he nods, thinking back to your comment from yesterday. “It’s all about being open, so please think about it. I may not know anything about your credentials but talking with you has already given me insight into what you think about our work and the power of stories. And that’s very important to me.”

“I still have a lot going on but I’ll definitely keep you in mind. I hope the position is still open when the time comes.”

“If it’s meant to be then it will be,” he assures you. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“I know,” you giggle, taking the business card that he hands out. “And I’m ___. I’ll see you around.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you head out the store with your purchased book in hand. And as you lay in bed that night, the possibilities of taking on a new journey play in your mind.

There’s the connection to the good memories of your childhood and the unloading of the burdens you carry. There’s being around people you’re not tied or indebted to and there’s forging your own way towards a path that you deliberately chose.

But there’s also Jungkook, whom you can’t stop thinking about and who happens to be a hindrance when it comes to pursuing your own goals in life. Those goals include happiness and freedom even if ironically, those are the things he also gives you. There’s the new emotions he makes you feel, the connection you can’t deny you have with him, and the desire that constantly eats you up inside.

You’ve always had your feet inside your walls with your hand on the door, just waiting for the courage to finally step out. The only thing stopping you is Jungkook and all the other possibilities with him. They may remain unrealized but they’re there. You just hope that one day you’ll convince yourself that walking away from him was exactly the thing you had to do.

You watch in awe as Yohan loads the last crate of food in the rented van you’ll be using for this weekend’s team building in some lakeside property in Gangwon. The trunk is filled with all sorts of meat and vegetables, chips, and alcohol that seem to be good for a tribe of more than 10, way more than your team of seven.

“You do know we’re only there for three days, right?” You remind the younger man. “I don’t think we eat this much.”

“Don’t you know Do-hyun?” Yohan says. “She’s half my size but she eats twice as much as I do. And I eat a lot. Plus, the guy she was seeing ghosted her so she’s probably gonna eat even more. Heartbreak shit, you know?”

“I don’t,” you chuckle, although you can’t help but feel bad again for Do-hyun whom you had to comfort not long ago because of her boy problems. “But are you sure these are all within budget?”

“Yes. Chin-sun is a master at bargaining. And, because we’re such a good team, Mr. Min and Mr. Jung gave us some of their favorite liquor,” Yohan hums satisfyingly. “Those smell expensive. So yeah, we didn’t have to spend much on alcohol since Mr. Jeon brought some, too, which is why we got to buy all this food.”

“Fine, but we can’t have drunken shenanigans, okay? I don’t have the energy to babysit you guys. And Mr. Jeon is no weakling; he’ll be awake to see you misbehave if you do.”

“We’ll go as far as incredibly out-of-tune karaoke singing, we promise,” Yohan laughs, learning his lesson after last year’s midnight swim in the freezing cold river where he almost got swept away.

Hoseok was thankfully passed out and did not witness the almost-emergency. You had to remind your team that though you’ll be going on a team-building - which is really just an excuse for the staff to eat and drink in some scenic venue - there are still rules in place, and it would be best not to give Jungkook any problem, given the progress that you’ve all made.

You enter the car then leave the office - your meet up place - to take the long drive to your destination. You just got the message from Mr. Ri that they’re almost there; they left much earlier so that Jungkook could make it to a virtual meeting with Hoseok and his father.

The ride starts off peaceful, as everyone is still slowly waking up. Halfway through, it becomes chaotic, with Do-hyun and Yohan arguing about who’ll be on cleaning duties on which days as the youngest ones on the team. You laugh along, knowing you’ll end up helping them anyway, but you look out the window and wonder how Jungkook is doing.

He’s been incredibly busy leading to today, with several site visits to the Arts Center and meetings with the project teams multiple times the past two weeks. He’s been staying late in the office, too, and working on the weekends. You know, because you get the odd-hour emails and find portfolios on your desk in the morning. Despite the work that he still has to squeeze in during this weekend, you hope he gets a bit of rest. More than that, you hope he finds time to be with the team and bond with them. Only you know this may be your last, and you want to keep the memories of these three days and make sure they’re good ones.

You arrive at the place and look around, amazed at every corner and every space you set your eyes on. You know that the Jeon family has dozens of properties in scenic locations that they escape to or put out for rent. This lakeside estate is one of a few you haven’t been to yet, and there’s a reason why Jungkook wanted this to be your venue this year. It’s spacious with lots of things to do and the view is absolutely stunning. Lush mountains frame the sparkling body of water, and with the breeze of spring, it’s every bit relaxing as you hoped.

It’s quiet as the rest of the team walks around in awe. The main house boasts of a large kitchen and living space and it’s surrounded by four two-bedroom villas with their own decks. You, Chin-sun, and Do-hyun head to one while Yohan and Manager Lee head to another. You give yourselves half an hour to fix up before reconvening and when you do, you immediately smile upon seeing Jungkook already waiting.

He greets the team, formally welcomes you all, then talks about the property and all its amenities. He discusses what’s in store for these next three days, then he proceeds with the first activity, which is really the only work-related thing you’re all required to do.

Jungkook facilitates the session, and he starts by asking everyone to reflect on all the gains and challenges this past year. He instructs each of you to share your team highs and lows, what enabled you to achieve the successes and overcome the difficulties, what caused you the most stress, and what you’re most thankful for. Every answer is met with confirming nods and statements, and it seems that everyone is on the same page about how the year went.

The session highlights your team dynamics - you’re all very encouraging of each other, but it doesn’t stop the young ones from bickering and teasing the rest of you. It’s fun though, as you end the hour with laughter and more memories to take with you. You glance at Jungkook who seems satisfied with every response; you hope he’s proud of how he managed everything, too, and you make sure you mention it during your turn. The smile he makes when everyone agrees warms your heart in a way you don’t expect, even more so when he holds your gaze when he thanks the team in return.

You’re rewarded with a hearty lunch an hour later, and not long after, you find yourselves near the deck of the lake, discussing how to spend your two hours of free time before the next activity.

Chin-sun and Manager Lee decide on just laying on the lounge chairs to soak up the sun. Yohan gets on a jet-ski while Do-hyun flounders about in the lake. Sipping your beer, you lean on one of the tables and savor the fresh air.

There’s not much of this in the city, and the silence - save for the young ones’ laughter in the background - is definitely worth the long ride and the backlog you’ll be having once the weekend is over. You’re not really one to stay outdoors. You’d much rather stay inside, under the covers where you could watch movies or variety shows. That was always how you preserved your peace. Being outside always intimidated you, and you think now it’s probably because you just haven’t seen that many beautiful views like this in your life. If this is what’s outside your window everyday, you’d probably be out all the time.

“___, are you just gonna stay there? The water’s amazing,” Do-hyun whines as she approaches you. “Or sunbathe if you don’t want to get wet. Just get out there.”

“I’m content just watching you enjoy yourselves,” you say. “I can see the view just fine from here.”

“It’s much better up close,” she counters, standing next to you now. “Come on, this is your time to let loose since you have the permission to do so. Mr. Jeon isn’t gonna be a killjoy and watch your every move, you know? If he will, then I will…”

“You will what?” You laugh.

“I will tell him he’s being a killjoy. How often can we be in a place as beautiful as this?”

“Do-hyun’s right,” Jungkook says as he appears to your left, catching both of you off guard and prompting Do-hyun to sweetly smile at him. He’s in shorts and a loose long-sleeve shirt, perhaps ready to enjoy the outdoors as well. “The place is too beautiful for you to just sit back and watch.”

“And what will you do?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sit back and watch,” he shrugs, earning him a laugh from you and Do-hyun. “And enjoy my beer. That’s how I relax.”

“Please don’t be boring,” Do-hyun pouts at him, embracing that little sister energy that you’ve all come to love. “You should know, Mr. Jeon, Yohan is being all cocky, saying that he’s the best jet ski rider among all of us here. I have a feeling that he’s wrong, so please show him who’s boss. I mean, you are, obviously. But, you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Jungkook chuckles, putting down his drink and looking out into the lake. “But sure. I haven’t ridden one in a while but let’s see how I go.”

Jungkook walks towards the water then unknots the other jet ski. He removes his shirt and wears the life vest before riding towards where Yohan is. The view of him half-naked triggers memories of all the times you’ve seen him like that, times when you’d look away and keep yourself from thinking inappropriate thoughts. It’s no different this time, but somehow, it’s much harder to keep your heart from racing this fast.

“Holy fuck,” Do-hyun gasps next to you. “Please don’t report me but shit, ___. Whoever’s doing Mr. Jeon is one lucky woman. I mean, look at that. And who knew he had a full sleeve of tattoo? That is so freaking hot.”

From your periphery, you could see her shocked face but you merely hum in response. You don’t want to get carried away by your own expletives because there really aren’t enough curses in the dictionary when it comes to describing Jungkook’s body.

“You don’t seem surprised,” she looks at you curiously. “And you’re not affected. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. I’m with him everyday,” you say nonchalantly.

“In clothes, I would assume.”

“He works out every morning and he’s in sleeveless tops sometimes,” you clarify. “Obviously I’ve seen his arm.”

She furrows her brows as if she doesn’t believe you, even if you’re telling the truth. There are just other parts of that story that you don’t want to share.

“Hmm, fair enough,” she gives in. “But I’d probably be constantly flustered or even crushing on him if I were you. So how have you managed being around him and not being attracted all this time knowing he looks like that?”

You’re forced to look at Do-hyun, as you try to find the words to say, when she answers her own question.

“Right, he can be quite detached and too serious and he’s a playboy and—”

“You also forget that I am his assistant and he is my boss,” you remind her. “Thoughts like that—”

“Are perfectly normal,” she interjects. “And totally understandable. He’s a hot bachelor, ____. I wouldn’t be able to function professionally if I were in your shoes. Which is why it’s great that I’m here and you’re the one in that position.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I might lose this job if I lose my shit every time because my boss is so hot,” she reasons. “And it’s not just me. I’ve seen the female staff lose their cool around him just because he spoke to them or looked their way. It’s kind of embarrassing. But I guess the broody, asshole-y vibes add to that. And then there’s you who’s in his apartment every morning and heavens know what you’ve seen or heard since we all know that the rumors about his dating life are true and you seem fine and totally unbothered.”

You want to laugh at how completely off Do-hyun is with her observations. Sure, you tried to be cool about it at the beginning and you mostly succeeded in being calm whenever you came close or saw any part of his body exposed.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. When you saw the layers underneath, he wasn’t just attractive physically; he was suddenly so much more. That somehow made it harder but it also made all the restraint worth it. But that’s not something you want to divulge to Do-hyun. No matter how difficult, you know you need to keep yourself together and stop the feelings from going any deeper.

“Well, just like you, I can’t lose my job and I will if I let it affect me,” you say. “But if I may say so… there’s definitely more to the broody, serious man we met almost a year ago.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true. He’s definitely more thoughtful than I expected. Maybe a little funny, too. But that’s really all I know. He just seems too reserved, you know? Seeing him do something like ride a jet ski or laugh with us feels like such a luxury for a man like him,” Do-hyun adds. “It must be hard to get to know him beyond all this. I know it sure is hard to love someone like that.”

You know that Do-hyun’s merely projecting. The recent guy she was seeing was a lot more shy and private than the ones she’s dated before. But she got him to open up and she thought that was it, that she’d broken through his walls and they’d be permanently down for her, only to realize it wasn’t the case. He was distant for a few days and she tried to get through again only for him to completely shut her out; she hasn’t heard from him in weeks.

It’s probably why you agree. People who keep their distance and disengage whenever they want are hard to love. You’d know because you’re like that. It hits you hard knowing that Jungkook is probably the same.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you and Do-hyun watch Jungkook and Yohan outride one another, splashing each other with water and screaming in excitement when they speed up. Seeing this other side of Jungkook does something to you again, and the sight of his smile as he dries his hair while teasing Yohan triggers the butterflies in your belly.

He approaches you - thankfully with his shirt on this time - and you suddenly feel too hot. He tells you that the water’s nice and you should get in, but you’re too self-conscious now, so you compromise and say you’ll just dip your feet in the water while you sit on the steps that lead down to the lake.

That’s how you spend the rest of the hour, as Chin-sun, Manager Lee, and Do-hyun join Yohan in swimming while Jungkook stays back, watching you all from afar. You glance at him a few times and he catches your eyes. He lifts his can in cheers and you do the same. He heads to where you are some time after with five cans of beer then walks back to his room, and you suddenly miss his presence. You wish he was next to you, perhaps laughing or talking about something random or just sitting with you in silence. You’ve learned that last bit brings you a lot of comfort and peace; the view somehow isn’t as beautiful when you aren’t sharing it with him.

It’s an hour later, after having dried and fixed up, when you’re all on the basketball court to start the next activity that Mr. Ri prepared. Divided into teams of two, each pair is assigned a path that leads to either the mountain, the woods, or the stream to find bags of coins needed to “purchase” materials to create a science experiment-type water rocket. It’s meant to practice your communication and problem-solving skills with those you work most closely with, which is why Chin-sun and Do-hyun, and Manager Lee and Yohan are paired up respectively while you, of course, end up with Jungkook.

“The caretakers and I spent all morning preparing this game, so please take it seriously,” Mr Ri says. “And bond with each other while you’re at it.”

You see the competitiveness in the young ones’ eyes, especially when it’s announced that there’s a prize for the winners, and you like the energy. Being Jungkook’s partner, you know it’s just about completing the task and somehow, it’s the bonding bit that makes you nervous. You already know you’re going to like it, which is precisely why it terrifies you.

“There are ATVs for each team which you will ride to the start of the path. You’ll have to go by foot when you get there or else you’ll miss the bags of coins,” Mr. Ri instructs. “You have walkie-talkies to reach me in case you get lost but please don’t. And try to be back here in an hour. All clear?”

You all express your acknowledgement and he signals the start. The other teams rush to their rides and quickly drive off while you and Jungkook stroll to yours.

He takes the helmet and puts it on you, and he laughs again like he did at the Arts Center months ago before riding the vehicle.

“I should’ve expected that,” you pout.

“Which?”

“That you’ll laugh at me again.”

“It looks cute on you,” he says casually before riding the vehicle.

Your eyes widen at his words and you’re glad he has his back turned on you. That way he can’t see the way you’re trying to hold your smile and suppress the giddy feeling at his remark. It makes it that much harder for you to climb up behind him though, but you manage, and you ensure there’s some distance between you and him, knowing how you tend to be when you get close.

Jungkook, on the other hand, internally smacks himself after he says the words. He didn’t mean for the thoughts in his head to actually come out. He’s glad he didn’t see your probably awkward expression, and that right now, he needs to focus on the road. That way, he can preoccupy himself with your safety and not his embarrassment.

He means it though. There’s something about you in a helmet that gets him, or even in anything oversized, like his jacket that he made you wear once. There’s also something about you wading in the water and laughing so freely that make his insides melt. Anything you do actually triggers something in him - a protective side, a care-free side; a side that wants to take a pause and bask in the scenery that includes you.

Now he has to act like he’s not affected with you sitting behind him as he drives the ATV down the rugged path. He feels you far from him, sitting close to the edge and holding onto the handles behind you. But as the road gets rockier, he starts to get worried.

“You should hold onto me,” he says, turning his head to the side so you could hear him before slowing down. “It’s safer that way.”

It takes a few seconds but he feels you move closer to him, your arms slowly wrapping around his torso. It’s a bit loose but it’s enough for his breathing to quicken.

“Is… is this okay?” You softly ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to say. “It’s a bit rocky out here so be careful. You can, uh, you can hold on tighter if you feel unstable.”

You hum in response but you maintain your position. He supposes you don’t know how bumpy it could be. It makes him worry and he wishes you’d grab onto him more only because he’s afraid you’d fall, and that’s exactly what happens after the first big bump.

You yelp, tightening your grip around him immediately. He feels his heart stop, unprepared to have your arms around his waist and your chest flushed against his back even if that’s what he’d suggested you do. He’s felt you close in several instances already, but each time feels different. It affects him the same way though - all he wants is to have you even closer.

But that’s not something he can think of right now, especially when you’re both alone, in a place that’s conducive to letting his inhibitions go.

It’s calm and peaceful out here. There’s a lot of open space but he enjoys it more when he’s looking at it from the comforts of the balcony or the deck. He always prefers to stay indoors because the outdoors somehow make him feel more constricted; he supposes that being trapped in the woods as a child would do that to anyone. He’s always just been a spectator, watching everything from behind the safety of his walls, knowing that he could feel a bit unsteady out there.

But ever since you got here and he’d seen you enjoy the surroundings, all he’s felt was the stability of having you near him. That, ironically, scares him, too. The more he’s comfortable with you, the more worried he becomes. So he settles on what he knows how to do - keeping you at a fair distance but creating moments here and there, only so you don’t think he’s pushing you away or detaching himself.

You decide to just hold onto Jungkook for safety purposes. You didn’t realize that the path towards the stream is this rocky, but you suppose it should be since you’re in the undeveloped part of the property. It's probably why he asked you to hold onto him; he’s your safety precaution and you know enough that he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He’s steady and skilled in navigating the ATV, avoiding the big bumps and alerting you when there’s going to be one. It’s actually quite attractive. He feels so nice like this, with his soft hoodie and natural scent, and you have to pull away every once in a while so as not to get too comfortable. You can’t let yourself imagine this to be a possibility beyond today, you remind yourself. He can’t be someone you constantly seek, that you could fall into, even if that’s pretty much where you’re at at this point.

You reach the end of the road and Jungkook lets you get down first, instructing you to hold his arm for support, before following right after. You walk towards the mark that signifies the start of the path where you’re supposed to find the bags of coins, and you look around to see that there are more shrubs than trees. It feels a little less constricting compared to if you were in the mountains or the woods, which is why you think Mr. Ri assigned this to both of you.

You and Jungkook start searching, and with the topography of the place, it’s easy to spot the bags that are hanging from the tree branches. You point one out and Jungkook steps on the hollowed out trunk to retrieve it. You stand by watching, reminding him to be careful. And though you tell yourself to focus on the bag, you can’t help but glance at the sight of him - in his light gray sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, looking casual and comfortable and even more attractive.

It doesn’t help when he reaches out towards the branch while you stay on a spot below him, and the view of him from this angle leaves you quite breathless. Not only does his hoodie rise up to reveal his waist and that lower half of his torso that you’d held onto earlier, but you also get a peek of the band of his underwear, too. Your mind short-circuits for the briefest moment, even more when he stretches even more to pull the bag towards him, and you’re able to snap out of it in time, as you watch him slowly make his way down.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” You call out.

He easily descends, and with his smug face, he lifts the bag for you to see.

“Do you not have faith in my tree-climbing capabilities?” he asks you.

“It’s just not something I’ve seen you do before,” you shrug, acting nonchalantly as you return to walking down the path.

“So, were you worried?”

“Uhm, yes? I can’t have an injured Vice President on my watch,” you exclaim, earning you a laugh. “How am I gonna transport you out of this dirt road and back to the house? I can barely keep still as a passenger on the ATV.”

“Well, I could get hurt but I definitely won’t be immobile,” he points out. “I won’t be a hard person to help.”

“Right… I’m the one who gets injured and then can’t walk.”

He frowns at you at the reminder, and you counter that it’s okay for you to make fun of your injury but that he’s right, he probably won’t be as injured as you. You wave him off, hoping that you don’t have to deal with an incapacitated version of him during this game. You also won’t be able to handle worrying about him without giving too much away.

You return your focus on finding the other bags. There are those hidden behind rocks and in shallow holes; you know because of the shovel next to them. There’s another one tied around the trunk of the tree, and you have to hold your breath again when Jungkook climbs up to get it.

As expected, you have good teamwork. You section off areas to search at and quickly find what you’re looking for. You go for the ones you can get and then ask him to reach for the ones you can’t. There’s some bickering in between, with him pretending that he’s stuck or caught on something while you panic and then pout at him for scaring you. But there are some moments of silence, too, where you walk side by side and bask in the scent of your surroundings. Either way, it’s time that you enjoy just being around him, taking in the environment that you often stayed away from. With him, it’s a lot less scary and definitely more freeing.

When you’re down to your last one, you and Jungkook think that Mr. Ri would hide it somewhere near the end of the path, so you both decide to just take in your surroundings as you stroll towards the stream.

“So, nature smells like this, huh?” you hum. “It’s quite comforting.”

“It is,” he says. “I forget sometimes. It’s nice to remember.”

“Don’t you spend a lot of time outdoors?” You wonder. “You’ve mentioned driving out to some of your properties with views like this. I’d assume you stay out and enjoy the scenery.”

“I do enjoy the scenery… just from inside,” he chuckles, knowing the irony of his words. “It’s just more comfortable that way, I guess. So I appreciate being forced to go outside this weekend.”

“At least you’re not alone, right?”

“That’s true.”

“I’m the same,” you say. “I don’t go out much. I mean, I’m often on my own so I just stay indoors but I do enjoy the scenery when I’m with others. It feels too lonely when you’re by yourself. To be something so small in a world so big… It's kind of scary.”

“Well, I’m here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You don’t think Jungkook will ever know the weight of his words and just how wrong he is. To be in a place so beautiful with him next to you… it’s everything you’re scared of. You’ve come to appreciate a lot of things because of him. You’ve come to want more when you shouldn’t because of him. You always find yourself in a state of push-and-pull with your emotions when it comes to him, knowing that he’s someone you can’t have. He’ll always be out of reach no matter how close he is. He’ll always hinder you from the kind of life you want to have even if that includes him.

The logical part of you wants to keep your distance, to not create any more memories that will haunt you and that you’ll miss. But the stubborn part of you wants you to hold onto this to remind you that beautiful things are tangible and he’s the one thing you can see and hear; maybe he’s something you can touch, too.

The latter one wins, so you slow your pace, take in the sight before you, and decide that this is a memory you’ll want to keep. You take the disposable camera from your pouch, something you bought the other week specifically for this trip, knowing it might be your last. You take a photo of the sky, then of the path ahead of you, then of the stream, making sure there’s a bit of him in there - a mop of hair, a portion of his arm, his shadow.

It’s then that you see the last bright red bag on one of the big rocks near the water’s edge.

“Oh, there it is,” you say, immediately walking towards it.

You look around and strategize how you’ll get to the rock safely but Jungkook insists that he’ll be the one to get it.

“You’ve gotten all the tricky ones,” you argue, given that he’d climbed the tree and crawled under the shrub because your leggings were too thin and wouldn’t be able to protect you from the thorny branches. “I can get this.”

“It might be slippery.”

“I have good balance,” you lie.

“Uh, I clearly remember that you don’t.”

“Hey,” you pout at him, knowing he’s referring to that time you tripped on yourself during one of your Arts Center visits. “It was the heels. That’s clearly not a problem this time.”

You step on the wet stones and balance your way as they lead towards the big rock, with Jungkook repeatedly telling you to be careful. His voice just gets louder and louder, but you turn around and see that he’s actually just following you. It’s your mistake, as your loss of focus causes you to slip on one of the rocks and almost lose your balance. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you fall on your ass. Your foot merely slides to the side, barely missing the water, which is really fine, but Jungkook doesn’t think so.

“Don’t move until you’re stable,” he instructs, holding out his hand for you to take, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “That’s the foot you injured. You can’t risk spraining it again. Just take my hand or hold my wrist so you can safely get the bag.”

You do as he says, grabbing his forearm so you can stabilize yourself. You let him go once you do, then you turn and take a few small steps to get what you need. He stays close to you though, and once you retrieve the bag, you turn towards him with a proud smile and announce that half of your task has been completed.

“You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?” He says instead, his firm voice a contrast to his playful frown.

“And you are quite the nagger,” you hit back. “I wouldn’t have slipped if I hadn’t turned and I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Sure, it’s my fault. Sorry for caring about your safety,” he shakes his head.

“Well, you were underestimating me,” you frown now. “I could’ve done all this without your help.”

“Really?” He challenges.

“Yes,” you stand your ground. “Although I would still need your help to get back to land.”

It’s what makes him laugh, and the way his eyes light up and crinkle makes your heart race. He has such a sweet sound, and you wish you could hear more of it.

“I figured. Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” you stop him and check your watch. “We still have time. Can we stay for a bit? The water’s quite nice and the view of the mountains is prettier from here.”

Jungkook looks around. The mountain range from far away looks majestic from this angle, and with the sun about to set soon, the way the light shines on the water is just as beautiful.

“Okay then,” he says, wanting to savor this as well.

You just said you don’t go out much, and maybe like what he feels, being with him makes you want to take it all in; maybe it makes you feel less scared.

You both find dry rocks to sit at and it’s the perfect spot for you to take more photos, so you take out your camera and see which angles look best.

“Did you buy that for this trip?” he asks.

“Yeah. I knew the sights would be beautiful. I just wanted to keep something from here,” you explain.

“Give it to me then,” he says, reaching out his hand and gesturing towards your camera. “Let me take one of you so you’ll always remember.”

You hand it over to him then suddenly feel awkward at how you’re supposed to pose. You stay seated with your legs just slightly bent but are unsure of where you’re supposed to look. It feels a little too tense if you look at his direction, even if that’s what you should be doing.

“It’s free to smile, you know? That’s what people usually do for photos,” he says, causing you to giggle. He takes the photo right then, and you have an idea he caught your smile at the right time.

“Was that a trick?” You ask.

“Sort of. I knew you were gonna think of how bold it was of me to say that, considering that I barely even smile.”

“Wow, I can’t even tease you anymore because you already know what I’m gonna say.”

“I know sometimes you can’t help but just tease me like that. I know you too well,” he smugly says. “But I think I got a good photo. You’re welcome.”

You laugh at his playfulness, knowing it’s rare for him to show that side of him. So you ask for your camera back and decide you want him to be part of this particular memory. You hold it out and turn towards him.

“May I?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he hums. “I just don’t know how to smile.”

You giggle again and you’re quick enough to catch the brief moment when he lets out a short laugh.

You look at him softly, as if there’s more you want to say - that you’ll keep this close to you so you’ll remember what his smile looks like, that he’s something beautiful you can hear and see, that you feel so safe out here with him, and that you hope he’ll remember this, too.

But you look away before any of the words make it out.

You think to just quietly savor this, as you bask in the sounds of the cicadas and the flow of the water and the rustling of the leaves. You’re so small in this big world, but being with Jungkook makes things a little less scary. With him, you don’t feel so alone.

A bit more time passes before you both decide to head back. He reaches out his hand which you mindlessly take, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his palm. You’re too focused on your steps that you only realize you’re still holding him once you both safely make it to dry land. But it’s also at that moment when he lets go. Though a part of you wishes he’d drag the illusion a bit more, you’re also glad he didn’t; you would’ve probably held on longer if he didn’t pull away.

The silence continues as you both walk back to the start of the path, but he stays near you, occasionally asking if you’re tired or cold. You make it to the ATV and you hold onto his waist again with no instructions needed this time. He drives a bit faster than earlier but you feel safe and steady, and there’s something natural about the way you’re clinging to him for support. Part of the illusion as well, you think, but that ends, too.

You’re the last one back to the villas but you and Jungkook quickly make up some ground in assembling the water rocket. It was mostly him, though, as he says that he tinkers around and easily figures these things out. Do-hyun and Chin-sun feel the pressure as you catch up, and they shriek as they slowly feel the win slipping away from them. But then Jungkook holds onto the last piece and lets them win instead. The way they celebrate after their rocket successfully launches makes it feel worth it; you don’t feel bad about it at all. If anything, you expected he’d let either of the other two teams finish first.

After the winners are handed out hotel accommodation gift cards, Jungkook excuses himself to get a bit of work done while the rest of the team prepares for dinner. The team works on your assigned tasks of preparing the grill and slicing the vegetables, while you cook your famed fried rice after Do-hyun convinced you that it would heal her broken heart. Seated outside with the cool evening air, you all wait for Jungkook before starting.

“Mr. Jeon said he’ll just message me once he’s ready to eat,” Mr. Ri says as he takes his seat. “We can start without him.”

“But it’s not a team dinner without him,” Do-hyun whines. “He should take a break from working and spend time with us.”

“I’m sure he wants that, too,” you say. “Let’s just give him some time, maybe there’s something urgent he needs to do. Let’s just enjoy our meal and leave some food for him.”

Everyone dives in once the meat is cooked, and there’s a consensus that your fried rice is definitely worth all the hype. The laughter and teasing immediately start, and you wish Jungkook was here to enjoy it with you. You constantly glance at his villa, noting the dim lights, and you wonder what has him holed up inside this time, knowing he didn’t plan on working too much while he’s here.

It’s one hour later when you decide that he’s gone too long without having dinner, so you take portions of everything and set them on a tray.

“Wait, let me make him a drink. Hopefully that’ll convince him to come out,” Yohan says.

Managing to carry everything, you head towards Jungkook’s villa, and when he opens the door after your constant bell-ringing, he looks at you in surprise.

“The team’s been wondering when you were coming out,” you say. “You might be in there because of work, but I’m not fully convinced. Whatever it is, the food’s too delicious for you to not have a taste, so I brought you some.”

You raise the tray that you placed on the small table outside and flash him a smile. He nods in acknowledgement and takes it from you but you don’t leave just yet.

“I hope you’re not working anymore,” you say.

“I only did for a while,” he replies. “I… got a bit tired.”

“I’ve seen you workout in the morning and work all day after only having three hours of sleep, Jungkook. You wouldn’t get tired from just a jet ski ride and some scavenger hunt,” you raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a dry laugh before heading to the dining room. He leaves the door open so you follow him inside.

“I mean I’m socially tired. Isn’t that a thing?”

“Gee, I didn’t think that spending time with me outdoors drained your energy so much,” you frown.

Your playful pout tells him you’re teasing. He sure hopes it’s not what you really feel. It’s the opposite, in fact. He felt relieved of a lot of things during that hour that he walked around and breathed in the fresh air with you. And you both had moments - comforting glances, the shared silence… the fleeting touches that made him want more. You’re everything new and familiar and he wants to know how it’s like to have you close to him.

He knows it’s a desire he can’t act on, not just because he’s your superior but also because he can’t imagine you feeling a fraction of what he feels. It’s tempting to mistake your kindness for something more, and he’d fall into it if only hoping didn’t lead to disappointment. But like what Yoongi had said before, it’s how you naturally are, even as someone who prefers to be alone. Whatever type of friendship you offer is all that it is - friendship.

Jungkook clearly doesn’t deserve you. It’s not just because of the way he treated you at the beginning but because even until now, whenever he pulls away, you’re always the first one who reaches out. He’s scared that anything he does might push you away, and that’s the last thing he wants. He’ll keep you at a distance for as much as he can and for as long as you’re around. He can handle that, but losing you in any way has become his biggest fear.

That’s why he needed to be on his own after your time together in such a casual and comfortable environment. It’s easy to want that with you and to think that he can have it. Pulling away has always been his default when dealing with things he can’t control, and earlier, he just couldn’t control his mind and his heart.

But you’re here now, having knocked on his door like you always do, wondering if he’ll come out.

“I brought you dinner but I purposely gave you small servings so you’ll want more and leave your villa,” you explain.

“Half a cup of your fried rice?” He scowls. “That’s a crime.”

“I know. And you’ll run out if you don’t go outside,” you warn. “Are you planning on just staying here? Do-hyun’s right. It’s not a team dinner without you there.”

“I… I was planning to go out a bit later. It’s a different setting and I’m a little anxious,” he admits.

He looks away and you feel for him. You were the same in the beginning, too. It’s one thing to share meals with people in a work environment but it’s another when it’s more casual, where people are less filtered and guarded. But you had to try, and after spending time getting to know your colleagues, things got easier.

The team has adjusted to Jungkook but you suppose Jungkook hasn’t fully adjusted to them. Perhaps he was planning on sneaking in much later in the evening or using work as an excuse. But this is part of his function, and like you promised him early on, you want to help him with this aspect of his role.

“I’ll help you loosen up a bit,” you suggest. “I can have dinner with you here first and then we can go out once you’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, even if he’d decided earlier that he’d keep his distance. “You can get your food outside. I’m not sharing mine.”

You laugh at how seriously he says the words.

“I know,” you say. “And by the way, Yohan made you that drink.”

“How’d he know I like highball?”

“A little birdie told him,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

You smile before walking out, with Jungkook reminding you to set aside some fried rice for him.

You take your plate and reason to the team that you and Jungkook will just discuss some work stuff and they buy it, saying they won't get drunk until you’re both back outside.

You return to the villa with your dish and a bottle of beer, immediately realizing that it’s new territory for you and Jungkook, too. Sure, you’ve spent some time together out of work, but not in a place and situation like this.

But you want to be there for him. You like that he looks to you for energy and support. On days when he’s distant, you want moments like right now to remind you of the times he needed you, that he wanted you around, even if it’s for a different reason.

It takes half an hour for Jungkook to ease his nerves. In that time, you talk about random things, like his favorite hawker centers in Singapore and the variety shows you watch on which days. You both tease each other, then compete on who gets less affected. You tell him it’s good preparation for when the team, in their drunken states, does the same. You assure him, though, that they won’t go below the belt but he also assures you that he’s a big boy and can handle it.

When he says he wants more fried rice, it becomes your cue to head outside. You’re thankful that other than Mr. Ri subtly smirking at you, no one else reacts uncomfortably. You and Jungkook just came from his villa alone, after all, but you suppose everyone’s too tired or too careful to say anything.

“I hope no one’s eaten my share of the fried rice,” Jungkook says as he sits across from you. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Here, all yours, Mr. Jeon,” Yohan says as he hands him a bowl. “If it isn’t enough, just know that Do-hyun took one last scoop before we set this aside.”

“Traitor,” Do-hyun scowls at the younger man. “I couldn’t help it. It’s so good, right?” She turns to Jungkook now. “___ gatekeeps this! She says she’s too busy to make it and I only got her to do it now because I’m heartbroken.”

Jungkook smiles internally. You’ve made this for him a few times and it’s heartwarming to think that you had your reasons for doing so, knowing now that it’s not something you easily share.

“It’s way better than the one I make,” Jungkook says, glancing at you. “I can have this everyday.”

“You cook?!” Do-hyun basically yells.

“Uh, yeah. I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?” Jungkook asks.

“Paying people to do things for you,” Do-hyun shrugs.

It’s a line he’s heard you say before and neither of you are wrong. It’s normal to make that assumption and it’s also true. He had people to do pretty much everything for him when he was in Singapore. He has that option here in Seoul, too, but he’s found himself wanting less people in his space for long periods of time. You’re really the only one he doesn’t mind being around him.

The conversation shifts to what happened in the afternoon, and you all end up talking about each team’s scavenger hunt experience and the anticipation for the next day’s obstacle course and relay games. A few more shots and bottles of beer later, the vibe turns more serious, as Manager Lee’s question to Do-hyun about how she’s feeling turns into an emotional session where she asks what she’s supposed to do about the man she was seeing, wondering if it’s worth reaching out or just moving on from him.

Chin-sun shares a piece of her mind and so does Yohan. Manager Lee says that sometimes, people don’t know what they want and isolate themselves in response. The pieces of advice are a mix of being patient and forgetting about the man, and you choose to observe rather than give an opinion. It’s always easy to say something but things could be totally different once you’re the one experiencing it. You think Jungkook feels the same, as he stays quiet but listens earnestly.

“What do you think, Mr. Ri?” Do-hyun asks. “You’re the oldest one here and would probably have a lot to say.”

“I wish I did but I wouldn’t say I’ve made the best decisions when it comes to my love life,” Mr. Ri laughs. “I mean, I’ve only ever loved one woman but I let her go. And that was over 20 years ago; I haven’t loved anyone that way since. I don’t think I ever really stopped.”

You watch everyone’s faces turn from shocked to somber. Mr. Ri, having been CEO Jeon’s right-hand man for a long time, has a stable and commanding presence. Everyone knows him to be loyal and firm, yet there’s a warmth about him with how protective and dependable he is. They all know about his commitment to his job, but his faithfulness to one person is perhaps surprising; he was never one to show much emotion, after all. But then again, people make sacrifices in the name of love - sometimes they give everything up for it, sometimes it’s what they let go of.

“Twenty years is a long time,” Do-hyun sighs. “And you never stopped. Where does all that love go?”

“I have people I care about,” Mr. Ri answers. “It goes to them. Obviously it’s different but I learned that if I keep all that love to myself, it hurts even more. That’s how I learned to live with the decision I made. It’s how I learned to let her go.”

“That’s so sad,” Do-hyun sniffles. “Here I am, heartbroken about a guy I was dating for only a few months while you’ve been harboring these feelings for decades.”

“It’s not about the length of time you were together or apart,” Mr. Ri shakes his head. “When you give a part of yourself to someone, losing them always hurts. That part of you is gone because they took it with them and you can’t take it back. So your pain is valid. We all love and grieve and move forward differently,” he says. “It’s all terrifying but that’s the irony of life, I’ve learned. The thing we all want and can’t live without is the same thing that hurts us the most, whether we have it or not.”

There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in the elder man’s words. They cut deep, as you know they come from a place of deep pain. You don’t want to ever go through something that hurts that much.

“I’m too emotional,” Do-hyun sighs, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening crying and having everyone feel bad for her, so she shifts her attention to something else. “I want something juicy.” She briefly looks at Jungkook, who looks blankly at her, so she turns to you instead. “I don’t know much about your love life, ___.”

“Yes, because I don’t have one,” you chuckle, masking the nervousness you feel because talking about its inexistence in front of the man plaguing your mind was not something you planned for this trip.

“But I know you did,” she insists. “I mean, why wouldn’t you?”

“I think what Do-hyun means is that you’re a highly capable, kind, and attractive woman,” Chin-sun chimes in. “Surely there have been prospects for a relationship, yes?”

“Like Mr. Min!” Yohan says now. “I always thought you two were cute together. Do-hyun and I would bet on it since she says you’re not the type to date co-workers.”

“And she’s right,” you say, glancing at Jungkook whose face you can’t read. “Yoongi and I are good friends. That’s all we ever were.”

“Well, I think he’s very nice and he’d treat you well,” Yohan sighs. “But I guess it might be weird to date someone you work with. I have friends I can match you with!”

“That’s not necessary,” you laugh. “I don’t think relationships are for everyone.”

“Why not?” Do-hyun asks.

You contemplate on whether or not you’re ready for this conversation, especially since it’s the type you usually just have with your best friends. You suppose it’s why your colleagues claim they don’t know much about you other than the way you work because you don’t really share much about your life, your dreams, or the things you wonder about. You’ve always preferred to keep things to yourself, always worried about how they will be received.

But everyone’s allowed themselves to be vulnerable tonight, and given the distance you’ve created between you and them all these years, you think the least you could do is be honest. It’s a team building thing anyway, and people bond over shared experiences during these times.

“I’ve… dated people but it was never serious,” you start. “I never really saw myself committing to them. Sure, I’d give my time and energy but nothing more. There’s so much courage in loving another person. I just don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough for that. I mean, it’s just hard to control. Once you start, you can’t stop; once you do it too much, you can’t pull back.”

“Sounds to me like you’re afraid that you won’t receive as much as you give,” Manager Lee states. “It’s how love is, though. It’s not always equal. But that’s the risk you take, that’s the trust you build. That even when what’s given isn’t the same, there’s still love there.”

“But isn’t that the scary part of it all?” You counter. “Like what Mr. Ri said, you give a part of yourself to someone when you love them but what if they don’t want that specific part of you? Or they did then one day they decide they don’t anymore? So they just retreat and leave you out in the open. They’re safe but you’re not, because you broke down your walls for them but they didn’t do the same.”

“That’s the thing about finding the right person, ___,” Manager Lee says, with all the wisdom of a man who’s loved and lost and loved again. “You either trust that they won’t do that, or you accept that they could and you’d still think that loving them is worth all the pain that losing them would cost. In the end, you get to decide. If you keep yourself from feeling it, how are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t?”

You’ve heard versions of these words before, too. Soomin and Jimin, whose respective relationship ups and downs you’ve witnessed, have said themselves that committing yourself to someone takes a whole lot of faith in the person and in yourself. It’s because you’re giving them an opportunity to hurt you but you have to trust that they won’t. A lot of times, they do, so you then have to trust in your own ability to get over them.

The thoughts swim in your head and with your silence, Chin-sun gives you an encouraging smile. She’s a few years older than you and has experienced a lot when it comes to relationships, and you can sense that she understands your hesitation and your fear.

“It’s scary but when you find someone who makes you feel brave, that can make all the difference,” she says.

Admitting all this makes you feel exposed, especially when your eyes flit to Jungkook and you find him gazing at you, as if he’s trying to figure you out. You’re worried that any other move you make or things you say will lead him to uncovering your feelings that you acknowledge is beyond just physical attraction at this point.

You find yourself worrying about him constantly, wondering what he’s doing or if he’s getting proper rest. You’re always thinking about his smile and the sound of his laugh, and you imagine how much sweeter and softer they could get. You want him to be happy, to find his peace, to have something to look forward to. And you want to know what his touch feels and how it’s like to have him close.

You know all this is wrong because of who you are and who he is in this world, especially as you realize that you’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The fear makes itself even more known as it is embodied in the man across from you - so palpable and overwhelming that you can’t help but want more, and the more his eyes bore into you, the closer you are to giving in.

How are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t if you don’t let yourself feel all of it? And if Jungkook makes you feel brave, then what if he’s the person you’re willing to break down your walls for?

You shake your head, knowing you can’t fall into the trap of your own mind. You need to be logical about this, but you also think that you’ve been that way all your life and it hasn’t brought you much happiness. At this point, you question what that looks like.

Maybe it looks like him. Maybe it’s also life without him.

How do people make decisions like this? You wonder. How do they know how much pain they can bear? And when does it become worth it?

“Wise words,” you manage to say after a tense silence. “You make it sound simple.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Chin-sun says. “Human beings are complicated, ___, so are our emotions. Love makes people stupid. But it also makes us brave and happy and complete. And when it’s shared with the right person, god it feels so good.”

You’re able to get her to share about her own experience and remove the spotlight away from you. Manager Lee narrates his serendipitous love story as well, and the serious tone of the conversation turns into a giddy, enjoyable one. You find yourself constantly glancing at Jungkook, liking his soft smiles and giggles as the stories are told. He briefly meets your eyes during some moments though, and that’s when you look away.

The night ends when he announces that everyone should get some rest and prepare for tomorrow’s activities, so you all clean up and wish each other a good night. Your eyes linger on Jungkook as he walks back to his villa, and you turn away before he does the same, the yearning for him getting stronger as each day passes.

The sun shines beautifully over the lake as you lean on the railing overlooking the water. The clouds over the mountains look like the fog that cleared earlier, and the majestic way that the scenery is framed by the blue skies is absolutely stunning.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jungkook hums from several meters next to you. “I never really bothered to appreciate this view before.”

“It is,” you say, turning to him as he continues to gaze at the scene before you while you gaze at him. If he notices from his periphery, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s breathtaking. I could take a picture but that wouldn’t give this justice.”

“I can try,” he says, reaching out to ask for your phone. “I’m good at this.”

You indulge him and watch as he finds the right angle to beautifully capture the surroundings. He asks if you want him to take another photo with you in it this time, and though you’re a little shy, you let him.

You warm at how natural your smile looks, realizing that you were focusing on his smile while he was taking the picture. The view looks surreal but you’re in there, and it’s a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. Jungkook remarks that it’s a nice shot before turning back to the water, and while you wish you were braver and had asked to take one with him so you could hold onto this memory, you know you’ll look at this photo of you and also remember what you’re feeling. There’s so much calm and clarity, and you know it’s not just because of the mountains.

The tension and fear that filled you up last night have slowly turned into a sense of relief. The distance that once bothered you about Jungkook now gives you comfort. No matter how far or unattainable he may be, you still feel his presence - his warmth is in the peacefulness of a park at night, or in the calmness of the lake, or in the safety of your neighborhood library. You never imagined that one Jeon Jungkook would ever make you feel this way, and if he’s someone who makes you be brave to feel something new, maybe you owe it to him and to yourself to be brave to pursue that, too.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Yohan yells that breakfast is ready. You all gather in the common dining room for some dumpling soup before a short planning session to give you time to digest. At 9:30, the first activity begins, with all six of you divided into two teams to finish an obstacle course.

It gets competitive when you’re teamed up with the younger ones, as Do-hyun and Yohan attempt to trash talk the others. They give it their all, especially when they see Jungkook dominating the kayaking part of the course, but the three of you manage in the end. A part of you feels that the other team just wanted to make the younger ones win only to use it against them later on, but the fun and excitement are what matter.

You enjoy some meat and stew for lunch and have another planning session before doing the afternoon games, which has Jungkook on the losing team again. He comes up with a last minute individual game that gives Manager Lee the chance to win this time, and the afternoon ends with all of you, excluding him, winning prizes you can enjoy after this.

The free time before dinner has you reading your book by the lake and then talking with Chin-sun in the hammock while the rest of the team enjoy the sunset and some beer. You’re thankful that this time, Mr. Ri was tasked to handle all the activities instead of you, and so you’re able to focus on spending time with your colleagues.

You grill meat again for dinner, roast marshmallows over the campfire, and passionately sing off-key in the karaoke. But unlike last night, people decide to go to bed early, definitely tired from today’s physical activities.

You’re exhausted as well but somehow, the pull of the cold evening air is too strong, so you decide to walk to the main house and grab a bottle of beer. When you walk out to the deck, you’re surprised to find Jungkook seated on a lounge chair outside of his villa, glass in hand as he looks up at the sky.

Jungkook savors the crisp breeze, knowing that once he gets back to Seoul, all he’ll have is the musty air and the buzzing sounds of the city. He wants to remember this weekend and the peace he felt. Maybe he should’ve taken a photo of the view this morning like he did for you; he at least has the one of you in it that he took ingrained in his mind. You looked so calm and happy; he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face then.

He’s trying to keep as much of today in his memory as he can, knowing how hectic it’s going to be when you all get back. Other than the amount of fun he didn’t expect to have with the team, he enjoyed seeing a different side of you.

You were competitive but encouraging, probably not the most athletic but definitely capable. He could pick out your squeals and laughter and he thought they were sweet and hypnotic, and he appreciated how thoughtful you were during dinner, making sure everyone had enough to eat, especially him. You would catch his attention to ask if his meat is okay or if he’s feeling comfortable; he hated that it all ended so soon. Though he shouldn’t, he wanted more time with you. It’s different being out here than it is in the office or even in his home. Here, he’s unguarded and a lot more free, and he’s able to make more sense of how you affect him; in a way, he’s able to truly feel all that you make him feel.

There’s so much of you in his mind but you’re not around, so he stands up to head to bed already, hoping he’d at least see you in his dreams. But when he turns towards the door, he sees a silhouette in the main house’s deck. And as if the universe is giving him some sign, he finds you there, standing by the post with a beer in hand. You lift the bottle in cheers and he lifts his drink in return, sipping every last drop he could.

He sees you grab another bottle from the outdoor fridge then place it on the coffee table, an invitation to join you that he’s glad you make. He would’ve been too hesitant to make the move, unsure of your willingness to be in his presence.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask as he nears the couch.

He sits next to you, the short distance a little too tempting to close.

“Sort of,” he hums. “And you?”

“Not really. I don’t get much of the outdoors back in my tiny apartment,” you chuckle.

“Fair enough. The weather’s been nice, fortunately. Not like the last time we were out of town, yeah?”

“Yeah, fortunately,” you shyly look at him, not saying more, perhaps unsure if it’s something he’s ready to talk about.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I’ve accepted you having witnessed my extreme moment of weakness. You were patient and understanding even when I was angry and I… I don’t know if I’ve thanked you enough for that.”

“You have, and I understand it all. But Jungkook, what happened at that guest house is not weakness,” you insist. “That’s… dealing with a painful memory.”

“That wasn’t dealing, ___. I was suffering. That's… that’s what happens when someone doesn’t know how to move on from something.”

“Does it happen a lot?” You wonder.

“Well, the nightmares tend to happen when the thunder is really loud,” he says. “Otherwise I just get really anxious, like when it rains, my brain just expects things to get bad.”

“What do you do when it does?”

“I don’t know how I manage, actually,” he answers. “I usually forget and just remember that I wake up dry in my bed. I mean, I’d be sweating but not soaked. I guess that night, I was just too nervous because the rain was so strong, we were on the road. And I was somewhere completely unfamiliar with you. I… I think that made it worse.”

Your silence prompts him to clarify. “I mean, I didn’t want you to see me that way, that’s why it was worse,” he states. “It’s not a side of me I’m proud of. Which is silly thinking about it now because you’ve seen a lot of sides of me that I’m not proud of. All of them, actually.”

“So you’re not proud of the side of you that protected me? That made sure I was safe? That rushed to find me when I was stuck in the rain?” You ask.

“It’s what any decent human being would do,” he dismisses. “Those just probably stand out because I wasn’t exactly one in the beginning.”

“Well, you had Mr. Ri drive me. You’d make me go home early sometimes, too.”

“___, again, that’s what a decent boss should be doing. It’s the bare minimum. You deserve more kindness than you’re receiving. I… I should have been that to you from the start.”

“We’ve moved past that, remember? It’s all okay. I managed, I stayed. And I’m glad I did. I got to learn so much from you,” you assure him. “And you deserve more kindness than you’re receiving, too.”

Jungkook hums. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to freely talk to you about all this - about how he was before and how he’s been recently. And like always, you’re gentle with him. He could only hope you’re as gentle as you are with yourself, something he doesn’t know how to do.

“I… I hope you’ve found ways to cope with all that you went through,” he says, turning away from you in shame. “I… I’m still learning.”

“It’s a process, and it’s not an easy one. No one really tells you how to do it. You kind of just… find your way,” you share. “But just think that the thunder doesn’t last long. It’s going to pass. So maybe when it starts raining, you can do what I did. Just cover your ears to block out the sounds. All we can do sometimes is shield ourselves from it, you know? It would scare us a little less.”

“I don’t even remember how you did it,” he admits. “I felt so out of it that night.”

“But did it help?” You ask.

He nods in response. “I wasn’t alone. I think that was the first time in a long time.”

“When you are, just do what I do,” you say, turning towards him and closing the distance to cover his ears with your hands. “Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly. The hollowness will drown out the sounds until they stop.”

Jungkook’s eyes swim in yours. He can’t tell you that he doubts it’d work without you, since your comforting look and your calm voice are what made him pull through. But still, he knows that imagining you’re there would definitely help.

“Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly,” he repeats, almost like a whisper. “Got it.”

You smile and it’s like a spell for him, as he mindlessly puts his hands over yours and slowly brings them down. He’s so lost in you that he only realizes he’s still holding your hands when you look down, so he immediately pulls away.

“Who taught you how to do that?” He asks, masking his embarrassment.

“My mom,” you answer, shifting back on your seat and looking out at the horizon. “My dad copped out before he knew I existed and she was too heartbroken to ask for him back. It took a while but she eventually found another man. I was pretty young then. He was okay, but then he lost his job and things went downhill from there.”

Jungkook sees the way your face falls and he already knows his heart is going to break for you.

“He would drink a lot and they’d fight all the time. He’d yell and yell, and then yell some more,” you narrate. “Mom would make me hide in the closet or under the bed just so I’d hear less of it. Thunder used to scare me, too; it sounded like his banging on the wall when he’d scream at her but eventually, I realized the roar drowns him out so I welcomed it. But I would just cover my ears and think of happy thoughts like she said. Sometimes she’d come to me and do it like I did with you. I always liked that better.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, wanting to take your hand back and comfort you in any way. “You shouldn’t have experienced that.”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes,” you sigh, having accepted the hand you were dealt. “My mom and I got out and she found someone who loves and respects her. And we just found ways to deal with the pain, you know? We could only bury it for so long. And so covering my ears just became a habit as I grew up. It was a way to battle all that.”

“I’ve seen you do that a few times.”

“It’s like a general coping mechanism of some sort,” you explain. “Sometimes the loud sounds come from inside, too. Thoughts of not being good enough, of being selfish, of not deserving of happiness… I mean, they come from others but they stay in my head. I have to cover my ears to stop them from overwhelming me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking away in shame when you turn to him questioningly. “You did that several times during my first weeks. I know I… I said things that hurt you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was hard for everyone and like I said, I forgive you. But I've been told worse things,” you shake your head. “You’ve heard some of them.”

“You didn’t deserve those either.”

“I know. That’s why I walked away. It’s easy to do that when you don’t give much of yourself to them. And I do it all the time,” you say. “I never really stay.”

“Would you stay if you found the right person?”

You remember a conversation with him months ago, about people being temporary and how they’d only stay if they had a reason to. It’s safe to say that finding the right person would be your reason, but that also makes it harder.

“I probably would,” you respond. “And I think that scares me, too.”

“Why?” He asks.

“What if I would stay for them? But they won’t stay for me?”

Jungkook leaves your question unanswered, knowing there’s nothing he can say that would sufficiently validate your fear nor comfort you about it. His own past relationship doesn’t give him any right - Chaerin left him but he gave her all the reasons to; she walked away and he did the same. Sometimes he wonders if she’d lost him before he lost her. He also doesn’t know if he loved her so much that he let her go, or if he didn’t love her enough to make her stay. Maybe it was neither. Or maybe he was just too scared - that she’d reject him, or that he wouldn’t be able to love her better if he she came back, he doesn’t know. He was never brave enough to find out.

He lets the silence linger, prompting you to remark that the conversation is too sad for a night as pretty as tonight.

“We should probably head to bed, though,” he suggests. “We still have stuff in the morning then a long ride home. I don’t have to remind you how hectic this next week is gonna be.”

“You just did,” you frown, earning you a laugh. “But I agree. Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Your shy smile makes his breath hitch. He wants this to go on for longer but he knows he might just let his guard down even more, maybe share about his other pains and frustrations and worries about life. Maybe he’ll end up moving closer to you, close enough that he’d smell your classic rose scent that makes his mind feel hazy. Maybe he’ll want more, and he reminds himself of all the boundaries he shouldn’t cross, and that crossing them may push you away.

So he says goodnight and you both walk towards your respective villas, looking back one more time before heading inside.

You’re all he thinks about for the rest of the night. His gaze follows you all through the next morning, too. He misses your presence when he leaves for Seoul in his own car, and he’s back to being a giddy mess when you message him, saying you hope he got home safely.

It almost feels like the weekend was a dream and when Monday comes, he has to remind himself that he’s back to reality and that includes how he should be when it comes to you. Those days remain in his memory, but when you enter his apartment that morning with the softest smile, and when you meet his eyes as you fix his necktie, he knows it wasn’t a dream. And that somehow, just like him, you wish it didn’t have to end.

It’s been over a week since the team building and you haven’t really moved on from all that happened during those three days. There was the joy of being with your colleagues and the companionship you felt thankful to have. There was also the tranquility of the lake and the refreshing environment that rejuvenated you, making you wish you were back there, especially as you sort through the printed photos from your disposable camera and see the pretty views that you already miss.

There’s that photo you took of Jungkook by the stream that you’ve been staring at, another reason why you want to go back to that time. His eyes are warm and his smile is soft and subtle, unforced and just as captivating. It’s quite calming, and it’s the image that you hold onto later that Thursday evening when you’re piled under loads of paperwork. It’s past 6PM but you can’t afford to leave yet, and the only good thing about it is that he’s still around, and you get to sneak in some glances through the window.

You’ve become that person, smitten by her attractive boss and definitely stupid enough to be overwhelmed by her emotions. You haven’t stopped thinking about him. Everyday that you enter his space, the desire to know him more gets stronger; with every common place you step into, you keep wishing he’d ask you to stay close, that he’d invite you to somewhere reserved for those he lets in. Every time your fingers brush, you’re reminded of the way his hands felt on top of yours and how you wanted him to keep them there, and every look you share makes you hope that you’re not the only one in this mess of emotions. And that if you’ll give in, so would he.

You’re not quite sure what he feels, but if his shy smiles and the way he intensely looks at you before looking away mean anything, then you could at least say that there’s definitely something there. You just don’t know if he would acknowledge it or if like you, it’s gotten too strong that you’re unable to think clearly or act rationally.

Finally done with the last item on your task list for today, you start to pack up. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits from his room to return a portfolio he took earlier and place it on your desk. You’re about to pick it up but he says you should just leave it there and fix it tomorrow.

But you disregard him. You retrieve the stool and attempt to return the portfolio on the top shelf. It’s a little heavy but you manage; you even start fixing the others that moved because Jungkook’s been getting them these past days. You’re about to step down when you hear his heavy sigh.

“I told you to do that tomorrow,” he groans, walking towards you.

With your back turned, you reply, “I like starting my days with a tidy desk, okay?”

“It’s just one portfolio,” he points out.

“It still takes up so much space. It makes my table look messy.”

“You still could’ve waited. Or you could’ve asked me to help,” he insists, continuing to reprimand you as you try to step down the stool.

He’s a little close, blocking your view of the floor, and that’s why you miss a step and trip again, your squeal echoing throughout the empty floor. You think your heart racing is about to join in on the sounds, too, as it quickens when you realize that Jungkook has caught you by your waist, his tight grip on you sending shivers down your spine.

He’s gotten even closer, as you look up and find his scrunched eyebrows and worried eyes staring back at you. The tension starts to rise but you manage to tell him that you’re fine after he asks if you’re hurt.

“I’m sure,” you tell him. “You caught my fall. Again.”

You giggle and that’s what makes him let out a laugh as well. Your left hand holds onto the shelf but his hands remain on you. He’s still a breath away but you suddenly don’t mind, as your right hand mindlessly makes its way to rest on his arm. At this moment, this feels right. You’re all alone in your little bubble with him where you’re all he sees and he’s all you can breathe in.

His bergamot scent wafts through your nose. You can count his eyelashes and see the scar on his cheek that you never noticed. He’s even more breathtaking up close, and as if all reason evaporates from your body, you don’t pull away. You want him just like this.

On second thought, you want him even closer.

“You’re a clumsy woman, aren’t you?” He says, his voice low and deep. “This isn’t the first time that I’m breaking your fall.”

“Well, if you would just be quiet while I’m attempting to go down, then that wouldn’t be a problem,” you breathily giggle, inching the tiniest bit forward.

“Well, if you just listened to me the first time, then you wouldn't have to climb up there,” he responds, earning him a playful roll of your eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, too.”

“So I’ve heard,” you match his teasing. “Can't help it sometimes.”

“So you acknowledge it?” He raises an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say much more nervously now, meeting his eyes. It’s like you’re hypnotized again, caught in some spell where being in his presence makes you honest and uninhibited. “I mean, I feel things I shouldn’t feel and want people I shouldn’t want,” you add. “Doesn’t that make me stubborn?”

“What’s stopping you from feeling them? From having them?” He asks, his voice remaining low and his eyes, even more piercing and desperate now as they stare back at you.

His thumbs lightly caress your waist and his touch electrifies you through the thin material of your blouse. There’s so much to say and it’s way more complicated, just as your feelings for him are. You can’t help but eye his lips, soft and pink, and the desire to know what they taste like intensifies, prompting you to nibble your own.

“What’s stopping me?” You pant now, your gaze flitting from his eyes back to his lips, with him doing the same. “The ways of the world. And some… boundary that pulls me back, a line that I don’t know he’s ready to cross for me.”

The words actualize your fears the moment you say them. You know all the reasons why wanting him is wrong. But there’s a small part of you that wants to give in, and it’s terrified that he wouldn’t, that he’d dismiss what you feel and pull away. The way he’s been with you and the way he’s holding you right now spark that sliver of hope you have that he feels the same way, but it’s also the same moment that he lets you go, perhaps realizing that he’s not willing to take the risk the way you are.

He releases you from his hold and steps back, creating distance, and you suddenly feel bare - exposed and unguarded without his touch. He looks at you in panic, in apology, in fear, as if he’d had some sense knocked into him, as if he awakened from some spell that pushed him close to you, only to realize that that’s a place he can’t go.

“I—”

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 year ago

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OMG I need pregnant reader x bat boys

That first one was so good thank you for that!! 🩷🩷

Pregnant Reader x Bat Boys (drabble)

This is part 2 to You Want A Baby?

AN: Ahh this was so highly requested I'm sorry it took so long. Also i've never really done a drabble and this is defiantly too long but I wanted to feed y'all as best I could.

Warnings: Pregnancy (duh), child birth, talks of sex?, not proof read (sry after writing Young Love Old Money 5 last night my hands hurt)

Of course your mates got you pregnant on the first try. They were the three most powerful males in the Night Court.

The day you found out was like any other, you were quietly reading while Cassian and Azriel were in Windhaven and Rhys was busy doing paperwork.

The sickness had been building all day and at finally come to it's precipice.

After about an hour of throwing up you went to see Madja who confirmed you were indeed pregnant.

You wanted to run home and tell Rhys right away but it didn't seem fair to your other two mates

So you warded yourself to keep your scent hidden and waited till Azriel and Cassian got home.

You sat on the edge of the bed the waiting for the boys to come to bed, clad in nothing but my black silk nightgown (this one was a present from Rhys)

The boys stalked in and the picture of me sitting innocently on our shared bed had them taking their shirts off.

It wasn't uncommon for you all to release built up tension after a long hard day, especially when the boys had to deal with Devlon.

"Wait there's something I wanna show you first," you smile standing up.

"Something you want to show us?" Rhys laughed knowing that when it came to the bedroom it was often the other way around.

You couldn't keep from smirking as you let the ward around me drop, my scent filling the room.

They inhaled long and slow before their eyes snapped open.

"You're?" Azriel asked.

"Pregnant," you smile watching as a million emotions float across their faces.

A beat of silence passes and then...

"WOOO HOOO!" Cassian roared. "We did it brothers!" he boasted clapping each of them on the back.

All of them came over to me to give me sniff, as if your new scent was addicting. You had to crane your neck up to meet all their happy faces.

"How far along are you?" Rhys asked caressing my face.

"Not very, only 6 weeks," you. smile feeling their warm hands roam my body.

"Well you certainly smell good," Azriel smiles burying his nose in my hair.

"Really?" you ask.

"YES," they all said in unison.

Cassian's hands find the hem of the night gown and start to lift it up peering underneath curiously.

"Cassain if you even think about putting your dick anywhere near her right now I will fucking kill you," Rhys growls.

"I'm not I'm trying to see if she's showing yet," Cassian said, eyes squinting.

"Cass it's too early for her to be showing," Azriel laughed at his brothers antics.

"Well she defiantly is, take a look." Cassian smiled pulling me flush to him and lifting my nightgown more so his brothers could see.

Rhys and Azriel squinted their eyes, clearly trying to see what wasn't there as Cass slid a hand over my belly.

"Cassian darling I think that's just my dinner," you laugh.

"speaking of dinner did you eat enough?" Rhys asked.

and so it began.

Ever since the boys had found out all chaos had erupted.

At first they wanted you to stay in the townhouse at all times. Literally locking you up and throwing away the key

That idea took you a long time to talk them out of but eventually you did.

Then came Rhys arguing that you needed at least 5 wards. Which Cassian and Azriel objected to as they wanted full access to you AND the baby.

Evetually you all settled on one ward. Strong enough to keep threats at bay, but weak enough so Cass and Az could touch you and your bump whenever they liked.

Speaking of bump, Cassian was determined to do a bump update everyday.

The man was DYING to see you with a bump.

"You think the baby will have wings?" you asked innocently while we all laid in bed.

Every night it was a fight for who got to sleep next to you as you unfortunately had an odd number of mates.

"Of course it'll have wings, look at it's fathers," Azriel smirked rubbing a hand over your belly.

"I don't know I wasn't in my Illyrian form when it was conceived," Rhysand states, his words reverberation through me from where my head was perched on his chest.

"Pfft please, I already told you it's mine," Cassian boasted from behind Rhys, clearly being an instigator since he wasn't getting to sleep next to me tonight.

"Cassian," Azriel warns.

"I know , I know. We don't care who got her knocked up just so long as she IS knocked up," Cassian smirks.

"Okay but what if the baby doesn't have wings?" I ask once more.

"Then we'll fuck another one into you until you have one that does," Rhys smiled pressing a kiss to my brow

"Oh we're putting another one in her either way. I want a whole litter of children." Cassian divuldged.

"You want that princess?" Azriel asked rubbing lazy circles over my barley there bump.

"Yeah I think I do." I smile.

The boys were territorial when you were barley showing, but the second the numerous dresses Rhys bought you couldn't cover the bump that's when things got scary.

The shadows. The fucking shadows

They were fucking everywhere.

Azriel had been freaking out ever since your guys walk the other day.

You had been taking in the fresh air of spring when a unknowing passerby slammed into you nearly knocking you over.

"WATCH IT!" Azriel screamed in his face his grip on the mans shirt like a vice.

The poor shopkeeper just about wet himself before running off.

"Now was that really necessary?" you asked, crumbs falling out of your mouth from the 3rd chocolate croissant you had eaten that day.

"He nearly knocked down my pregnant mate, he's lucky I let him off with a warning," Azriel murmured clearly still pissed.

"You Illyrian babies," I roll my eyes finsishing off the croissant.

Azriel just sighed and dug his hand into the paper sack to pull out my 4th pastry.

Ever since then his shadows seemed to follow you everywhere.

If you dropped something? The shadows would pick it up.

If you had troubles walking? there was always a dark mass helping you to the bathroom for the 10th time that day.

Every time the baby kicked? The shadows swirled around you to make sure you were okay.

And boy did that baby kick...

Cassian was the first to feel it.

It was a rainy night at home, Cassian was sleeping next to your belly whispering sweet nothings to it when it happened. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and you nearly did too from the pain.

"Ahh!" you hissed in pain.

"Darling what is it? Are you hurt?" Rhys fussed, leaving his desk to be there in an instant.

"What did you do?" Azriel growled at Cassian who was still staring wide eyed at your bump.

"I'm fine he didn't do anything. The baby is just kicking." I grit out feeling another thump.

I blindly reach out and grab one of my mates hands and press it to my stomach.

I watched as the scarred hand flinched at the kick.

"Oh my god I can feel it," Azriel beamed, his eyes glassing over.

"Move I want to feel," Rhys ordered

Azriel was too hypotized to care.

"I am your High Lord, move" Rhys ordered once more and I swear the room shook.

"I'm getting kinda tired of that phrase too aren't you Cass?" Azriel rolled his eyes.

"Yeah she's our mate too," cassian grumbled.

They spent the night taking turns getting to feel the baby which became a nightly occurrence.

Out of all your mates Rhys was the most doting. He had an entire wing built onto the townhouse for the baby.

He even used his magic to enchant the ceiling of the nursery to look like the night sky so it would be starfall in there every night.

Rhys didn't like to admit it, but he loved baby shopping with you.

"Oh Rhys look at this one can we get it?" you smile holding up a little onesie.

"Yes darling of course," he chuckled in amusement, he had probably heard that phrase a million times.

Your eyes scanned the shop of onesies and cribs, you already nearly everything in the store. But the shop owner always made sure to let you know when there was a new shipment as she knew Rhys would buy his pregnant mate just about anything she asked for.

"Oh my god Rhys please the baby is going to need this," I shout holding up the bat plushy. "Please, please, please, pleaseeeee"

Rhys laughs walking over to me to take my hands in his.

"Darling how many times do I have to tell you? You can have whatever you want." he smiles placing a hand on my bump and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Fae labor was no joke, there wasn't a single aspect that didn't hurt like hell.

Rhys didn't send Cassian or Azriel away on any missions in the weeks leading up to your due date so they could be there.

Your water broke when you were standing in the kitchen reaching for a glass on the top shelf.

The scream you let out is enough to have Cassian running in from the other room.

"What is it princess? Are you okay?" He asked kneeling down to where I sat on the floor.

"The baby is coming," I winced through the pain, taking Cassian's hand in mine and squeezing with all my might.

That was the good thing about having big, strong Illyrian's as mates. They were fucking durable.

"oh shit," Cassain murmered his eyes searching for some kind of answer of what to do. "RHYS! AZRIEL! THE BABY IS COMING!"

My other two mates winnowed there are lighting speed from where ever they were in the house.

It wasn't long until Rhys had me in his arms winnowing us all to Madja.

"Help her please," he pleaded, my cries of pain clearly affecting him.

Madja had Rhys bring me into the birthing suite and lay me down. I could see the worry on all my mates eyes as they watched me write in pain, sweat grazing my brow.

"How can we help?" Azriel pleaded.

"You can't, you must leave us to work," she said referring to the other healers already pressing cold towels to my face.

"Over my dead body do I leave her side right now," Cassian grumbled.

"Do you want her to die? You'll only be in the way general. Use your head." she argued ushering them out and locking the doors.

The hours in between the closing of the doors and finally giving birth were brutal, not only for yo but for your mates.

They sat outside the door and listened to your screams the entire time.

Azriel nearly ripped his hair out from the sounds of them.

They nearly jumped to their feet at the sound of a baby crying from inside.

But then they heard you a screaming again.

Any happiness died out.

After a few minutes they heard the baby crying again and your screams stopped.

15 minutes later Madja came out holding not one but two small bundles in her arms.

"congratulations, you are the proud fathers of two healthy baby boys," she beamed.

Twins

Rhys and Cassian took the twin boys in their arms, as Azriel was too scared to touch them at first.

"They have wings," Cassian beamed running his hand over the tiny wings.

"Is she?" Rhys asked Madja.

"The mother is perfectly healthy. She needs to nurse the babies, but she insisted that I bring them to you first." Madja smiled.

"can we see her?" Azriel asked.

"Of course you can," Madja said.

The boys carried the twin babies in to see you once more.

You reached out your hands for the one in Rhys arms, the oldest, by a few minutes. He gave him to you and thankfully he latched right away.

"You did so well mate," Azriel said placing a kiss on your forehead.

"How did you boys manage to put twins in me on the first try?" You rasped out, voice still horse.

"If you recall it was no small feat," Cassain smiled.

After feeding them both you slept soundly.

While Cassain and Rhys might've been the first to hold your sons, Azriel was the first one to fall asleep with them. One in each arm.

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139, @eerievixen, @why4anne, @loglady00, @heartless-tate, @callsigns-haze, @fxckmiup, @highladyivy, @highladyivy

Permanent taglist: @fides25

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crowliphale · 19 days ago

Text

Shadow Gid AU Stuff!

Info for my AU!! I might update this post in the future, so keep a look out!!

Gideon dies by successfully sacrificing himself to save Kremy's life, resulting in some kind of explosion. This leaves cool scorch marks on Kremy's arms and tail

Kremy goes catatonic for three months just crying and trying to find ways to bring Gid back, simultaneously blaming himself for Gid's death and isolating himself from everyone around him. No one really blames him for this but they ARE incredibly concerned.

Gideon comes back (as a shadow) roughly a week after dying. Kremy doesn't believe it and thinks it's his own shadow playing tricks on him. Gid convinces him he's real! It does almost nothing to soothe Kremy's mourning

(Adding a read more so it doesn't clog any tags)

(During that aforementioned week, Gideon's soul was pretty much trapped in limbo, with the Baron or whatever god trying to convince him he could wait for Kremy in the afterlife. Gideon simply kept refusing until they got sick of him and sent him back as Kremy's shadow.)

Kremy pleads with the Baron twice before Gideon gives it a shot. The first time was almost immediately after Gid's death, and Kremy could barely form a coherent thought through his violent sobs. The second time he was much calmer, but he kept taking a completely emotional "I can't live without him" approach. Gideon argues he has a contract with Kremy that he has to be alive to fulfill. The Baron gives Kremy the ability to summon Gideon after this.

Initially Kremy has to focus really hard to hold concentration, but it quickly becomes second nature. He gets a dedicated item to help him do this a couple months in, and on the anniversary of Gid's death they get enchanted rings! (Ofc they hold a little impromptu wedding about this) Gideon can now stay corporeal and go anywhere he wants as long as they both have their rings on.

Other notes:

- Kremy no longer has control of his own shadow, it's gone forever and replaced by Gid. When Gid is corporeal, Kremy HAS a shadow, but it's just a normal shadow with no special abilities

- before they get the rings, if either of them are knocked out, Gideon goes back to being a shadow. If Gideon is the one to get knocked out, he has a cool down period before he returns as a shadow again. Kremy is always terrified when this happens.

- Kremy and Gideon now have some kind of vague telepathic link. Its up to viewer interpretation whether this link lets them speak telepathically or not, but at the very least they can sense one another from a distance, and Kremy can clearly communicate with Gid even in his shadow form

- once they get the rings, either of them can remove it to turn Gid back into a shadow. Kremy almost always reserves this for emergencies where Gideon may be in danger, but Gid sometimes uses it as a way to practically teleport to Kremy (as a shadow he still has the proximity limit)

- there ARE a couple cases where Kremy feels petty enough to turn Gideon into a shadow mid-argument. Because he's Kremy. It genuinely only happens one or two times tho, Gid's autonomy is important to him

- Gideon has to do charades to talk to anyone outside of Kremy when he's in his shadow form

- Kremy and Gideon get VERY unhealthily attached after this whole debacle. They get physically uncomfortable if they aren't in the same room as one another. This eventually gets more lax, but not by a lot (they'll likely insist on being in the same building together for the rest of their lives)

- During Kremy's mourning period, he often forgets to eat, sleeps a lot, and puts pretty much NO effort into taking care of himself. As a result, Gideon forms a lot of habits where he fusses over Kremy's health and appearance. These habits carry over even once Kremy's healthy again, and Kremy lets him be as fussy as he wants.

- when Gideon becomes corporeal again, he comes back with green/purple flames rather than his usual red/orange. This change is permanent

(Once again, this post might be updated over time as details get added! Keep an eye out! Also, reblogs are turned off so older versions of this post don't get spread around, but comments are welcome and appreciated!!)

#// shadow gid au #kremy lecroux #gideon coal #coalecroux #AU #alternate universe #my au #ouaw #once upon a witchlight #ouaw kremy #ouaw gideon #temporary character death #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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winterzsurprise · 1 month ago

Text

Change My Mind [9]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.4k

HAPPY BORA MONTH EVERYONE OUR BOYS ARE COMING HOMEEEEEE

to keep the updates somewhat stable, I'll be only posting on wednesdays KST (pretend that its still wednesday, I got caught up playing grow a garden lmao)

Sorry for the late update, our capstone mobile project got scrapped mid production and we now have one month to finish it (damn u prof), with the addition of creating an e-commerce app for a diff subject. So yeah fun :D! (im about to curse them down to their grandchildren)

n e ways, here's the update. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you all for your patience and support!

Maybe it was a mistake cracking your eyes open and making space in your already minimal cubicle room but could anyone blame you for doing so when you’ve got a pouting Jimin and the ringing absence of his body heat against your skin had overcome your better judgment?

“Noona, can I bunk with you?”

It was a simple request, you could’ve said no and Jimin would’ve returned to his seat to sleep alone. But seeing him, with his hair mused from the tossing and churning he must’ve done earlier in his bed, matched with his pouty lips and barely open eyes, you couldn’t dare say no to his face.

Moving aside and inviting him without hesitation was something you never thought you'd ever do in your life—at least while sober.

Scared of crossing boundaries with your best friends, you had stopped yourself from entertaining anything past what you deemed is platonic and acceptable.

Sure there were times you’d let the maknaes snuggle up next to you but other than the few times you had let them do so after they had grown past their teenage years, cuddling had become rare once they were adults.

Maybe it was because you had spent weeks sleeping next to Jimin during the times you had to stabilize the bond but it felt odd not sensing someone else’s body heat next to you, or having the mattress dip from someone’s weight—Jimin’s weight specifically.

Somewhere, sometime during the nights you had Jimin next to you, he had become a beacon of protection and safety. In the short time you were alone in your cubicle, you had found yourself missing his presence and the soft glowing pulse of your soulmark near you. His absence rang and resonated loudly in the quietness of the flight.

You had comforted yourself earlier, reassuring your own longing heart that you’ll get to sleep next to Jimin again once you’re both off the airplane yet.

But the heart is fickle and not easily convinced once it begins to want and yearn.

To be able to welcome Jimin into your bed without going through multiple pages of pros and cons to letting your friends momentarily cross the line, the old you would’ve had an aneurysm and you excuse it as one of your (probably) sleepy mistakes.

“Close the blinds so the stewardess won’t see us and scold us for… bunking together.”

“Just say sleeping together, noona.” He giggled. “It means the same thing, right?”

You said nothing, only moving to make space for him.

Slipping inside the already small space, he closed the slides behind him and laid next to you. Automatically, his hand seeked yours in the dark and pulled it close to his nose, making goosebumps prick your skin as his hot exhales breathed warmth and lit up the golden swirls of your soulmark into your body.

It bloomed elegantly from your palms to your knuckles before eventually fading somewhere mid-forearm. They glowed a soft golden light, a stark brightness in the darkness of your cubicle but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bothered by its llight. In fact, it had begun to instill a degree of comfort whenever it gleamed behind your closed lids.

Your heartbeat then began to drum in your chest, the loud thuds resonating through every bone in your limb, rendering you weak under the cold relieving effects of your soulmark.

“Didn’t mean to bother your sleep,” Jimin had murmured softly. “I just… It felt weird not being able to sleep next to you.”

Maybe it was the sleepiness from travelling at midnight that made you put your guard down. After a socially exhausting day of having to lie to a thousand people and dealing with worried friends, you dare to let yourself enjoy the presence of your soulmate without the ugliness of insecurity.

“Me too,” you whispered. “I missed you, Jimin.”

It felt so odd letting such a sentiment slip past your lips yet it felt so right uttering his name next to it.

He giggled and it sounded like the chimes of the sweetest of bells as a large, embarrassed smile cracks through his sleepy expression. Shy, he hid his face into the back of your hand.

“Did you really?” He asked through his giddiness. “You missed me?

“I missed you, Jiminie.” You repeated.

His giggles multiplied and with it, the radiating comfort from where you’re both connected growing warmer and brighter.

“How am I supposed to sleep after hearing that? Noona, I think my heart might explode from how fast it's going.”

Jimin then brought your hand to his chest and pressed it against his rib. Feeling his heart race under your palm, you wondered how he hasn’t exploded from how concerningly quick it’s going.

“The other guys are going to be so jealous. I’m so excited to brag about it.”

“You’re going to tell them?” You asked, curious.

“Rarely do I get anything to brag about. I also wouldn’t miss the chance to hold it over Jin and Jungkook’s head.”

How is it that something you usually regard as a red flag could pale when it comes to your best friends? Telling other people of your business should’ve made you frown yet you found yourself uncaring of the fact. They’re all your soulmates anyways, you mentally shrugged.

Closing your eyes, you prepare yourself to welcome the serenity of sleep, thinking Jimin had fallen asleep already in the short time you were reflecting on your reaction to hearing they share tales with each other about you.

To your surprise, Jimin spoke again.

“Noona, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“You can say no and not tell me but,” He took a tentative pause. “I just… kept wondering why you feel so undeserving of us.”

After you had fallen asleep after Hoseok’s celebratory dinner, Jimin had sneaked away to tell the others of what you think of the soulmate bond. He had briefly and very vaguely told you what they had talked about the next morning, saying it was just a simple discussion on how they'll proceed with you and left it at that.

And as much as it was frustrating being left in the dark, you knew deep inside to not pry for more information knowing it might become fuel for the bald headed demon of insecurity.

“Don't you already know?”

“I might but I'd like to hear it from you personally.”

You debated on telling him, scared to hear your own faults be spoken out loud in the small space of your cubicle. For a moment, you thought to ignore his question and to talk about the interviews they had lined up on days they were to rest in between shows but don’t they deserve to hear it straight from you?

“I feel bad because not only did I reject some of you, I also talked about my other relationships and my search for a husband with you all. I ignored your feelings for a semblance of normalcy, especially Jin’s, although he'd argue that I didn't know. I still think I should be crucified for that. All I wanted was the closeness we all had before feelings got involved but it only got more twisted.”

Hearing you say it out loud made your sins sound more evil than it should be. It echoed in the silence left by your reply. Your words bounced off the walls, seeming to gain more volume the more it reverberated, sounding more taunting and mocking as it went.

Then all of a sudden, the cold relief that flowed under the swirls on your arms grew hotter as if lava had replaced them. It stinged like dislike and burned like disgust. Panicking, you pulled your hand away but Jimin was faster, tightening his hold around your wrist.

“Noona—”

“I swear I'll try and make it all up to you somehow. It's gonna take a little bit of time but—”

“Listen to me, noo—”

“Please, I don’t

Jimin pressed a finger to your lips and shushed you.

“You don't owe us anything, noona. Don't force yourself to reciprocate our feelings or our efforts preparing for our dates will end up being useless.” He laughed. “But seriously, let yourself feel whatever you want to feel because at the end of the day, we're all connected anyways.”

Your frown deepens and your stomach hollows itself up. It is not how it should be. Soulmate or not, they should make you work for their forgiveness, especially with Jin and Jungkook but instead the two of them had easily waved off your mistakes as if they never existed in the first place.

Normally, you’d have your partner atone after they hurt you, right?

“Why are you guys so accepting? Don't you think that I should redeem myself first? Don’t you at least resent me a little for what I did?”

Being one of their closest friends in and outside work for five years, you were introduced early on to them in their lowest, their ugliest, and them in their happiest. They could forgive betrayals and bullying but they would never forget the names and the faces of those who discredited and snubbed them.

So for those same men to easily shrug off your sins as easily as breathing, you couldn’t help but feel unworthy of their kindness.

“It's such a cliche answer and I know you’ll kill me for saying it but it's because we like you.” You opened your mouth to refute but he shook his head and continued. “I know. I can't believe that I'm saying this too. You know how we roll but ever since the marks manifested, I just… everything doesn't matter anymore now that I'm tethered to you. Because the moment Healing Touch manifested, a new chapter has started.”

Hearing the confusion and reluctance in your silence, Jimin opened his arms for a hug and you surprised yourself with how fast you had leaned in.

“Noona, you know what I realized while we were adjusting to the bond? Love is as powerful as the movies portrayed it to be and it's scary how it can change a person.” He paused, as if he’s mulling over an idea at the tip of his tongue. “Sure, if you really want to and if it makes you feel better, you can ‘make up’ for us but don’t tear yourself down in doing so. Healing Touch could fix anything but I doubt it's powerful enough to revive an exhausted mind.”

Between the effects of the soulmark growing stronger with you both cuddling up to each other and being engulfed in the soft scent of his peach cologne and the subtle fruity scent of his conditioner, drowsiness easily finds its way to you.

Experiencing the same drowsiness brought by the calmness from the soulmark, Jimin yawns.

“Does that answer your question, noona?”

“Yes,” You say, the exhaustion of today finally overcoming your own will to stay awake. “Thank you Jimin.”

“Good night noona, I hope you dream of the sweetest dreams.”

“I hope you do too.”

_______

“Okay so, how about this one?” Taehyung enthusiastically began, showing his screen to you. “Do you and hyung share any existing scars?”

“I don't think so? If we had, the scar on my knee would be reflected on him but there's none.”

His excitement mellows down as he scrolls through the catalog of body-altering soulmate marks.

After waking up in time for brunch, Taehyung hadn't stopped his search for the right soulmark for you and Hobi. His experimentations ranged from observing your shadow by having you hold your arm above the table to see if your shadow could reflect Hoseok's movements back home, to making you meditate and imagine switching bodies with Hoseok, and lastly, pinching yourself to see if their hyung could feel the sting from wherever you currently guys are.

Despite having their own seats to occupy on either side of you, the two men had naturally gravitated to your space and squeezed themselves into the footrest in front of your reclined chair before Taehyung eventually decided he wasn’t close enough and squeezed himself in the small space next to you while Jimin continued to occupy the footrest, taking your legs to rest on top of his thighs to idly pressed his thumbs on your calves.

You and Jimin luckily woke up before the attendants had made their rounds for breakfast.

He was sulking when he left your cubicle with his sleep-mussed hair and jutted out bottom lip while carrying the pillow he brought. Seeing him trudge towards his seat—which is directly to your right as you’ve been placed in the middle—reminded you of a sad, wet pup whose day has been ruined by the sudden downpour of rain.

Breakfast came ten minutes and once the plates were collected, Taehyung had practically bounced from his cubicle to yours with Jimin following soon after, acting casually as if you both weren't cuddling each other barely an hour ago.

It was always odd cuddling up to Jimin with the context of being soulmates. It was awkward and embarrassing whenever you woke up to his arms wrapped tight around your waist and his breath on your skin. The irrational, overly-conscious part of you yelled at you to wake him up and tell him to return to his cubicle yet the more deprived within you demanded you stay silent.

And for the first time with a sober mind, you decided to stay silent.

What can you do against a heart that began to yearn for someone's warmth?

“How long before we land?” Taehyung asked, breaking you out of your trance.

“Three hours or less, why?” Jimin responded.

Tae pursed his lips. “I'm just thinking about something…”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what does that ‘something’ entails?”

“It'll ruin the surprise if I tell you.”

The cheeky grin brightening Taehyung's face was enough to let you know that he's planning something devious and you shared a worried look with Jimin.

Not noticing the shared look, the younger boy continued. “Management agreed to let us drive on our own right? I'd like to take a detour to Walmart before we arrive at our hotel.”

Jimin made a face.

“How about no?”

“Guys, I promise on my necktie collection, I think I've finally figured out what soulmark noona and Hoba got.”

Before you could push him for more information, your mother’s message popped up on your screen and you turned your attention to it.

[Today, 10:23] [10:23] Mom: Have you guys arrived in the states yet? [10:23] You: not yet [10:23] Mom: Always be careful when walking around with those two boys, people can get a little bit crazy even if they know you as their make up artist [10:23] You: dont worry too much, im strong enough to handle them💪💪 [10:23] Mom: Strong my foot, you can barely book a doctor's appointment without me [10:23] Mom: Anyways, the reason why I messaged you was because I had a talk with Guwon’s aunt and found out you used to go to the same high school as him [10:24] Mom: Our town really small is for the two of you to be in the same school before [10:24] You: really? I dont think I remember seeing him at all. Did she tell you which batch he was from? [10:24] You: also im shocked she didn't ignore you after guwon and I ended things on a bad note [10:24] Mom: She said she's not fond of the boy, saying he gives her goosebumps. [10:24] Mom: I honestly don't get why, that boy seems nice [10:24] Mom: But that glistening peach face of his became a squid to me when he said all those things to you [10:25] Mom: However, I won’t deny how kind he was to us before. Did I tell you that he had climbed our trees to pick us fruits after I introduced him to you? [10:25] Mom: Also she didn't tell me what section he was from, only that you used to go to the same school [10:25] You: maybe I'll take a look at the yearbook when I visit [10:25] Mom: Alright. Don't forget to buy me those biscuits you bought me last time, okay? Me and your dad loved those [10:26] Mom: Say hello to the twins for me and your dad😄 [10:26] Mom: Stay safe, alright? [10:26] You: always, I love youu😘 [10:26] Mom: Stay safe and come visit soon with your nexus alright?

Double tapping on her message and sending a quick reply to her, you then notice the obvious interest the boy beside you has over your conversation.

“You used to be schoolmates with Guwon?” Taehyung asks, his eyes shamelessly connecting with yours as if he wasn’t reading your messages not a second ago. “Was your town really that small?”

“Yeah but the thing is, I couldn't remember him. If his stories were anything to go by, he was his batch’s president from start to finish. I was the vice representative of my class so I would've attended council meetings with every class rep from every junior and senior high section. ”

“Wait, how are you schoolmates with Guwon when he's five years older than you?” Jimin chimed in, confused.

“Our town was so small they put elementary, middle school and high school in one place.”

It was to cut costs, the municipal mayor had reasoned. Having all the grade levels in one place not only saved space but also meant the small number of teachers from your town could cycle through the classes from different grade levels in one place, cutting off the time allotted to walking from one school building from one part of the town to another.

Jimin furrowed his eyebrows as he processed the words and grimaced but before he could say his piece, Tae spoke.

“I don't want to hear anything about a shit stain like Guwon anymore. Past is past so let's focus on the future, are we all in agreement? Yes or yes?”

With no one going against his wishes, he smiles and shows you his screen once more.

“Now that's done, I found another one! Hear me out on this, noona—”

_______

Despite Jimin’s best attempts to take the car key from Taehyung, who had practically tackled the guy handing it off to them, the fate of your hair is unfortunately now in the hands of the boxy-smiled boy who swore his plans would never hurt you; not even a sting, he had promised and crossed his heart too.

Never had you thought that approaching a vehicle could feel so daunting now with Taehyung as the driver. You expected this for Namjoon and maybe Jungkook and Hobi but never the rest.

“Stop looking like you guys are walking towards your inevitable death, I swear that what I have in mind is far from harmful.” Taehyung reassures as he tugged along your luggage with his before stopping in front of the trunk to open and load your baggage in. “Besides, I've checked with Joo hyung and he said that he's been planning to bleach Hobi’s hair at some point anyways.”

You broke the speed of light with how fast you spun around.

“We’re going to bleach my hair?!”

Taehyung nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! I’ve been asking our hair stylists’ for permission these past few weeks and they finally gave me the green light earlier!”

“Hobi and the others must be on their way to the airport right now, should we really risk bleaching noona’s hair and in turn, change his hair in public?” Jimin asks, trying to deter the boxy-smiled boy.

Taehyung hummed thoughtfully as he finally lodged the final bag into the truck.

“I know it'll be bad but it'll be so funny.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean imagine, they'll be leaving early in the morning, Hobi would still be sleepy and as he heads into immigration wanting nothing but to board the plane and finally sleep, his hair color changes and he's suddenly being pulled to the side for questioning which forces him to stay awake a little longer.”

Jimin blankly stares at him for a while, as if his mind is recreating the scene in his head before a small giggle escapes him.

“...Ok, I won’t lie. It’s kinda funny.”

“Right? So, is my dear Jiminie going to help me with my plan?”

“We’ll be sentenced to months long dish washing and house sweeping chores.”

“I know but don’t you want to get back at Hoba for putting us through hellish dance routines?” Taehyung knew what words to use. Years of being friends with Jimin had given him the PhD to understand what stokes his twin’s interests.

You see the shift in Jimin’s opinions as soon as Taehyung said that. You saw it in the way a mischievous light found its way into his eyes and the subtle quirk in the corner of his mouth.

Despite knowing the consequences of their actions, Bangtan's maknaes will always be maknaes. They wouldn't miss the chance of getting back at their Hobi hyung who had made them dance till the soles of their feet melted away from the friction.

Soon enough, you find yourself standing behind the twins under the broken overhead light in the haircare aisle at Walmart after a quick drive-thru—which Jimin had begrudgingly ordered your food despite Taehyung being the driver.

It was a wonder how nobody had figured who they were when they're giggling loudly like devious kids at the hair care section. You had been nervously looking over your shoulders to make sure no one who could recognize them was near as they whispered mischievously to each other.

There’s a woman at the far end of the aisle who’s busy comparing two conditioners and a busy mother with two fussy children trailing behind her going down the aisle. Focusing on the former, you swept over her sling bag for any keyrings and badges that might indicate her being an AMRY and when you found none, you turned your attention back to your soulmates.

Being in public with worldwide superstars is going to turn your hair white.

Should you start mastering SFX makeup to change their appearances?

TUG!

You looked down at the string on your pinky to see it half tangible with a soft glow of red. Wrapping your fingers around it, Yoongi's concern bleeds into you.

‘Okay?’

‘Nervous.’

It was odd how you could feel his eyebrow raise from so far in the temporary absence of his reply.

‘Why?’

‘Twins. Mischief.’

The string thrummed a low tune as if to replicate the sigh he must've let out from hearing it.

‘Good luck.’

Turning your attention to the twins, you find them now debating on what brand is best with Jimin reading reviews out from his phone and Taehyung insisting he had seen people use the dye in his hand more therefore is much better.

‘How are you?’

‘Preparing. Jungkook just woke up. Seokjin screaming. Hoseok stressed. Namjoon lost’

You smiled as the image of Seokjin, possessed by the spirit of an airport dad, ordering and rushing their youngest whose face is contorted into a frown with eyes barely open to gather his essentials while Hoseok sits in the living room with his arms crossed next to Yoongi who’s sitting next to him and both scrolling on their phone.

Namjoon is probably running around for anything he must've forgotten to pack or put into his bag, a hunt Hoseok had purposely put him on to distract him from stressing over his bandmates.

Mind wandering to Namjoon, you closed your eyes to try and focus on his heartbeat. It has faded into the background hours in the flight earlier but it had always been there, although required high concentration to hear.

“Should we try a bold hair color too? I wanna know how he'd look in blue.” Jimin asks his friend in a low voice, unaware he's speaking rather loudly for you to hear. He holds up a box dye and you narrow your eyes at the item in suspicion. “Oh, toxic green sounds good, no?”

Tae tilts his head. “Will noona even let you?”

You didn't have to imagine yourself with the vibrant shade of green for you to interfere.

“Noona will not let you, actually.” You said, letting go of the string as you took the dyes off of his hand and returned it to the shelves. “Bright colors would not look good on me.”

“Then let's stick with bleach but having fully bleached hair is a bit standard, a bit on the boring side so—how about we just bleach your ends for a change?” Jimin suggested, eyes looking up at you and it felt like he’s shooting you puppy eyes even when he’s not trying to.

“If we’re going to only dye the tips, then wouldn’t having a fire-like effect look good?” Taehyung chimed in, holding up an orange and a red dye in both hands while his eyes continued to scan the shelves. “Oh wait! If you really want something that isn’t too eye-catching, how about ash grey tips?”

“As much as I appreciate your confidence in me pulling a red orange ombre, I really don’t think it will, in all honesty.” You say and Taehyung practically wilts, his hands falling to his side yet his eyes continue to scan the shelf for another color to suggest with the eyes akin to a kicked puppy. “I’ll consider the ash grey, though.”

Immediately, Taehyung brightened up.

“I think you underestimate yourself noona, you’re very pretty.” Jimin says with a sheepish smile.

Suddenly feeling shy, you averted your gaze and cleared your throat.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

You don’t even know how a compliment from Jimin, something you get from him weekly, could elicit such a reaction from you. It took everything in you to not widen your eyes in realization when you noticed how bashful you had become.

One night of deep talk and you’re already flushing. You don’t even want to imagine how you’ll react once the relationship deepens.

“What the fuck.”

Taehyung’s eyes bounced from you and Jimin, incredulous with a hint of betrayal.

“Did you guys do it on the plane?!”

“What?” you and Jimin squawked.

“No cause you guys didn’t act this way before! What did you guys do while I was getting my beauty rest?! ‘Cause that would be so disgusting I was literally a few inches away from you!” Taehyung exclaimed and you have never been so grateful he wasn’t screaming in English.

What a scandal it would’ve been. BTS Member Kim Taehyung revealed his co-member Park Jimin had FREAKY SEX in the PLANE with his MAKE UP ARTIST?!?!

“Whatever you might be thinking, we didn’t do it!” Jimin exclaimed, scandalized.

“Then explain what I just witnessed there!”

“You’re hallucinating!”

“That's just the jetlag!”

_______

Due to Taehyung’s excitement, he had made the trip to the hotel a quick affair; moreso the trip to your room when he practically vibrated in front of the desk and snatched the key from the hostess and crossed the distance between where he stood to the elevator with five steps.

The hotel bathroom is too small to fit three people, you think. While not physically a tight fit, your heart seems to beat twice with every tick and expand to fill your entire chest and spread the jittery nerves of anxiousness throughout your entire body.

With Jimin taking out the hair dryer from the cabinet and Taehyung eagerly mixing the solution together in the black bowl they bought next to him, you find yourself sitting on the edge of the bathtub silently relishing the feeling of foreboding doom as you watch the twins flutter around preparing to dye your hair.

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” you asked, fingers fiddling with the hem of the shirt Jimin had randomly picked out to wear while having your hair bleached.

Hair dying has always been the hair stylists job while the idols sit idly in front of them, moving only when the dye is going to be washed off or while waiting for the colors or bleach to set in.

And you’re putting your full trust on these idols who haven't bleached their hair themselves.

Where’s Jin when you needed him?

Taehyung grinned. In a different setting, you’d think his square-shaped smile endearing and cute but with the tint brush and comb tool, and the plastic bowl full of bleaching solution in both hands, he never looked more menacing than he does right now.

“How hard can it be? We’re just going to dye the tips.”

“Remember, if you mess up my hair, you might also mess up Hoba’s hair and an angry dance instructor and second leader is not something you’d want,” you reminded as Taehyung approached you.

Jimin, ever the supportive soulmate, placed his hands on your shoulder and led you to the chair he dragged in from outside. “We know, don’t worry, noona. We had someone teach us how to dye it earlier.”

“Who?”

“I forgot his name but we saw him on YouTube and he’s got a pretty big following so that must count for something, right?”

Hearing that, you began to pray to every divinity out there who could hear your pleas for a successful hair bleaching.

“Alright, I’m gonna start now, noona.”

You watched cautiously as Jimin allocated a bunch of hair into the aluminum foil and Taehyung started his work on dyeing the tips of your hair.

The twins stayed silent throughout the process, as if they’re also holding their breath like you are doing.

It wasn’t the act of having your hair dyed by the twins that had your leg restlessly jumping—you could have the ends cut off if you ever decided it didn’t look good on you—but rather the prospect of facing Namjoon’s disappointment when the sudden change in Hoseok’s hair is noticed by the TSA and delay them.

Yoongi and Jungkook would laugh, Seokjin would feign disappointment and try to lecture you until people turned their backs and he’d shower the twins with praise. But Namjoon, the man is far too stressed from the multiple roles he has to take in as they enter foreign soil, to have their first day in America to start off with one of the members being held off at customs would add unnecessary weight onto his shoulders.

You don’t want to add more to the weight pressuring him down. Not to mention, you also haven’t atoned for your mistakes yet but what can you do against the unstoppable force that is Jimin and Taehyung?

With the final piece of hair being covered in the bleaching agent and foil, the two then stepped back to admire their work.

“See? Nothing to worry,” Jimin says, almost as relieved as you are while picking up one of the foil-wrapped strands and securing them.

Taehyung rotates around you, searching for a strand he had possibly missed.

“Alright, we just need to wait for a couple of minutes before we wash it off.”

But even after those words had fallen out of his lips, he continued to flutter around you as if his hands, who had just learned how to bleach and felt the rush of chemicals from doing great at it, itched to add the alarming amount of leftovers onto your hair. Taehyung pursing his lips solidifying your guess.

Jimin who had finally turned back around after searching the sink for his phone, saw this and placed a hand on Taehyung's shoulder.

“I know that look, don't do it.” Jimin said as he reached for the black bowl.

“I'm not even doing anything, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cause I know you.”

Taehyung laughed incredulously and waved his hand at the man. “Of course you do, silly. We've been together for six years now.”

“Don't do it.”

“I'm not doing anything!” The younger man pouts. “Matter of fact, I'm not even thinking about doing anything!”

Letting the boys chatter in the background, you open your phone to see messages from Jungkook flooding your notifications.

[Today 15:12] [15:12] Ggukie: NOONAAAA [15:12] Ggukie: namjoon hyung told me to inform you first as courtesy [15:12] Ggukie: but I'll be your first and only handsome date for the weekend :D [15:12] Ggukie: dont tell jin hyung but i definitely cheated to go first [15:12] Ggukie: he just didn't notice HA! [15:13] Ggukie: for our magnificent date, wear something comfortable but also a little elegant☺️ [15:13] Ggukie: just a smallll bit 🤏 [15:13] Ggukie: not that you even need to style urself much tbh [15:14] Ggukie: you'd look cute even if you're wearing garbage bags and those stupid colorful feather accessories😁 [15:14] You: what time are we gonna leave? [15:14] You: what do you have in mind for our date? o.0 [15:16] Ggukie: telling you would ruin the surprise [15:16] Ggukie: so no😁 [15:16] Ggukie: but we'll go after lunch [15:16] Ggukie: is that good for you? [15:17] You: of course [15:17] You: how elegant do you want me to be? [15:17] You: like fancy candlelight date kind of elegant? Or an attending an important social event kind of elegant? [15:17] Ggukie: haha [15:17] Ggukie: nice try noona [15:17] Ggukie: i was raised by seokjin and namjoon, you can't fool me that easily [15:17] Ggukie: just wear something comfortable with a hint of elegance😁

The conversation ended after Jungkook's last reply and you finally turned your attention back to the oddly peaceful twins now discussing what food to order with Jimin looking over Taehyung's shoulder and navigating the man's phone.

Soon enough, it was time to wash your hair and you find yourself bent over the bathtub as Taehyung rinses the bleach out.

Since the moment the bleach had started to take effect and begun to lighten the tips of your hair, the twins had been giggling to themselves nonstop as they unwrapped the foil, murmuring scenarios of how the rest of the nexus must be reacting seeing the tips of Hoseok’s hair changing a different color.

(“We’re not even sure if this is our soulmark, we could just be dyeing my hair for no reason at all.” You chime and Taehyung shrugged.

“Even if nothing were to happen, at least you got yourself a good hairstyle out of this, no?”)

Once the dye was washed off, Taehyung fit a towel over your shoulders and gently placed them behind you before leading you to the chair in front of the vanity sink where Jimin is plugging the hair dryer in before switching it on to try the strength of the air on his hair.

“Is it good, Mr. Park?” Taehyung asks in a formal accented tone as he sets you down on the stool.

“All good here, Mr. Kim. It’s working fine and well! Just set down our pretty client so we can start drying off her hair.”

Before you could offer to do it yourself, Taehyung draped the heavy towel over your head, patting and mushing your face instead of your hair. With a slap on his forearm, he laughed and tugged the towel back to properly dry your hair.

It didn't take long before the three of your phones on the far end of the sink began to vibrate, screens flashing as message after message floods in from individual chats of the members and the group chat. Jimin looks over to see who's getting the most notification before giggling to himself as he picks up his phone.

“Congratulations noona.” He says, making Taehyung stop drying your hair to jog towards Jimin and look over his shoulder.

Taehyung began to gloat about how he ‘knew it’ but it all faded into the background as Jimin turns his phone towards you to show a flustered Hoseok, smiling shyly with the ends of his hair bleached as a hand that seems like Jungkook’s buried into his sleep-mused hair as he looked away.

“I knew it! I told you all it was twin mirror in the first place and nobody believed me!”

“You were telling them to cut their hair or get injured, of course no one would listen.” Jimin deadpanned.

“If you had only trusted my intuition!” Taehyung chided.

Jimin continued to scroll on his phone and you reached for your own phone to face the chaos happening in the group chat when Namjoon's voice echoed in the small space of the bathroom.

“You three better prepare an explanation later when we get there and I better hear something good from you all.”

_______

Namjoon really doesn't know what to do with you.

It has been weeks since Jungkook's birthday and the soulmarks’ manifestation yet he seems to always find himself either awkwardly hovering behind you or staring at you for an inappropriate amount of time as he pondered over the words he wanted to say.

(Not that they mattered anyways, he always ended up tongue tied in front of you.)

They could demand him to convince a businessman to stop running his factories that's effectively harming the environment or to convert an iPhone enthusiast into a Samsung user, yet all of those would be miles easier than knowing how he should treat you.

Should he follow the footsteps of the men in romance novels and movies with the bouquet of flowers, lingering touches and constant reminders of their love for their woman or should he be normal?

But what is the definition of normal in the context of relationships and how you treat your soulmate anyways?

What even is considered as normal in something that sounded so impossible to be real like a fated spiritual connection between people?

Suddenly, he was reminded of the night the mark manifested.

The chaos and the raised voices as his brothers clamoured over each other's opinions on how to proceed with the newfound connections. Namjoon could almost feel the rattling headache he had back then, could even remember the sobering realization as he watched as the rest of the original four soulmates—not including him, he was busy massaging his forehead as a bad headache formed at the front of his skull—actively debated against one another.

He recalled thinking how no man would fight so valiantly for a woman this passionately if they weren't interested in them romantically.

He saw this behavior from the men surrounding him growing up from his friends, his teachers, his classmates to even his cousins and uncles. Namjoon has read of the bloody wars waged for rare beauties and love before then. To be greedy and wanting to capture and have something shiny is human nature, it's ingrained into man’s programming.

Even then, seeing it happen before him surprised him.

Seeing his brother clamor over each other—while more respectful than you'd expect from four guys being tethered to one girl— he remembered thinking: Am I the only guy who never thought of you as a romantic partner?

Namjoon had always thought of you as one of his dearest and closest friends. If he was to put you in a tier, you'd sit next to his family, and the group. You've always been someone he could trust with his worries about fame and the pressure from leading six men and their company to the top. You might be one of his friends but you were special to him, just a little like his brothers, if not more…

Special? Would that be the correct term to describe how he thinks of you?

Sure he had found himself subjected to your warm hugs and a couple forehead kisses—and maybe cheeks too—but all of them were platonic.

At least, that's what he thinks.

Women hugged and gave each other cheek or forehead kisses, it was to show their appreciation through actions. Surely it can also apply to male and female relationships without the romantic context like they do too?

(Namjoon would think back to this day later on and scream profanities into his pillow, embarrassed by his stupidity)

Having to see you sit on the floor next to Taehyung and Jimin had distracted him more than he wanted to. Even when he had scolded the twins from your trips before, he never had to sit you down to reprimand you for encouraging or letting them do all the mischief their heart could ever want.

He’s seen how his dad treated his mother, and he sure as hell hasn't seen his father ever scold his mother.

So when one of their bodyguards, Beomseok, came and said you needed to pick your and Jin’s dinner, he was relieved. He didn’t want to show any favoritism towards you just because of your spiritual connection with him—not that anyone would be upset by this but he’d like to make it fair for everyone in the nexus.

Namjoon waited until you were out of the room before turning back to the troublesome twins who just raised their hands above their heads once again.

“Hyung.” Tae began.

“I don't want to hear your excuses, Tae.” Namjoon sighed, massaging the space between his eyebrows. “While I appreciate you all for helping Hobi to figure out what soulmark he has with noona, would it hurt for you three to do it while we're all in the hotel?”

This soulmate thing atop of his duty as the group's leader might be enough to make him volunteer for a cryogenic sleep pod experimentation. He could use a decade or century long sleep to heal from the heavy mental toll from leading six men and a company to where they are now.

Be a leader, they said.

Being a leader would be mentally stimulating enough, sure! he had replied, stupidly.

“We learned something from noona earlier.” Tae said, effectively catching his attention. When Namjoon said nothing, he continued. “Apparently, she and her ex used to go to the same school together but the weird thing is, they never saw each other despite being in the council at the same time.”

“What are you getting at, Tae?” Namjoon asks.

“Doesn't it feel like a drama-esque cliche where he followed her through adulthood then struck when the opportunity came?”

“I think you've watched too many dramas and read too many comics, Tae.” Jimin giggled lightheartedly. “Your imagination is getting a little creative.”

“No but seriously, I have a bad feeling about this.” Tae insisted and Namjoon almost believed the determined sheen of his eyes if it wasn't for the steadily slow descent of his raised arms. “I’ve always said that he's got the facial structure of a manipulator, even got those hollow and tilted eyes of a creep!”

As much as he likes to entertain every absurd and out-of-the-box idea of Taehyung, there still exists a line where his imagination reaches the point of impossible and frankly, nonsensical. Coincidences exist, and are unpredictable and sudden, there's nothing he can do much about it.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “You're still hung up on that?”

“Let's not speculate, it's most likely a coincidence.” Namjoon interrupts before the twins can begin their banter.

“Of course I am! There's definitely something off about that guy!” Taehyung insisted.

Namjoon sighed, already noticing the boxy-smiled boy’s hand slowly fall to his sides. “Tae, don't think for one second that I'm not noticing you slowly letting your arms down.”

“Can I put my arms down, hyung? I was the one who suggested bleaching the tips of noona's hair instead.” Jimin asks with his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes rounded and glossy as it stared back at him. “Could you imagine if I had let them—”

“No, keep those arms up and repent.”

_______

Staring at the burly man walking in front of you, you began to wonder if his excuse has any credibility behind it.

Beomseok, although a new hire, has quickly become one of your close work friends when he had saved you from an insistent visitor in the BigHit building back in August. It was easy to feel endeared towards a man who looks all intimidating with the tattoos, muscles bulging out of his shirts, and a buzz cut but in actuality has a heart softer than a well-oiled machine and carries the scent of coconuts with him. There is no doubting how safe you feel with him but Seokjin would never ask to save you from Namjoon’s scolding, if anything, he'd be scolding Namjoon for even including you.

“Did Seokjin really call for me?” You asked Beomseok.

The man shook his head. “Someone did call you, but it's not Seokjin. Yoongi had asked me to retrieve and walk you to your room. Said it was better to have Namjoon face a stranger than his band members so he'd let you go without question.”

“Guess I'll be thanking him then?”

“Not a thanks for me?” He asked with a playful lilt in his voice.

Stopping next to him, you then bowed low at the man with hands folded over your abdomen, surprising the man who had jumped at the sudden action.

“Thank you o’ benevolent god Beomseok for saving a poor soul like I from the impending doom that is Namjoon's scolding.”

“Stop that! Oh my god!” Beomseok says as he wildly motions his hands for you to raise your head.

When you looked back up again, the man had a flush of pink dusting his cheeks as he looked away and scratched his nape. Seeing Beomseok, with his muscles proudly bulging out of the black uniform shirt he's wearing and skin designed with loud and bold tattoos, acting shy and faint-hearted, you laughed.

It was unreal how a man almost thrice your size could easily remind you of a shy kid.

“Are you seriously getting shy over that? What's so embarrassing about me expressing my gratitude?”

“I-I don't even know myself.”

“How else can I express my gratitude towards you then?”

He stops and you finally realise that the both of you had finally arrived at the door of your room.

“Buy me lunch tomorrow? I heard they're serving pizzas and carbonara tomorrow.” He offered, voice weak as he shyly scratched his cheeks.

“Deal!”

_______

Your night had continued on with no more excitement for as long as you and Jimin could last without being in the presence of each other. So for a long while after today, the energy winds down to a calm and you find yourself scrolling through your naver feed to catch up on news and celebrity gossip you had missed earlier while you were getting your hair dyed.

It wasn’t until the last minute before the effects of soulbond strain kicked in did Jimin stroll into your room with a pillow in tow and dressed in a hoodie dwarfing his figure matched with a Red Bulls basketball shorts.

Closing the door behind him, a soft smile grows on his face. “Hi noona.”

“Hello Jiminie.”

“I need my noona time before Jungkook follows, I think he wants to start his day a little too early.” He says before throwing himself to the empty spot next to you and pulling up his phone to scroll through his own feed like old time.

It takes him a minute before he's linking his arm with yours, another to have him throw his leg on top of yours before he eventually molds into your side. Healing touch thrummed happily under your skin from the proximity and you find yourself melting in his arms not a second later.

This was the position Jungkook and Hoseok found you both in when they eventually entered the room. Without hesitation, they joined you both with Jungkook taking your other side while Hoseok had snuggled up behind Jimin.

“Look at how cute you and Hobi are with the matching hair!” Jungkook points out, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger before he reaches for the hand holding your phone where the music note tattoo is engraved to the side of your finger. “Can I borrow your hand for a little while, noona? I miss feeling connected to you.”

Switching your phone over to the other, you took his hand in yours and entangled your fingers with him. Cold shivers racked through your body as two soulmarks resonated within you, catching the attention of your soulmates.

The Bangtan pile only grew when the rest of the boys poured into the room with Seokjin tugging Namjoon inside.

Seokjin occupied the spot behind Jungkook, but not without the maknae teasing him when the bed had creaked while Yoongi pulled the chair by the large window pane to sit next to the overflowing bed before opening his laptop and putting his headphones on.

Namjoon followed the older rapper's actions when he had occupied the floor next to the bed, and Taehyung threw himself in the space between Seokjin and Jungkook, to the dismay of the two men.

There's not a single word in the English nor any language’s dictionary that could ever describe the comfort and security you felt being surrounded by your soulmates. No matter how much the ugly head of insecurity whispers about how you don't deserve any of them, it was futile to deny the bond you shared with the boys.

You had begun to get used to the electric sensation Taehyung and Jimin's touch evokes, the constant feeling of Yoongi's presence lingering in the background through the red string, and the faint pulse of Namjoon's heartbeat yet you couldn't even imagine how you had lived for so long without the pulls and the sensations having soulmates has given you.

To be parted from your soulmarks would be like tearing an organ out of you.

It might be overwhelming with all the information your mind and body is receiving from having seven soulmarks but you couldn't trade for the word.

Come the day you lose the calmness from their touch and the constant reminders of their presence in the background, you might find yourself a husk of a human with no more purpose to live in the world.

With Namjoon's calm heartbeat in your ears, the thrum of Jimin and Jungkook's soulmark, and the one-sided activation of your and Yoongi's red string of fate, you let the newfound drowsiness take over you. The sound of your friends’ hushed chatters fade into the background as your eyes fall to a close, the romance comic on your phone blurring.

Someone took the phone from your hand and you vaguely felt a pair of plush lips pressed into your temples before you last heard a sweet whisper in your ear.

“Sleep well noona.”

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starkeymeow · 2 months ago

Text

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter eight, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, toppers dying, me lowkey not giving any of u guys any connection to him so his death doesnt even mean anything LMAOOO, FAST PACED ON PURPOSE, also late update omg my bad

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous next

kie talks you through it with shaky hands. she tells you what to grab, how to press the cloth to the bleeding, where to fold the torn strip of shirt, and you follow each step like it’s gospel.

your fingers are clumsy, your mind racing, but you do it. it’s not perfect, not close, but it’s enough for now. her breathing steadies. she won’t be healed, not really, not in a place like this. but she’s not going to bleed out on the cornucopia floor either.

when the boys return from the hunt, they’re empty-handed and frustrated. they say they searched all the way across the field, even pushed up near the forest line, but nothing. no more sounds, no signs of anyone. topper says they didn’t wanna go too far, not without knowing if you and kie were safe. it’s fine. whoever it was, whatever it was, they’re gone now. someone else will come along eventually. they always do.

but you can’t stay here. not with the bodies. not with the hovercrafts that are about to be looking overhead like vultures waiting for a meal to clear. the air reeks of blood and burned metal.

you gather your things. someone picks up an extra bag, maybe one of the dead boys’, and slings it over their shoulder. anything could be in there. anything might help.

you don’t go toward the birch forest again. no one even suggests it. the caves are off the table too, even if they’d be good for hiding. but you all saw what that forest could do, and nobody wants to imagine what else is waiting in the dark.

afternoon creeps by as you move. jj and rafe support kie on either side, helping her walk, though half the time it’s more like dragging. her leg’s stiff, wrapped in the cloth that’s already spotted with fresh red, and her teeth are clenched so tight she hasn’t said a word since you left the clearing. you keep glancing back at her, your stomach knotting every time you see her wince. she hates this. you can tell. hates being the weak one now, hates not being able to fight or hunt or run.

you and topper scout ahead. neither of you talks much, just short murmurs about the terrain. topper’s wound from earlier is covered. nothing serious, not like kie’s, but he keeps favoring that side slightly. you’re not sure if it’s pain or paranoia.

and your cheek still stings from the other night.

you keep brushing your fingers against it, even when you know you shouldn’t. the skin feels raw, and it burns every time your dirty hand presses against the line that forest carved into you. sometimes you wonder if it’s bleeding again, but it’s not. it just hurts. always.

up ahead, the trees change. they’re different here. there’s no more tall pale birches, no more whispering air or invisible blades. these ones are darker, rougher, bark cracked and dry under your touch. there’s more earth here, more scattered leaves, a few berry bushes that you don’t trust. you stop walking, but listen.

there’s water nearby. you can hear it. it’s a stream, not far off. good. you’ll need to refill soon.

“set her down,” you say quietly. you’re standing in a patch of ground that looks as good as any. there’s no perfect place to rest, not here, but this feels . . . still. feels okay for now at least.

jj and rafe lower kie to the ground carefully, easing her down near the roots of one of the trees. her leg stretches out and she groans, barely audible, but it’s the most she’s said since everything. she’s holding in more pain than she lets on, you’re sure of it. her hands are trembling again. her jaw’s locked.

you don’t say anything. you just crouch next to her and help adjust her backpack so she can lean against it more comfortably.

you don’t know who’s in charge anymore. rafe hasn’t said much. so maybe it’s jj, maybe you, maybe it’s no one. but you can tell just by the way everyone moves, the way they keep looking at kie, that they want something to hit back. someone to pay. it doesn’t matter that the ones who hurt kie are already dead. every tribute you meet now is going to pay for it.

you hate that. yet you understand it completely.

you wipe your hands on your pants and straighten up. there's still enough daylight to do something with it. you’re not sure what yet, but you feel like staying here too long will only get you killed.

you walk between them, with rafe on your right, topper on your left, close enough to feel like guards, but no one says anything about it. the three of you have been wandering for what feels like hours, the only sounds being the crunch of dirt and twigs beneath your boots and the occasional snap of a branch overhead. no signs of life. no tributes. no traps. nothing but open space and silence. it’s getting old fast. you wonder if the capitol is getting bored.

“this is fucking stupid,” topper mutters, dragging the flat of his axe over his shoulder like it’s heavier than it is. “where is everyone?”

“hiding,” rafe answers, voice rough from disuse. “waiting for us to do somethin’ dumb before they do probably.”

you’ve already filled your flasks at the stream. there’s no cannon, no anthem, no parachute gifts from above. just a long stretch of forest that refuses to end, but then something catches your eye. it’s a rose, red and full, nestled against the base of a tree. then another. and another, a few feet apart. you stop walking.

topper nearly walks into you. “what?”

you don’t answer. you’re too busy staring at the ground.

“roses?” he scoffs. “real subtle. there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with ‘em.”

“just looks like the arena decorator got trigger-happy,” rafe says, giving a faint smirk.

you glance around. the roses aren’t in any kind of pattern. they’re just . . . there. out of place. but they don’t look dangerous. they just look dumb.

“think it’s a trap?” topper asks, eyeing the nearest one.

“everything’s a trap,” you mutter. “but this just looks like bad taste.”

“you wanna go through or around?” rafe asks, watching you carefully.

“doesn’t matter. just don’t touch them,” you say, stepping wide around the first bush. “it’s not like we’re gonna be eating them anyway, so there’s no use for them. but i’m not in the mood to die by a flower.”

“you’re no fun,” topper grins.

you roll your eyes. at this point it doesn’t feel like the hunger games, it feels like someone hit pause. you half expect a bird to startle or a cannon to boom just to break the tension.

rafe falls into step beside you again. his posture is tense, eyes scanning the trees. same as you.

“we’ll check the next clearing,” you say after a beat. “then head back.”

“yeah,” rafe agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “kie’s probably bored out of her mind.”

“she’s not gonna like sitting still much longer,” topper says behind you.

“none of us do,” you mumble.

eventually you’re crouched low, dagger in hand. there’s something small. a rabbit maybe, or something close to it. but it’s edible, has to be. topper’s only a few feet away, his axe held loose in one hand as he scans the trees above.

you’re both quiet, breathing barely there. the arena gave you a gift, meat, if you’re lucky enough to catch it, but you haven’t seen anything yet except for rustling that never amounts to anything.

then topper shifts suddenly. quick, like he sees something. he straightens slightly, shoulders tense, and turns his head back toward the direction of camp.

you look up just in time to see his jaw clench. “what?” you whisper.

“someone’s moving,” he says under his breath. “headed back. toward—” he flinches like he’s about to bolt.

but rafe’s hand snaps out and clamps down on topper’s shoulder. “stay with y/n.” he doesn’t even look at him when he says it. his gaze is trained on the trees, locked in on whatever he saw, body already leaning toward motion. then he’s gone. he jogs forward, weaving through thick brush until you can’t see him anymore.

topper lets out a breath through his nose, shifting the grip on his axe. “i could’ve gone.”

“i know,” you murmur, watching where rafe vanished. “he probably figured we’d be more useful together. still gotta eat. what can he kill with a mace anyway?”

“. . . like a lot.”

“shut up.”

you shake your head and crouch again, dragging your fingers through the dirt to find the tracks you lost. no point in arguing. you trust rafe. you trust topper. you’re fine.

“besides,” you mutter, glancing up at him with the barest smirk, “we get the fun job. stabbing dinner.”

topper huffs, something close to a laugh, and drops beside you to keep searching. his axe hangs at his side.

you spot fresh claw marks in the bark of a nearby tree, low to the ground, uneven. squirrel. recently, too. you swear you see something run past just a few feet away.

“there,” you whisper, motioning him forward. you can’t bring the group back a full recovery, but you can bring them dinner.

as you and topper move quietly through the thick brush, the squirrel stays just ahead, skittish but unaware, stopping now and then to gnaw on something or twitch its tail like it’s teasing you. the trail has curved slightly, leading you away from where you were and closer to the darker edge of the terrain. there’s more shadow, more uneven ground. the caves.

you slow your pace. topper does too, glancing at you like even he knows this feels off.

the squirrel darts toward the opening, its small frame barely making a sound as it scurries inside. you take another step, eyes narrowed as you peer into the shadows.

it’s still bright out. the sun’s filtering behind the trees, but the inside of that cave swallows the light whole. you can’t even see where the walls end.

you raise a hand to stop topper from getting closer. “hold on.”

but before he can answer, something moves in the dark. it’s not the squirrel. a sound echoes. it’s a wet, guttural clicking, like bones being sucked clean. and then it comes. fast.

not just fast, but wrong. a blur of movement and sound. the mutt is long-limbed and slick-skinned, pale like it’s never seen light, with ridged arms and a jaw that seems unhinged, split in two like mandibles from hell. it was made for the caves. its back legs are almost canine, but the front limbs are lean and human-shaped, with claws too long, too sharp.

and its eyes, there are too many. six, bulging, pupil-less, just black and glistening.

it launches out of the cave, mouth opening wide with a scream that sounds like metal tearing. you’re dead.

you and topper dive to opposite sides, pure instinct.

“go, go!” you yell, scrambling back to your feet as it claws at the dirt where you just were.

topper throws his axe, but it bounces off the thing’s back with a sickening crack and it only screeches louder, its body jerking as if it’s already healing. it doesn’t care about the squirrel. it was waiting for tributes. it was waiting for you two.

your heart’s pounding as you grab toppers hand and run. you duck under branches and stumble over roots as the thing crashes behind you. it’s fast, relentless, and too quiet for something its size. it doesn’t howl like an animal. it doesn’t growl. it just moves, all hunger and precision, like it’s wired to kill and nothing more.

topper spins mid-run and throws a rock next, something, anything, to buy time. you see the jagged chunk of bark miss its mark completely, and the mutt doesn’t even flinch.

“fuck!” topper yells. your legs feel like lead.

the trees are too dense and there’s no straight path out, just tangled brush, fallen logs, and nowhere to hide. you’re running blind when your foot slips in the mud, and you crash into the ground.

you let out a scream. it tears from your throat without thought, raw, desperate, loud enough to echo through the forest. you don’t know if jj or kie or anyone can hear it, but you hope. gods, you hope.

topper grabs your hand and hauls you up again, and for a second you’re running together, barely outpacing the thing.

until you hear him cry out.

you turn just in time to see his body lifted—no, dragged, his legs kicking as the mutt sinks its claws into his back and pulls. its jaw splits wider than you thought possible, ripping into him like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat.

“topper!” your voice breaks.

you don’t even realize you’ve dropped your dagger. your hand is still holding his hand, trying to pull him, trying to save him as if you can still. your body is trembling with the effort. he’s screaming, his other hand trying to grab anything nearby, but the mutt’s too strong.

his grip starts to loosen.

he meets your eyes for one moment. there’s a mixture of pain, fear, acceptance. “run,” he gasps.

and you let go.

you fall backward, crawling away in the dirt, tears streaking down your face as you choke on your own breathing. you want to look away but you can’t. the thing, this mutt, this serpent-limbed, frog-eyed, reptilian horror, keeps tearing into him. it doesn’t even acknowledge you anymore. you’re nothing to it now.

but then, hands grab you.

you’re hauled to your feet, your legs barely cooperating, your lungs collapsing. everything’s too loud, too quiet, too much.

“y/n!” rafe’s voice cuts through everything.

he’s frantic, his arm tight around your waist as he pulls you through the trees. you’re stumbling, barely upright, but he won’t let go. you don’t look back. you can’t.

rafe’s voice is a blur in your ears the second time he says something. it’s just sound, not words.

his hand is a vice around yours, pulling you through trees you barely register. everything around you blurs, colors smeared together like wet paint. the only thing sharp is the memory of topper’s scream still echoing in your skull, blood-soaked and too real.

you’re moving, but it just feels like you’re underwater. like your legs are carrying you, somehow, but not fast enough. your brain is disconnected from your body. your chest burns with every breath, but you don’t feel it, not really. not yet.

you don’t even notice the way your ankle rolls until the ground disappears beneath your foot.

your body jerks. pain sears up your leg like fire, and you cry out, but you don’t fall. your grip tightens on rafe’s arm, knuckles white, and he’s already twisting toward you. his other arm loops around your back in an instant, dragging you up, holding you upright, muttering something under his breath you can’t make out.

“‘ve got you,” you think he says. “you can— please, come on, y/n!”

he adjusts his hold so you’re almost tucked into him now, half-dragged, half-carried, your face buried in the side of his arm as he keeps moving. it’s easier like this, running with him carrying half your weight, grounding you in a way your brain can’t do on its own right now.

your eyes blink rapidly, breath catching as trees rush past you, as your feet start to fall in rhythm again. you don’t know where he’s taking you. it could be anywhere, just away from the cave, deeper into the woods, toward safety or another death trap, you don’t know.

but you let him lead. you don’t ask questions. you just hold on.

in just moments, you don’t know how long you’ve been running. it feels endless. the pain in your ankle is still there, throbbing, but dulled now, probably from the adrenaline. it’s like your body knows you can’t afford to feel anything else right now.

you stumble after him, blinking up as the trees begin to thin out, and you realize too late that he’s leading you straight toward a ledge.

you want to scream. you want to stop. your feet try to dig in against the dirt but there’s no time, no grip, no warning. your heart seizes in your chest as the world disappears from under you, your stomach lurching violently like it’s trying to climb up your throat. and then—

water.

you hit it hard. you sink for a second, deeper than you expect, your limbs flailing on instinct. you’re not sure what direction is up until your fingers brush the surface and you kick toward it blindly. when you break through, you’re gasping, coughing, spitting out water that burns your throat as it forces its way out. you blink rapidly, trying to clear your eyes, trying to focus. but you’re yanked back again.

your heart jumps for a second time, it’s rafe. his arms wrap around you fast, anchoring you, guiding you toward the side of the rocky wall you just leapt from. you crash gently against it together as he presses you close, keeping both of you low in the water, bodies half-submerged.

his hand clamps over your mouth before you even realize you’re still coughing.

you freeze, eyes snapping wide, your fingers curling tight around his wrist, and you don’t even try to pull away. not when you see his expression. not when you hear it.

it’s still out there.

you can hear the mutt somewhere in the forest, claws scraping bark, paws pounding against the underbrush. it’s sniffing, hunting, close. your breathing is frantic behind his palm, nose flaring with panic as you force yourself to blink the water and tears away, trying to see, to hear more clearly.

there’s a scream. it’s someone else’s. a girl. your whole body jolts.

rafes arm around you tightens immediately, and you don’t realize how hard you’re shaking until he pulls you flush against his chest, like he’s trying to shield you even though there’s nothing left to protect you from. not right now. not with the mutt running in the other direction, toward her.

you don’t even know if that makes it better or worse.

your fingers are still trembling when his hand starts to loosen over your mouth, his palm dragging slowly away as he watches your face. your chest rises and falls fast, but not as hard as before. you finally pull in a proper breath. and another. your fingers fall away from his wrist.

you look up at him. he’s soaked, blood and mud and water smeared all over his arms, across his jaw, in his hair. he looks back at you, and for a second there’s a flicker in his eyes, something pained, distant, heavy. like he did see it. like he saw everything.

you don’t speak. neither does he. he just shakes his head slowly, like he’s telling you not to ask, so you don’t say anything.

you look away first, just back toward the water, then back toward the forest. your lip trembles once before you bite it. you want to scream but you can’t. you just close your eyes and swallow it down.

when you open them again, the sun is starting to shift. somewhere in the distance, you think you can hear birds again. like nothing happened. like topper didn’t just die. like the world didn’t just tear open and leave you raw.

you exhale through your nose and glance up at the forest again, your jaw clenched.

wherever kie and jj are . . . you just hope they’re still breathing. you hope they’re not next. you hope you don’t have to lose anyone else. you just hope.

a/n: im at school on my phone so lowkey i havent checked the tag list for any new responses so NEXT CHAPTER ILL GET CAUGHT UP ON WHOEVER WANTS TO BE TAGGED IM SRY ILY

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp

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riverbends · 2 months ago

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maybe you’re lena blackwell’s teacher and maybe you request a meeting with her guardian because her behaviour has been a concern of yours for some time and, y’know, you’re usually fine with parents but now you’re in your empty classroom with her strangely unresponsive uncle who has a bit of a staring problem and he can’t seem to stop bouncing a leg and maybe you can clock that it’s either a nervous tic or an indication of boredom but his expression is so blank that you can’t really read him at all and maybe you suggest a child therapist and his frown gets impossibly deeper and you’re scrambling to offer meetings with him just to roughly set up an initial management plan before finding external sources to help his niece cope with the stress and weight of school work and you’re so relieved when he quietly accepts the offer and now you see him after class over the next few weeks when he comes in to pick her up but she’s left to entertain herself in the aftercare room while you do most of the talking in your meetings with her uncle who remains painfully soundless for a majority of the time and, at some point, he gets fed up and says he “wasn’t really good at school” so he doesn’t know what you want him to do and maybe he’s walking you out to the parking lot with lena because it’s well past home time and you’re too busy talking about a father-daughter day that the school tends to host on odd years and suddenly he’s wrenching you back onto the sidewalk with a force so strong and chokingly tight around your bicep that you’re sure it could leave a bruise and you can only swallow your shriek when you realise he just barely saved you from walking into a moving car and maybe lena gasps at your near miss but you’re too focused on the way her uncle’s large hand doesn’t loosen up on your arm until the girl says something about how she’s starving and her uncle steps away from you and tells her she has to thank you for your class today before they can go home to eat and maybe another few weeks go by and lena’s starting to show signs of improvement so you don’t need to meet with her brooding uncle after school anymore but maybe he still shows up in the doorway of your empty classroom instead of waiting for lena in his truck at the pick up zones and maybe, while she waits in the hallway outside, he asks you how she’s doing in class and if you require anything of him and maybe he keeps this up every week (because he obviously. genuinely. seriously. cares about the wellbeing of his kid but he kinda wants to hear your little updates, even if you don’t have any to give him) until you eventually just ask for his number so you can get in touch with him if you have any concerns and oh! imagine his surprise when you text him a week later, saying you’d like to run through a homework plan with him and maybe you send him a time and place and it’s all he can think about in the days leading up to it and maybe i’m too lazy to write this lmfao

#anyway DAD!POPE AND TEACHER!READER #i can picture this so well in my head #and it might just stay…in my head #pope cody #pope drabble #animal kingdom #shawn hatosy #andrew pope cody #andrew cody #pope cody x reader

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mushr90 · 3 months ago

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mush's ultimate fic rec guide!

𓍊𓋼 a masterlist of all my favourite works made by various creators here on tumblr. most of these are series', but i've categorised them by 'series' and 'oneshots' just incase. i've made sure to tag them, link the posts, and add a brief summary for each, so y'all can digest and enjoy too! i'll also be updating this regularly hehe (*ᵕᴗᵕ)⁾⁾

𓍊𓋼 please read through all of the tags listed for each fic carefully as i am not going to be listing them here! you control the media you consume.

𓍊𓋼 updated: 04/07/25 🔔

𓍊𓋼 key: ✩ = ongoing / ✮ = completed

Red Dead Redemption II

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

Baldur's Gate 3

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

The Last of Us

series

⟢ 'daddy next door' by @cavillscurls (dom! joel miller x sub! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "its summer in texas, and when the dashing joel miller moves in next door, your less than favorable life gets completely turned around."

⟢ 'of rage and ruin' by @corazondebeskar-reads (werewolf! joel miller x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joel miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. he turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though."

⟢ 'Waiting Game' by @gutsby (dbf! joel miller x fem! reader) (after gutsby's recent disappearance i found this masterlist of all her fics) ✩

summary: "joel miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. a cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you."

Resident Evil

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

Call of Duty

series

⟢ 'Cherry Red, Crimson Blood' by @soaps-mohawk (tf141 x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "task force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what price has been saying since its formation. two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it. it works for a while, until the omega initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so price thinks."

⟢ '𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚐 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢' by @void-my-warranty (simon riley x fem! reader x johnny mactavish) ✩

summary: you and simon have been together for years, but, unable to give you what you truly want in the bedroom, what you need, he decides to bring in the only other man he trusts to do the job -- johhny. as feelings grow and troubles arise, will this arrangement come to a crumbling head, or will there be an alternative solution?

⟢ 'AS NEEDED' by @novemberheart (tf141 x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: after having previously been rejected by task force 141, their decision to finally accept an omega into their pack comes with many troubles and uncertainty, and your new place here might not be as permanent as you think.

⟢ 'Jaws' by @alkalineapparition (simon riley x hybrid! fem! reader) (this one is on ao3) ✩

summary: "alone and half feral in a dirty cell, ghost finds you during a raid beneath a military research lab. it quickly becomes clear that something isn't right with you, your behaviour more beast than human. a result of horrific human experiments, you're a failed attempt at making genetically modified soldiers with killer instincts and keen senses. instead they produced you - a mutt. ghost is assigned to be your handler, to help you heal and shape you in to the 141's very own attack dog. but the bond between a handler and their beast eventually turns into something more..."

⟢ 'In Limbo' by @ilium-ilia (mafia! simon riley x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joining the mafia is no different than selling a soul to the devil, and it's something simon riley is all too willing to do if it means keeping his family safe. it isn't until he meets you–the girl who runs from everything–that he realises there are much worse things to be caught up in."

⟢ 'Daughters with Soft Underbellies' by @ilium-ilia (outlaw! john price x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "all your life you have known nothing but the word of god and your father's short temper. every day, you are forced to turn the other cheek for minor mistakes you make within your father's gaze. yet, as a devout follower to god and your father, you have no one else to turn to. when the owner of the saloon tells you about some strangers lurking around town, you decide to take your chances with these wayward men in the hopes that they'll save you. but they are dangerous, conniving bandits; a fact you learn a little too late. you should have known that sheep who stray too far from the flock are at the mercy of the wolves. better sharpen those teeth of yours, little lamb."

⟢ 'anatomy of us' by @bi-writes (alpha! simon riley x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you."

⟢ 'Breaking Bread' by @softaestluv (simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "simon riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you. simon riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall."

⟢ 'Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones' by @softaestluv (mechanic! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "you never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is."

⟢ (1) 'RETURN TO SENDER' (original) / (2) 'IN CONTEMPT' (sequel) by @sai-int (criminal! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: (1) "it was a joke. A letter to a criminal—uk's most wanted. you told him he was hot. told him you were a virgin. left your address, because it’s not like he’d ever get out, right?" | (2) "you tried to move on, but no one quite measures up; not to the way he touched you, not to the way he ruined you. but when he reappears, you can feel him even before you see him. the past has a way of punishing disobedience, and now, it’s here to settle the score."

⟢ 'RASPBERRY GIRL' by @peachesofteal (dom! simon riley x sub! fem! reader) ✩

summary: captain! simon riley takes an interest in the sweet and docile little bakery-worker and vows to make her wholly his.

⟢ '𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤' by @cinnamonghostcrunch (simon riley x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "where in you move to manchester to start fresh, only to cross paths with a mysterious local who changes everything. what started as an unexpected encounter soon evolves into something much more, growing increasingly complicated as his secrets and your doubts cast shadows over everything."

⟢ 'INK & NEEDLE' by @gloomwitchwrites (tattoo artist! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "a night out in london to celebrate your friend’s upcoming marriage ends with a quick hook-up in a club’s green room. you don’t expect to see your masked man ever again, and you leave it as a one-time thing. three years later, you’re back in england, and find yourself facing the man you walked away from at that club. he's running a tattoo parlor just down the street from where you’re staying. over time, your paths cross and cross again until the two of you are tangled up in a messy web. will it last? or will one of you walk away?"

⟢ 'houndtooth' by @bitterrfruit (simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "you're the pampered wife of a russian warlord. ghost hunts you down and finds a use for you."

⟢ 'LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO' by @peachesofteal (doctor! simon riley x nurse! fem! reader) ✩

summary: all big and private, though unfathomably soft when it comes to the job, simon riley is one of the leading neonatal surgeons in the country, and a force to be reckoned with. just having been transferred to his floor, will the raise alone be enough to handle his attitude?

*major credit to all the creators mentioned, and to the ones i'm yet to discover! you guys are so talented and i love you ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و♡

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fashionteahouse · 8 months ago

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hey my love !! i’ve been loving your updates of out of my league !! could you possibly do a seth x reader, where seth is playing a video game in his room, reader is hanging out on his bed, reading a book. reader starts to doze off to sleep and seth notices and just cuddles reader and whispers sweet stuff but the reader hears as she’s like half awake ? lots and lots of fluff pls !! ❤️❤️❤️

heyy honey <3 aw thank you so much I really appreciate it XD ! i would love to do this ! hope you enjoy :)

billions - seth x reader

Full from the snack that Seth made when you arrived, you climbed the stairs with the hard covered book that was firm in your hand. Before coming over, you stopped past the library, where someone finally returned the book that you've been wanting to check out for the longest.

One hand was tugged up by Seth, pulling you upstairs to his bedroom. Flopping on his bed, you crack the book open to reveal its white pages to you. Seth presses the power button on his console and tv, he then looks to you.

"You don't mind if I play?" he asks you.

You just shake your head and smile and hold up the book, showing him that you're going to be occupied at the same time as him.

He sits down on the chair that's at his gaming set up, signing into his game.

You got comfortable as the softness of his comforter brushed against your skin. Laying on your stomach, you hold the book open, getting lost of the plot with the characters.

The sounds of the clicks of the buttons of the controller that he's holding, is soothing. That sound mixes in with the house settling, lulling you to a sleepy state of mind. He has the volume loud enough for him to hear, but not loud for you to be distracted.

You didn't notice the quick doze offs that you were having until you jerked your head up. You blinked to stay awake but the atmosphere was too comforting and too peaceful.

Your head droops forward at the same time that your eyes droop, eventually landing and resting on a part of the soft bed. The book was still cracked halfway open with the help of your thumb. You tried to fight sleep, but you figured a quick nap wouldn't hurt.

Seth looks over as he checks on you, finding you with your eyes closed with your head turned facing him. You hear Seth setting the controller down, before feeling him gently pull the book from your hands.

Seth does make sure that the page of the book that you were in the middle of reading, is saved. He sets it to the side once it is closed. He kneels down a bit to the level of the bed as he runs a finger across your cheek gently.

He leans in to plant a sweetheart kiss on your cheek, pulling back a bit to look at your resting face.

You hear him say softly, "You're so pretty when you're asleep." Little to your knowledge, his eyes were staring at you, as if he was stargazing for the first time. He speaks in a hushed tone, "My sleepy little angel." The statements make your heart thump like a drum, you couldn't believe how sweet he was to you.

He then rises to his feet, you hear him turning off his game and television. Seth makes it way over to you, laying behind you, where there was room for him.

You were half asleep, but you still felt him gently pull your body close to him. He did it carefully, not wanting to disturb the slumber that he thought you were deep into.

Making sure an arm was wrapped around your body, making sure that you're secure. You tiredly adjust your body turning your head toward him as you snuggle a bit into his chest, making it comfortable for both you and him. He leans down and plans another kiss on your forehead, this time lingering his lips on your forehead.

Cuddled up with you, he lays his head near your head as he rubs your back soothingly. He keeps his hushed tone speaking out, "When you wake up, you have to give me billions of kisses, okay?"

If you weren't so tired from the productive day, you would've opened your eyes and gave him billions of kisses right then and there. He snuggles into you, while you really fall asleep, with the help of the thump of his heartbeat.

#seth clearwater #seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #twilight #twilight wolves #twilight wolfpack #quileute #la push #y/n #y/n imagines #x y/n #y/n fanfic #imagine #twilight imagine

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queenthiax · 3 months ago

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Thia's (possibly helpful) Introductory Guide to the YuuriVerse

Hiya! So with so much going on with the YuuriVoice channel and all of the new series and such, I wanted to give a shot at creating a my own version of a where to start guide for the YuuriVerse! @yuurivoice double checked to make sure I wasn't horrifically wrong about anything so I hope this helps someone! Continue below for the guide in post but you can also read the actual google doc here (it's better formatted I promise). -- Introduction Have you come across the joy and wonder that is the YuuriVoice YouTube channel? Are you confused and overwhelmed at where to start in the mass of audios? Are you absolutely baffled at what information you have to know before starting any specific series? Well I’m here to help! (maybe) But what are my qualifications? (hell if I know). But hi, I’m Thia. I am a part of Team YuuriVoice officially titled as Script Daddy but also I do a lot of things like organize discord community things, moderate, keep the rest of the team sane, and sometimes I come up with ideas. But also, I’m a fan of the channel and have been for years. The goal of this guide is to be a starting point for people new to the channel who are trying to find the best places to start and what order to watch things based on the series and characters! All recommendations here are going to be based off of the YOUTUBE CHANNEL ONLY!!! ‘But Thia!’ they exclaim! ‘YV has so much content on patreon and he shares so much information during streams and on social media!!’ And to that? I say, so what? This is an Introductory guide for a reason! And in the greater scheme of things the media outside of YouTube does not have any effect on someone’s understanding of the YuuriVerse! Why you may ask? 1) All SFW content on the Patreon are mostly the same pieces of content as are on YouTube - with a few exclusives that are limited to fun, comfort, non-canonical things. The only major difference you will find between the two platforms is the NSFW content. And while YV is always cooking with that good smut… he’s never hiding any important lore information between anyone’s cheeks. 2) Now anyone who has spent any time in the community will know, Yuuri is a top tier yapper and likes to tell on himself and spoil tiny things here and there. It makes sense, he has so many things he’s hiding from the community that sometimes you have to let out a bit to stay sane and to keep the people interested! Once again, none of this information is required when it comes to your actual introduction to a series or your understanding of it. Especially since many of the tidbits are parts of things that will eventually be explained in full! The goal of this guide is to make sure people can have a list of the required information to be able to fully understand the lore! So recap. Introductory guide. YouTube Only. Will give you everything you need to get started. Okay? Let’s go.

Helpful Links and Stuff

If you somehow have stumbled upon this outside of the official YuuriVoice channels and accounts (okay but for real how) below are the list of the most important links you need: YouTube: Where the magic happens. Patreon: Even if you don’t pay for extra audios, following the Patreon will keep you updated when YV posts free content! The Merch Store: Shameless plug but come on there are so many goodies. The YuuriVoice Wiki: Shiny wiki! Full of information! Getting updated as we go! If you are curious about anything try here! There are series summaries, character summaries/references, listener summaries, and more to come! I reference this a lot in this doc!

Series

Have you stumbled upon YuuriVoice through your mutuals talking about a mystical series called BitterSweet? Have you seen the fanart of a smart looking red head and someone uttered the name Shattered? Have you been following Yuuri himself as he talks about something called Echoes of Evalas but can’t figure out what in the world that is? Well let’s start off by breaking down the current running Audio Series on the YuuriVoice channel!

Recommended Listening Order

Currently there doesn’t exist an official timeline or recommended listening order, so this is my (hi it’s Thia) personal suggestion of listening order.

BitterSweet (ongoing): The start of it all, the first official YV series and by far the best starting point of all of the series. Features our pastel punk Alphonse and southern hunk Seth as they face their past and learn everything love has to offer.

Shattered (ongoing): Begins around the time of BitterSweet Chapter 3 and follows CEO/Crime Boss Auron as he tries to balance both sides of his life.

Lost & Found (ongoing): Begins after the events of BitterSweet Chapter 3 and follows our favorite criminal turned pizza rat Charlie as he tries to settle into his life after his role in BitterSweet.

Okay… that’s the easy part of this recommendation. Now let’s talk about the possibly most confusing part of YV content as it currently stands: Echoes of Evalas. EoE is the newest and most ambitious narrative project that is a part of the YuuriVerse as it is something that will have ties to all current YV series. That being said…. There isn’t much officially released for it yet. (as of writing… In March 2025, I’ll try to be good and update this) Almost all information that exists currently has been done through teasers/character reveals on stream or YV answering questions on his social media. Though what we do know is that EoE will be initially released in two parts:

Evalas Origins: One shot or short series audios that serve the purpose of world building and setting the scene in which EoE will take place in. Features various characters.

Echoes of Evalas: Long form fantasy based storyline featuring various characters. Notably: Finn, Thomas, and more!

Currently, my recommendation is that you can watch all of these as they come out without having to necessarily listen to anything else in particular, but having listened to the other series will give you some insights to how EoE affects the wider YuuriVerse than you would get without having listened to anything else! Okay. Now that that’s done… let’s talk about each of these. --

BitterSweet: Playlist, Wiki Entry

Featured Characters: Alphonse/Seth Listener: SugarBoo - small town aspiring baker Wiki Introduction: BitterSweet is the story of the shattered relationship between two men with a troubled past and how love manifests in places you'd least expect it. The listener plays the role of Boo, Alphonse's partner, who has helped him grow and learn to trust after falling in love in a small town. The shadow of the city he left behind looms large when his past comes knocking in the form of Seth, Al's criminal cohort...and ex lover!? -

BitterSweet is by far the easiest of the YuuriVoice series to get started listening to, especially now that the director’s cut has been released! BitterSweet, as of writing, consists of four chapters - Chapter 4 ongoing - and the director’s cut includes the first three chapters in a beautiful single video with some remastered art and upgraded quality! The linked playlist includes all the videos you need, including a prologue compilation that paints the story of what the Listener and Alphonse’s relationship looks like at the start of Chapter 1. There are also some bonus audios of the trio in the playlist as well that may not be necessarily canon but still keep the same dynamic between Al, Seth, and SugarBoo.

And I know there is always the question about the trio and polyamory, please see the official statement from the wiki in regards to this:

During the course of BitterSweet, Alphonse and Boo share their unconditional love with Seth, hoping to nurture the parts of him that have weathered away with time and trauma. This love is explicitly undefined, so that listeners can interpret the relationship dynamic as best suits them, as the trio represents no one specific type of love, but rather the healing of unconditional love. For some that may be best experienced romantically, and others may prefer it to be platonically, or even familially.

The beauty of it is that there is no incorrect interpretation, and every possibility is equally valid. This medium of self insert audio content allows for a collaborative fantasy between creator and listener, and is a strength unto itself. --

Shattered: Playlist, Wiki Entry

Featured Characters: Auron Listener: Rook - new hire in the legal department of Auron’s company Wiki Introduction: Shattered is the story of Auron's perilous tightrope walk between his double life of being the CEO of a billion dollar entertainment company and the head of an organized crime syndicate, all while discovering long buried truths about himself thanks to an equally risky office romance with the rookie in his legal department! As the very threads that weave the fabric of the world he's known begin to fray, he desperately tries to hold on to what he cherishes most. -

As said earlier in this doc, Shattered begins in a hand-wavy time around BitterSweet Chapter 3. Nothing in the existing audios explicitly ties the listener to BitterSweet, but it is good to know that during part of these audios the events of BitterSweet are taking place and are affecting Auron as a character. The effect of BitterSweet and such may have an even larger role to play as Shattered continues. Though technically you could listen to these without having listened to BitterSweet (but I personally don’t recommend it).

The attached playlist includes all of the existing audios in the Shattered series. There are two distinct chapters: Chapter 1 - A Family Affair (previously unnamed), and Chapter 2 - Escape. These two chapters were originally released as their own separate but linked series however have now retroactively been joined together under the series known as Shattered. All future chapters will be known to be a part of the series from the moment they are released.

Only other important thing to note is the small appearance of Auron’s brother, Faust. Faust is a full YuuriVoice OC of his own right, however the majority of his existing audios are smaller series and one shots. His role to play in the larger narrative of the YuuriVerse has yet to be seen. --

Lost & Found: Playlist, Wiki Entry

Featured Characters: Charlie Listener: Casper - Charlie’s childhood crush Wiki Introduction: Lost & Found is the story of Charlie, a recently reformed criminal who now slings pies at Sweet Pete's Pizzeria. When he runs into his childhood crush and skateboarding bestie Casper, he decides to make the most of this new lease on life he's been granted! This friends to lovers tale is a spin-off of the narrative series BitterSweet, but can be enjoyed on its own!

Lost & Found takes place a few months after the events of Chapter 3 of BitterSweet. Due to this, I believe it is crucial to understanding Charlie as a character to have listened to BitterSweet. Charlie is a prominent recurring character in BitterSweet Chapter 3 and the events of Lost & Found would not have happened without the lessons Charlie had to learn throughout those events. As well as the ties to BitterSweet and Shattered will continue as the story goes on.

The attached playlist includes the entirety of the series with no extras. Charlie is easy like that.

-- Echoes of Evalas - Upcoming

Featured Existing Characters (exact level of involvement tbd): Finn(eas), Auron, Faust, Ulrick Featured Announced Characters: Thomas, Edwin, Vale, Emrys Listener: Various, most currently unknown. Evalas Origins (ongoing): Playlist - Introductory series of audios to introduce the listener to the world of Evalas and to start setting the scene for the full series. Features various one shots/short series of characters including the werewolf Ulrick and Thomas the Blacksmith. -

Now there has been A LOT of talk about Evalas. Enough that I know many people joining the YuuriVoice community very often get the impression that there is a lot more content out there than there actually is. Why is this? Evalas was originally something that started to come to fruition and be teased while BitterSweet Chapter 3 was coming out, as there are events during that chapter that are directly connected to the story of Echoes of Evalas. However as time went on it became clear that EoE needed so much more time and work to truly reach its potential without being rushed.

For reference… the first whispers of Echoes of Evalas content was released with the YuuriVoice Community Zine ‘A Dance with Dreams’ in October of 2022. If you’re interested in what that content was, it was released in audio form as a BitterSweet interlude as well and you can listen to it here. This was written by YuuriVoice to be a teaser of things to come…. Eventually.

All of that to say, Echoes of Evalas has been an undertaking years in the making. Due to the nature of the internet however, you can’t just bring something up once and then never talk about it and expect anyone to care about it years later. So it’s been teased and talked about vaguely on streams and in tumblr asks and the like for a long time now.

HOWEVER. None of that matters in terms of what you need to know to listen to the series. All the information anyone has is all based on teases and crumbs that YV gives us. In the end, it’s all fan theories.

The only required listening to understand anything at all in regards to EoE is Evalas Origins (linked above). This is the official starting point to Echoes of Evalas and the only content out there that is undeniably canon.

Note: It would not be a miss to go ahead and get acquainted with the YuuriVoice character Finn (playlist link will be in his character section). He is a major player in the story of Evalas, but be aware that all of his current audios are one shots or their own individual series that have no CURRENT tie into the story of Evalas. This recommendation is only so that you can get a feel for Finn as a character in general. Also yes, there are some audios in Finn’s playlist labeled Echoes of Evalas - those are remnants of what Evalas used to be back in 2022… not what it is now, do not assume them to be canon whatsoever.

The same can be said for Faust, though he has much less content. --

Characters

Now there are A LOT of YuuriBoys, and luckily the vast majority of them have one-shots and small series that are independent of the larger narrative series so you can’t get more of your favorites! I’m not going to go into extensive detail about all of them since it’s ultimately better for you to get to know them as you go through the series, but I will provide playlist/wiki links as well as some small quick summaries and information if you want to see what boys you may want to listen to next! This list only includes the current cast of characters and not any specific to Echoes of Evalas since that content is upcoming and we don’t really know anything about them yet! --

Alphonse: The Pastel Punk

Character Playlist: Alphonse All Audios Listener: Boo (aka Sugar) Series: BitterSweet AUs: Maid, Ghost Hunting, Boy Toy, DILF, we turned him into a plushie Tropes: Bad boy gone soft, tragic past, found family, horny bastard Wiki Bio: A pastel fever dream with a tender heart and a sweet tooth. He's fond of mischief and smooth talking, be it for the sake of a good time or to protect his newfound peace.

Alphonse is the man, the myth, the legend, the original OC boy on the YuuriVoice channel. He’s your edgy boyfriend type that is also sometimes too sweet to handle. Outside of BitterSweet his audios range from sweet comfort to absolute filth… he’s versatile like that.

Seth: The Southern Hunk

Character Playlist: Seth All Audios Listener: Sugar (aka Boo) Series: BitterSweet AUs: Cowboy/Country, Cryptid Hunter, DILF, Camping, Werewolf Tropes: Bad boy gone soft, tragic past, found family, country boy Wiki Bio: His tough exterior and defiant attitude is betrayed by the ache in his eyes. He hopes to stop running from his past so that he might set his sights on the future.

Seth is Southern charm personified. First coming off with his hard exterior as a certified asshole, he softens up like butter for the listener. Sometimes a crybaby, but we like a man who is in touch with his feelings.

Auron: The Boss

Character Playlist: Auron All Audios Listener: Rook Series: Shattered, BitterSweet, Lost & Found, Echoes of Evalas AUs: Vampire, Writer Tropes: Dominant boss, organized crime, workplace romance, lost childhood Wiki Bio: Aspirations of power were never part of the plan, yet there are times when Fate calls out. Those who answer either fall prey to its cruelty, or rise to the challenge. All other calls are forwarded to Trish.

Are you someone who enjoys reading Mafia romances? This is the character for you. CEO romance and mob boss romance all wrapped into one. Auron scratches that itch for the cold aloof type that melts for his listener only. Also… Auron’s stuff has Trish… everyone likes Trish.

Charlie: The Pizza Rat

Character Playlist: Charlie All Audios Listener: Casper Series: Lost & Found, BitterSweet AUs: Yandere, Stoner Tropes: Childhood friends to lovers, criminal past, beautiful idiot, comedic romance Wiki Bio: A habitual screwup trying to find his way through the big city after turning over a new leaf. He's a bit dumb, a bit pretty, and works at the local pizza joint.

Charlie, our dear pizza rat, is a mess. Sometimes we wonder how he managed to survive in the crime world as long as he did. But also… he’s a rat so I guess that’s why. He’s full of awkward charm and we love him for it.

Finn: The Soft Florist

Character Playlist: Finn All Audios Listener: Sunflower/Orchid Series: Echoes of Evalas (at least… a version of him), Talk Floral to Me AUs: Garden Variety, Bunny, Yandere Tropes: Soft boy, strangers to lovers, wholesome with a dash of spice, witchy vibes Wiki Bio: An earthly fellow with a soul rooted in nature and life. Timid at times, he shines brightest with his heart in full bloom. Studious and scholarly, he doesn't quite seem to be able to read others as well as he does literature.

Oh Finn… our sweet baby boy with so many secrets. How many lives have you lived? A florist? A bunny? A yandere? A mage? And somehow they’re all…. Real? *Do note that the Echoes of Evalas videos in his playlist are OLD and do not reflect current EoE direction. **Once you get started with Finn I highly recommend reading his wiki entry to get some understanding on how his various AUs tie into the Echoes of Evalas universe!

Faust: The Astral Streamer

Character Playlist: Faust All Audios Listener: Star Series: Echoes of Evalas (eventually), Shattered AUs: Cat Boy, Tsundere Tropes: Tsundere twink, friends to lovers, hates everyone but you, star crossed lovers Wiki Bio: A defiantly bold young man who craves attention and adoration. Whatever ache he's trying to soothe remains to be seen even by himself, but he certainly does not lack in confidence.

Oh while an astral twink is not everyone’s cup of tea… he sure is loved around here. Faust is one of the most iconic characters on the YuuriVoice channel with the least content! But his time is coming!

Lucien: The Big Red Demon

Character Playlist: Lucien All Audios Listener: Angel Series: None Tropes: Big red demon, fish out of water, deal with a devil, and they were roommates Wiki Bio: A demon prince who has developed a knack for running away and embracing the finer things in life on the surface, like reality television and microwave dinners. What it says on the tin. He’s a demon, he’s big, and he’s red. Lucien has no connection to any other series so he’s the perfect big himbo character to cuddle up to for some comfort and laughs! And maybe a little heated….

Jack: The Boy Next Door

Character Playlist: Jack All Audios Listener: Not named! (it’s not buddy I swear to….) Series: None Tropes: Boy next door, vanilla fluff, basically anything you need him to be in a "I'm into it if you are!" kind of way (but also in a he's just here to fulfill the needs of the script way) Wiki Bio: A ray of sunshine, a golden retriever, a childhood friend, the cute guy on campus...you name it, and this jack-of-all-trades is your man!

Jack is truly your sweet boy next door. An original boy from way back in the channel’s life that got a fresh coat of paint nice enough we let him out of the walls! He has no ties to any major series and is just here to give us some lovely fluff!

Conclusion

Whew! We did it! We’re at the end!

I hope this guide helps at least some people out in the beginning of their YuuriVerse journey! If you did use this guide or just checked it out please let me know at my socials below (or on discord if you’re in the YV discord)! Especially if you have questions or comments!! Okay love y’all. ♥️ Thia’s other socials: bluesky

#yuurivoice #Hi I made this and I hope it helps someone #The channel is a bit overwhelming and so much is coming out now #I know it's hard when people just flat recc a channel without a place to start

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tan1shere · 5 months ago

Note

Hi could you do a fic where Billie announces that reader is pregnant?? Like you don’t understand how BAD I want a fic like this. Btw I love you’re fic

Pregnancy Announcement

A/n: yes ofc my love ! Hope this is good <3

Warnings - nothing just fluff ! || masterlist

"Hey you guys." Billie says softly. It was yet another stationhead live. The comments rolled in, people saying all sorts. It was early in the morning, you were snuggled into bed and frankly neither of you could sleep, you had already gotten up once to go puke, and it was only a matter of time before you go and do so again. Every day at around this time you'd spew 3 times. It was horrible, but it was all for something so amazing in the long run. "Just wanted to come on here. Answer some questions."

They fly by as she tries to read them. "Where's Y/n? She's asleep, something I should probably be doing. But I couldn't." She laughs a bit. "It's fine, just couldn't sleep." She says as the comments ask what's wrong. But her attention moves towards you as you toss in the bed. She knew exactly what that meant as you begin to sit up, rushing into the bathroom. The door was heard being closed hastily. Causing Billie to get up and follow. "Be right back you guys." She opens the door right as you were hurling. Coughing in the process.

Since the room was so quiet aside from that, it picked up on her phone quite clearly. You groan in pain as Billie sighs. "I wish I could take this agony away from you." She says softly, crouching and moving some hair from your face. "One more to go this morning." You sigh defeated. "You never know it could just be two this morning?" She says trying to keep you from worrying. You hated puking so this was definitely something you had to get use to for awhile. "I find that unlikely." You say closing your eyes and leaning into her touch, as her hand moves to rest against your cheek. "I'll be ok, go talk to your fans baby." She shakes her head. "I'm here for you, and that's a promise I'm keeping."

You faintly smile at her. Standing and looking in the mirror. "Hey, I'm actually kinda showing now!" You beam, distracting yourself from the horrible events earlier. She smiles wide, going to put her hand on the little bump. "God I'm so excited." She says. You kiss her. "Me too." You both go back out. You get into bed while Billie goes back to her phone seeing the comments blowing up.

"Oh my god, Y/n is pregnant?"

"Is Y/n pregnant???"

That was practically all that was zooming past. Billie freezes for a moment, mouthing something to you. "They know." You giggle at her petrified face. "That's ok, we were going to tell them eventually." You whisper. "Right... Well yes, she is pregnant. Surprise!" Billie chuckles. Not much of a surprise seeing as they all overheard you two. "Everyone's congratulating you, well us but yeah." You smile. "Thank you everyone!" You say.

Not at all how you guys planned to tell the fans, but the previous plan was still in motion just in case no one else knew. Which would be fairly impossible considering her update fan pages. They were always one step ahead. But you decide to do the post you originally were going to do. Billie adds the two positive pregnancy tests on the bed when she's done with that live. Getting the few pieces of clothing already bought and popping that into frame. She snaps the photo adding a few baby emojis.

"🍼👶"

She tags you near the top, posting it for the world to see.

Tags - @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @bilsdillldough @mystiquemm

#billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fandom #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish request #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n

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cryoculus · 2 months ago

Text

— TRACK 03: MORE TIME ⟢

the tour is in full swing, heavy with expectations and lingering doubts, and it comes with its own chaotic moments—both good and bad. you're still learning how to find your footing in the midst of it all.

★ featuring; mydei x f!reader

★ word count; 8.2k words

★ tags; rock band au, found family, hostile acquaintances to friends to lovers, grief/mourning, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

★ notes; you see, i've always wanted to write a fic where the characters are on tour LMAO so many things can happen in so many places, it's such a a juicy premise to work with, and i'm happy that a rock band au is the perfect avenue for the trope :3c

★ header art cr; sarhiyu on x & ig

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

You’re standing outside the label’s office, half-dressed in travel layers, dragging your feet while the crew finishes loading the last of your bandmates’ belongings. The bus door yawns open behind you like a threat. You’ve got five minutes. Ten, if Aglaea’s feeling merciful.

But you’re still on the sidewalk, hugging Hyacine like you’re about to be shipped off to war.

Which, emotionally? Same thing.

“I’m gonna miss you so bad,” she chokes out.

You start to respond but then Hyacine lets out a full-body, ugly sob, and your defenses crash like a stack of wet laundry. She’s clinging to your shoulders now, makeup smudged and nose red. Pedestrians are actively crossing the street to avoid the two of you.

“I can’t afford any of the tour stops outside Okhema,” she wails. “You’re gonna play in some glittering city state and I’ll be stuck here paying off my space heater.”

“I’ll send you videos,” you whisper, trying not to cry too. “Although I’m sure Garmentmaker and Tribbios will keep our socials updated.”

“It’s not the same!” Hyacine howls.

You rub her back, eyes watering, nose stinging. “I know. I know.”

You think she’s winding down, but you think wrong. She lets out a louder sob.

“I DON’T EVEN LIKE ANYONE ELSE IN THE BAND,” your best friend hiccups. “I only care about you! Erin would’ve said the same thing!”

“Hyacine, we both know Erin adored Phainon way too much for that to be true.”

That seems to make her laugh a little, but then you hear it: a third voice wandering into the quiet moment.

“Hey.”

You stiffen for only a moment before turning your head. Mydei’s hoodie is pulled over sleep-mussed hair, hands jammed in his pockets, and standing just beyond the emotional wreckage of your best friend.

“They told me to come get you,” he says flatly. “You’re the last one.”

Hyacine sniffs loudly as Mydei’s gaze slides toward her, taking in the puffy eyes, the tears, the quiet, shattered, hi. He nods at her a little stiffly. Like he doesn’t know how to navigate raw emotion at eight in the morning and has no interest in learning.

“I haven’t said goodbye yet,” you mutter, wiping your face with your sleeve.

“You’ve got sixty seconds,” he replies, turning back toward the bus. “Then I start dragging you.”

Hyacine squints after him, eyes puffy but sharp. “That’s Mydei, right? God, he moves like he’s constantly disappointed in everything.”

You chuckle. “That’s because he is.”

“Kick his ass on stage.” She turns back to you, gripping your shoulders. “I still haven’t forgotten about the way he treated you when you were still new.”

“Already planning to.”

One last hug—tight, snotty, half-laughing through the tears—then you’re off, sprinting toward the bus with your bootlaces flapping. You haul yourself up the bus steps, chest still tight from the goodbye, and get hit with the immediate chaos of touring life.

Suitcases are jammed into every open corner. Somebody’s half-eaten protein bar is stuck to a pillow. Phainon’s sprawled across two seats, snoring like he’s been tranquilized, while Cipher’s crouched in the aisle with a soldering kit and what looks like a disassembled mic pack.

“Don’t step on the wire,” Cipher says without looking up. “Or do. Then I get to build a better one.”

Anaxa’s perched by the window with headphones on, deep in a playthrough on some portable gaming console while mouthing something that might be lyrics—or just insults. Castorice is in the back, already journaling with her legs tucked up like a kid at summer camp.

You plop into the most comfortable seat available and let your bag thud to the floor.

Across the aisle, Mydei slides into his own seat. He doesn’t say a word. The man doesn’t even look at you, but he does nudge a box of tissues your way with a socked foot. Casual and grossly unceremonious. Like maybe he wasn’t totally unmoved by the scene you and Hyacine made in front of the company building.

You don’t thank him out loud, but you grab a tissue and blow your nose like a dying trumpet.

The engine groans awake beneath you. A low hum spreads through the floor, steady and strange. You feel it in your knees, your ribs, your throat. Like the bus itself is exhaling.

Okhema shrinks behind you in the rearview.

Ahead are nine cities. A three-day music festival. A string of dive bars strung like bruises across the map. And ten weeks—seventy days, if you’re counting—of close quarters with people you’re still figuring out how to be in a band with.

You’re not ready.

But maybe no one ever is.

Somewhere near the back, Cipher looks up from a mess of wires and soldered ambition, a tiny glowing device flickering in her hands. She peers over to your seat with a wicked smile.

“I keep forgetting this is your first tour with us,” she says cheekily. “Welcome to the next chapter of your indie rock memoir, newbie.”

You let out a breath. Something between a laugh and a groan as you roll your eyes.

This better be worth it.

THE FLAMECHASERS IGNITE ‘HELL IN THE REARVIEW’ TOUR IN OKHEMA 🎸🔥

Okhema, AM — Last Friday night, the city shook under the weight of raw distortion and gritty catharsis as The Flamechasers roared to life on the opening night of their much-anticipated Hell in the Rearview tour, its namesake a direct parallel to their newest album: Heaven on the Horizon.

Taking the stage at a packed out Marmoreal Stadium, the rock outfit tore through fan favorites and new album cuts with signature ferocity. While longtime fans still feel the absence of former guitarist Hephaestion, newcomer Diana delivered riffs with blistering energy and emotional edge, proving herself a force in her own right.

Manager Aglaea described the night as “exactly what we needed to burn the past down and start clean.” Whether that burn sticks remains to be seen, but if the opening night was any indication, The Flamechasers aren’t slowing down.

The tour continues through ten more cities, including stops at coastal festivals and a live-streamed charity performance expected to draw international attention.

💬 COMMENTS:

@CipherByBTS okay but can we talk about how DIANA KILLED that solo during Ashes to Ivory?? i ascended. i levitated. i forgave my ex.

@steelveil6 BRING HEPHAESTION BACK 🗣️🗣️🗣️

@gutterheartsclub i was skeptical but this new lineup is chaos in the BEST way. like watching a car on fire and cheering for it to win the race.

@ChaoticFriedRice glad they're back on stage, but I can't help thinking this tour is damage control. 🤷‍♀️

@MostNormalMydeiFan scalpers took off with tickets for the castrum kremnos stop, do something about that first maybe?!?!?!?!?

@Unknown471623 new girl's trying too hard it's pathetic. their management is really pushing their agenda lol

@trashcanromance Cipher’s stage dive cleared my skin. Mydei’s mic flip cured my depression. Diana is now my war goddess. That’s all.

On the first break of the Dolos show, the crowd’s still screaming when you stumble offstage.

There’s sweat in your eyes and a buzzing in your limbs that’s half adrenaline, half panic. Five songs down, ten more to go. Everyone scatters—Phainon vanishes for water, Castorice is deep in a hushed argument with the sound tech. You linger near the equipment crates, unsure what comes next.

You feel like you should, but you just don’t.

The others fall into a rhythm you haven’t learned yet. Inside jokes mid-set. Tiny rituals they don’t even explain. Things not even a superfan can possibly know about. Anaxa tosses a coin into one of the empty mic cases. Cipher bumps fists with Mydei three times in a strange pattern. You copy the movements half a second too late, and you feel twice as frustrated.

You shrink into the backstage shadows, hugging your guitar like it might muffle the awkward silence trailing after you. At first, you could still float—let the tide of this band carry you. Nod when they nod, laugh when they laugh, follow the rhythm like you were part of it all along.

But the longer you stay, the more the edges start to fray. The more you realize: you’re not a perfect fit in the puzzle of The Flamechasers.

You’re the piece they keep pressing in, hoping no one notices the corners that don’t quite match.

But you don’t let yourself spiral. You keep your head in the game—makeup retouched, outfit change seamless, guitar tuned and ready. Now all that’s left is waiting for Garmentmaker’s voice to ring through your in-ears and tell you it’s time to go back out there.

That’s until Anaxa plops right next to you.

His sudden appearance makes you startle. He’s a bit slick with sweat and lit like a devil by the amber glow of stage rigging. Even if he hasn’t said anything yet, you’ve been around him long enough to know that he does everything with a purpose. Whether you know it or not.

Anaxa’s not the type to make small talk. You expect a critique. Maybe a “try to keep up.”

Instead, he says:

“You don’t know what to do between sets, do you?”

You nod once, not trusting your voice.

Anaxa leans back, eyes closed, as he sighs. "You’re doing fine, if it helps. You don’t have to fake it. We didn’t tell you anything."

That throws you off a little. “Thanks,” you murmur. Then, because the quiet itches: “Why didn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhales slowly, his gaze drifting toward the stage where Mydei and Phainon stand poised, ready to slip back into position. The noise around you blurs into a dull hum, fading beneath the heavy, almost rhythmic thud of your heart.

Finally, Anaxa whispers, “Because some of us are still pretending you’re not a replacement.”

The words land like a cymbal crash.

But he doesn’t flinch from the silence that follows.

“You didn’t ask for this,” he adds, tone softer now. “But Hephaestion... He was with us for a long time. His absence is loud. Sometimes we try to silence it by closing over the space he left, like it was never there at all.”

It’s not pity in his voice, exactly. But something clean and raw and brutal.

“You’re the last person I expected to talk to me about this,” you chuckle.

Anaxa shrugs. “Yeah, well. I’m not the best person for it. But none of these cowards will, even if somebody should.”

Despite the nerves coiled tight in your stomach, his bluntness feels strangely like mercy.

Somehow, it makes sense that it’s Anaxa who brings up Hephaestion. The name you’ve been avoiding even in thought, all while living each day in the space he left behind. You want to ask for more. Details, stories, anything. Real life is so much stranger than whatever fifty-minute YouTube video can conspire about.

But the moment slips away too fast.

“The show resumes in thirty seconds,” Garmentmaker’s voice crackles through the comms. “Please proceed to stage access immediately.”

Anaxa gets up, straightening his posture. But before the bassist walks off, he says, “You don’t have to make up for something that’s not your fault to begin with. Truth is, you’re one of us now, even if we’re all still grappling with the fact.”

You want to say something back, anything.

But the words get caught in your throat.

Thirty seconds later, you’re back on-stage. The lights are still dim, but the crowd roars anyway.

You try to shake off your conversation with Anaxa, fully aware that giving it any more thought will just throw you off your game. But as you look for something to anchor your focus on, you catch Mydei’s figure in the sparse light. He’s adjusting the mic stand with practiced ease, and you assume he doesn’t feel the weight of your stare.

Until he turns and meets your eyes.

Mydei doesn’t smile, but there’s a shift in his expression. Could be acknowledgement. Or approval, if you’re generous with your hope. But before you can make sense of it, he turns again—light edging around him like a halo before he’s swallowed by the noise and color waiting just beyond the curtain.

Then it’s your turn. You square your shoulders. Grip your guitar.

And let the music take over everything else.

When the show wraps up, the shuttle races through the freeway so fast, it makes you consider reactivating your health insurance. Phainon, your designated seatmate for every ride, tries to offer a mint once your feet finally touch solid ground.

You accept, but you don’t miss the way he tries to hide his laughter.

While chewing on said mint, you file with the rest of your bandmates in the elevator with quiet murmurs. At first, you wondered how the lodging would work—especially since Aglaea was too busy to give all of you any details. But you're relieved to find that the company booked individual rooms for everyone. This will be the case for every stop on the tour, too.

Some R&R was direly needed. You were already planning on a long soak in the tub when your plans are rudely interrupted by someone knocking on your door. It starts with three fast raps, a pause, then two more. The rhythm is suspiciously familiar.

You open the door to find Cipher grinning wide like she’s about to commit a crime, Castorice behind her with a sheepish shrug and a coat in hand.

“Can I help you?” you ask, deadpan.

“Get dressed,” Cipher says, already inviting herself in. “You’re being kidnapped.”

You scowl as she makes a beeline for your half-unpacked suitcase, poking through it with the curiosity of a raccoon.

“Do I get a say in this?” you mutter.

“No,” Castorice says, sweet as sugar. “We just thought you could use a breather.”

Your room’s still dim, shadows stretched long across the floor. You were just starting to enjoy the quiet—no lights, no noise, just the muted hum of hotel air conditioning and your thoughts turned up too loud. But Cipher’s already hurling a hoodie at your head.

“We’re in Dolos, babe,” she says, grinning. “I know this city like the back of my hand. Trust me. It’ll be fun.”

You hesitate. “Fun” isn’t the word you’d use for diving headfirst into The Flamechasers’ offstage dynamic with no warning. But the idea of staying here, alone with your spiraling thoughts, feels even worse.

So you sigh. Pull on your jacket. And follow them out the door.

The walk to the bar is short but full of Cipher’s running commentary. She points out old murals she claims to have helped paint, side alleys with stories she refuses to explain, and a noodle shop that “once saved her life”. Castorice insists it just cured a hangover.

By the time you reach the bar, you’ve already laughed once. Maybe twice.

It’s tucked in the corner of a narrow street with no sign out front, only a faded painting of a dragon coiled around a lyre. Cipher slaps the door twice, as if greeting an old friend, and swings it open.

Inside, the place hums low. It smells like wood polish, citrus, and something sweet drifting in from the kitchen. The music’s live—something smoky and slow—and the crowd’s just dense enough to feel alive without being suffocating.

You spot the rest of the band before they spot you.

Phainon’s leaning halfway across a table, animated mid-story, his hands painting something in the air. Anaxa lounges beside him, half-listening, eyes flicking toward the door the second you enter. Mydei’s in the corner with one boot resting on the lower rung of his stool as he nurses a drink he hasn’t really touched.

Cipher whistles. “Boys! Look what the alley cats dragged in.”

Phainon looks up, grinning. “Finally! We were about to send a search party.”

“You were not,” Anaxa mutters, though his voice has no bite. He scoots over to make space anyway.

Mydei doesn’t speak, but when your eyes meet, he does something unexpected. He raises his glass slightly in your direction. It’s not a toast exactly, but there’s a flicker of acknowledgment in there. Then he looks away, as if that small gesture didn’t just thread itself through your ribs.

“Come on.” Castorice nudges you toward the open seat. “You survived rehearsal, the first two shows of the tour, and Cipher’s rambling. You deserve a drink.”

You sit without much coercion.

The table’s warm from the press of bodies and laughter. It feels oddly natural, like sliding into a rhythm that was already waiting for you. Cipher disappears for all of three minutes before returning with a tray of drinks—something colorful and fizzing, something dark and strong, and a safe bet she sets in front of you with a wink.

“Start slow. We’ve got the whole night.”

The first drink is easy. Second one, less so. Cipher keeps them coming with suspicious generosity, each glass more ridiculous than the last.

One of them arrives with a rubber duck floating on top. She names it General Quack and insists you give a toast in his honor. You do, mostly because Phainon’s already halfway through composing an anthem for the duck, and Castorice is too busy laughing to stop him.

It doesn’t feel like a band hangout. It feels like a friend group that happened to fall into music.

The fan in you takes quiet note of the way everyone leans into each other’s space, speaks in a shorthand built on shared chaos. They’re loose here. Whole.

For once, you don’t feel like a stand-in.

“Alright,” Cipher declares, palms slapping the table, “game time.”

“Every time you say that, someone ends up eating a chili pepper or crying,” Phainon groans.

She just grins wider. “Truth or dare. No skips. Our newbie starts.”

You freeze with your drink halfway to your lips. “Why me?”

“Because you're the newbie,” she says sweetly, already passing you an invisible crown of doom.

You glance around the table. Castorice offers an encouraging smile. Anaxa raises an eyebrow like he’s daring you to back out. Mydei doesn’t say anything, but he’s watching again like he’s been doing all night. You’re starting to think that’s just how he is.

“Fine,” you mutter. “Truth.”

Cipher laces her fingers together conspiratorially. “Who in the band surprised you the most, good or bad?”

The table quiets a bit, everyone looking your way. You stall for a second, but there’s no malice in the question. Just curiosity, and maybe mischief.

You answer honestly.

“Anaxa,” you say. “I thought he’d be more of a dick.”

Anaxa lifts his glass, almost solemn. “The bar was on the floor. I appreciate that.”

“’Kay, Anaxa next then,” Cipher singsongs. “Have you ever fucked someone you shouldn’t be fucking?”

The bassist levels her with a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to ask Truth or Dare first?”

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me if you’ve fucked around with someone you’re not supposed to~”

From where he’s seated, Phainon chuckles as he sips his drink. “What, like with a fan or something?”

Cipher grins. “It’s up to him, how he wants to interpret it.”

Despite the easygoing air, you can feel the animosity Anaxa is emitting towards Cipher. However, the band’s synth player is nothing if not a little rebellious. It makes you sift through your bunk of Flamechasers knowledge, trying to recall any romantic drama. Tribbios is far too good at her job, though; if there were any messy entanglements, they never made the headlines.

Still, you tuck this conversation into your head for later.

“No, I haven’t,” Anaxa deadpans with narrowed eyes. “Don’t you think Castorice has been a little quiet tonight?”

Castorice blinks. “Why are you dragging me into this?”

“Ooooh, Naxy’s right though,” Cipher giggles. “Princess Homebody, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Phainon quips, and Castorice shoots him a betrayed look, like he just handed her over to the authorities.

“You can’t answer for me!”

“You hesitated,” he replies, utterly unapologetic.

Cipher is practically vibrating with glee. “Ohhh, I’ve got it. I dare you…” She drums her fingers on the table like a game show host stalling for suspense. “To do your best impression of Mydei. Bonus points if you include the brooding stare and cryptic one-liner.”

Castorice freezes like someone just aimed a spotlight at her. “No.”

“You agreed to play,” Cipher reminds her. “No skips.”

You almost feel bad for her—almost. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and mumbles, “I play rhythm guitar. I’m not supposed to be seen.”

“Too late,” Anaxa drawls. “You’re center stage now.”

Even Mydei tilts his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching. You’re not sure if it’s amusement or a threat.

Castorice groans, drags her hands down her face, and stands like she’s about to face a firing squad. She shakes out her hair, rolls her shoulders, and adopts the stiff-backed elegance that Mydei carries like a second spine. Then she half-turns, casts the most dramatic sidelong glance you’ve ever seen, and murmurs in a voice low and cold as smoke:

“...The stars don’t ask for applause. They just burn.”

The table loses it.

Phainon nearly spits his drink. Anaxa actually doubles over. Cipher howls. You see Mydei’s brows lift just a fraction and then he laughs, a quiet, surprised sound like he hadn’t meant to. Castorice drops back into her seat, red-faced but grinning. “This is why I don’t speak in interviews.”

“Never do that again,” Phainon gasps.

“I hate how accurate that was,” Cipher wheezes.

Even Mydei offers a quiet, “Not bad,” before sipping his drink.

Warm laughter fills the air and smooths the sharp edges of being new. Someone else gets dared to sing the chorus of their least favorite Flamechasers song in opera voice. It goes downhill—and uphill—very fast from there.

Later, after a round of fries and Cipher showing you how to sneak onto the rooftop without getting caught (“Technically, I own half this place in karma credit”), you find yourself stepping into the open air, grateful for the breeze that cuts through the haze of jovial noise.

You almost miss him at first.

Mydei’s already there, leaning against the railing, half-shadowed. His posture easy but his gaze is a thousand miles away. You blink, realizing you never saw him leave the table. He doesn’t look over when you approach, but you feel the subtle shift in his stance as you join him.

The city hums below. A few beats pass, steady and quiet, before he speaks.

“That song you were messing with on the bus the other night,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the dark. “The one when you thought everyone was asleep.”

“...You heard that?”

He gives a small nod. “Not all of it. Just enough to recognize it.”

There’s a pause. The rooftop air hangs between you, still and light.

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes slightly. “How would you even know which one I was playing?”

He shifts, arms resting along the rail again. Doesn’t look at you when he says, almost offhandedly, “Because I’d already heard it before.”

“Wait, what do you mean—”

He glances at you now, expression unreadable, a flicker of something wry in his voice. There’s a glint in his golden irises that you’d always find on Cipher’s face, but never on Mydei’s.

“Does workigntitledotmp3 ring a bell? As in, the G before the N.”

You freeze.

It takes a heartbeat. Then two. And then your stomach drops straight through the floor.

“I saved it as an mp3 file?” you whisper, horrified. “God...”

That’s when he laughs—soft, sudden, and entirely real. It curls at the edges of his mouth, bright in a way you don’t see from him often. You don’t even bother asking how on earth Mydei got his hands on it, when you were sure you saved it on your laptop and not the shared cloud. He’s already heard it, and you can’t spare yourself the shame.

“You did good with it though,” Mydei says, once the moment settles. “That fade at the end? Nicely done.”

You want to melt into the concrete.

“Quit lying. That’s not even the final version,” you mutter. “It’s like a regurgitated draft. Cipher and I were just messing around.”

“Well, whatever it is,” he says, eyes back on the skyline, “it stuck enough for me to remember.”

You shift your weight, suddenly feeling the heat of the conversation settle on you like a layer of something warm. You take a breath, deciding to lean into the vulnerability he’s offering.

“Thanks,” you say, quieter now. “For… trusting me to take it somewhere. I—I wasn’t sure if it would even work. I didn’t want to screw it up.”

Mydei’s eyes flicker to you for the briefest moment, his expression unreadable for a second before it softens. The shadows around him seem to fall a little quieter, his presence somehow more grounded. He gives a half-shrug, like it’s no big deal, but you hear the quiet sincerity in his next words.

“You didn’t screw anything up,” he says, voice calm, but heavy with meaning. “You turned it into something real, not just what we wrote. That matters more than you think.”

You stay where you are, letting his words simmer down to your bones. It’s hard to believe that not long ago, every exchange with Mydei felt like walking a tightrope. There’s a rhythm to it now. A gentler give and take. Talking to him doesn’t feel like a test anymore.

It makes you think of the versions of yourself that used to watch him from the crowd, bright-eyed and anonymous with a sea of noise between you. Back then, he was just a voice through speakers, a name in liner notes, a ghost behind a screen. Someone untouchable.

Now he’s standing next to you while the city glitters down below—real and imperfect and quietly perceptive.

He speaks to you like you're not just some last-minute addition or a fan with a lucky break, but someone pulling her weight in the sound. The shift is subtle, but it roots deep. You're no longer chasing the dream from the outside.

You’re shaping it from within.

When you and Mydei return to the table, it’s like stepping into a different dimension.

Anaxa is slouched over two pushed-together chairs, laughing to himself about something no one can decipher. Castorice is in Cipher’s lap, tearfully declaring her undying love for the band between hiccups. Phainon raises his drink in greeting as if you’d both just popped out to buy snacks.

“Don’t ask,” he mouths, but he’s smiling too hard for you to believe he means it.

It takes all of you—slightly tipsy, increasingly chaotic—to finally corral each other back toward the hotel. Cipher keeps announcing the street names like a tour guide, and you swear Anaxa tries to high-five a statue.

The elevator ride is a blur of giggles and leaning on each other for balance, and eventually you’re spilling out onto your floor, one by one, goodnights muttered like a ritual. You’re almost at your door when a hand closes gently around your wrist. It’s not a rough grip. Barely there, really, but the contact itself startles you more than it should.

Mydei doesn’t touch people. Not like this.

When you turn, he lets go. Steps back like the moment didn’t happen.

“If you ever want help finishing that song,” he starts, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, “I’m around.”

You arch a brow, smirking past your own surprise. “So you can take all the credit? If I recall correctly, you said it was mine now.”

Mydei lets out a low, amused sound that suspiciously sounds like a laugh. Then he’s already turning down the hall, hands in his pockets, humming something familiar under his breath. You stay there a moment longer, pulse still ticking fast from the touch and everything underneath it.

Then you slip into your room, the night replaying in pieces you don’t want to lose.

Two days later, you’re curled up in the back lounge of the tour bus.

There’s a lukewarm drink in your hands while some godawful romcom drones on through overhead speakers. Phainon’s responsible from the looks of it. He’d managed to get the old TV mounted at the front working again and decided it was time for a movie marathon. Most of the others are in their usual seats, groaning at every predictable twist.

Castorice had opted out early and joined you in the back, legs tucked under her as she stared out the window at the snow piling up in quiet drifts. She mentioned, offhandedly, that she once lived in Aidonia for a while.

“The summers don’t feel like summers here,” she murmured. “The city gets hit with stray blizzards that last for days. Even in July, you can wake up to three feet of snow.”

You glanced at her, amused. “Surely that won’t happen while we’re in town.”

She cracked a small, uneasy smile. “I actually brought it up. Told Aglaea it was too risky and she agreed.”

“So why are we here?”

Her gaze flicked from the snow to you. “Because Aidonia houses one of our biggest fanbases. Director Caenis insisted we push through.”

You sink a little deeper into the couch, suddenly aware of how much colder it feels near the windows.

Sure enough, the foreboding news came true.

On D-0, the venue manager meets you all backstage with a haunted look in his eyes. His lips are chapped from the cold, and he doesn't bother hiding the fatigue behind his fur-lined hood.

“I’m sorry,” he says, arms crossed tight over his clipboard. “The city’s issued a full shutdown. No events. No crowd control, no transit, not even taxis. We have to cancel.”

Snow curls in through the open backstage door, dancing like ash in the spotlight beams. Aglaea steps forward, jaw tight. She’s wrapped in her usual structured coat, but the crispness in her tone has dulled from travel and tension. “And there’s no alternate venue? Nothing indoors?”

“None with capacity and power. We’re lucky the stadium still has heating.”

Behind you, Cipher lets out a long, mournful whine. “I swear there was sun this morning.”

“That was yesterday,” Castorice mumbles, her voice barely audible beneath her hood. Her scarf is wrapped up to her nose, and her fingers are clutching a cup of something from the green room, still steaming.

Phainon exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “Snow's pretty, sure. But this feels apocalyptic.”

Mydei is stone-still. He’s staring out through the open loading dock, where the tour bus sits half-buried in fresh powder, a skeletal crew still trying to wrap cables and protect equipment.

“So we’re what, stuck?” Anaxa asks.

Aglaea’s voice is flat. “Yes.”

There’s a mechanical click behind you.

Garmentmaker is unfazed, tapping calmly through their tablet interface, gloves whirring softly at the joints. “Performance cancellation confirmed. I am recalibrating timelines and logistics. Current projections: three-day disruption minimum. Rescheduling the Aidonia show is not advisable.”

Cipher throws her head back with a dramatic groan. “That’s Garmentmaker-talk for ‘we’re doomed.’”

“No,” they reply, level as ever. “This outcome remains within probabilistic tolerance. However, if weather patterns continue to destabilize—”

“Please,” Tribbios cuts in, appearing out of nowhere in a flurry of fur-lined boots and a pristine umbrella, somehow dry. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

She’s already typing something on her phone, perfectly manicured fingers flying over the screen.

“Damage control’s in progress,” she informs the group without looking up. “The fan channels are getting a ‘safety-related cancellation’ memo. Public statement drops in thirty. We’re spinning this as ‘nature’s surprise encore.’”

“We’ll regroup at the hotel. No press. No obligations.” Aglaea turns to all of you, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You can rehearse if you want, but keep the energy up.”

You nod. What else is there to do?

Cipher’s already trudging out into the snow, pulling Castorice along with her like a bundled-up comet. Mydei lingers just long enough to meet your eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Just a faint tilt of the head, like we roll with it, and then he’s gone, coat flaring in the wind. You’re left in the half-lit shell of what should have been a show.

Lights still rigged. Cables coiled like sleeping serpents. The smell of dust and cold and effort hanging in the air.

Outside, the snow keeps falling like it just doesn’t care.

Unlike in Dolos, the hotel they’d booked here was never meant to be more than a crash pad.

It was a place to sleep for two nights at most. But stranded like this, it feels like limbo—too warm, too quiet. The kind of place where the carpet’s always damp near the vending machines and the hallways seem longer than they should be.

You all end up in the lobby, waiting for someone to say what comes next. Cipher and Castorice are curled up on a sagging loveseat near the fireplace, playing some guessing game with bits of hotel stationery. Anaxa is pacing, thumb hovering near his phone like he’s willing it to ring. He hasn’t taken off his coat. Mydei sits alone, nursing a bitter coffee in a styrofoam cup. He's staring at the muted TV bolted into the corner of the ceiling, where some local news crawl gives conflicting snow advisories and a recipe for stew in the same breath.

Aglaea’s in the business center, barking into a call with Director Caenis. She sounds less sharp than usual, exhaustion creeping in through the control. Tribbios perches beside her with a tablet in one hand and her phone in the other, typing on both. She looks like she hasn't blinked in ten minutes.

You’re halfway through an energy bar when Garmentmaker appears beside you.

They hold out their hand. You crane your head in confusion.

Then, their head tilts slightly, making a holographic display flicker into the air: a color-coded projection of reroute options, risk evaluations, and something labeled Emotional Volatility Index – Live Tracking. Everyone’s name is listed.

Yours is pulsing orange.

“I’m fine,” you say, too quickly.

Garmentmaker nods slowly, recording that lie like it’s data.

Outside, the snow has turned everything grayscale. Cars buried to their headlights. People nowhere. The entire world feels paused.

Eventually, Phainon emerges from wherever he vanished to and dumps a giant bag of chips on the coffee table like he just returned from war.

“Hotel vending machines are tragic,” he announces. “We’re gonna die here. Just so everyone knows.”

“We’re not going to die,” Aglaea snaps from the corner.

Tribbios mutters, “Plausible.”

You don’t know what time it is. The analog clock behind the front desk has been stuck at 8:47 for the past hour, and your phone still won’t load anything but a blank weather app and the useless blinking of “Searching…”

The group begins to disperse one by one. Mydei rises first, tipping his coffee cup into the trash with a hollow thud. Anaxa gives up his pacing and disappears toward the elevator. Cipher yawns theatrically, flopping over Castorice’s lap before dragging herself up, muttering something about brushing her teeth with melted snow.

You push off the wall to follow, sluggish and heavy, but then the lights go out.

All of them.

The lobby plunges into a blackness so complete you feel your own pulse loud in your ears. A second later, the backup generator kicks in, but only halfway. Emergency exit signs cast a dim, blood-colored glow. Somewhere in the walls, you hear the mechanical sigh of systems powering down.

Garmentmaker’s projection flickers, then vanishes entirely.

No glow. No signal. Not even a whine of static.

“…Okay,” Cipher says slowly, her voice a small balloon in the dark. “Did someone trip a breaker, or is this a full-on horror movie situation?”

Aglaea’s voice is sharp. “Tribbios?”

“I’ve got nothing,” Tribbios mutters, tapping her phone like it’s a stubborn wound. “No data, no Wi-Fi, no cell. I can’t even load my files.”

Anaxa reappears from the hallway, face lit only by the cracked screen of his phone. “Elevator’s down,” he says. “I was in it when it cut. Had to pry the doors open by hand.”

Mydei stands perfectly still, head tilted. “Landlines?”

“Dead,” Aglaea replies. “Everything’s down.”

For a long second, no one moves. The hotel, already off the grid due to the snowstorm, now feels like it's clinging to its last thread of normalcy. The faint hum of a hallway light on the other side of the building, the distant murmur of staff somewhere down the hall, are the only things keeping it from feeling like it’s entirely stuck in a different time.

“We’ll wait it out,” Aglaea says finally, voice thinner than usual. “The city will be aware of this. Emergency services should be on the way. This kind of thing doesn’t last forever.”

“And if they don’t?” Castorice asks softly, voice barely carrying across the room.

Garmentmaker boots back online. Their form glitches for a moment, but their voice is as calm as ever. “I will continue monitoring for reconnection. I recommend conserving device batteries. Environmental stability: acceptable. Emotional stability: trending volatile.”

“Thanks,” you mutter. “That’s so comforting.”

You all linger in the dying glow of the emergency lights. Cipher unpacks snacks again. Phainon breaks open a deck of cards and deals a hand that no one plays. Mydei ends up sitting cross-legged by the lobby fireplace, not bothering to relight it. You drift over eventually, unsure whether you're looking for warmth or company.

It doesn’t matter.

Because out here, cut off from the world, there’s nothing to do but wait.

You don’t know who makes the call. Maybe it’s Tribbios, or the quiet consensus of a group with nowhere else to go, but eventually, all of you end up in her presidential suite, shuffled in like mismatched luggage. She’d swept in earlier, declared it the only room with stable heating, and told everyone to give Aglaea some space in her own suite until the blackout passed.

“Stick together,” she said as she flutters of to the bed. “No signal means no updates. Might as well not spiral alone.”

So now you’re here.

Anaxa’s asleep, or pretending to be, curled up on a chaise right next to Phainon, who’s doing card readings with a regular deck. Castorice keeps checking her dead phone, like willing it to light up might break the storm. Garmentmaker takes exactly four steps in, scans the room, and announces, “This environment meets temporary habitation thresholds. I will activate standby mode,” before hibernating in silence.

Cipher’s the last to come in, lugging a battered duffel she refuses to explain and a small fold-out light rig she sets up without asking. Soon, strips of soft pink and deep violet spill across the ceiling—her version of mood lighting in the blackout.

“It’s not much,” she says, fiddling with the remote, “but it beats feeling like we’re stuck in a freezer.”

Phainon groans, “We are stuck in a freezer.”

“Yeah, but now it’s a sexy one,” Cipher replies.

You’re settled near the door, where the cold seeps in slower. There’s a blanket already tossed over the arm of the couch, and Mydei takes the other end without a word. He just folds himself down beside you and lets the quiet simmer. You barely register the weight of him beside you until he speaks, voice low enough that no one else will hear.

“That your lucky charm?” he asks, nodding faintly at your neck.

You glance down.

The guitar pick. Its design’s half-worn from years of idle fidgeting—edges smoothed by thumb and worry. You didn’t even think about putting it on this morning. It’s just there, like it always is.

“Sort of,” you murmur.

He doesn’t press. Just waits, the way he always does when he’s asking without asking. You slide the pick between your fingers, turning it over.

“My twin sister gave it to me. Her name’s Erin,” you say eventually. “We were eighteen. She swiped it from some dive bar we weren’t supposed to be in. Said it was fate.”

A pause. You trace the faded swirl on its surface.

“She used to say music finds you before you know how to ask for it. And if it doesn’t? You steal it.”

He huffs a breath through his nose—almost a laugh, almost not. “Your sister seems smarter than most people I know.”

“Heh... She probably was.”

The silence creeps in again. But it’s gentler this time. Softer around the edges. You glance over. Mydei’s not watching the others or the the storm’s onslaught through the windows. His amber eyes are on the pick between your fingers, like it’s holding a story he almost remembers.

“Erin was the one who got me into you guys, actually,” you admit. “Dragged me into your music like she’ll throw a fit if I didn’t. She used to blast Firestarter in her room every time she skipped school.”

“Is that why you played it for the live audition?” His voice dips, barely audible.

You smile a little, even though your chest aches. “In a way, I do lots of things because of her. She said Firestarter made her feel like she was allowed to take up space. I think that’s why it scared her so much when she got sick. Like... the world was shrinking again.”

Mydei looks away, jaw tight, as if he was quick to understand the implications of your words.

“She would’ve loved being stuck in this room,” you add, quietly. “Just to say she survived it.”

He shifts, pulling the blanket a little higher over your shared corner. You feel the movement more than you see it—the press of warmth, the ghost of an anchor.

“She sounds like someone who should’ve had more time.”

“Yeah.” You blink slowly. “She really should have.”

Mydei doesn’t say anything after that. Just shifts a little closer on the couch, the blanket tugged tighter between you. You feel the brush of his shoulder against yours, steady and solid. When your knees knock lightly together, he doesn’t pull away.

Neither do you.

The room hums with low conversation, the occasional rustle of fabric, the whispery static of the storm pressing against the windows. But the corner you share feels separate somehow.

At some point, your eyes start to slip shut. His breathing slows beside you.

When you wake later, you’re still tucked there—his arm resting just behind yours, the edge of the blanket pulled up to your chin. Mydei’s head leans slightly toward your shoulder, and for once, he doesn’t look like he’s carrying something too heavy to name.

Just asleep. Just here.

You let yourself close your eyes again.

The second day of the blackout dawns even colder than yesterday.

Everyone's wrung out. The novelty of sharing one suite has curdled into cabin fever. You're perched near the window for slivers of light, scribbling half-lyrics on hotel stationery, when the mood shifts.

Cipher’s pacing again, mumbling about battery packs. Her portable light rig flickers in silent protest. Pale pink washes the walls, the last of its charge bleeding out. This continues until the door opens with a gust of hallway chill and Aglaea walks in.

She’s holding a tray with stale croissants and half-melted butter packets from whatever’s left of the breakfast service downstairs. Her coat’s soaked to the elbows. She must’ve gone looking for updates—or just to get air.

“Still no signal,” she says, setting the tray down. “Reception says the lines are down past the ridge. Could be hours. Could be another day.”

Cipher perks up. “Did you find the backup packs?”

“You burned through them yesterday,” Aglaea replies dismissively. “They’re gone.”

“You mean we didn’t bother bringing spares.” Cipher’s tone sharpens. “Real prepared, boss.”

“We’re in a blackout, Cipher. If you’d rationed the rig time—”

“Oh, I forgot,” Cipher cuts in, too fast, too raw. “Accountability’s not really your thing.”

The temperature in the room drops.

Phainon and Anaxa straighten up from whatever board game they were occupied with. Castorice lowers the book she'd been pretending to read for the past half hour. Even Mydei, who you thought couldn’t be surprised by anything, turns his head sharply with a look that says, watch your mouth.

You don’t understand what just happened. Only that something broke.

Aglaea folds her arms. “Do you want to say something to me?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Cipher steps forward, jaw tight, voice shaking. “What? We’re still pretending he never existed? That saying his name is going to hex the whole goddamn band? You made that rule, Aglaea. You told everyone not to talk about him. Especially around her.”

She jabs a finger toward you.

Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t known there was a rule—some pact of silence wrapped tight around a name that clearly mattered more than anyone’s been willing to admit. Aglaea doesn’t deny it. She just stands there, caught in Cipher’s fire, her expression unreadable in the flickering light.

“You were Heph’s manager.” The choked up noise she makes almost sounds like a laugh. “You were supposed to protect him. But when things got hard? You threw him under the bus and let him leave. Then you acted like nothing changed. Like we could all just carry the weight he left behind and no one had to talk about it.”

Aglaea doesn’t flinch. But her voice goes colder. “That’s not what happened, Cifera.”

“No? Then tell me. Tell me how pushing him away helped him and his family.”

...His family?

“Hephaestion wanted out,” Aglaea snaps. “He asked for space. I gave it to him.”

“Bullshit,” Cipher says, shaking her head. “He didn’t want space. He wanted someone to see he was drowning in the choice he was forced to make.”

“I did see it.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?!”

Aglaea draws in a breath, but she never gets the words out. Because Mydei speaks first.

“Enough.”

It’s quiet, but it lands like a dropped weight. There’s no fire in his voice, only a low, anchored thing that cuts through the air with more finality than shouting ever could.

You glance over. He hasn’t moved much, still seated on the same couch you fell asleep on together, but the shift is there in the way his shoulders square, in the way his eyes don’t rise to meet either of them. His jaw is tight, breath steady and slow like he’s fighting to keep it that way.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” he mutters. “Don’t stand here and twist the memory of someone who can’t defend himself.”

Cipher turns slowly toward him, whatever fire was in her eyes flickering uncertain. Aglaea’s lips are pressed into a line so thin it’s barely there.

“Hephaestion mattered,” Mydei says, softer now. “More than whatever point you’re trying to score. So just do everyone a favor and knock it off.”

It’s not anger exactly. It’s not even grief. It’s something older than both—worn and buried and aching in silence. The kind of hurt that doesn’t ask to be witnessed, only respected. You watch Mydei, breath quiet in your throat, and think: this is what it means to carry someone after they’re gone.

The silence holds long enough that even Cipher doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

And then the door opens again.

This time, it’s Tribbios.

She’s ushering in a poor room service attendant who looks entirely out of his depth, wheeling a cart stacked high with mismatched mugs and two carafes of something steaming. Tribbios, ever the diplomat, is mid-sentence as she strides in, cheerful and bright like she’s walking into a press meet instead of a battlefield.

“—figured we could all use something hot. They still had some coffee left downstairs, miracle of miracles, and I told them to throw in tea for anyone who wants to pretend they’re above caffeine—”

Then she stops.

The tension doesn’t greet her. It collides with her.

Cipher’s still standing, fists curled. Aglaea hasn’t moved. Mydei’s gone silent again, gaze somewhere far and hard. And you—blanketed and still, watching from your perch by the windows—can only manage a weak smile in her direction.

Tribbios takes it all in with a single glance. Her grin falters just slightly, but she recovers fast. She gives the attendant a grateful nod and a soft “Thank you, I’ll take it from here” before guiding the cart the rest of the way inside herself.

The scent of the coffee cuts through the quiet, rich and earthy. It should feel comforting, but it doesn’t.

From the corner, a voice crackles back to life. Garmentmaker, still huddled in standby by the kitchenette, lifts their head just enough to comment in that unchanging mechanical lilt:

“Emotional volatility has spiked to 3.4 times the baseline. Minimizing interpersonal engagement is recommended until levels return to normal.”

Upon hearing the data, Tribbios' gaze sweeps across the room, frowning.

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

None of you dares to answer. You just sink a little deeper into your little corner, a blanket pulled tight around your shoulders, as you stare out past the window’s frostbitten edge.

You just want this damn storm to end.

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #mydei x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mydei hsr #mydei #cryoculus

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