#copy-pasting and modifying an older warning

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

now's probably a great time to remind everyone that the QSMP HAS CHILD DEATH.

Child death in the QSMP is a constant threat- now more than ever. The streamers roleplay (and the ccs experience) grief over child death. they are very good roleplayers. it hurts a lot. the QSMP is a fantastic server with some incredible storytelling, but if child death is a trigger or a squick, there is NO shame in stepping back from it or blocking the tag entirely. Child death is one of the biggest “no thank you” subjects in common media- again, there is NO shame in stepping back if this current arc stresses you out too much.

(and warning for people who are already aware that child death isn't for them- we do try to tag for it, but we (i especially) forget a lot and you should proceed with that in mind). anyway have fun curate your online experience to your own needs etc etc

[inlovewithgreta]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ Kinktober 2024 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Glorious - Hela x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wake up to Hela and her early morning cravings.

Warnings: degradation, praise, dumbification, somnophilia, pussy slapping, slight spit kink, oral sex (r!receiving), definitely not proofread...

Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat @ratsnestinmyhair

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

The early glow of the sun rising over the horizon covered the space around you in a magnificent golden hue. Curtains were spread just enough to let the bright light into your bedroom.

You had spent the night tucked into Hela's arms, but throughout the night, you had somehow found your way to the opposite side of the bed. And when the ravenette woke up, her vision was blurry from sleep.

Knuckles rubbed against her eyes, and she audibly groaned. Not only were the rays from the sun shining directly into her face, but she was cold.

Your body always kept her warm. Limbs tangling with her own as if you were both one, but today they were missing. She frowned as she pulled the covers over her, but when she looked over to your side of the bed, all morning sourness was depleted.

Hela herself was never a morning person. It was too bright, too shiny, too early. If she could stay in bed all day with you tucked by her side, she would.

And the sight of you laying on your stomach, body turned away from her, hair sprawled out behind you, your bare back glowing with the most beautiful glow from the sunshine, and your little black lace panties just barely peeking out from under the duvet had her mind instantly take a new direction.

You looked at peace. And even in your sleep, Hela thought you were the most gorgeous being she had ever seen. Long, slim fingers tangled in your locks, twirling the soft strands away so she could get a better view of your back.

Your muscles moved with each steady breath, and Hela couldn't help herself but to reach out and glide a gentle finger down your spine.

Her sweet Angel, sleeping so peacefully—so beautifully. Her body moved closer to yours like a magnet. Drawn to you. Meant to connect with you.

Your skin was as soft and smooth as the silk sheets beneath you. Tender digits explored your back, following every nook, every dip, curve, and trail until she reached just low enough to touch your lace panties.

They were her favorite ones. Dark. Black. Her favorite color. And you looked absolutely divine wearing it.

Her fingers pulled at the duvet, gently and carefully sliding the thick blanket down your legs, and past your feet, earning the most subtle shiver from you in your sleeping state.

Such a delectable creature you were. So much younger, brighter, sweeter. The completely opposite of her. Yet you chose her. The more older, crankier, darker woman. And she would never admit it, but you brought out the best in her.

And she was ever so grateful for you. But to her, words were a struggle. It was hard for her to tell you exactly how she felt. It was an ongoing battle between her mind and her lips.

But there was another way that always allowed her to express herself. And that was with physical touch. One thing she loved most.

And that's why when you let out the softest of hums when her digits raked over the lace panties covering the curve of your ass, Hela knew what she had to do.

Even in your sleep, your body and mind memorized her touch. So soft and delicate. The complete opposite of her usual demeanor.

Her pointer and middle finger dipped just beneath the lace to drag the thin fabric carefully down your legs.

Hela moved her body closer, allowing her moistened lips to place featherlight kisses along your bare back. The purplish marks from her actions the night before were now prominently darker, and she smirked to herself.

Panties were slipped off and thrown down the bed, immediately forgotten, as the ravenette continued her slow path down your figure.

Her tongue dipped to the curve of your waist, soothing over the faint bruise from previous endeavors. She loved marking you. Her lover. Her person. Wanting the world to know who you belonged to.

"So beautiful..." she whispered between peppering kisses. Lips ghosted along the curve of your ass, but she took her time savoring your luscious bottom.

It was her favorite body part, and you immediately caught onto that fact as your relationship with her blossomed. All the touches, kisses, pinches, and smacks all quickly made sense.

Luckily for her, one leg was lifted, closer to your chest, yet exposing more of the space between your thighs. Lips were licked, and her body settled between your legs.

A plethora of chaste kisses were placed along the innermost part of your thighs. Hela used both hands to grab a handful of your ass, spreading your cheeks to allow more space for her tongue to dart out and lick a strip across your puffy folds.

It took everything in her not to let out an animalistic groan at the sweet and tangy taste of your pussy. "So fucking perfect..." she whispered to herself between kitten licks.

Your hips involuntarily bucked. And the woman slowly eating you out, was studying your every move. Every little twitch, hitch of your breath, and tiny shudder that elicited from you.

Like your body knew, even in a deep slumber, that she was close. That she was touching you. The reason why you were dreaming that you were being pleasured— but it wasn't a dream.

A small whimper fell past your lips as reality hit you. The room was slowly being filled with the sun's rays peeking through the curtains, hands were grabbing feverishly at your ass, and lips were sucking at your most intimate parts.

"There we go... wake up for me, princess," Hela cooed.

She was exploring you. Relishing being on her most favorite spot. Your hips steadily grind against her face, and your hand reaches down to lay atop her own that laid across your ass.

Her tongue brushes past your hole, forcing you to let out a muffled moan as you hide your face in the plush pillow.

A harsh smack to your ass had you let out another muffled yet hearty moan from you. The immediate switch in her tone was arousing.

"You know I like hearing those slutty little moans of yours. Keep them muffled and I will stop. I will not look, touch, or even breathe in your direction all day. Now let me fucking hear you. Do you understand me?"

Eager to please, you move your head. Letting your head fall sideways. "S-sorry—" you mumbled, sleep still relevant with your slurred response.

Your eyes were fluttering, half-closed, threatening to close. She explored every nook and valley, tasting every last drop of your arousal that threatened to spill from your cunt.

"You better be," she seethed, taking a moment to collect air but still pull the smooth skin of your ass cheek between her teeth and bite down.

You yelped in surprise. Your body wiggled, but Hela was insistent on holding you down. Crescent moons from her nails leaving marks in your flesh that were sure to stay for the rest of the day.

Hela dove back to your cunt, paying special attention to your puffy clit. Your most sensitive spot. The spot that the ravenette liked to play with the most.

"Come on, baby. Let me hear those pathetic little moans." She groaned against your pussy. "I want to hear you screaming my name. I don't give a fuck who hears."

She was swift in turning you over, and while you were still in a sleepy haze, it was a quick and easy move. Your knees bent, and legs lazily fell open as you allowed your lover to dive nose-deep in your pussy.

Fingers curled inside dark locks, before pulling at the strands to elicit low, sinful moans that sent vibrations through your core.

Eyes fell shut, too heavy to stay open. But moan after moan fell past your lips and played heavenly in Hela's ears. It was just too easy for her to make you moan. Always so noisy when she pleasured you.

After all, she had memorized every little thing that made your eyes roll, and her name fall past your lips over and over again in an increasingly growing prayer.

One hand left your quivering thighs to glide up your abdomen. She could feel every hitch of your breath as her slender digits slid higher and higher.

Your breast filled the palm of her hand, and the feeling was enchanting. How you fit so perfectly. Like your body was made entirely for her own pleasure.

She was glad you wore no garments to bed, making it easier for her to fuck you. Although she was still wearing more than you were, the last thing on her mind was herself.

"Always such a little slut for me. Even in your sleep. Isn't that right? You were dreaming about me weren't you?"

"Yes!" You bucked your hips. "So good..." you mumbled.

Hela chuckled at your response. It was clear you were barely there.

"Look at you," she scoffed. "I haven't even let you come yet you're barely even coherent." She nipped at your pulsating clit. Your back arched from the bed in response.

"Have I already fucked you stupid?" She asked.

"Mmph— I —" your head nodded, but your words weren't correlating. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out besides the constant moans and the occasional whimper.

"So fucking pathetic... eating you out so good you can barely even speak." She poked at your cunt with her tongue as her words were muffled as she spoke. "What's on that fucked out, stupid little mind of yours, hmm?"

Your lips opened but nothing came out. Nails scratched at her scalp as you focused on the pleasure building between your thighs.

An unexpected harsh smack elicited the sharpest of gasps from you. Hela had used her free hand to slap your pussy, pulling you back to reality.

"Answer me, my little slut." You whined, and not from just the slap, but from her mouth leaving your pussy while she glared up at you. You were so close, yet now your orgasm was fading away.

And it was fading quickly.

"Y-You! Jus—Just you!" Your hips bucked, and doe eyes gazed down at her in a silent plea.

A pleased hum elicits from her, as she watches you intently. Your flushed face, doe eyes, and a pouty lip. You were just the most precious thing. So innocent... yet so filthy at the same time.

"That's my good girl. See that wasn't so hard. Now let all those thoughts disappear from that pretty little mind while I finish what I started."

Hela dove right back in, not sparing another second as she spit at your pussy, leaving a trail of saliva from her lips before flicking at your folds.

A throaty moan falls past your lips, struggling to breathe at the newfound sensitivity you were feeling over how close you previously were to your release.

Her tongue flicked and prodded at your puffy clit before she pulled it into her mouth with a harsh suck. This time she allowed your hips to move, letting you ride her face as she fucked you with her tongue.

Your gaze flicked down to her once more, and you came in merely an instant. The way her gaze was already trained on you and the sight of her head between your legs was enough to set you off.

Her name was loudly falling from your mouth with a plethora of other numerous, almost pornographic noises. Your thighs trembled and restricted against her head, but Hela insisted on letting you ride out your high for as long as possible.

You swore your vision went black and you saw stars, in which Hela noticed when your lashes fluttered and your eyes were glazed over.

Your body was convulsing, Hela finally removing her mouth from your dripping cunt to first lick her lips, and then place kiss after kiss along your thighs.

She followed a familiar trail upwards. First starting at your hip bone, then to your navel, between the valley of your breasts, and up to your chin.

Her mouth latched onto your own, sucking on your plump lower lip before sliding that skillful tongue of hers past your lips.

You could taste yourself along her experienced tongue, and moaned deeply into the kiss.

Hela chuckled deeply when she pulled away from the kiss for air, only for you to attempt to chase her lips with a pout, not ready for her to pull away just yet.

"We need to get some food in you first before we even think about continuing this. I can't have my pretty little thing passing out on me mid-orgasm," she teased.

You let out a dramatic sigh as her fingers moved your hair out of your face. She was right, but you were too stubborn to admit it.

But you knew one very important thing about Hela.

And that was she was a woman of her word.

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[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? 😊

[nahbees]

Basic JDownloader 2 Tutorial

With the world realizing that media on the internet can be lost with a snap, I thought it would be a good idea to show you how to download media, either music, videos, pictures, and text in bulk. (LONG POST WARNING)

I. Downloading the Program

Behold, the download page, is this safe? There is a pretty high chance that the software is safe, as it is open-source, meaning anyone can look at the programs code and/or modify it. However if you still don't feel safe installing the file, that's okay! I don't have any alternatives however TmT.

I will be downloading the windows version since that's the OS I run, however I'm sure the other downloads work just as fine.

You should get either the top one or the bottom one, if one doesn't work then try the other, the other versions on the website I believe are for older computers.

Double click on the file it downloaded and wait for the installer to load.

Go though the installation and wait for it to install. Once it's done downloading click finish and JDownloader 2 should open automatically (or if you disabled that int he installation, you can just open it there.)

II. What the Heck am I Doing?

What do you do? The program is a bit confusing at first, however it's rather simple to understand. See that button circled in red? That's how to add items to download, click it. However, if you look at the top of the image and locate the clipboard circled in blue, that makes is so anything you copy, links, images, etc, will automatically be added to the program, if you think this will be annoying then disable it.

Once you click the "Add New Links" button, this window should appear. Everything here looks pretty scary, however you only need the two that are circled, the rest is for more advanced searching. Simply copy and paste a link that has any content supported by JDownloader 2. (NOTE: Youtube is fully supported by JDownload 2).

(Just if your looking for the continuation!)

[yoongissweetdream]

Brother's Favourite | Jung Wooyoung

-> Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Wife!Reader

-> Request: From Anon

-> Summary: Wooyoung tries to win back the title of his brother's favourite person. Can be read as a part two to Plans Changed but doesn't have to be.

-> Warnings: Pouty Wooyoung. Fluff. Cuteness. Pregnancy

-> Word Count: 590

-> Requests: Closed. I will make a post when they are open again.

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Taglist Sign-Up

© 2024 yoongisssweetdream - do not copy/modify/repostanywhere. reblog instead.

“Did I do something wrong?” Wooyoung asks Y/N with a frown as Kyungmin walks straight past him without greeting him like he usually does. He couldn’t lie and say his little brother’s cold shoulder doesn’t hurt his feelings. 

“I’m not sure. He was fine on when I picked him up and didn’t mention anything on the drive over,” she shrugs, slipping off her shoes. She greets him with a peck on his pouted lips. “Maybe he’s still a little upset about the last time he came to stay.” 

“I thought we resolved that. I promised him no interruptions this weekend.” He says, with a sigh as he follows her into the kitchen. “I even told everyone not to call me into the company until Monday. This weekend is strictly for you and Kyungmin.” 

“I know baby, but he’s a kid. Words can mean nothing until they have actions to back them up,” she tries to assure him, emptying the bag of food his mother had made for them. “After this weekend, everything will be back to normal and you’ll be his favourite again.” 

“I doubt it,” he pouts again, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her shoulder. “You’ve been his favourite since the day I introduced you to him.” 

Y/N chuckles, turning around to face him. "Well, I can't help it if I'm the cool sister-in-law," she teases, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But you’re his favourite person ever, so don't worry too much." 

Resting his forehead on hers, he pecks her nose. “You’re not just the cool sister-in-law. You’re the best wife ever.” 

“I know,” she smiles cheekily. “Now, go talk to your brother, while I sort out dinner.” 

“How about we go out for dinner?” he suggests, despite him having only arrived home 10 minutes before her and Kyungmin. 

"Sounds good to me. Give me five minutes to get changed into something more comfortable,” Y/N agrees, pulling away from him and heading towards their bedroom to change.  

As she walks away, he can't help but smile to himself, grateful to have her as his wife and mother to his unborn child. Heading to the guest bedroom, he knocks on the door and enters to find his brother opening his new toys that they promised him.  

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going?" he asks, taking a seat on the bed. Kyungmin looks up briefly before continuing to play with his toys. Wooyoung tries again, "We're going out for dinner tonight. You can pick the place."  

Wooyoung smiles, watching his brother’s eyes light up at the mention of being able to choose where they go for dinner. He watches as Kyungmin carefully considers where he wants to eat, his face scrunched up in concentration.  

After a few moments, Kyungmin finally looks up at Wooyoung and says, “McDonald’s!"  

The older Jung chuckles and gets up from the bed, tousling his brother’s hair as he agrees, "McDonald’s it is then.”  

The young boy’s excitement wavers a bit, prompting Wooyoung to ask, "What's wrong?"  

"Can Y/N eat McDonald's?" he asks, showing his concern for his sister-in-law's pregnancy food preferences.  

"She can eat at McDonald's, in fact, the baby loves McDonald's," he reassures him. 

Kyungmin's little face lights up again after hearing that his niece or nephew also loves the fast-food restaurant. 

“Let’s go see if Y/N is ready to go,” Wooyoung suggests and follows Kyungmin out of the bedroom. 

As they enter the living room, they find Y/N ready and waiting for them. She smiles seeing the two acting all brotherly again. 

Wooyoung Tag List: @staytiny2000 - @treehouse-mouse - @kpopmenace143 - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea -

@rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie – @hollxe1 –

@deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things  - @everythingboutkpop - @oddracha -

@http-gyu - @skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite - @keshivibes - @bookswillfindyouaway

@katsukis1wife -

Wouldn't let me tag you (properly or at all - I don't want to have to remove anyone so please let me know if you get a notification): @trinxt - @marianxde08

If you aren't able to be tagged: how to change mentions (tags) settings on phone

[rmdently]

eight year ache

pairing: ceo!jungkook x ex-richgirl!waitress!reader

genre: fluff, angst, mild smut, exes to lovers, modern persuasion au

rating: pg-15

sypnosis: He’s back in your life, and so is the misery and guilt you’ve fought so hard to tamp down in the past eight years.

warnings/tags: mentions/non-explicit descriptions of minor character death, car accident, alcohol addiction, classism, gambling, depression, grief, running away from home, ogling at someone’s behind, attempted sexual harassment (pinning someone against the wall), mild swearing, suffocating, punching, references to the movies pride & prejudice (2005) and persuasion (1995), kissing, grinding

w/c: 6,757

a/n: i’ve always wanted to write an austen novel-inspired au so here it is!! feedback is very much appreciated!!

« m.list »

all rights reserved © rmdently

please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my works.

Upon signing the lease, Mr. and Mrs. Seong asked you to join them for dinner as soon as they have settled in. Just tell them the schedule that best works for you, and they'd have everything arranged — Mrs. Seong told you with a comforting hand that squeezed your shoulder and a warm smile that drew lines on the corner of her eyes adorably. A carbon copy of the way you remember his smile did when he was incandescently happy.

Having your ex-fiancé's older sister as one of your new tenants wouldn't be a problem, would it? She had shown you nothing but kindness in the amount of time you had spent with her before (not that it's much but it still counts), even now with her seemingly equally amiable husband, who was a wealthy naval officer.

Hoseok, your family's advisor and lawyer, recommended them as highly respectable and responsible tenants. They were married without children. That being said, they spoilt her younger brother instead and took him with them to Paris, not so long after you had broken off your engagement, so he could pursue an education there. He had always been a bright kid, and you were well-acquainted with that fact.

You had often sneaked in your home library to grab a pile of books that you'd later ask him to read aloud for you. Whenever he got the pronunciation wrong, you'd teach him, patiently, just as how your private tutor was with you. He didn't stop trying until you told him he got it right because he always wanted to see the proud grin you wore every time he did something impressive to you.

Also, your family urgently needed the money. It had taken your father some convincing (read: a lot) from Hoseok until he swallowed his pride and agreed to the proposal. Who were you, then, to do otherwise? The gravity of the situation weighed heavier than your own personal turmoil that was, you admit, of your own doing anyway.

Serving a full house tonight didn't give you time to go home for a quick change of outfit so you settled with your uniform, a white long-sleeve button-up tucked neatly into a black pencil skirt, and retouched your makeup in the authorized personnel's comfort room. Your manager, bless her heart, gave you a bottle of wine to bring when you had explained to her that you're invited over for dinner by your tenants. "An admiral you say? Well, we don't wanna come there empty-handed, do we?"

Mrs. Seong was the one who answered the door. Your apology for being a few minutes late was already on the tip of your tongue when she engulfed you in a hug. "You're just on time, dear!" she greeted, wasting no time to take the bottle from your hands and tug you towards the dining room. In a lower voice, she spoke: "Come, someone will be joining us tonight." At the implication of her words, you stiffened, and the hand clasped in her own started to feel clammy. The clack of your heels stuttered as they treaded on the marble flooring. At least, you managed to force a smile for her. "Thank you, Mrs. Seong." You cleared your throat before continuing, "But if I may ask, who is this someone?"

Whether or not it's him, it would be unethical of you to leave, no matter what convincing reason you could come up with because you're already here. And he might be here—the man whose heart you broke eight years ago but who you had loved for more. Loved. The reminder ran bitter in your veins like the wine in Mrs. Seong’s grip.

The answer to your inquiry moments ago came in the form of a tall man leaning against the bar counter, his broad back facing you and his shoulders jerking, probably laughing at something Mr. Seong had said. Over his shoulder, you saw Mr. Seong divert his gaze from the man in front of him to you. He perked up immediately. “Oh, she’s here!” he said, approaching you. You held your breath, bracing for the moment the stranger would finally turn his head.

And he did. But his reaction was... not a reaction at all.

He stared at you blankly while you felt frozen in place, cheeks hot under the attention of this man that could pass off as the one typically described by the romance books you had in your home library that you spent late nights muffling your squeals into the pillow reading. Or perhaps one of the marble sculptures of Greek gods that used to stand in the corners of this place like guards but were no exemption to the things that your family had to let go to pay off the debts of your father.

You often imagined how stable life would have been if your mother had survived the car accident. Your father wouldn't have to drink and gamble his pain and grief away. Your sisters wouldn't have to leave home to find love somewhere else because they couldn't feel it in this household. Not anymore. The last time you had heard from them, which was a year ago, one of them was already married and the other was pregnant. That left you and your father to fend for yourselves, although it was you who had to do most of the fending.

"Y/N?" the man spoke as he took slow steps to your direction, the gears in his head finally clicking into place. “Jungkook,” you breathed, mentally noting the physical changes the past years had brought about—the piercings on his eyebrow, lower lip, and ears, the parted hair that was neatly styled, the prominent slopes of his face, and the tailored suit.

He seemed to have given you a once-over as well but then he jerked in the slightest, as if he had suddenly been struck by something intangible, and looked away with a tensed jaw. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold," he said monotonously, pivoting on his heel to head to the dining table. There was no bite in his words but there was no hospitality either. A pit began to form in your stomach.

"How is your father, Ms. L/N?" Mr. Seong asked before taking another bite of his food.

You replied, "He’s doing okay, but he’s still under supervision. The doctor’s order was to reduce his drinking bit by bit, and he’s been consistent so far.”

Mr. Seong made a noise of affirmation while nodding. "That's good to hear! I hope he fully recovers soon."

"I hope so too," Mrs. Seong chimed in, placing a hand atop yours. "We'd really like to have him join us next time."

"What is he doing at this hour? Is he already asleep? Is there someone else looking after him at home?" Mr. Seong asked.

You shook your head. "He's actually staying at a nursing home."

Mrs. Seong tilted her head. "Oh, why is that?"

"Well, I'm afraid I can't keep an eye on him because I'm at work almost the entire day, so it was the best choice that we had."

Mrs. Seong nodded as she muttered, "I see."

"At first, he was sulky. Told me I must be trying to get rid of him already," you pressed on with a quiet laugh that fell humorless even to your own ears. "But he's adjusting well now and I think... he has forgiven me."

Mr. and Mrs. Seong silently exchanged looks that conveyed sympathy.

You glanced down at your food to resume your eating, and looking back up, you accidentally locked gazes with Jungkook, who still had an unreadable expression on his face and was silent the entire conversation.

"If it's okay with him, we'd like to visit him some day this week," Mr. Seong interjected, capturing your attention. "Is that okay with you, too, Ms. L/N?"

"Oh, yes, yes!" you reassured. "Definitely! Just tell me when, and we'll book a visit."

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Seong said before clearing her throat and turning her head towards Jungkook. His silence didn't go unnoticed just by you. "Jungkook, do you have any meetings scheduled this week?" she asked.

"I've yet to check in again with my secretary," he said. "But as far as I know, I have one in three days."

"Oh, okay. That means we can spend the next two days touring around town, right?"

"I actually—"

"Jungkookie—" Mrs. Seong began, pinning him with a look that said arguing against her is futile. Jungkook blushed, and his eyes widened at the term of endearment. "Come on, you have to loosen up sometimes! You have to take breaks or you'll get burnt out. Surely, your staff wouldn't burn the company down if you left them to their own devices for two days, would they?"

Jungkook huffed, slicing the steak with more force than necessary. "I suppose not."

Mrs. Seong smiled, satisfied.

Mr. Seong squeezed Jungkook’s forearm, chuckling and shaking his head as if recalling a funny memory, then looked at you. "In fact, this is an improvement. Jungkookie here was so keen to start his own company right after graduation. We had to force feed him because he was too busy to remember to eat on time!"

Surprisingly, there was no trace of irritation on Jungkook's face. He just smirked with his head slightly tilted. "Most extremely keen. Badly wanted to be doing something," he muttered.

You reached for the glass of wine to quench the sudden dryness in your throat.

Mr. Seong clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, my boy, you know that. But take things easy, yeah?"

The night air was fairly cold but the atmosphere inside the car felt warm and suffocating. Silence surrounded the two of you like a thick blanket save for the AI voice of the navigation app. His eyes were focused on the road before him while yours were glued to the scenery that unfurled from the window on your side.

Knuckles turning white with the way you clutched the end of your seat, you decided to break the ice before you could talk yourself out of it.

"It's... nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you, too," was his immediate response.

"How long will you be staying here?"

"Three weeks."

You hummed.

"Your sisters... how are they?"

"Oh." You were pleasantly surprised at how he remembered them. "They're good. Hana is married while Aera has a child now."

He nodded. "Send them my regards."

"I will," you answered.

A short pause, then you followed it up with: "Congratulations on your company, by the way. It must not have been easy building your business from the ground up.” You knew that very well because of your parents.

The orange light signaled the slowing down of the cars near the intersection. You twisted in your seat in hopes of him perceiving the sincerity of your next words. “And this might not matter that much but...” You gave him a close-lipped smile. “...I’m proud of you.”

The car abruptly stopped. His foot had stepped on the brake a little soon. You teetered towards the dashboard but his firm grip on your arm kept you in place. “Oh, I’m really, really sorry—”

His touch left your skin tingling, permeating the barrier of your long-sleeve top.

You waved your hand dismissively. “I’m fine, Jungkook.” It was only the second time you’ve said his name tonight but he hated how it felt familiar. How his body still reacted the same way as before.

He relented, nodding before redirecting his attention to the traffic light. “Um, back to what you said earlier, I appreciate that... but how about you?”

“Me?” you echoed.

“What do you do?”

“Well I’m...”

He sensed your hesitation, so he rushed to think of a more comfortable topic but you beat him to it. “I’m a waitress at the Golden Crown. You’ve heard of the place?”

He lightly scratched the nape of his neck with a sheepish expression. “Honestly, no. It was built after I left, I assume?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice low. “After you left.”

You saw Jungkook at the restaurant three times this week.

In the first two, your co-workers had gushed about how handsome and how much of a generous tipper he was. You could only giggle at their ramblings. He occasionally acknowledged you with a nod whenever you walked past him. The two of you kept it professional—him, with his business meetings and you, with waiting tables.

The third time was when you were the one assigned to serve him and his companion. By the looks of it, he seemed like another business partner but if the way he ogled at your behind was anything to go by, he certainly didn't act like one.

Jungkook gritted his teeth the whole time, patience wearing unbearably thin. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, having lost his appetite already, and all but threw it down on the table. This caught the other man's attention.

Jungkook took this as the opportunity to lean into his ear and hiss, "Listen, I'm trying my absolute best to stay professional here but if you lay a finger on her or any other person in this place, I'll see to it that you're gonna regret it."

A shiver went down the man's spine.

However, he had been in the industry long enough to know that it was a matter of being the biggest bully, so he didn't back down.

The man scoffed, faking an air of nonchalance, and patted Jungkook on the shoulder. "You're wrong there, kid. I'm not laying a finger on anyone. Perhaps, you making conclusions about me is unprofessional."

Jungkook shook his head, irritation clearly written on his face. He then downed what's left of his wine in one go.

"If you'll excuse me." The man stood up and went to the comfort room.

Once he was out of sight, Jungkook walked towards the counter and pretended to be curious about the items on the menu.

Meanwhile, you had just gotten out of the authorized personnel's comfort room when you saw the man in the washing area. Just as you’re about to skitter away, he recognized you from your reflection on the mirror he’s standing in front of. “Hey, miss,” he called.

Your hands curled up into fists. You took a few tentative steps closer to him and braced your arms over your chest protectively. “How may I help you, sir?” you asked.

He looked at you up and down and before you knew it, your back was pressed against the wall. Your arms were pinned using one hand while the other was used to muffle your screams of help. You were squirming wildly under him, but he remained unfazed as he was stronger and taller than you.

Tears started to fall from your eyes when suddenly, the man was yanked away from you. Even through your blurry vision, you knew it was Jungkook who shoved the man against the wall and constricted his breathing with the force of his forearm against his neck. “What did I say about laying a finger on her, you piece of shit?” he hissed, eyes burning with fury, then threw a punch square in the man’s face.

You gasped. For a split second, you were torn between pulling Jungkook away before he, too, gets hurt and calling security but the more rational part of you resorted to the latter.

The security guard, along with the manager and some of the staff members, quickly intervened and escorted the man out of the establishment, but not before Jungkook reminded him that he'd make good on his promise that he'd make him pay for it. His lawyer was just a speed-dial away, anyway.

Jungkook paid double the bill for the inconvenience he and the man had caused. Before he could go out the door, you pulled him into a quick hug. Your gratitude overrode all else, the invisible wall between you two crumbled at the moment. He stood still, not knowing where to place his hands (he knew but things were different now), until he finally settled on placing one on your shoulder.

"Thank you," you muttered, pulling away. "Please tell Mr. and Mrs. Seong I'll visit soon."

"I will." He took the time to trace your face with his eyes. You're still beautiful, but the sunken look of your eyes told him you were going through a lot more than what you were letting on.

He suddenly wondered if you had to deal with men like his companion before, and if you were able to defend yourself or had someone to help you.

"Sorry again for the inconvenience. Also... be safe on your way home," he added.

"You, too," you replied, opening the front door for him.

He spared you one last glance before getting inside his car.

After taking a much-needed warm shower, you laid awake later that night thinking back to what Jungkook had said at the restaurant.

What did I say about laying a finger on her, you piece of shit?

So he knew. That was why he was the first person to come to your rescue.

Something sparked in your chest.

Hope.

You shook your head.

Hope was a dangerous thing.

Nowadays, you could scarcely allow yourself to hope for good things because everything you once held dear—like your mother and Jungkook—and thought would last—like your ideal relationship with your father and siblings, and your family's riches—had slipped through your fingers like sand.

You broke Jungkook's heart, you reminded yourself.

No matter how much you regretted it, all had been said and done.

You couldn't blame him why he is the way he is now.

You weren't even privy to the status of his love life at present, so how could you make such an assumption.

He might have a partner right now. If not, maybe it just wasn't on the top of his priorities. Besides, he could easily bag any person, so there was no need to rush.

Most importantly, he wouldn't go back to the girl who, after being persuaded by her family that he was unworthy because of his poor prospects, broke his heart and who currently had nothing much to offer him, right?

"Right," you whispered to no one at all.

You closed your eyes and willed yourself to drift to slumber.

You weren't expecting to see Jungkook again at the restaurant the following day, especially after what happened last night. This time, however, he brought Mr. and Mrs. Seong with him. You approached them with a wide grin. "Good morning! What can I get for you?”

“Good morning, dear!” Mrs. Seong beamed. “Ah, I know you meant to pay us a visit soon but I insisted that we grab breakfast here since Jungkookie told me just this morning that he had dined here a few times already.” She fixed Jungkook with a scowl, which he returned. You chuckled at their antics. They reminded you of how you and your sisters used to be.

“What can you recommend?” Mrs. Seong asked, returning her attention to you. In your peripheral vision, you could make out Jungkook pouting, gaze set on the view provided by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. You pursed your lips to suppress a smile and placed the menu down on the table. After you had pointed out and explained your breakfast recommendations, they decided on which ones they wanted to order. “Alright, please wait while your food is being prepared, and don’t hesitate to call me over if you need anything," you said, smiling, before walking off.

The following week, you were back at Mr. and Mrs. Seong’s residence to fulfill your promise of visiting them. When you asked where Jungkook was, Mr. Seong said that he was out to run errands. The afternoon passed full of stories, laughter, tea, and pastries on the veranda. When you picked up the emptied teacups and saucers, Mr. and Mrs. Seong told you not to bother helping them with cleaning up because you were a guest, and they were perfectly capable of doing it on their own. You sighed, resigning to what they wanted, and followed them inside the house.

You sat in the living room and flicked through the channels without the intention of actually watching. The sound of tap water running and the clinking of porcelain and metal could be heard from the kitchen. The screen of Mr. Seong’s phone, which he had left on the coffee table prior to padding into the kitchen with Mr. Seong, lighted up and vibrated. You peered down at the object and saw a single notification.

Jungkook

Think she’ll like this?

[sent a photo]

Curiosity clawed at you. The bustling in the kitchen was still going on and for extra measure, you rose halfway from your seat and craned your neck to check. Nope, still busy. You planted yourself back onto the cushion of the sofa and reached for the phone. Dragging the notification drawer down revealed a picture of a beautiful gold ring in its box, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. You didn’t have time to ponder about the context of the message when silence abruptly fell in the house. Startled, you swiped the notification drawer back up and turned the phone off, laying it down on the table.

The shuffle of footsteps sounded louder and louder. “Sorry for making you wait, Y/N,” Mr. Seong said, rounding the table to retrieve his phone, and sat on the nearby couch.

You shook your head. “No need to apologize, Mr. Seong.”

“Honey, please ask Jungkook what time he’ll be home,” Mrs. Seong requested as she grabbed the TV remote control and sat beside you. She placed a gentle hand on your knee while browsing through the channels. “What do you want to watch?” she asked, angling her head to face you.

“Oh, anything.”

You then covered her hand with your own before leaning in to murmur, “Mrs. Seong… does Jungkook still have time for, um, other stuff outside of work?”

She hummed. “Well, he goes to the gym regularly.”

You blinked, suddenly preoccupied with the image of Jungkook working out. “What I mean is… uh, well… does he go on dates, too?”

To avoid suspicion, you added, “Because I know someone I can set him up with.”

“Oh, he did in senior year. I also introduced him to my colleague’s daughter three months ago. Each time we asked him how it went, he would only answer 'it was okay' or 'she seemed nice' and nothing more. I don’t think he got serious with any of them, though.”

You walked yourself right into this, you reminded yourself as you felt the churning of your insides.

“I’m just not sure about the last girl.”

That’s it.

The nail in the coffin.

“Oh,” you breathed because what else is there to say? “I guess I better stay out of it.” A fake chuckle. “I thought this was my chance to play matchmaker.”

Mrs. Seong opened and closed her mouth like she wanted to say something more, but Mr. Seong incidentally cut her off, “He said he’s on his way.”

At that, you stood up and flattened your palms down your jeans. “Ah, it’s getting late. I still have some chores to do before bed. Thank you so much for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Seong.”

Mrs. Seong reluctantly rose from her seat before wrapping her arms around you. “The pleasure is ours, dear. Get home safely, okay?” Mr. Seong walked towards you to do the same with a fatherly pat on the head. You smiled at them before softly clicking the front door shut.

The ringing of your phone awoke you later that night. Seeing the name on the caller ID, you knew it was important.

“Hoseok?”

“Sorry, Y/N, did I wake you?”

“It’s okay. What is it?”

“Your father wants to talk to you in person tomorrow.”

“How could you agree to this without consulting me first?”

“Because I knew you would disagree.”

“Of course, I would! Why can’t you respect that?”

You’d been pacing around the room, rubbing the veins on your temples that threatened to burst.

Your father released a weary sigh. “It will be beneficial for you both. In fact, more so on our part.”

A few seconds of lull. “Besides, you’re acquainted with Taehyung. It won’t take long to adjust.”

“I’m acquainted with Taehyung that’s why I know that he’s not the kind of man I want to marry!” you exclaimed. “Am I not deserving of happiness? Of true love?”

A month after Jungkook had left the country, you met Taehyung at a gala your family was invited to. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was the non-committal type. He had been flirty all night, but you refused to give in to his advances by playfully shutting them down. By the end of the night, after a little too many drinks, he wasn’t expecting that you’d ask him to help you forget about someone. Taehyung was nothing but a giver, so he did. He didn’t let you go home the next morning without having breakfast and taking a shower with him first.

You never saw him again after that.

Was that it?

Were you really bound to resign to that kind of wicked fate?

Pining after someone you couldn’t have and marrying someone you didn’t love?

“I’m leaving,” you said, making a move to head for the door when your father caught your wrist.

“Please, Y/N, think about it,” your father pleaded. “Don’t you think it pains me seeing you tire yourself like this for us to get by? Don’t you think regret consumes me every day because this is all my fault?”

“You’re all I have now,” he whispered, lowering his head to hide his tears.

A wave crashed over you.

You immediately strode towards him to hug him, and he clung to you, letting his tears flow freely this time.

"I'm sorry that I can't promise you that, dad. But I can promise you that you will not lose me. Not ever."

“Excuse me, is Y/N on the clock?” Jungkook asked one of the waiters.

In the past few days, you’d been doing a good job of keeping your interactions with him as short as possible and in other times, avoiding him at all. This was the second to the last day of his stay here, and he didn’t want it to end on a bad note.

“Yes, she is, sir. Why?” the waiter answered.

“If it’s not much trouble, I’d like to have a word with her.”

The waiter nodded, slightly facing to his side to gesture behind him. “Come follow me, sir.”

“Will you marry me?” Taehyung asked, down on one knee, holding open the box of an expensive-looking ring.

You ran a hand down your face, eyes shut, and released an exasperated breath.

“Really? In the middle of this narrow hallway? During my shift?” you questioned, one eyebrow quirked up in disbelief.

“Yes. Right here, right now,” he said with confidence.

You rolled your eyes and nudged him on the elbow. “Tae, please get up before anyone sees you. We can talk about this later.”

“Let them! That’s the point, Y/N. That makes it even more convincing.”

You bent down to mumble, “My father didn’t exactly tell you to do this, right?”  

“No… but seriously, Y/N, we both know this—” He pointed to himself then to you. “—is not real but I still think you deserve a proper proposal so just let me—”

“Tae, I appreciate it, but— ”

“Y/N?”

You and Taehyung turned your heads to the source of the voice. There stood Jungkook beside the waiter, not so far from where the two of you were standing in the hallway.

“Jungkook… I…”

“Do you mind, bud?” Taehyung interrupted, looking at Jungkook and raising the box of the ring a little higher.

Jungkook’s eyes were blinking owlishly between your face and the object resting on Taehyung’s palm. When he realized that his mouth was still parted in shock, he sealed it close with his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Um… n-no… don’t let me keep you. I— Congratulations in advance, Y/N… to the both of you.”

“Jungkook…”

You were only able to take a step forward when he suddenly blurted out a quiet goodbye and marched off.

The hours at work ticked by ever so slowly.

It seemed like your mind had gone out of your body and while the latter moved about on its own, the former was a broken record of Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

Once you had finally clocked out, you took a cab to Mr. and Mrs. Seong’s house, deliberately not asking them first if Jungkook was home so he wouldn’t have time to prepare an escape plan.

Nonetheless, that proved to not be the case because Jungkook wasn’t at home. Mrs. Seong even showed you every nook and cranny of the house. Indeed, there were no signs of Jungkook.

“Please tell him I want to meet him tomorrow to talk about something important,” you said as you and Mrs. Seong hovered by the front door.

“Did something happen, dear?” Mrs. Seong asked, a frown etching her face.

“I’m really sorry I can’t—” You shook your head, a pained expression on your face. She rubbed your arms and nodded her head in understanding. “But please tell him that. Promise me, Mrs. Seong?”

“I promise,” she said with a consoling smile. She looked like she knew but did not say anything about it. “Be safe and have a good night.”

The ride back home was quiet save for the faint tune coming from the radio. Your head rested against the window as the city lights above illuminated the somber expression of your face.

Once you were inside the elevator going up your apartment’s floor, you couldn’t hold back the onslaught of tears. The few strangers that shared the little space with you looked at you with concern. An old lady had briefly rubbed a gentle hand on your back before going out the door. Your thank you sounded soft and incoherent through your sniffles.

You wiped your tears as soon as you stepped outside of the elevator. One more turn before your apartment and…

There he is. Huge frame leaned against your door, arms crossed, and head hanging low.

The tears were coming back.

At the utterance of his name, he lifted his gaze, eyes lighting up as you hurried towards him. He silently reached out to wipe the area under your eyes, and you let him.

“I thought you were at your sister’s.”

“I’m not.”

You scoffed. “I know because I went there.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk.”

You continued, “Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to talk.”

You could see in his eyes the sadness that mirrored yours.

A sharp inhale. “It’s best if we do that inside, don’t you think?” you said, chin jutting out towards the door.

The side of his lips curled up. He stepped sideways to give you space as you fished the keys out of your purse. “After you.”

He joined you on the sofa once you had settled down.

"I'll go first," you said, earning a nod from him.

"I've never told you this because I was afraid you still hated me… and I know you had all the reasons to. So now I'm gonna get this out, not because I want to absolve myself of my wrongdoings or that I pity you, but because you deserve closure and I just… I just want to do this."

Slowly, he grabbed your hand and enclosed it in his. "Go on."

"I'm—" You looked at him then. Your jaw ached with how much you were trying to keep the emotion in your voice at bay. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For everything. For letting myself be persuaded by my family into making that decision eight years ago. We'd been friends for such a long time, then we became something more, but before that even had the chance to flourish, I ruined it. The years after you left have been hard for me because I was—I am filled with regret, and then I witnessed my family fall apart in front of my eyes."

When your vision started to become misty, you blinked a few times then looked up to the ceiling.

"Seeing you again after all that? I wasn't pulling your leg when I told you I'm proud of you. I genuinely am. Your success is well-deserved because you've always been bright and persistent. But at the same time, I don't know, looking at you makes my heart hurt… because we can't undo the past, can we?"

Jungkook dropped his head on top of your hand, the one he was clasping. When he straightened up, slowly, his eyes were glassy and he was biting the inside of his cheeks, a sign that he's restraining himself from crying. "I'll be honest, I resented you because I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, that we were together in this fight. Then one day, you came up to me to tell me it's over because I wasn't what your family wanted for you—I wasn't rich."

You shook your head frantically. "I'm so sorry," you cried. He let go of your hand to cup your cheeks so that you would look him in the eye.

"Shhh, listen to me," he spoke softly. "We were just 19, Y/N. Sure, your family had been a little harsh and unreasonable, but in a sense, I was also in the wrong here. I knew that I was going to propose to you at some point, but I just… I loved you too much and the idea excited me so I rushed it. When I think about it now, it's ridiculous. Like, who proposes at 19? Who has their life figured out at 19?"

He ran his thumbs across your cheeks, relishing its softness. It had been a long time since he last did that.

"You must know, I had many regrets, but loving you is not one of them," you said.

"I share the same sentiment," he replied, smiling.

Suddenly, you gasped and slowly pulled away from his hold, which startled and dismayed him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing, just… aren't you going to propose to your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" He looked even more confused this time. "Y/N, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw it on Mr. Seong's phone while he was busy in the kitchen. You even asked him if she'll like it. Anyway, my bad, forget I said any—"

"That was his gift for my sister for their upcoming anniversary."

Your jaw slacked open.

He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed you his and Mr. Seong's exchange of messages.

"W-what? I thought… wow. Okay."

"Plus I don't have a girlfriend... didn't have one since you." You could tell he was blushing. You were, too, as proven by the warmth that crept down your neck.

He averted his eyes before asking, "D-didn't you get proposed to earlier? How did it go?"

"I said no," you said.

Jungkook's eyes widened.

"I never wanted to marry him. It was a deal made out of convenience, anyway."

"A deal?"

"Yes. He pitched it to my father, and he agreed to it. But I still have the final say."

Jungkook smiled. "That was brave."

What now, you thought. A lot has been said but it seemed like there were still some left.

"Just curious, why did you come back here?” In this town were the unspoken words, but he understood them just the same.

“You really wanna know?” He chuckled humorlessly as he ran a hand through his hair, then fell silent for a few seconds.

“Believe it or not, I came back for you. The things I did while I was away, they're all for you."

Your eyes were already hurting and puffy from all the crying but you didn't think they would stop anytime soon. Not when Jungkook was laying his heart bare like this.

"They say there is a fine line between love and hate, and I, for one, can vouch for that. Remember when I told you I had resented you?"

You nodded tightly.

"If I resented you so much, then why is it that in those eight years, not one day passed by without you crossing my mind? If I resented you so much, then why am I working my ass off as if I am trying to prove something? That I am perhaps worthy? If I resented you so much, then why can't I even bear the idea of screwing around with someone else, much less love them? In those eight years, I have loved none but you, Y/N."

You reached for his face, wiping the lone tear that strolled down his cheek. He leaned in to your touch.

"Falling in love for the first time at 19 was such a rollercoaster ride. Either you feel like you're on top of the world or you're at your lowest of lows. Either you make reckless decisions or you refuse to go against the tide. That's because we were young and didn't know how to love the right way. With those realizations, I learned to forgive you, and I hope you forgive me, too."

"Of course, I forgive you, Jungkook." Two hands now cupped his cheeks.

"Now tell me, am I too late? Have your feelings changed? I need to hear it from you, Y/N…"

His eyes searched yours deeply as he waited for your answer.

"My feelings never changed. I've always been yours, Jungkook," you said, smiling.

Finally, he crashed his lips against yours. You gasped, clutching on his shoulders, but he was quick to swallow the sound. You kissed him back with fervor, with all the pent-up desire and longing that lasted for almost a decade. His kiss was all too reminiscent of the past but at the same time, it was more.

He slid a hand on the nape of your neck and angled his face to deepen the kiss. You groaned, the sound going straight to his ears, which definitely didn't help his addled brain. "Come here," he murmured against your lips before pulling you into his lap with an ease that turned you on even more. Indeed, Mrs. Seong was right when she told you he'd been working out regularly.

His nails dug into your hips as he kissed the corner of your mouth then along your jaw, your eyes closing at the sensation. He went further down and alternated sucking and nibbling the skin of your neck. You sighed, head tipping back to give him more access. It was becoming too much. You needed some sort of relief. You scooted closer to him, sitting right on top of where he needed you the most, and rolled your hips. His reaction was immediate, head dropping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, his breathing warm and ragged against your skin. "Don't stop-nghhh" he moaned. His grip on your hips tightened as he helped you speed up your pace. Panting, you tilted up his chin to kiss him again a few times before you giggled against his lips. "You're cute."

"You're teasing me," he breathed, frowning.

Shortly after, being the ever considerate, he asked, "You want to cum?"

"I… not for now," you said, suddenly feeling lightheaded at his question. He nodded before slanting his lips against yours, his hands gradually slowing down the movement of your hips.

You held each other tightly once it was over, reveling in the warmth of the other.

"So when are we going to tell them?" he muttered against your temple before pressing a kiss there.

You smiled up at him while entangling both your fingers. "Honestly, whenever. I'm not going anywhere, Jungkook."

Before he could steal another kiss, you abruptly tugged him up to his feet. "Now help me make dinner."

A smile painted his lips, the corner of his eyes crinkling in mirth, as you dragged him to the kitchen.

[indigosuvi]

Thull with number 7 🥰

Better Times...

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 646 / Read it on AO3 / Wattpad | Event List

Warning: depression, loss, and sadness | #JusticeForThull

Thull had it all. He had a mate, and he had a child. He had loved his son, Dari, and Luta, his mate, very much. He had always been Fin-Kedinn's go-to man. His second-in-command. He had always stepped up as the leader of the Ravens when Fin-Kedinn was unable to do so. He was trusted and very good at what he had done. He had helped the clan to move when the time had come to move. He never thought he would lose it all.

An albino boy called himself Dark and beat the odds when he was left for dead by his father in the mountains. Dark was a skilled mage, but needed training. He hadn't hesitated in accepting the invite to the clan. There he had been named mage and remained their mage for many years.

Fin-Kedinn was growing older and his leg injury had hurt him more and more. Thull had still taken charge, as he did every time he was needed.

Then the asteroid hit. It had stripped Thull of his mate and their son. Thull hadn't much time to grieve, as Dark was later appointed to the clan leader. Fin-Kedinn had died sacrificing himself to save Renn and Torak. His family had died and now he wouldn't be the leader. Thull did his best to go on day by day. He helped Dark out the best that he could and when he could. He didn't want to be angry at him. It wasn't his fault. Fin-Kedinn had been the one that made the choice. The one who had replaced Thull with a much younger man. 

Thull sighed as he sat by the river, checking the traps and watching as the water rushed past.

Thull had continued hunting, fishing, and doing what he could to help out the clan. Dark had found a mate before being appointed and so, Dark's reliance on Thull became less and less.

Eventually, you came along. Thull had been rather hard to open up to and get to know. He was hesitant about meeting strangers and welcoming people into his life. He didn't want to feel the pain he had felt years before. He didn't want to be betrayed again. He had to move on.

After several moons (months) of talking, he had warmed up quite a bit. Both of you came closer to one another. It would be many more moons before he finally decided to ask.

"Y/N…" He said with a sigh. He looked anywhere but at you.

You were on the ground, you had been picking berries before Thull had approached you.

He sat down on the ground so that he was no longer standing above you and so you could be face-to-face with one another. He pulled his legs up to his body and rested his arms on his knees. He ran a hand over his face.

Something appeared to be bothering him.

He was glad for the silence, as you hadn't said anything yet. He looked behind him and saw no one. You were both alone. 

His blue eyes stared into yours only for a moment before he looked away again.

"Y/N, would you like to be…" He couldn't do it. He didn't think that he could do it.

He had uttered those words years ago to Luta.

"Y/N, I want you to be my mate." He said in a rather forceful manner.

He ran his hand over his face again. He looked like he was about to cry. His eyes met yours.

"Would you like to be?" His voice changed in various pitches as he spoke. He wasn't upset, not with you. His memories of his past.

"Yes, Thull, I would." You moved from your spot and over to him, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He buried his face into your shoulder and cried.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

[artaefact]

bakery 1995.

—wordcount: 14.7k+

—genre: angst, fluff, romance, baker!jimin, bakery cafe au, childhood friends-to-lovers au

—pairing: park jimin x f reader ft. bestfriend!jungkook

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: age gap (jimin is 4-5 years older), brief mention of physical assault, memory loss, overprotective parents, some intended grammatical mistakes, swearings, y/n is dragged into jungkook’s shenanigans

—summary: After returning from college for summer break, you got yourself a part time job to keep yourself busy. However, things go way too unexpectedly and you find yourself unraveling your forgotten past.

author’s note: this is for @btswritingcafe promptly yours event !! i tweaked the prompt a bit, so hopefully no one would get confused! happy reading ♡

Prompt: “Person A once had a major childhood crush on Person B. Fast forward to college where Person A is convinced it was nothing but temporary, that is until they return home for summer break to find Person B back after being gone for several years. Turns out, they weren’t such temporary feelings.”

© artaefact/eunoiabliss 2020. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.

It’s nice to know that no matter how judgemental the world can be, pigeons would never judge you. Despite the clear contrast between yourself and the asphalt pathway, they would not hesitate to excrete waste on either of them and can’t even be bothered by the possible consequences.

Staring at the dropping on your jacket sleeve, you exhale loudly while rummaging your pocket for a kleenex.

‘Out of all the places where their shit could have landed on, it had to be MY jacket,’ you grumble to yourself.

Reaching towards the bakery in the area, you hope they still have some cinnamon rolls you have been craving for. You can already imagine yourself humming in delight as the sweetness spreads across your taste buds and—

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The cashier attendee bows apologetically at you. “We’re so sorry, all the cinnamon rolls are sold out for today.”

Today must be the worst day to date in your entire years of existence. How on earth can a bakery run out of cinnamon rolls?

Groaning internally, you trudge out of the, now, third bakery that has sold out their cinnamon rolls.

Bad luck seems to follow you throughout the day. Is it because you went out of the house while your parents were in the middle of nagging you? For the last few days after you came back home for summer break, they have been constantly nagging you and you would kill to have an hour of peace and quiet.

Mindlessly, you whip up your phone and search up on Google while you walk to the nearby bus station, typing in the search bar — is it bad luck if a bird pooped on you?

Biting your lower lip, you press on the first link that appears on the screen.

Bird poop may be a sign of hope in disguise, you read. Snorting in incredulity, you scroll through the webpage.

It can’t be good luck.

You are not the type to believe in superstitions, however, besides getting pooped on, you dropped your phone on the pavement of the sidewalk just before you reached the first bakery, an hour ago. This resulted in the annoying crack of the screen right in the middle of it. Not only that, the sole of your right tennis shoes came off halfway which hindered you from walking properly and made you look like someone who hurt their leg.

Having had enough for today, you decide to go back home. Until a pastel pink store, right across the street, catches your attention with its aesthetic-looking door.

What’s this? A new—

A dramatic gasp escapes your lips after reading the name of the store, earning confused stares from nearby people. But you couldn’t care less.

Maybe Lady Luck does still care about you.

As soon as the pedestrian light turns green, you excitedly run, no, shuffle through the zebra-cross, reaching the newly-opened bakery.

My last hope is here. Please, let there be—

The interior of the bakery exudes a welcoming vibe, with the color of pale pink being the dominant over the whole place. Basically, it's a place where those Instagram models would kill to take their pictures at. However, it’s not the interior itself that your focus locks on. When the smell of freshly baked goods wafts into your nose, your eyes zero themselves on the various types of pastries that line the display counter, covered in glass domes. And there it is.

“Yes!” You squeal, grabbing the bakery tray to fill it as much as you’d like.

When you place the filled tray in the cash register counter, the cashier comments, “Woah, that’s a lot.”

If it is a normal day, you would have waved it off. However, unfortunately for the guy, it isn’t a normal day for you, after the constant annoying incidents that happened to you earlier. The comment snaps the last thread of patience you have for the day and sadly, targets the person in front of you. “I think you should mind your own—”

You take your thoughts back. Lady Luck is not on your side nor is the universe. They must be having fun, playing pranks on you so much today.

Your words cease immediately at his sheepish yet attractive smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Just having a really bad day and I—”

“No! That’s okay.” The guy grins at you, eyes turning into crescent moons. “I’m the one who should be sorry, I just said the first thing that came up in my mind.”

“Ah...”

“I suck at starting conversations,” he says, sheepishly. “It’s a skill I’m planning to improve.”

Blinking twice, you manage to smile back at him, most probably just a cringed expression. “Well, um, good luck with that.”

As soon as he hands you the paper bag, you dash out of the bakery, not once looking back.

Your cheeks feel hot during the whole trip back home, every time you remember what happened, you would mentally kick yourself.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Eating the warm cinnamon rolls is a blessing and a curse.

You have never tasted such heavenly flavour before, all your worries and exhaustion seem to fade away. This brings you to freeze in the realisation that you’ll want, no, need to go back to that bakery to buy those delicious rolls again. Meaning, you’ll see that cute guy whom you snapped at earlier, again.

His friendly eye-smile burns deep in your mind. But you can’t shrug off the sense of familiarity of his face and his voice…

Have I met him before?

Once you reach home, body aching and tired, you take a quick shower before digging into the rolls. Clicking your tongue, you continue to munch on the rolls in your room while your thoughts pull you in deep.

The sudden knock on your door, however, brings you back to the present. Groaning loudly, you stand up from your padded window seat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your mouth agape at the sudden visit from your best friend. “Didn’t you say you won’t see me at all until break is over?”

“I might have changed my mind. I was very bored at home.” He enters your room, plopping on your beanbag. “So, now I am bored as hell and— Did you buy food without telling me?”

You met him during freshman year and you both hit it off quite quickly, you might add. After constantly pairing up together in projects, college project meetups gradually turned into hangouts.

“Says the one who claims to see my face every day makes him sick.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic ass, you go back to the window seat, crossing your legs. “It wasn’t planned, okay? I just got back home like thirty minutes ago.”

“But still you nearly finished everything without leaving me much!” He bit your last half-finished roll, letting out a noise of approval. “Which bakery did you buy it from?”

“It’s a new one. I never saw it before we went to college.”

“You should bring me there soon.”

“Nu-uh,” you refuse. “You can go yourself. I am not stepping a foot inside that place any longer.”

“What? Why not?”

“I may have embarrassed myself in front of the worker there.” Then you tell him what happened earlier.

Jungkook shakes his head in pity. “My poor Y/N, how do you always embarrass yourself when I’m not around? How would you survive in this world without me?”

Snorting at his words, you lean against the pillows on your back. “You’re the lucky one to have someone like me as his best friend. Anyways, how about that job I’m looking for?”

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Right, I was about to tell you! My friend is looking for a part-timer for his cafe.”

“Hmm, that sounds…”

Jungkook answers, “Boring? I know you’re looking for something much more exciting and—”

Narrowing your stare at Jungkook’s obvious judgmental face, you cut him off. “It sounds perfect, actually.”

Sighing, Jungkook whips up his phone. “You better bring me leftovers every time you get off work. I’ll bring you to his cafe tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What? Why?”

“You little shit—” You smack his arm.

“Ow! Stop that, woman! I thought you said—”

“This is a fucking bakery, dumbass!” You hiss at him.

Jungkook gapes at you. “It’s a bakery cafe, what’s the difference?”

“It’s different! I can’t go back in there!” You whine in embarrassment.

“Wait— So this is the bakery where you embarrassed yourself?”

Nodding wordlessly, you exhale before catching Jungkook failing to stifle his laughter. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem. He’s nice, Y/N.”

“But—”

“And I told him you were coming…” Jungkook scratches the back of his head.

After contemplating for a while, you decided to gather your courage and enter the sweet-smelling bakery with Jungkook.

Too late to go back now. It was either this or staying bored at home for the rest of the summer break, facing your parents’ look of disapproval at your lack of daily activities, or to be more exact productivity.

The cute guy just finished placing cakes inside the glass displays on the counter, then his gaze shifts to where you and Jungkook are standing.

“Jungkook!” The cute guy’s brown hair is slicked back as he takes off his baker’s hat, approaching your best friend.

“It’s been so long, Hyung!” Jungkook greets back with a hug, smiling from ear to ear. “And wow—” His eyes skim through the pastel-themed cafe. “You finally opened your own cafe.”

Watching them interacting is a foreign sight to you. It’s a rare right to see Jungkook, the usually shy one, so friendly and comfortable around the cute guy.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe the cute guy won’t remember you and—

“Ah! Miss Cinnamon Rolls!”

Scratch that. Of course, he still remembers you.

“I didn’t know you were looking for a job.” His eye smile lands on you finally and your throat dries up.

Jungkook fails to hold back his laughter. “Miss Cinnamon Rolls? Just how much did you buy last time?”

After sending a brief glare at your best friend, you introduce yourself to the cute guy, “Y/N.”

As soon as your name slips past your lips, the cute guy freezes momentarily, eyes widening a fraction. “Y/N?”

You nod slowly.

“Uh,” He fumbles. “Jimin. Park Jimin.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“So, this is the kitchen area. We need to get the place ready by 8:30. Can you come by at 6 the latest?”

You nod at his question.

“We have a different menu each day. It will take some time for you to learn everything. But don’t worry I’ll teach everything you need to know.” He shoots you a smile, sending your heart to slightly flutter as you fiddle with your fingers.

Thank goodness Jungkook has left. Or else you’d never hear the end of his teasing or knowing smirk.

“I’m starting with bread and cakes these past few days before I open up the cafe section.”

For the rest of the day, Jimin spends his time letting you know everything about how the bakery runs whenever there are no customers. Even gracing you with two pieces of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment at the memory of your first encounter.

“Go ahead, enjoy it,” Jimin shoots you a knowing grin.

Muttering a quiet ‘okay’, you take the first bite — holding a delighted groan at the sweetness that bursts through your tastebuds.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stares at you in amusement. “You must really like cinnamon rolls, huh?”

“They’re my comfort food,” you admit after swallowing down a piece. “My late grandmother used to make a lot of rolls at home.”

“I see… Well, have you ever baked before, Y/N?”

“The basic stuff like chocolate chip cookies…”

“Oh, that’s great—”

You added quickly, “But I nearly burned down Jungkook’s kitchen, though. He banned me from the kitchen ever since.”

A surprised laugh escapes the man’s lips which you don’t mind hearing more often, especially if you are the one behind it.

“At least the cookies still turned out great. It was a bit on the burnt side but still good… Crispy and crunchy.” You nervously chuckle. “But I swear, I’m not that bad if you provide a clear recipe!”

Still giggling, Jimin leans forward on his seat. “I can teach you everything you need to know. The basic stuff on baking and then there would be clear recipes I can provide you.”

Your eyes lighten up at that. “Yes! I’ll try my best.”

Arriving at the bakery at 6 am sharp, the next day — your official first day at work — Jimin can be seen moving back and forth from the small window opening connecting the kitchen and the bakery itself, already busy in the kitchen.

The smell of his work wafts through the entire bakery, indicating that he has been there for quite some time. Once you enter the kitchen, your mouth waters instinctively at the smell and sight of freshly-baked breads on the counter.

“How can I help?” From observing the finished baked goods, your eyes shift curiously at some ingredients — eggs, chocolate chips, sugar, flour — on the kitchen counter while you tighten the knot of your apron.

“You’re going to bake some chocolate chip cookies.” Jimin places a tray full of another different set of bread near the first one through the window. “So, go ahead, preheat the oven first.”

Following his instruction, you move towards one of the ovens. “Um…”

The corner of his lips quirks up at your obvious confusion before he chimes on how hot the oven should be set on.

With a brief nod, you turn on the oven. “Is this a test to see how far my baking skills go?” When you take a glimpse of the honey-haired man, he returns it with an amused grin of his own.

“Bingo.” Jimin’s smile is boyish and carefree and his eyes become crescent moons.

In other words, it made your heart race. However, you dismiss such unprofessional thoughts quickly before blood rises to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you move to the counter and start mixing the necessary ingredients altogether and set the dough on the baking tray. When the oven is preheated, you bring the tray towards it only to realise your mistake too late: not opening the oven first.

“Let me help,” Jimin says softly, opening the oven deftly.

“T-Thanks...” you mumble, concentrating on the task at hand.

Time passes quickly, before you know it, the oven makes a soft ‘ting’ sound. Opening it, the sweet smell wafts through the kitchen.

“I did it!” you say, excitedly placing the hot tray on the marble counter.

“But the final test is how the cookies taste.”

You watch in nervous anticipation as Jimin pops one of the cookies into his mouth. Not a moment later, he lets out a surprised sound.

“This is really good, Y/N. You do have the talent to bake.”

You beam at his words.

“Since that’s all set, I believe we still have other kinds of pastries to prepare for the day. I have all the recipes prepared for you here.” He motions to the notebook on the counter — you flip through it, astonished at all the recipes.

“Are these your own personalised recipes?”

Nodding, Jimin shoots you a grin. “I’ve always loved baking and there are some ways to make things with their own unique taste.”

The rest of the upcoming hour, you and Jimin were busy baking with Jimin instructing and giving you pointers. At some point, you even talked about anything and everything, as if you both have known each other all your life while you both work.

You have to admit, you find it really enjoyable. When the bakery closes, you sit quietly on one of the empty tables near the cashier after Jimin tells you to wait.

Mindlessly flipping through his recipe notebook, your attention soon shifts to Jimin himself with a steaming cup in his hold.

“Here.” He sets the cup in front of you.

You look at him quizzically before he motions for you to try.

“I’m opening the cafe part next week,” Jimin says. “Thought you can be the first to judge my caramel macchiato.”

“That’s a lot of caramel in one drink…” For a few moments, you observe the steaming coffee, froth decorates the top of it with drizzles of caramel in patterns of criss-cross nearly covering most of the foam itself. “Why caramel macchiato, though?”

“I thought you’d—” He clears his throat. “So many people really love caramel macchiato. So, I thought I’d go with this one for you to try first.”

Bringing the cup carefully to your lips, you take a sip of the beverage. The texture of the coffee is so smooth and the slight bitterness spreads through your taste buds and down your throat. Then you taste the caramel, letting out a delighted surprise when you find caramel bits inside the beverage.

Jimin keeps his stare on you, one hand supporting his chin and his eyes unreadable.

“What is it?” You ask, after downing the drink.

He blinks as if he was lost in his own thoughts. “Uh, how is it?”

“It’s very good.”

“Do you like coffee?” He asks.

Nodding, you tell him you loved to steal your mom’s coffee when you were younger. “There used to be a cafe near my place. I used to go there frequently during my high school years.”

Jimin briefly stills at yours words. “Do you... Still go there?”

You shake your head. “It was closed two years ago unfortunately.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. I would’ve wanted to try the coffee there.”

Chuckling at his words, your mind takes you back to your high school days. “It was really good.”

Humming to yourself, you continue to flip through the pages of Jimin’s recipe notebook. “What’s this?” You stop at one page, pointing at a child’s drawing on his recipe notebook. “Did you draw it when you were younger?”

“It’s a shooting star.” Jimin answers. “And, no. I didn’t.”

“Oh? Sister? Brother?”

“I don’t have a sister and my brother just does not have the artistic skill to draw that,” he laughs. “It was someone from my past. Someone who is precious to me.”

“Oh…” Noticing his faraway gaze on the notebook, you sense it is a sensitive topic. “Why a shooting star though?”

“It represents hopes and wishes, according to her.” His smile turns nostalgic. “I was having a hard time back then. But this girl,” he chuckles as if in disbelief. “— just straight up grabbed my notebook and drew a shooting star on it, saying I should wish on this star since seeing a shooting star is not that common here.”

There’s something sad but warm in Jimin’s tone as he talks about this girl. You can only assume that this girl is not in his life anymore. Or even in this world.

“I see…”

“As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually did it. Very frequently in all honesty. Whenever I’m having a hard time, I’d wish upon that star.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

A week passes quickly and just like a normal day, you arrive back home just a quarter past eight. Tugging off your shoes near the doorway, you hear your dad calling from the living room.

“Yes?” Mindlessly, you step into the living room only to meet the stern glare from him.

“Where were you?” Your dad asks. “Do you have any idea what time it is now?”

“It’s around eight...”

“And your curfew?”

Furrowing your brows, you gape, “I thought that was back in high school.”

“That still applies until now. I expect you to come back before seven.” Then he repeats his question, “Where were you?”

“From my new part-time place.” You answer. “I thought I told you about it.”

“If you want a job, you can intern in the company for the summer,” your dad sighs. “There’s no need for part-time jobs.”

You should have known it would last just three days before you are missing your university life, or to be more specific living alone. With the constant nagging from your parents, you crave for silence for a period of time. One thing you have been missing quite badly you have to admit, which is why you took the job in the bakery. Away from the scrutinising stares of your parents.

Here it goes again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to start there, Dad,” you exhale. “I want to do other things while I can.”

The same topic, the same debate you’d try to avoid as much as possible ever since you arrived back home for the summer. That was why you’d try to find something else to do. You always wanted to try a new hobby over the holidays. Now, with the excess amount of time in your hands, you are able to try.

That is why you opt for the part time job Jungkook found — working in the bakery.

“This isn’t going to work if you get home after your curfew, Y/N. You know how dangerous it is if you come home late.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reply, exasperatedly. “I can take care—”

“Things can get unpredictable, Y/N. It’s better that you’re safe than sorry.”

“Dad, when will you stop reminding me of that?” You groan in annoyance. “I don’t even remember how the accident happened.”

“The more reason for you to be cautious!”

Exasperated, you storm up to your room and carelessly throw your bag on the side of your bed. Laying on your back, you stare at the ceiling as your thoughts muddle when you try to think of what happened.

All you remember back then is that you woke up in the hospital, met with the worried gaze of your parents as soon as you got your consciousness back. However, they never tell or fill you in on what happened.

Gradually, your eyelids grow heavier — exhausted from the day and the burst of negative emotions over the argument you had earlier. Thus, you succumb to sleep. However, your mind takes you elsewhere.

Everything is dark.

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

There are no memories of what happened beforehand. All you know is to stay there and wait.

“Y/N?”

Peeking out of your hiding place, the figure draws closer calling your name in another hushed whisper.

But you knew this voice. So, you whispered back, “Here...” As soon as you get out of your hiding place, a warm embrace envelops your small frame.

“We’re okay, everything’s okay. I’ve lost them. We’re safe now,” he whispers, stroking your head softly while your fists clench on his shirt.

Not a moment later, your tears start to fall and you sob into his shirt. He tightens his hold on you, one hand on the back of your head as he repeatedly whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I’m here...” His voice then seems to echo and your surrounding becomes a blur.

When you open your eyes, you realise you’re back in your room yet there are stray tears in your eyes. Sitting up on your bed, you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

Was that a memory…?

“Have a good day.” You bid the last customer of the day farewell and once they leave, your cheeks droop into a frown. With a sigh, you walk out of the cashier register place towards the front door, turning the ‘Open’ plate to ‘Close’.

The dream you had last night still felt so vivid that you considered it was a flashback of your memory loss. You wanted to ask your parents about it. However, yesterday’s conflict was still fresh. You were sure they would dismiss it.

After cleaning up the counters of the bakery café and mopping the floors, you trudge into the break room, sitting down on one of its chairs as you wait for Jimin’s return from his “errand”.

Your mind takes you back to the dream where someone was hugging you tight.

Who was it? you wonder. In the back of your mind, somehow you never felt his warmth among your high school friends. The guy who was holding you is just different.

You are so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Jimin entering until he brings something right in front of your face. “What—”

“Hot chocolate,” he answers, softly. “You seem distracted today, I thought this might cheer you up.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you mutter your thanks before breathing in the sweet smell, blowing softly on the beverage. “That was fast.”

“Hmm?”

“Wait, did you go out to buy this?” You lift the warm cup of hot chocolate.

Jimin lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I wanted to make you one. Until I realised that the ingredients are finished. So, I had to run out.”

“You didn’t have to, you know…”

“I know. But I wanted to anyway.”

Your eyes look down, can’t help feeling touched by his sweet gesture as you fight back to keep yourself from blushing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He must have noticed the change of your expression before he says quickly, “Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I just thought talking about what’s on your mind can ease you. At least a bit.”

Blinking your eyes twice, a chuckle escapes your lips. “I guess so.”

“That’s your first smile today.”

You raise a brow at him.

“Your first real smile, I mean. Your cheekbones do not have much tension if you’re genuinely happy whereas if you fake a smile, it seems more like you’re cringing. Like our first encounter.” He chuckles, meaningfully.

“I’m sorry...” you mumble, eyes glancing down at the steaming hot chocolate on your lap.

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “Everyone has their bad days.”

You smile slightly at his words. “Had a fight with my parents last night.”

Jimin stays quiet, still listening to you.

“They are always so protective when it comes to me. Maybe a bit too much at times. I’m a grown adult for fuck’s sake.” Another sigh escapes your lips before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “My dad especially. He made it sound like a big deal when I came home around eight. I’m just frustrated at this.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

You nod in response.

“Was there something that made your dad feel that way?”

“I...” You blink. “I guess it’s because that one time I ended up in the hospital?”

“You did?”

You nod. “A few years ago, I had an accident.”

Jimin stiffens at your words. “Oh?”

“But it was nothing. I didn’t even remember what happened in all honesty.”

He stutters, “W-What?”

“I lost my memories. I had no recall of the accident at all.” Eyes training blankly on your front, focusing on nothing as you dive back into your memories. “My parents told me there is nothing to worry about and my memories would come back gradually. They never filled me in on what happened too.”

The corner of his lips soon quirks up slightly, his expression wistful. “Maybe they wouldn’t want you to be traumatised by what happened. It’s already fortunate enough for you to be able to recover from your head injury.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” you mumble.

However, since that incident you can’t deny the feeling of something missing since a chunk of your life has been cut off. No memories of the accident have returned even after years. Recovering from the head injury—

“Wait—” Head snapping to face Jimin. “How did you know I had a head injury?”

Jimin blinks repeatedly, as if your words just sink in. “Ah! I mean isn’t it a head injury? You lost your memories after all.” An awkward laugh escapes his lips. “Usually, people who lost their memories have head injuries, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Anyways, finish the hot chocolate and you should head home before your parents—”

Suddenly, a wave of deja vu washes over you. Snapping your gaze from the hot chocolate in your hands, you look at Jimin as your brain starts to grow fuzzy at the familiarity of Jimin’s words.

“Jimin...” you begin.

“Huh?”

“Have we ever met before I started working here?”

“You mean the first time you came into this bakery?”

You shake your head. “No, even before that. Did we know each other?”

A surprised glint appears in his eyes before it dissipates as quick as it appears. “I don’t think so…?”

Oh.

“Maybe we’ve just ran into each other at some point in town. But I don’t think we ever knew each other.”

“I see...” Disappointment floods through you at his words.

Right, you thought to yourself. If he was a close friend he would have recognised you instantly when you came to his bakery.

“Oh, look at the time.” Jimin stands up. “You need to be home before dark, right?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’ve finished cleaning today. I just need to close up and check the supplies.”

“But—” Your words die in your throat when Jimin pats your head.

“You’ve worked hard today,” he grins at you.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“I’m home,” you call out to no one in particular before you hear your mother from the kitchen.

Once you reach the kitchen, your mother turns her head to see you. “Help me set the table, dinner’s almost ready.”

Nodding, you follow suit. “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father is still caught in a meeting. He’ll be home late.”

“I see,” you mutter, placing the silverwares on the table.

“How’s work?” your mother asks. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“It’s great,” you answer. “The boss lets me off early.”

And you continue to talk about your day. From helping Jimin bake cakes and bread early in the morning, serving customers coffee and desserts, cleaning up the whole place, and enjoying the hot chocolate Jimin bought you earlier.

“He sounds like a nice guy,” your mom muses when you both sit at the dinner table.

“He is.” A smile appears on your face, remembering his sweet gesture and warm presence. Then your mind shifts to the conversation you had earlier, and what has been bothering you lately. “Mom?”

“Hmm…?”

“Five years ago, how did I end up in the hospital?”

Your mother noticeably stiffens at your question, ceases digging through her plate of food.

“You and Dad never filled me in. You both kept on saying that my memories will return eventually… Until now actually.” You let out a breath. “I think I’m old enough to know what really happened.”

Letting out a deep breath herself, your mother puts down her fork. “What do you remember?”

“I was at a playground and hiding… Then there’s someone who came to find me.” Met with silence from your mother, you continue, “Was it one of my friends?”

Shaking her head, your mother answers, “It wasn’t any of your high school friends.”

“Then who…?”

“You never mentioned his name. But you’d always talk about him back then.” Your mother sighs. “Go through the attic when you’re having a day off. You’ll find some of your old stuff I hid there. Make sure your father is not home.”

Standing up, you want to go there at once. However, your mother stops you. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever you find there, if you… If anything hurts or feels just too much, I want you to stop, alright? You’re a grown adult and I trust you’ll prioritise your own health.”

Nodding wordlessly, you finish the remaining food on your plate.

[ when you were fifteen years old: after the incident ]

When the dismissal bell rings, some students instantly scramble from their desks, some stretch lazily on their seats and have conversations with others.

“Hey, Y/N.” One of your classmates calls you, a smile etched on her face. “So glad to have you back.”

“Yeah! This sem has been a pain in the ass. You’ll get through it in a breeze!” Another classmate adds.

You respond with a grateful smile of your own before packing up your things.

It hasn’t been that long since you were released from the hospital. You have persistently insisted your parents to let you go back to school and they finally relented after you promised them that you’ll go straight back home and to not strain yourself after dismissing your parents’ idea of hiring a driver.

Today is your first day back. Your friends greeted you excitedly when you stepped into the classroom. Even those who you recall never talked much with you greeted you with a ‘Hi’.

Walking mindlessly through the streets of your neighbourhood, your legs take you to a cafe as you recognise the familiar scent of coffee.

Tilting your head in confusion, you stare at the cafe building in shades of black and brown.

What exactly are you doing here?

There were no planned meetups with your friends, yet, your body seems to find its way here. Fishing out your phone, you scan through the past messages to double check any planned hangouts.

It’s a Wednesday.

But…

With the curiosity nagging inside you, you search for Beomgyu’s contact.

[ 4:05 PM ] You: beomie, do you know the cafe near my place?

[ 4:05 PM ] Beomgyu: i guess?? Every wednesday you'd always go there for no apparent reason at all. When i wanted to tag along you’d always give me the devil eye :(

[ 4:05 PM ] You: oh… that’s… well, sorry lol. Do u wanna come here?

[ 4:06 PM ] Beomgyu: wait, r u srs ???

[ 4:06 PM ] You: i mean if u’re not busy and i think getting coffee and hanging in the cafe would be good.

[ 4:07 PM ] Beomgyu: i'd never thought this day would come :’) i’ll be there in 10.

Chuckling at your friend’s response, you place your phone back into your pocket. Exhaling, you enter the cafe and make your way towards the cashier register.

“Welcome, what would you like for today?” The person smiles at you.

“Caramel macchiato, please.”

She nods, typing in your order. “That will be four dollars.”

After exchanging your payment with a receipt, you wait at an empty table for two near the window. Something about this familiar place, however, feels off. Like there is something missing that you can’t seem to put your finger on.

Your thoughts are cut off when someone takes the seat across from you. “Why are you so deep in thought?”

Beomgyu stares at you quizzically as you blink in realisation. “Uh…”

He narrows his stare at you suspiciously before shifting his gaze around the cafe. “So, what is it that kept you going here?”

You shake your head in response. “I have no idea either. Honestly, I have this gut feeling to come here when I passed by earlier.”

“Hmm, maybe the coffee?” Beomgyu watches one of the waitresses bringing your orders, placing it on your table.

Sighing, you stare at the steaming cup with caramel drizzles on the foam for a few moments. Then you bring the cup to your lips to take a sip.

“Argh, why is this bitter?” Scrunching your nose, you motion towards the waitress for extra caramel.

“Did… Your taste buds change too? You said the caramel macchiato here is perfect.”

A snort escapes you as you drizzle more caramel into the coffee. “I got hit in the damn head, Beomie. It doesn’t change my taste buds.”

He shrugs. “Well, who knows. I never knew you like caramel that much.”

You freeze momentarily.

“Y/N? You okay?” Beomgyu waves a hand in front of your face.

“Y-yeah, I just…”

“You just…?”

Shaking your head once more, you whisper, “It’s nothing…” But your eyes scan through the busy workers in the cafe.

Deep inside, you had an inkling that the coffee here isn’t your sole reason for coming here.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Turns out you were right.

Once when you came into the cafe on another Wednesday, you sat at your usual place after ordering your usual drink.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally back,” someone says.

Blinking, your gaze snaps to the elder woman — maybe around her mid fifties — and you give her a small smile before asking, “Do I know you...?”

It was her turn to look confused at your words.

“I’m really sorry for not recognising!” You grow flustered at your words. “I lost my memory in an accident a few months ago...”

“Oh, that’s awful!” The lady — a regular customer, you assume — gasps. “So that’s why you don’t frequent this cafe anymore. The young man looked so heartbroken before he quit his job—”

“Young man?”

“The barista, dear,” the lady replies. “You used to come here and meet him. I had to shush the both of you every time to not disturb the other customers.”

“I... Was he from my school?”

The lady shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He never wore a uniform like yours.”

“Do you know his name?”

The lady shakes her head once more. “His name was Park. Probably that’s his last name. At least that’s what is written on his name tag.”

And you internally groan. There are thousands of people with that last name.

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I’m afraid no, my dear. I heard he quit the job suddenly.”

Sighing, you thanked the lady before heading out of the cafe with your shoulders dropping in defeat.

The trapdoor makes a loud creaking sound when you lift it up, indicating that it hasn’t been used for a very long time. Slipping the key back to your back pocket, you step up further on the ladder with the trap door laying on another side as you go through it while the floorboards creak underneath your weight.

It didn’t take you long to locate your old things. Scanning through the boxes, you find one doodled in various flowers and rainbows with your name written on it as well.

With a grunt, you lift up the dusty box, bringing it down to the floor with a thud which causes you to cough at the flying dust. In an attempt to swat the dust away, you wave your hand in front of you. Still coughing uncontrollably with your eyes watering. After your cough ceases, you crouch and open the box. A few notebooks can be found inside along with some old dolls from your childhood.

You vaguely remember the locked diary you liked to write in about your day and its pale pink cover which was covered in sparkling stickers you used to be obsessed with.

Digging further through the books, you finally found it — the possible answer to your lost memories — with a small key dangling on the lock.

Climbing down from the attic, you made your way to your room while fumbling with the lock and key of your old diary. After successfully unlocking it, you take a seat on your padded window sill, flipping through the yellowing pages.

The first page was clearly written by you. Your old handwriting and your name. The first entry you wrote dates back to a decade ago.

Your fingers twitch at how cringe-y most of the entries are. Yet, at the same time you find it endearing how you used to write about your day. The good, the bad, and the normal things — appreciating just to be able to experience and get through them.

The last of your entries date back to months before the incident when you were fifteen. Probably because you decided that you were too old to write diaries any longer.

Recalling how you’d always visit the cafe every Wednesday, you skim through Wednesday entries. However one particular name seems to stand out in those entries.

“Mochi?” You flip from one entry to another. Who the hell is that?

Deciding to get to the bottom of this, you search for the earliest entry that you can find — nine years ago.

I met the hot choco guy again, today. I’m feeling so happy!!! He is so nice. why can’t any of the boys in my school be like him????

Hot... Choco? Furrowing your brows, you skip to the next Wednesday entry.

i am feeling so happy that mama brought me to the cafe last last week!!! she do not let me drink the coffee drink, so Mochi give me hot choco! i think it’s the best BEST drink EVER!!!

“How the hell did hot choco guy turn into Mochi?” you mumble to yourself, flipping through your diary to the next Wednesday entry.

Mochi teached me how to do math!!! It was so fun! But when Teacher Lee teaches me, it’s always boring. How did Mochi make math fun??? I wish he go to my school instead and teach me math :(

You internally cringe at your younger self. Exhaling, you press your temple in disbelief.

This whole diary of your younger self is basically gushing over this hot-choco-turned-Mochi guy as you flip through other pages. However, you stop at a certain entry.

Today… Is a very bad day. But Mochi suddenly makes it better.

Glancing at the date — it was the day your grandmother passed away.

He promises to make me cinnamon rolls whenever i tell him to! Just like Grannie… I’m sorry, Diary. I don’t think i can write more today. I just hope tomorrow will be a better day.

“Mochi…” you mumble repeatedly with furrowing brows and the name seems to trigger your brain to relive some memories.

“I’m calling you Mochi!” You hear your own twelve-year old voice. Yelping, your diary lands on the floor with a small thud.

“No!” Another voice rings in your head — familiar and warm. “That’s a really uncool nickname.”

“But you look like a mochi! And it’s not uncool! I think it’s really cute!”

Blinking, your mind brings you back to reality. Reaching down for your diary, you freeze momentarily before clutching your head. For a moment, your heart stops when your gaze lands on your diary’s open page — a drawing of a familiar shooting star.

Mochi is… Jimin?

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ when you were twelve ]

When another sigh escaped his lips, you glanced up from your math workbook — his face can only be described as perturbed. With no hesitance, you quietly pushed the last cookie on your plate to him, earning his glassy stare as it shifted from his notebook that’s lying open on the table.

He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you finish that? Do you want to bring it home?”

You shook your head, heat tinging your cheeks. “It’s for you. You look like you need it.”

“It’s caramel cookies.”

Nodding, you mumbled, “You said eating it can comfort people.”

The boy stared at you for a moment longer — recalling the time when you had a bad day and he gave you that, then he chuckled. “I guess I did.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded again. “I can order hot chocolate for you too.”

He reached for the last cookie, finally a small smile you have awaited appearing on his face. “This is enough, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

You beamed at his words, then you extended one hand to take his notebook and draw a shooting star on the page it was opened on.

“We can’t really see shooting stars in here,” you explain, pushing his notebook back to him. “So, whenever you’re having a hard time, wish on this shooting star! It represents hopes and wishes!”

“What that’s—” He stopped himself. Letting out a sigh, he found himself nodding despite how ridiculously endearing the idea was. “Alright. I will.”

The blare of your alarm jolts you awake. Groaning, you grab your phone, turning off the alarm when you realise you have to go to work. You can’t find it in yourself to see Jimin today. Not after finding out that he was, is, part of your missing childhood memories.

Your gaze lands on the diary, laying open on your window sill. As you read more and more of your diary entries, Mochi being Jimin just makes sense. You remember how he went out of his way just to buy you hot chocolate when you were having a bad day — just like in the past.

After all this time, Jimin is actually part of, no, in most of your childhood life.

And he denied it.

Why?

You continuously drift back to that one question. Why did he deny it when you asked him? Don’t people usually love to get reacquainted with their childhood friends?

Sighing, you message Jimin listlessly, telling him you aren’t feeling well before you turn off your phone completely. You don’t think you can handle interacting more with him.

Hours passed, when someone barges in your room. “Y/N!”

Peeking out from your blanket, you glare at your best friend. “What the fuck, Kook?”

“Jimin told me you aren’t feeling well. So, I came to check up on you.”

“Okay, you did. Now, go back home.”

Without responding, he opens the curtain in your room, letting in the piercing sunlight and you let out an annoyed ‘tsk’.

Should have known your best friend isn’t going to let this go easily.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been off the whole weekend. You may be able to trick Jimin but you can’t trick me.”

Still burying yourself under your blanket, the bed dips on your friend’s weight as he waits for your response. But you keep your silence, trying your best to even your breathing. You’ve cried enough after all.

“Hmm?” Jungkook stands up. “What’s this? Your diary?”

Abruptly, you fling yourself off the bed and grab your diary from his clutches.

“Go home, Jungkook. I’m not in the mood to deal with this.”

“You know I won’t until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m just...” Your shoulders droop in defeat. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You hate crying in front of anyone. But it’s as if a dam broke, your tears do not stop falling while you babble, “Why did he pretend to not know me? Why did he deny? Why—”

Jungkook blinks repeatedly at your sudden change. “W-wait! Why are you crying? I don’t under—”

“Park Jimin!” Your sudden outburst flusters him further. “The guy who you’re friends with and who you recommended for me to work with! That’s who!”

“But—”

“He‘s Mochi.”

Jungkook looks dumbfounded for a moment before your words register inside his head. “M-Mochi?”

Like a petulant child, you climb on your bed once more and hide your diary beneath your pillow. “Leave me alone, Kook.”

With a defeated sigh, Jungkook trudges out of your room, leaving you once again drowning in your thoughts.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Jimin has always loved mornings, especially when he is able to quietly bake on what most people would call ungodly hours. There is something enjoyable about being fully awake during this time when no sounds of passing vehicles can distract him, making him feel at ease.

He had started appreciating the little things in life when you — who once stared up at him with curious eyes, expression lightening up when he made a cup of hot chocolate for you — taught him to.

Chuckling to himself, his mind drifts back to the time you first entered his bakery. Gods, he should have known it was you. But you were so different, he could hardly comprehend how much you had grown.

Gone was your happy-go-lucky self. He was stunned when you suddenly snapped at him. Your younger self would probably respond with a smile and drone on about how much you love cinnamon rolls. For a second, his heart had hoped. Maybe you remembered him after all these years?

Yet that hope dissipated in an instant when you merely apologised and ran out. Moreover, you didn’t return to his bakery after buying the cinnamon rolls, he thought he had screwed things up by attempting to start a conversation with you. Or maybe that person wasn’t really you. Just someone who looks a lot like you. He still had his suspicions after all.

However, his suspicions were gone the moment you introduced yourself, leaving him speechless. Jimin would be lying if he said he didn’t hope — at least for a bit — that you would remember him when he mentioned his name.

That was why the moment you appeared once more to work as a part-timer, he was ecstatic. No words can explain it.

He started to look forward to work every day — coming to his own bakery to see you even when you didn’t remember him, but he would still gladly take whatever he can to be around you.

Once he sets the tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls into the oven, his phone buzzes. As soon as he reads the text, his heart drops a little.

[ 7:08 AM ] You: Sorry, I cant come to work today. Not feeling well.

He types, ‘That’s okay. get well soon, y/n :)’

But it left undelivered. Did your phone die? He wonders.

Jimin can’t help shake the weird feeling bubbling inside. So, he messages Jungkook.

[ 7:15 AM ] Jimin: y/n isn’t feeling well today. do u mind checking up on her ???

But of course, Jungkook didn’t read the message until a few hours later. That boy enjoys gaming all night.

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: what?

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: for real ?? since when does she get sick? that girl has a fucking high immunity. she never even once got a cold during the semester

Jimin furrowed his brows at that.

[ 12:04 PM ] Jimin: still, go check up on her pls. she’s ur friend too

[ 12:04 PM ] Jungkook: yeah, omw

It hasn’t even been an hour later when Jungkook rushes into the bakery — earning surprised and curious glances from the customers who were chattering among themselves. “Hyung—“ he catches his breath as he stands in front of the counter. “I think you need to fix—“ Huff. “—I mean go to Y/N’s house yourself.

Jimin blinks in confusion.

“You... You’re Mochi, aren’t you?”

At the mention of that name, blood drains from Jimin’s face instantly.

She remembers...?

“How did you—”

“What matters is, you need to fix it, hyung. You’re the only one who can. She’s not herself, right now. I've known her for a few years and it takes a lot for her to react like this. So, please, you should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jimin breathes out. “Do you mind closing the cafe once the customers are all done?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, just go to her, hyung. I’ll handle everything here.”

[ when you were fifteen: before the accident ]

“I wish you can teach me math all the time, Mochi,” you giggle, leaning back on the cafe chair. “Everything is easier when you explain it.”

Jimin chuckles at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one not paying attention in class.”

Shaking your head rapidly, you deny, “Of course I paid attention! It’s just... I don’t know… It was really boring when my teacher was teaching. He just drones on and on without stopping.”

With an amused hum, Jimin stands up. “I’ll get ready to leave. I’ll walk you home.”

After a few minutes, you head out of the cafe with Jimin behind you. Shivering against the cool night air, you draw closer to the boy. Instinctively, Jimin offers you his open hand which you accepted with no hesitance.

Little did he know, every time he does this, it makes your heart beat a little faster at the way your hand fits well in his. And you savour it.

The build up of feelings has been going on for a while now. Maybe a few months. You’ve developed a crush on him. Like, how can you not? Jimin possesses charming qualities that no one else has. Not to mention how kind and warm of a person he is.

Meetings in the cafe had you wishing they were dates instead. And you had to let him know.

And tell him you did.

He blinks at first, words sinking into him. Mochi, I think I like you. Like, really, really like you.

His cheeks are pink, you weren’t sure if it's from the cold or his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course. What were you expecting? He only sees you as a little sister.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, but your heart drops. “It’s just… You know, I wanted to tell you know because you’re really cool, Mochi.”

“Y/N… Listen, this is not a good time—” Abruptly, he stops, catching your wrist on his. “I want you to hide in the playground.”

“What?”

“Hide, please. I will explain everything later.”

You want to run away from him. But the pleading look on his face makes you listen.

“There he is!” You hear an unfamiliar shout.

Cursing under his breath, Jimin quickly pushes you under the slide. “Wait here.”

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ Present time ]

Jimin reaches your house, his heart beating fast against his chest with a box of cinnamon rolls in hand.

You are home alone and Jungkook has left the door unlocked.

Letting himself in, Jimin glances around. Everything still looks the same as back then. He went to your house once to tutor you. And he still can remember that day clearly.

Climbing up the stairs, he reaches your room. With shaking hands, he knocks on the door.

Silence.

A moment or two passes then your door opens. Jimin braces for the anger you’d throw at him.

But nothing comes.

You merely stand there, eyes glassy as they lock on his.

“Y/N...” He mutters, torn between to reach out or not. But you leave the door open as you sit on your bed. Jimin enters your familiar room, still surprised at how it still looks the same. And his eyes fall on a notebook — the notebook you never let him read — on the table.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling.

“I wanted to check up on you—”

“Why?”

Jimin knows at once what you are asking.

He approaches you sitting on the edge of the bed. He kneels down, peering up with those chocolate eyes of his to meet your downcast stare — like those times when he wants to talk to you and you refuse to look at him.

“Do… Do you still remember me?” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Y/N…” The lack of surprise in his voice answers it. He still remembers you as you recall the once shocked expression on his face when you first introduce yourself. Now, it all made sense.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?” A sob escapes your lips. “Do you not want me to remember—”

He shakes his head, denying it quickly. “No! Of course not. I just… I was ecstatic actually when it was you who came to work for me.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Voice cracking. “You knew me—”

Clearly in conflict, he sighs, “I don’t want you to remember your traumatic memories… Remembering me might cause you more pain.”

“But it didn’t. Those memories, from what I can remember there’s nothing—”

“That’s what your parents told me, Y/N.”

Eyes widening, you gape at him as tears cascade down your face.

“You were seriously injured back then. The doctor said it will be best for you to let your own memories come to you in their own time. And I had to leave this place... I came by after your operation and... I wanted to say goodbye but I was told it was best to not see you any longer to prevent anymore distress—”

“But you are important to me!” You cut him off. Then turning quieter, “You are important to me…”  You say between sobs.

Covering your eyes with your hand, you whimper when Jimin engulfs you in a hug. “I’m sorry…” He murmurs, caressing your head. “I’m so sorry…”

His heart breaks at your current state, tightening his hold on you, who’s crying into his chest. Years of buried regret and longing resurface. He had envisioned many times on how you would remember him. But he fails to realise how much it can hurt you when your memories return. If only he can turn back time, he will take that chance to save you from the misery of your memory loss.

Yet, all he can do now is to hold you close, begging you for forgiveness and hope that you’d let him stay by your side.

“So, let me get this straight, you—” Jungkook points his straw at you. “—and Jimin hyung were childhood friends—” He pierces the plastic cover of his milk tea. “—and he used to tutor you in a cafe.”

Nodding, you purse your lips and enjoy your own drink.

You had taken a few days off after the reconciliation to collect your thoughts and confront your parents about what had happened. They have come into terms with their protectiveness of you staying out very late. And you have managed to convince them to let you stay out late as long as you let them know.

You were planning to stay in bed all day if it wasn’t for Jungkook who barged into your room like he owns the place, after he claimed that Jimin lets him off from work early — which you doubt honestly, it’s more of Jungkook escaping from work — and decided to drag you to the nearest milk tea shop.

“Is something weird?” you blurt out.

“Did you by any chance, I don’t know...” Jungkook mutters. “Have feelings for each other?”

You nearly choke on your tapioca pearl and rapidly you shake your head. “No! That’s—”

Jungkook narrows his stare at you, sipping his drink as you continue to blabber, “I mean, I knew him since I was like, what? Twelve? He never sees me that way.”

“Maybe he didn’t back then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean both of you are adults now. Aren’t things different?”

You snort at his words. “He always sees the little girl in me, Jungkook. So, please, don’t make things weird, alright? I can literally see your head gearing.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “Alright, if you say so. But how about you?”

Sipping your drink, you lift a brow at him.

“Do you like him?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I meant like, like him.”

“Kookie, what are you? Five?”

He snorts at your response. “Five heads taller than you—” Your glare shuts him up. “Okay, but do you see him as someone special?”

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Why are we discussing this? We’re just friends. Who coincidentally are childhood friends as well.”

“You sure?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh once more. “What are you expecting me to say?”

“What do you think of him?”

Almost at once, the words flow easily out of your mouth. “He’s a caring person and he knows how to comfort someone when they’re having a bad day.”

“You mean, he knows how to comfort you when you’re having a bad day yourself,” Jungkook chuckles.

You blink at that.

“Look, I’m not implying anything but he was worried as hell when I told him about you the other day. Even nearly left his bakery without supervision. That’s when yours truly—” He points at himself. “—came in.”

And the question that swims in the back of your mind disappears. “So, it is you, you overgrown rabbit. You told him about me—”

“Well, you can’t blame me. You should be thanking me instead. It’s because of me you both finally reconciled. Admit it, you’re happy — happier, in fact.”

And you can’t deny it. Jungkook has been one of those people who’d look out for you. Yes, even when he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, or just loves to hear the “piping hot” tea of what’s happening in your life.

Sighing in defeat, you murmur, “Even if I do like him...” You shake your head. “No, it shouldn’t even matter in the first place.”

Noticing your shuttering expression, Jungkook thankfully does not press the subject further. Nor does he question why. And you are grateful for him.

“Interesting. So, you do like him.”

Scratch that, your best friend is still a pain in the ass.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Standing in front of the bakery cafe, you released a deep breath.

Through the glass door, Jungkook is helping out at the cashier counter, serving beverages and desserts to dine-in customers. However, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

Releasing a deep breath, the bell of the door rings which signals your entrance. Jungkook notices you at once before he points to the kitchen.

You rush inside — stopping abruptly a few steps away from him — now, regarding the man differently. He was the boy who has been your comfort for so many occasions after all.

Jimin is icing cupcakes, his eyes focusing on his task and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

With your memories — of kindness, warmth, and friendship — now fully returned, you remember how you were always enamoured watching Jimin work. You’d watch him make drinks in the cafe when you had no homework to do. You’d sit at the bar, munching on cookies-of-the-day as your eyes followed Jimin’s movements.

A few moments pass, Jimin’s gaze shifts to you briefly and double-takes. He curses under his breath, cupcake slipping from his grip — icing spilling on the marble counter. “Hey, you’re back—” He quickly grabs a cloth and wipes off the cream before he turns to face you properly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “—you didn’t tell me you’re coming in today.”

He opens his arms and your legs move of its own accord, following your instinct as you close the distance between you and him — wrapping your arms around his waist.

You weren’t surprised at how your younger self used to have a big fat crush on him. He was and always will still be your Mochi. The guy who treated you to your favourite sweets, who knows how you like your caramel macchiato the best, and who never fails to put butterflies in your stomach.

Breathing his sweet scent, you remember the time you’d ask him for hugs whenever you were down and your younger self had even claimed once that his hugs were magical as it was written in your diary. To quote it, “Mochi gives the BEST BEST hugs in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD”.

“Your hugs…” you mumble, eyes closed. “They’re still the best…”

Jimin merely tightens his hold on you. That is until a force — appearing in the form of Jeon Jungkook — shatters the serene atmosphere, bringing you back to reality. “Hyung! Oh—”

Abruptly, you both pull away from each other. Jungkook stands awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“What is it?” Jimin breaks the silence, composed as ever.

“Uh, need more cupcakes. The ones on the display are finished…”

“Right,” Jimin turns to you. “Y/N, can you help me ice the rest of the cupcakes?”

Nodding, you turn to the employee’s room, putting your things in the locker and grabbing an apron.

Hugging Jimin seems so natural that you fail to consider how weird it looks to the people around you. Jungkook’s awkward silence proves that.

Your thoughts are swimming in confusion. And once again those butterflies appear in your stomach. Fanning your heated cheeks with your hands, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Your childhood crush is gone. You’re just happy to have Mochi back in your life. That’s all. That should be all.

One afternoon, you mindlessly clean up the kitchen. Due to the public holiday, the bakery is closing earlier, and your thoughts have drifted back to the past.

You remember the night of the incident when Jimin walked you home after he had lost those men who chased after him. He stopped you for a moment, breaking the silence. “You okay?” Warm concern lacing his tone.

Jaw clenching, you mumbled. “Just a scratch.” Reluctant to give him any longer response.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have shoved you harshly before.” He crouched, inspecting your knees before he peered up to meet your stare.

“It’s fine.”

When you were just a few blocks away from home, Jimin broke the silence. “Listen Y/N—” His footsteps faltered as he reached to touch your shoulder. “—about earlier, I think you shouldn’t have feelings for me, I—”

Abruptly, you pulled your hand away from his, hurt consuming you. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you?”

You wished Jimin had forgotten your spontaneous confession as he nodded, hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t control my feelings. So, just let it be. It’ll be fine.” You glanced at him before walking faster.

The rest of the trip home was tense, full of unanswered questions. Who were those men? Why did they chase after Jimin? Is it really that bad to have feelings for him? Who gave him the right to dictate your feelings?

You felt so childish back then. Recalling the memories makes you cringe at your younger self for overreacting. But you suppose it’s normal for a fifteen year-old girl. And you were able to sense that Jimin wanted to ease the tense atmosphere. But you were too hurt to even give him a chance. You needed time to process what happened that day.

However, one minute Jimin had stopped you again, desperate to appease you. And the next minute, someone ran towards him with a bat in hand. It’s as if time slowed down, you moved before a harsh impact landed on you.

Your mind brings you back to reality, and instinctively you touch the part where your head was struck with your free hand.

“Y/N? Are you done cleaning up?”

Jimin’s voice startles you and you nearly drop the mop’s handle from your grasp.

“Yes,” you manage to say. And somehow you can’t look at him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” Out of instinct, he cups your face to look at you in the eye. And hell, your heartbeat gradually increases as you can smell the sweet scent of bread from him along with a tinge of his cinnamon scent.

Mind blanking out at the close proximity, the only intelligible response you can say is, uhhh. Your grip on the mop handle tightens as your palm grows clammy.

He’s gorgeous. That’s one thing for sure.

“Hey, why are you blushing?”

Blinking rapidly, you watch his eyes turn into those crescent moons and a giggle escapes his lips as he pulls away, grabbing the mop from your hold.

“I’ll put this back. You nearly snapped it in half, you know.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mind whirling and you blabber the first thing in your mind. “I have a pet fish.”

“Huh?”

Realising how random you sounded, you clear your throat. “I just remember I had to come home early today, since Mr. Goldy is waiting for me.”

“Ooh, that’s—”

But you’ve run for the lockers, quickly changing out of your work attire.

“Thanks for today, Mochi. See you tomorrow!” You say and run out of the bakery without sparing him another glance.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What are you exactly doing here?”

Unflinching, you answer your best friend monotonously, “Buying a fish.”

“You don’t have a tank at home.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m looking for one now.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all week, Y/N.”

You ignore his words, eyes scanning through the fishes of different colours and kinds.

“Oh! These ones are pretty.” Jungkook comments, earning your attention.

“Excuse me?” You call one of the workers there. “I was wondering if this fish is suitable for beginners.”

The worker nods, smiling. “Yes, these are what we call the Betta fish. Their scales are beautiful and they are also easy to take care of. Would you like to purchase them?”

You respond with a brief ‘yes’.

“Now, all you need is a tank,” Jungkook says.

“We provide delivery services for the tank. I’d recommend buying this one.” The worker points at one of the tanks. “In the meantime, you can purchase the fishbowl for now.”

And with that you have a new pet fish and a brand new fish bowl in hand — specifically Jungkook’s, because you gotta put those muscles into good use — and you head back home. On the way back, Jungkook suddenly clears his throat. “So… What’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Let me summarise what just happened,” he says. “I had the day off today, and suddenly you called me to meet you in a fish store, and you have been acting all weird and somehow out of all the nice shades of blue fishes in the tank, you chose the ugly yellow—”

You kick his shin in retaliation. “It’s not yellow, it’s gold, dumbass. How dare you say that in front of Lady Goldilocks.”

“Oh, wow, now it even has a name.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I seriously can’t believe you chose this one out of all the other colours. It reminds me of Jimin hyung—” And he gapes at you. “No way. Is it because he likes this colour?”

You blink in realisation. Jimin does like this colour.

“Okay, ‘fess up. What’s up with you?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “I like him.”

Jungkook looks unamused.

“I mean like, like him. And I need to get over him.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Why would Hyung want that?””

“I shouldn’t like him, Kook. He told me once and, I don’t know, I just can’t control my feelings. I don’t want to lose him again and I’m scared that he’ll be gone if he knows—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Jungkook grasps your shoulder with his free hand. “—I can understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. How about let me prove to you that Jimin won’t be gone even when you have feelings for him?”

“I swear, Jeon Jungkook, if you utter a single word about this conversation—”

“No!” He denies repeatedly. “I won’t. Promise. I can prove it to you another way. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, then. How?”

“I have a plan. To take the title as your number one best friend once and for all—”

“Who says you are even at the top?”

“Aren’t I? You told me once.” Jungkook fishes his phone out of his jacket, taps a few times on his screen before he shows you a video of your drunk self a few months ago after exam week.

“Kookieee, I think you’re my number one best friend! So proud to have someone like you in my life—”

You try to reach for his phone, cheeks burning in embarrassment, as you shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster. However, Jungkook being Jungkook merely cackles at that. Your voice from the video still continues, “—you’re like Mochi—” Your present self tenses at that.

“Who’s Mochi?” Jungkook asked curiously in the video.

“Shhhhh… We don’t speak of that name here, m’kay? Mochi is gone. So you are best friend number one!”

Jungkook stops the video, tucking his phone back to his pocket. “I asked you once who Mochi was when you were sober. But you didn’t remember back then. So I never asked again until you mentioned the name ‘Mochi’ once more a few days ago.”

Gaping, you stop walking as the stunned silence falls over you.

“I think your subconscious had always known about him. And it shows how special he is to you.” When you’re about to deny that, Jungkook shushes you. “Don’t try to deny, Y/N. Even before you knew he was Mochi you already liked him.”

“I hate that you’re starting to look like a rooster. Were you always this cocky?”

Your best friend merely shrugs. “So, here’s the plan. As I was saying, with my ‘number one best friend’ title under threat, we’re going to demote Jimin as your boyfriend! It’s a win-win situation!”

“What? I never even asked for him to be my boyfriend but wait— Don’t you mean promote?”

“Y/N, as much as I love your dumb ass, you tend to be quite demanding with people. Hopefully, he knows how to handle your present self.”

“Jeon Jungkook, please don’t make me regret this.”

A few days after the conversation with Jungkook, the boy gets to work as fast as possible, and by work, it means work to get on Jimin’s nerves instead of actually being helpful in the cafe.

Jungkook has become noticeably clingy, or overall, just more touchy with you. It’s not like it’s anything new in all honesty. Throughout college, the relationship between the both of you is purely platonic. Your other college friends knew this and seeing the both of you cuddle wouldn’t be a strange sight. Jimin, however, isn’t one of your college friends and Jungkook seems to have taken advantage of this. Thus, he begins to work in the bakery almost every day, claiming just to see you.

At first Jimin showed no reaction since Jungkook is a good friend of his. But he has grown visibly irritated lately while Jungkook revels in pressing the older one’s buttons further.

“Jungkook…”

“Hmm?”

“Can you please stop invading my personal space?”

“But it’s not going to work if I don’t— Oof!” You shove him away before going back to your task — placing the cupcakes on the display tray — annoyance building up at Jungkook’s disruptions.

“I’m going to file a restraining order on you at this rate.”

He huffs, moving towards you once more. “Don’t you want to prove that Jimin is going to be pissed if he sees me being affectionate to you?”

You shake your head. “I just want to work in peace.”

“Hmph. You’re no fun.”

“Cuz you’re the one not working.”

“Hey, I’m helping here voluntarily.”

You ignore his words, focusing on your task while Jungkook starts whining for you to give him attention. “Kook, I fucking swear if you don’t get your hands off—”

Jimin’s voice rings “Y/N, are the cupcakes...” He trails as soon as he enters the kitchen, freezing at the sight of Jungkook wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his dumb head on the crook of your neck.

“He’s going to rage,” Jungkook whispers, laughing softly.

“Uh, Jungkook can I talk to you?” Jimin asks, eyes noticeably narrowing as his tone tenses.

“Finally,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, before he lets go of you and faces Jimin. “Sure, Hyung.”

You take that cue to leave, bringing the freshly iced cupcakes to the display counter, leaving Jungkook and Jimin alone in the kitchen.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What’s been going on with you lately? You come here to work everyday but all I can see is you busy flirting with Y/N.” Jimin throws the younger one an unamused glare.

Jungkook answers easily, “I do my job, Hyung. And so what if I do flirt with Y/N?”

“You can’t,” Jimin blurts out, earning a questioning look from Jungkook. “You just can’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Of course, she’s my best friend.”

Jimin shoots Jungkook another unamused look at his answer.

“I’m going to tell her how I feel in three days,” Jungkook continues.

Jimin’s stomach drops at that statement. However, at the same time the urge to let you know how he truly feels increases. But the thought of the impending rejection after hurting you and causing your memory loss makes him think twice.

Maybe Jungkook deserves you more than him — he can protect and support you while Jimin has failed.

With a shaky breath, Jimin mutters, “Take care of her, alright?”

Obviously, his response catches Jungkook off guard. “What?”

“Take good care of Y/N, JK. I’m seriously counting on you.”

“Wait—“ Jungkook looks downright flustered at the unexpected response. “Hyung, wait.”

“What?” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be confused.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Just give me an honest answer, hyung. No lies.”

A pause.

“Do you like Y/N? As in more than friends?”

Jimin nods without hesitance.

Jungkook mumbles something under his breath that Jimin is sure it sounds like, freaking idiots.

“Go tell her how you feel, Hyung. And tell her as soon as possible.”

“But you—”

“It’s to push you to confess to her. I don’t see Y/N that way.” Jungkook sighs. “Honestly, what would the both of you be without me?”

Jimin stands in the kitchen, speechless, as Jungkook continues to ramble how significant his role is in between your relationship and how you and Jimin owe him so much.

“So, yes, go tell her how you feel, hyung. She’ll listen to whatever you’ll say.”

With a newfound resolve, hope sparks in Jimin’s heart. “I will.”

To say that Jimin is nervous would be an understatement. He had barely slept a wink last night, thinking of all the words and how he would explain why he had left so suddenly and confess his feelings to you. Jungkook has been a supportive friend, even if he does push Jimin’s buttons along the way. However, Jimin knows that it was his own way of showing encouragement.

You are cleaning the rest of the tables of the cafe and Jimin can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you through the small window opening between the kitchen and the counter area.

“Are we done for today, Mochi?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydream.

“Yeah!” Jimin continues to wipe the kitchen counter quickly, replying almost too enthusiastically before he clears his throat. “Do you have plans tonight, Y/N?”

You enter the kitchen and once again Jimin’s heartbeat rises. “Nope. I’m going straight back home after this. Lady Goldilocks is waiting for me.”

Lady Goldilocks. Jimin chuckles at the mention of your fish’s name. He wonders if one day he’s able to see the pet fish for himself. He had asked what happened to Mr Goldy and you had become flustered at that since you didn’t know the fish was female. So, now, you have changed the fish’s name. Yet, somehow Jimin got an inkling that there is more to the story. He had asked Jungkook — to which the boy had valiantly refused to utter a word about it and had babbled, “Huh? Fish? What fish? Is that for dinner?”

Once the both of you finished closing up the bakery cafe, Jimin taps on your shoulder before you had the chance to go back home.

“May I walk you home?”

You blink, processing his words then nodding rapidly. “S-Sure.”

Jimin smiles warmly at you. It’s easy in fact. Just being in your presence always brings happiness into his heart. You had grown into an amazing person and even more attractive.

Something about you had always captivated Jimin since the first time you met him in the cafe where he used to do his part time work. Your curious eyes were always following him as he took the customers’ orders and honestly, it was very endearing.

Comfortable silence falls upon you both, walking through the asphalt pathway and naturally, Jimin opens his palms, extending it towards you.

You stare at that for a moment and clasp his hand with yours. Jimin weaves your fingers together, bringing you closer to him as you continue to walk back home.

“Do you mind if we take a little detour?”

You nod at his words.

Once Jimin reaches the destination, he can sense your eyes glance curiously at the empty hill. He pulls you up onto the top of the hill, sitting down on the grass while he pats the space next to him and you follow suit.

“Look up,” Jimin whispers, and you did.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips at the sight of twinkling stars that scatters across the dark sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Jimin voices out. “Someone made me realise how beautiful the stars are…” He falters. “A-And she had never left my mind all those years. One of my deepest regrets is that I wasn’t able to say goodbye when I had to leave.”

You hear his words, yet you stay silent — an encouragement for him to continue to speak what’s on his mind.

“My family was in a difficult financial position back then and my dad had done things I wasn’t proud of…” Jimin’s eyes turn glassy and faraway, even when he sets his gaze up. “And one of them is that he had made a deal with loan sharks without the guarantee of paying them back… And of course, they were angry.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“I once thought that probably I could still stay here back then. Even more so when I met you. But I was wrong. Those men started to chase after me and because of that, you—” He shudders. “—got injured. And that night my parents had made plans to leave without me and my brother knowing.”

He turns to look at you. “I never got to apologise to you for causing that. I should be the one to protect you but… I failed. For that, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Jimin…” You say softly. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who jumped in front of you when the man came after you. It’s my own choice because you are special to me.”

“But I could have—”

You shush him with a pointer finger in front of his lips for a few moments. “You don’t have to be sorry anymore, Mochi. It’s not your fault. And what matters now is to focus on the present and look to the future, right?”

He nods, emotions swimming inside his chocolate eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought—”

“For telling you that you shouldn’t have feelings for me.”

And you lapse into silence. He remembers…?

“I hate that that has hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that. But I was happy but desperate too since my family—”

“Jimin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“What do you see me as, now?”

He blinks. All the practiced words on how he would tell you his feelings dissipate from his mind as he blankly stares at you. “I… I like you.” His voice grows quieter. “More than friends…”

“And if I said you shouldn’t have feelings for me?”

A flash of hurt crosses his eyes briefly. But he answers, nonetheless, “I would do what you want.”

“So, you reciprocate my feelings now?”

“H-huh?”

“I like you too. More than friends. In fact, I think my feelings have grown for you ever since I found out you’re Mochi.”

It takes a few moments for Jimin to process your words. He gapes, mouth opening and closing.

“You are resembling Lady Goldilocks right now.”

“What?”

Your cheeks flush. “Lady Goldilocks is a Betta fish. She was the golden one in a tank full of her blue siblings. Jungkook tried persuading me to choose the blue ones since they were more attractive to look at. But all I could see is the gold one since it reminded me of you.”

“I like golden colours…” Jimin mumbles in realisation.

“Exactly,” you let out a sheepish laugh, eyes turning to look back up into the sky. Before Jimin can respond, your eyes brighten up. “Look! A shooting star!”

Jimin snaps his gaze up as well.

“Hurry, make a wish!” You then close your eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear. Jimin follows suit, making his own wish.

As soon as you both finish making your wishes, you turn to face him once more.

“Are you still sorry for saying that to me?”

Jimin nods, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Hell, he thinks he would always regret hurting you that time.

“I know how you can make it up to me then.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?” He splutters.

“Unless you don’t want—“ Yet, your words die on your throat as Jimin moves closer to you, eliminating the distance between you both as he cups your face just like that time in the bakery.

Without another word, he leans down, pressing his lips on yours softly while you place your hands on top of his before he presses further, brows furrowing as he kisses you fervently. For the time being, all that matters is just you and him. He caresses your cheeks and you run your hands down to wrap around his waist until you can feel his heart beating against his chest.

After pulling away — both of you catching your breaths — Jimin presses his forehead against yours, running his thumb over your lips while you were unable to open your eyes for a few moments at the burst of emotions that is coursing through you.

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” he admits. “My wish finally came true.” And you smile at that.

“My wish also came true because of you, Mochi...”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Sitting on one of the tables, your eyes can’t take themselves off Jimin as he serves customers. Today is your day off and you decided to pay him a visit in the bakery.

“You’re drooling.”

Your gaze snaps up to your best friend who sits across you after placing a cinnamon roll on the table for you. Jungkook continues, “I swear I’m going to vomit one of these days if I see you or Jimin hyung throwing each other— what was that called? It’s an old term— Oh! Goo-goo eyes one more time.”

“Shut up, Jeon. I’m not.” You reach for the roll, taking a bite.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah right, you basically either stare at him like he placed stars in the sky or like you want to tear off his clothes—”

You choke on the roll, quickly reaching for your glass of water before you throw your napkin at his face. Jungkook cackles at that before he resumes his act, sighing. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have intervened. I didn’t know you’d be like this. My best friend is so uncool now.”

“Y/N is what?” You perk up at Jimin’s voice.

“Whipped,” Jungkook mutters before he takes his cue to leave. He stands up, passing by Jimin after shooting the older one a teasing glance.

Jimin sits across from you, and he instinctively reaches for your hand on the table. “How was your day?” And you swear you can hear Jungkook making a gagging sound amidst the chatter of the customers.

“Good. I finished my chores at home earlier today. So, I thought I would come visit.”

Minutes pass by quickly as you chatter with Jimin. He had almost forgotten to go back to work until Jungkook reminded him. When it is time to close up the bakery, you watch him wash the remaining mixing bowls while perching on one of the cleaned counters of the kitchen.

“You know, I could use some help,” Jimin teases, drying his hands on his apron.

A smile curls up on the corner of your lips, eyes following his movements — drawing closer to where you are. “Well, I think you got it all handled, Mochi.”

Once he reaches you, he pulls you to wrap your legs around his waist while your arms rest on his shoulders — encircling around his neck. You both stare at each other and he pushes a strand of stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind an ear while his other hand settles on your waist.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe that you’re really here with me,” You admit. “Just like a sweet dream.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not, Y/N...” He leans to give you a chaste kiss. “... we’ll make up for the lost time we didn’t spend together.”

“Promise?”

He softly smiles at you. “Promise.”

author’s note: this was originally intended to be posted on jimin’s birthday but well i decided to add more stuff in it. thus, i am late alskflsdda so yes, i hope you guys enjoy this fic and feedbacks are always appreciated !! thank you for reading ♡

[tanzaniiite]

hi i hope ur doing okay🥺!! Can I request a fluff scenario where older kuroo and his s/o are cuddling and he's rubbing his palm against her belly which seems bigger than usual and thinks that shes pregnant since they haven't been careful lately (he's excited about being a dad so he's :D!!) but turns out that she just ate too much for diner and she suggests rlly trying to have a baby after seeing kuroo so enthusiastic? Thank you so much :(💗✨

JUST A THOUGHT • KUROO T.

requests: OPEN

warnings: none!

word count: 1.5k

a/n: omg yes anon we’re on the same wavelength, i live for this shit. thank you so much for the request! 😊

part two

send me more shit like this, 🅱️lease

“Hey princess! I’m home!”

You looked up from your work as the door closed gently. You watched as your boyfriend took off his shoes and tossed his gym bag on the couch. "Excuse me sir, get your smelly gym clothes off my couch" You teased, getting up to greet him. Kuroo feigned a wounded expression, "Uhh babe, my clothes do not smell" He retorted, his hands grabbing your waist and pulling you closer.

You smiled and leaned up to peck his lips, "Your body odor begs to differ" You say, scrunching up your nose and turning on your heel. You hear Kuroo gasp dramatically and you giggle to yourself. "Ugh, you're so mean to me Y/n. What's for dinner?" He asks, hugging you from behind. You roll your eyes playfully, knowing exactly what your horny boyfriend was trying to do. "Hm, let's see.. how about a shower?" You ask rhetorically, turning around to face him.

"What? Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. I just cleaned these counters Testu"

He groaned as he went towards the bathroom like a grumpy child who didn’t want to take a bath. You shake your head and turn back around to get dinner ready. Moments later Kuroo pops his head out, "At least join me?" He pleads. "Testuro." You say, without even turning around. "Okay okay, I got it" He mutters before returning inside the bathroom.

"Oh? Did you actually comb your hair this time?"

Kuroo fake laughed as he dried his hair, "Ha ha ha, you're hilarious babe" He mocked. You smiled widely at him, "I know right? Maybe I should quit my job and do stand up" You replied, washing your hands in the sink. Testu rolled his eyes and kissed your cheek. "Dinner looks great, are your parents coming over or something?" He inquired, reaching for the gyoza.

You smacked his hand, "No, I just don't feel like cooking every day this week. Whatever we don't eat will be leftovers. Wash your hands" You explained. "Ah well, I'll have you know I have a big appetite," Kuroo said, nipping at your neck. You let out an annoyed sigh, "Testu, your hands. Wash them" You stated, putting down the plates. "Ugh, you're no fun" He whined, going to the sink.

You and Kuroo laid in bed, watching some show on your TV. It seemed like you would be able to go to sleep without any of your boyfriend's traditional before bed antics. But even you knew that was stretch, especially when he burped in your ear. "Ew Testu, you're disgusting" You cringed, turning away from him. "Aw come on, I know you love it," He said, turning you back over to face him.

"I don't like your burps babe, it's gross"

Kuroo scoffed, "It's the circle of life, especially when your girlfriend makes a kick-ass dinner" he complimented. "Flattery won't get you in my pants" You laughed, as Testuro feigned a hurt look. "Do you think that all I think about is sex? I'm wounded princess" He claimed. You rolled your eyes, "No I don't think that but I know it takes up a good chunk of your thoughts" You say, tapping his forehead lightly.

Your boyfriend's fingers ran up and down your forearm, "Since we're on the topic of sex, you okay? We haven't y'know.. done it in a while" He asked. You shake your head, "I'm fine babe, my sex drive just isn't as high as yours. But if you behave, we can do something tomorrow" You promised, placing a kiss on his lips. Kuroo smirked, "Oh yeah? I look forward to it" He replied as his hand starting trailing down to your stomach and rubbing it gently.

"Testu.. are you trying to make me fart?"

Kuroo let out a loud laugh, "Maybe. I can't be the only gross one in this relationship" He said. "Ugh, whatever man" You retorted, closing your eyes. Testuro looked at your stomach with piqued curiosity, was it just him or did your stomach look bigger? Feel bigger? He didn't want to get his hopes up but maybe–

"What're you all smiley about?" You asked, peeking at your boyfriend with one eye open. "Nothin'" He hummed, continuing to rub your stomach. Maybe you were pregnant and you didn't know? Or maybe you did know and was waiting to surprise him? Oh, what if– "Okay babe, talk to me. You're never quiet unless you're asleep, what going on?" You ask, turning on your side and looking at him with concerned eyes. "I'm alright... random question: when was the last time you got your period?" He asked, looking you in the eyes.

You laughed thinking he was joking but when you saw his face you stopped, "You serious?" You asked. Kuroo nodded, waiting for an answer. "Uhh, about two days ago, why?" You answered. Testuro's face dropped a bit, he knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. They were crushed before they even festered. You placed a hand on his cheek, "Hey.. what's up? You're acting weird all of sudden" You whispered. Kuroo just sighed, "It's nothing, just a silly thought" He mumbled. You must've looked unconvinced cause Kuroo kissed your forehead and dismissed the conversation.

"Let's get some sleep, ‘kay?"

This has been gnawing on your mind for the past week. You knew your boyfriend and you knew he wasn't telling you something. He was fine earlier in that evening, cracking jokes and being his usual stupid self. But when you guys started cuddling he got all weird and even asked you about your period. What the hell was that about anyway?

"Y/n!"

Your head snapped up, "Oh. Sorry" You apologized. Kiyoko just smiled slightly, "You seem to have a lot on your mind. Penny for your thoughts?" She asked. You chuckled breathlessly, "I don't even know what's going on, Testu's acting weird" You claim. Kiyoko raised an eyebrow, "More than usual?". You laughed, "Yeah something like that. Enough about me, so you and Tanaka huh?" You asked, holding her hand to admire the engagement ring that adorned her ring finger perfectly.

Kiyoko chuckled, "Yup, he finally wore me out" She stated. "Lucky you, I don't when Testu is gonna purpose. But probably no time soon since he bought this expensive ass promise ring last year" You vent, looking at the ring on your finger. "Yeah.. but you never know. I didn't even know Ryu had money in savings, let alone the money for an engagement ring" She explained.

"But back to you, Kuroo is acting weird. How exactly?"

You explained what happened last week to her. Kiyoko hummed and sipped her tea silently. "It sounds like he thought you were pregnant" She stated, placing her cup down gingerly. You almost choked on your coffee, "Huh?!" You exclaimed. "Yeah, I'm surprised you didn't come to that conclusion on your own. He asked you about your period" She said. You placed your face in your hand, "Okay.. but why on earth would he think that?" You asked rhetorically.

"Well you said he was rubbing your stomach, maybe you gained weight and he figured it was baby weight?" Kiyoko guessed. You blushed slightly, "We literally just finished eating, I was bloated," You say defensively. "Hmm, have you guys been using protection lately?" She asked. "Well, not really" You answered, sipping your coffee. "Ah, that's why. You haven't been using protection and you were bloated. He probably thought he put two and two together" Kiyoko shrugged.

"Ugh boys are so stupid"

"You said it"

"I'm home!"

You turned to the door from your spot on the couch, "Hey baby, how was work?" You asked. Kuroo shrugged, "It was alright" He replied plainly. You grit your teeth slightly, before getting up and standing in front of your boyfriend. "Okay, enough of this. Tell me what's wrong or we're going to sit here until I guess correctly" You state, crossing your arms over your chest. Kuroo sighed, clearly tired.

"Princess I already told you, I'm–"

"You thought I was pregnant"

Testuro looked at you with a shocked expression, "What?" He asked. "Last week. When your whole weirdness thing started, you thought I was pregnant. Right?" You pressed. Kuroo tried avoiding your gaze but you weren't having any on it. "Testu." You warn. "Okay fine! Yeah, I did, it was a stupid thought" He sighed. "I– the thought of being a father really excited me and when you said you got your period, I don't know.. it kinda bummed me out" Your boyfriend explained, looking anywhere but your face.

You grabbed his face gently, positioning it to look at you. "Hey. That's not a stupid thought. Do you know how many times I think about having kids with you? Too many times. I'm glad we're on the same wavelength when it comes to that. Not too many guys are keen on kids when they're still in their twenties y'know?" You replied, resting your forehead on his. Kuroo let out a relieved sigh, "Yeah, good thing I'm not like most guys, huh?". You giggled, "Yeah you're really one of a kind, your pull out game is on point. Most guys can't do that" You jest. Testuro rolled his eyes but looked at you with complete love and admiration, "Well, what would you say if I wanted you to put a baby in me right now?" You asked.

Kuroo pursed his lips in fake thought before grinning widely,

"I would say: let's fucking go"

tanzaniiite © 2020 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

[inlovewithgreta]

could you do more governor!Joan and prisoner!reader? maybe some angst or more smut? I love your fics :)

Here's more Governor Joan and Prisoner reader just for you!! Thank you for the request as always, and thank you for loving the fics!! xo

Jealousy - Governor!Joan Ferguson x Prisoner!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Joan does not take you being near Franky Doyle lightly.

Warnings: degradation, semi-public sex, oral sex (r!receiving), once again not proofread in the slightest..

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat @coffeebreath23 @janewaykove

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were confused as to why Vera had ushered you to the Governor's office so soon after you were just outside in the yard. The authoritative figure only called you in if she needed information, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened in which information would need to be given.

Your stomach churned when after a few hasty knocks, Vera announced your presence before the Governor herself sent the deputy off for the rest of the night.

Hands fidgeted in front of you as you stood behind the now closed door, unmoved. Big, brown eyes were watching you like a hawk as the older woman stood tall next to her desk.

"Come here," she demanded, arms folded over her chest.

She looked slightly annoyed, and to your knowledge, you hadn't done anything wrong or withheld vital information from her. Yet you still did as you were told, and walked until you were mere inches from her, eyes cast down in obedience.

A surprised gasp came from you when Joan grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you flush against her body. Your hands involuntarily grasped at her hips to steady yourself as you finally locked eyes with the woman.

You took her all in, hair slightly disheveled as if her fingers were running through it constantly, ruining her usually perfect bun. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and her lips were formed into a small frown.

Those who didn't know her, would just assume she was acting her usual self. But you...well, you knew her more intimately, and knew something was clearly bothering her.

"What have I told you about Franky Doyle?" She asked, finally speaking out.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, not expecting her to bring up the brunette. "I— what?" You shook your head.

"Do not play dumb with me, slut. Answer my question. And answer it now." Her grip on your shirt merely tightened, and you knew moving would be impossible with her deathly grip.

"You told me to stay away from her..." you answered after a moment, recalling her previous words.

She had not asked you, but demanded you to stay away from her, knowing you were just Franky's type and not wanting the woman to lay her hands on you.

After all, Joan was never one to share her toys.

"And have you? Been staying away from her?" She knowingly asked, lifting a high brow.

"No, Governor..." you sheepishly lowered your eyes, cheeks growing a deep crimson at your confession.

"Such an attention seeking little whore.." she spat. "I leave for two days and this is what I come back to? You getting all handsy with her?!"

"I'm sorry..." you apologized, looking back at her with big, puppy dog eyes. "I won't do it again, Governor. I promise." Your hands gently stroked her wide hips, in hopes of soothing the woman.

That was a little trick of yours. You had quickly found out that Joan melted at your touch. Your soft, sweet, and tender touches would always ease her stress, and you used it to your advantage.

"Let me make it up to you." Your lashes fluttered as your hands eagerly wandered to her belt buckle.

"Someone's a little impatient," she noted, visibly relaxing as your hands crept under her shirt to touch her bare stomach.

"Can you blame me? Watching you get all hot and bothered with jealousy is kind of hot.." you admitted, digits roaming across her smooth skin. "Besides, I missed you so much these past few days. A girl needs some attention around here."

"Always such a little slut for attention," she growled, taking your lower lip between her teeth and tugging. Joan had no choice but to sink into your smaller figure, finally giving in to her desires.

She needed you just as much as you needed her. And yes, it was wrong. But God, did it feel so good.

Her tongue swept across your bottom lip to soothe her harsh bite as she took full dominance over your lips. Her kiss was demanding, and this time you felt yourself melting into her touch, allowing yourself to hum quietly when her hands groped your breasts.

"But Franky doesn't touch you as well as I do, now does she?" She husked against your lips, and you merely shook your head.

You hastily unbutton her shirt, needing to feel more of her. Joan would normally punish you for actions like this, but knowing how pathetically needy you were for her, she would allow it.

And when a hand found itself shoved into your pants, while the other gripped at the back of your neck, subtle moans fell past your lips as she touched all the right places.

"And she doesn't get the joys of fucking your pretty little pussy, isn't that right, slut?" She nipped at your lower lip once more.

"N-No, Governor!" You whined pathetically against her lips as you arched your back and gripped the cold wood of her desk behind you.

Joan tugged at the fabric of your clothes, only pulling apart for long enough to strip you free and leave you bare in front of her.

"You're mine. Do I make myself clear?" You gasp when Joan lifts you atop her desk, then kneels before you.

Your gaze is settled entirely on her, licking your lips at her unbuttoned shirt that showed off her perfect chest. Her eyes were blown out, and your fingers tugged at her messy hair in deliberation.

"Yes, Governor.. I'm all yours," You watch the movements of her tongue and quiver as she eagerly strokes up and down your folds.

You let out a quiet moan as you watched the woman shoving her face between your legs to devour your pussy like it was your last meal.

"Just like that, Gov. Taste me. Touch me."

You buck your hips as her tongue explores every inch of your cunt. Joan couldn't stay mad, not with you. You were her kryptonite. Her weakness. And she never thought she'd see the day where she would have any.

Just as Joan was to pay attention to your aching clit, the lights suddenly went out. You gasped at not only being surrounded by darkness, but the fact that Joan didn't stop.

Her movements only increased as she lapped at every inch of your pussy, licking a strip up your folds to then suck at your clit.

"G-Gov, the lights!" You moaned, but still didn't dare to move.

Joan chuckled between your thighs. The vibrations went straight to your core, forcing your back to arch as you threw a leg over her shoulder.

"And just like that, my little slut. Nobody will bother us for the rest of the night." You felt her smirk.

Even as the darkness enveloped both of you, Joan didn't let that stop her from finishing what she had planned to do to you. It was exactly what she was waiting for.

With everyone gone for the night, she now had a renewed determination to fuck you senseless. As a whine fell past your lips from her tongue leaving your cunt, Joan began to leave a fiery line of kisses on your thigh.

She was teasing you. Wanting to take her time with you.

You were sure your arousal was dripping down onto her wooden desk for you to clean up after, knowing Joan always made you clean up after yourself.

You let yourself relax as she explored your lower half, bracing your palms flat against the mahogany behind you.

"Fuck, you're so hot," you moaned out as Joan licked a strip up your core once more. "Fuck my pussy, Governor. It's all yours."

Her tongue circled your clit and decided now was the time to stop holding herself back. Joan's head dove between your spread thighs once more, using her tongue to ravage your pussy.

With Joan's strong hands holding you still, your head fell back as a string of moans filled the quiet room. The woman was greedy, stroking her tongue long and hard against your cunt. Hips bucked wildly.

"God, you taste so good," she hummed between kitten licks.

Both of you lost track of time as Joan, was working your body, and you were a moaning mess atop her desk. Every stroke of her tongue ignited a fire deep within you, heating you up from the inside out. Beads of sweat formed along your hairline as you chased your climax.

Heavy footsteps snaked you out of your thoughts, head whipping towards the door with wide eyes. You knew Joan had heard it when she sucked harder, only eliciting louder moans from you that you had to cover with a hand over your mouth.

"Be fucking quiet," she seethed, tightening her grip around your thighs so hard that would for sure leave marks in the future.

You jerk to move, but Joan's grip on you was deathly. She was going to finish what she started, no matter the cost.

You're on the edge and Joan can tell by your leg spasms. Your moans were muffled, but still loud, and your heart was thumping in your chest as you watched feet pass under the door, luckily not stopping.

As much as you knew you should've stopped, the thrill of them walking in sent you completely over the edge. Your body rocked into Joan's as you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Fuck!" You whined into your hands, legs merely closing in on Joan's head as she didn't let up on her tongue.

Taking your lower lip in your teeth, Joan ate your pussy through your orgasm as you came along her tongue. Hard.

You barely managed to hold back your cry as you shuddered. Body clenching over and over again as Joan swallowed every bit of come that came leaking out of your pussy.

Your body sagged against the desk, completely spent from your climax, and Joan hummed in approval before wiping her glistening chin with the back of her hand.

"Fucking janitors..." she mumbled, "Remind me to fire them for staying so late."

You hummed, and Joan couldn't help but let her lips twitch into a smirk as she finally took in your state.

Your legs were shaking, breathing was heavy, and sweat trickled down your forehead as you leaned against her wooden desk.

"What's so funny?" You asked, as Joan stood up and wrapped her arms around you.

"The fact that I know Franky could never fuck you like I do," she hovered over your lips.

You couldn't help but to playfully roll your eyes at her words. "Still on about Franky, huh?" You teased. "Jealous over little old me? I'm flattered," you smiled, pulling the woman in to a deep, lustrous kiss.

"Don't get cocky," she said, pulling your hair back and eliciting a sinful moan from you. "Now hurry up and get dressed, you still have a cell to get back to."

You heavily sighed, hopping off the desk, and surprisingly not falling on your face thanks to Joan's firm grip on your hip to keep you standing.

"What about you? It's my turn to take care of you," you asked, quickly pulling your clothes back on your body.

"I can take care of myself," she smirked, knowing the image she just put in your head at your dramatic groan.

You crossed your arms and stood rather impatiently at her door as she quickly fixed herself up in her mirror, the smirk not leaving her face at your dramatics.

Joan was nothing but a tease and a jealous woman, but she was loyal. And you knew she would wait however long it took for you to get out so she could take you wherever she pleased.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | pamela masterlist | taglist

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

1. my usual due diligence b/c some deeply programmed part of my brain can't not cite my sources::

are you interested in reading some secondary source material about the civic government of a medieval city?* or a primary source document listing the personal expenses of Henry VIII between 1529-1532, a line item of which i copied and modified for this chapter? well now u can i guess, go for it.

 *(there's like no easily accessible canon info about what Rivia (the city, not the kingdom or the castle) is like, but after some side reading about other medieval cities it seemed like it should be roughly the size of York vs the size of London or Paris, which were the capitols of much more important kingdoms to irl western Europe than Lyria and Rivia seem to have been to northern Fake Europe. i mean, before Meve more or less single handedly fucked up an entire invasion force and yeeted herself into international fame obviously.)

2. i posted a short scene i cut from this chapter here. 

 ---- 

  7.

    In the days leading up to the fair, a veritable army of men in armor descended on the castle and town surrounding it, spending a mint of money and tearing up the grass of the green outside the wall with ceaseless practices and a few very real fights. The Baroness, who had graciously accepted the Queen’s invitation, became a semi-permanent fixture beside the hastily erected fence surrounding the field. Despite the cold, she spent the short daylight hours observing and offering opinions and guidance. Gascon arrived with a retinue of familiar-looking rogues that drew a dark frown from Reynard and threw himself happily into the endless clashes. The Baroness watched him for most of an afternoon, then in the evening delivered a detailed lecture indicating how and where his technique could be improved, which he cheerily took to heart. The result, according to his tutor, was that he progressed, somewhat, from a reasonable amateur to something like a professional.

     Meve managed to keep her company often enough to hear many of her opinions. She noted bad habits and technical errors in almost all of Meve’s serving knights, with few exceptions; of Sir Odo, she only remarked casually that he yet showed no sign of losing a step, age or prior injuries be damned. She made the unusually enthusiastic comment within earshot of its subject as he offered advice to a young knight he’d unseated; he appeared slightly surprised and rode over, eyebrows raised.

    “Was that a compliment, my lady?” he asked, looming over the two women where they stood by the fence.

    “Would you like it to be?” the Baroness replied, giving no sign either way.

    “Why not?” he said, matching her tone, bowed courteously in his saddle, slammed his visor down, and rode away. Meve stared distractedly after him.

    “He’ll be an early contender for the prize, I believe,” the Baroness remarked.

    “Well, he’s certainly my favorite,” she replied, airily.

    “And doesn’t he know it,” the older woman muttered, then added, “That man has a target on his back.”

    Meve returned to earth and turned an inquiring frown on her.

    “Look,” the older woman explained, waving a hand to indicate the field at large. “There’s not less than two dozen knights here, and squires besides, as well as more than a few fighters who are neither. Some are no doubt here for the prizes, and some for th’ entertainment value, and others to catch a woman’s eye, but, no matter what their reasons, every man among them would very much like to defeat the Queen’s champion, make no mistake.”      

    The Baroness paused significantly, clearly waiting for her to see a point. Meve, aware that even Reynard lost a match, on occasion, failed to arrive at whatever it was; she shrugged dismissively and said, “Yes, and?”

    “And, therefore, don’t leave his equipment unguarded overnight, or his horse,” she explained impatiently, with a slight eye roll; she added, as an afterthought, “Your Grace.”

    “Oh.”

      After dinner she stared contemplatively into the fire, paying no attention to Reynard and Gascon’s idle chatter nearby. The Baroness’s suggestion - or was it a warning? - weighed on her thoughts. So did the fact that she had yet to find a third judge; a difficult prospect, as whoever she picked might not suit, or, worse, might be inclined to see political significance where there was none. Further, she hadn’t seen the black knight, or even heard anything of him, in well over a week; it was arguably the least of her problems, but bothered her nevertheless. She was jolted out of her reverie only when Reynard shook her suddenly by the shoulder; she frowned distractedly at him, realized he had asked her something, and said, “What?”

    “What are you thinking about?” he repeated, patiently. Gascon stared glassily at her, an expectant smile on his face. She explained about the judge, in brief, expecting their conversation to then go on without concerning itself with the matter.

    “But why d’ you need three judges?” Gascon wondered, instead, slurring his words somewhat.

    “Because there are always three judges,” Reynard replied stiffly, evidently less than perfectly sober himself.

    “The third judge is necessary, I’m afraid,” Meve explained. “A tiebreaker.”

    “Oh,” said Gascon, “I see. Well, what I would do is just get Gaspar or someone t’ do it, and say good enough; I suppose it doesn’t truly matter who does the job, in th’ end.”

    “The joust is serious business,” Reynard said, growing somewhat haughty, “You can’t just appoint some ruffian who can’t talk as an official.”

    “No,” Meve said, soothingly, before Gascon could react, “I don’t think he would do, at all, not to worry. However, Gascon’s drunken rambling has given me a thought - I don’t really have to choose the third judge myself.”

    “What do you mean by that?” Reynard asked, suspiciously.

    “Never you mind,” she said, casually, “You’ll find out soon enough. Anyway - I meant to ask you, Gascon, for a favor.”

    “By all means,” he replied, cheerily.

     “I need you to assign some of your more reliable and sober men to keep an eye on Reynard’s harness, weapons, and above all his horse, until the fair.”

    “Why?” Reynard asked; Meve ignored him, temporarily. Gascon, on the other hand, seemed to immediately understand, and nodded his agreement.

    “Oh, yes, naturally, you do,” he said. “I’ll put my best people on it, not t’ worry.”

    “Thank you,” she said, and then explained herself to Reynard after Gascon departed to see to the matter. He frowned doubtfully and began, “I really don’t think it’s necessary to -”

    “I know you don’t,” she interrupted, a little curtly, “It’s why I didn’t ask you.”

    He fell into a slightly disgruntled silence, obviously offended; she immediately regretted her tone, blamed it on the late hour, and delivered a genuine apology, which he graciously accepted, as he always did.

      At ten the next morning, she attended a meeting with the bailiff, aldermen, and Mayor of the city outside her castle walls. The Mayor was an ancient man who’d been installed in his position some years before she was born, and would not be hurried as he explained, at length, the procedures and trials of the next few days. She half-listened to his speech, delivered in the same didactic voice as always, and to the discourse that followed, well aware of the various topics that would be covered, as they were exactly the same each year for each fair - roadblocks, fire brigades, the necessity to have extra guards at night, the necessity to have yet further guards to keep the visitors out of the stockyard and away from the docks, the vanishingly small probability of snow. The Queen sat, patiently chiming in on the usual occasions to promise a detachment of soldiers from the castle and to offer the use of the stables in the courtyard, if needed, but otherwise waiting in silence for the meeting to wind to a close. There was, she knew from experience, no speeding up the unvarying process, and it was easiest to try; at the end, however, when the Mayor, as always, asked for any final remarks, she said, “I’ve one, gentlemen.”

    The room turned as one to stare at her in collective astonishment; she had never shown the slightest desire to lengthen any meeting in the past, and the atmosphere grew wary and uncertain at the irregularity. She smiled at them, professionally, and continued, “I have a small request only: the jousting event that’s bringing you so much custom this year requires three judges, but I find myself with only two; I thought perhaps you could select the last yourselves and then send ‘em along to the castle this afternoon.”

    She was assured that the thing was in their power to grant and departed in secret amusement, leaving the disturbed city government in full knowledge that, so long as she ruled in Lyria and Rivia, the troubling moment would never be forgotten.

      The city council sent along their choice - a round, dark-haired young woman - some hours later. She received a very dubious look from Reynard when Ethan brought her into his little office, where he sat in consultation with the Queen. Her name was Giselle, she said, and she knew nothing whatsoever about jousting - although, of course, she’d seen many a brawl, because she was a barmaid at the largest public house in the town square; she was just lately seventeen, but had been employed there since she was ten, and fights were expected and even wagered on should the combatants be interesting enough. Meve was, for once, grateful for Reynard’s unyielding sense of propriety; he grew steadily more unapproachable, but said absolutely nothing as the girl finished her introduction and subsided into silence, casting an uneasy glance at his remote frown.

    “Well,” Meve said, pleasantly, “It’s no matter; the finer details of the sport are easy enough to learn. I’m not going to force you, if you’d rather not, but should you like to be a judge tomorrow along with myself and the Baroness, you’re quite welcome.”

    Giselle’s face lit up; she replied quickly, “Oh, yes, I’d love to, my lady.” Meve nodded, satisfied.

    “Well, then, Ethan there will explain the rules and answer any questions you have; you may go along with him,” she said. Ethan promptly turned a brilliant shade of red as Giselle turned a broad smile on him. Meve drew on decades of diplomatic experience and managed to maintain a straight face as the pair attempted to make their escape from the overcrowded office, briefly became jammed together in the doorway, and awkwardly negotiated their way out, one after the other.

    “Gods preserve us,” Reynard muttered, rubbing his forehead painfully, the moment the door finally shut behind them. Meve snorted a laugh at last, perched on the edge of his desk, and said, “She’ll do nicely, I think; seems game enough, given the circumstances.”

    He shook his head at her and asked, wearily, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

    “It is a holiday. However, those guard patrols for the town must be arranged, and I still have to review my steward’s reports -”

    “I’ll bring the reports as well as a bottle, then,” Reynard decided, making for the door; she caught his arm as he passed, kissed him, and pulled away a long moment later to stare into his eyes. He blinked down at her, apparently struck as speechless as his squire, until she released him and said, “Go on, then; I’ll be here.”

    “Actually, I’m not thirsty after all,” he said, not moving away. She flashed a smile, slid her arms around his neck, and didn’t argue.

      Reynard did arrange the patrols, eventually, but Meve was forced to put the paperwork off; there was a feast to attend, and she had no time to read accounts before it began. It had to be held in the courtyard under the moonlight, because the entire city was invited and most of it’s more upstanding citizens had actually turned up, and, on top of them, all the knights and their horde of attendants; the resulting crowd would never fit inside the great hall. Even her usual courtiers had trouble maintaining stiff decorum in the open air, by blazing fires and with an astonishing amount of food and drink in them. The Queen herself sat at a table with the Baroness and Count Odo; the Count was companionably silent as usual, and so Meve passed the time chatting mainly with the Baroness. The women waved off occasional requests to dance in favor of a detailed discussion of feats of arms they’d witnessed during tournaments and battles, until, unexpectedly, Sir Holt advanced on them out of the crowd. The Baroness immediately paused, mid-sentence, and stared him down; he did not appear to notice her pointed, but wordless, dismissal. Reynard stiffened slightly in his seat, eyes narrowing. Meve sighed quietly; she of course knew the red knight was in attendance, because she’d spotted Gaheris out in the lists the previous afternoon, but had thought he’d have had the sense to avoid her.

    However, all the red knight said to her was a polite greeting and a remark on the success of the evening, so far. She nodded at him in acknowledgment; he then turned to Reynard and said, “Count Odo - I look forward to our rematch, tomorrow.”

    “Do you, now?” the Count replied, coldly; then, his conscience apparently made uneasy by his own rudeness, added, “As do I, Sir Holt; best of luck to you, when the time comes.”

    “And to you, my lord,” the red knight said, glanced uncertainly at the condescending Baroness, and retreated without further comment. Meve glanced sideways at the Count’s distant frown and nodded to him resignedly. He needed no further invitation to quit the field, and, for some reason, the remainder of the event seemed to go on with a shade of awkwardness in his absence; her renewed conversation with the Baroness felt somewhat stilted, and the din of the crowd around them oppressive. The feast eventually ended with an inevitable speech by the Mayor, which not a soul attended to; the locals had heard it before and the visitors seemed to be unsure who it was that was lecturing them. The Queen then delivered some much briefer remarks, as expected, which received the crowd’s full concentration, dismissed them to their own devices, and departed.

      An hour later, she was safely in her own private office, puzzling over a line item in her steward’s report: paied to Sir Roger Eres knight upon a bille of Sir John Kimborne knight 153 g., when someone came thundering up the stairs and burst suddenly through the door. Reynard jerked awake in his chair by the fire, alarmed at the noise, saw what had made it, and settled again with a quiet, relieved, sigh. She herself had turned a savage glare on the intruder, but subsided when it only proved to be Gascon, reeking of liquor and panting slightly.

    “It’s late, Brossard. What do you want?” Meve asked, looking back down at her papers. She sat back with a quick, irritated, frown as the Duke strode over, slapped a wide leather strap down on top of them, and demanded, “Look at this.”

    “It’s a girth, from a saddle,” she said, glancing from it to him with a raised eyebrow.

    “Yes,” Gascon agreed, despite her warning expression. Reynard stood with a faint groan, walked over, glanced at it, and said, “Isn’t that one of mine? What’s this about?”

    “Look there, by the buckle,” Gascon said, impatiently, pointing. Meve eyed the area and spotted what appeared to be a wrinkle or crack in the leather; she picked it up to study it more closely, and finally looked back up at the Duke, scowling.

    “It looks as if someone cut it most of the way through,” she said. “And then, what? Glued it back together? A damn good job, too; would never have noticed it, myself, if you didn’t point it out.”

    “It would likely snap th’ instant it took a hard shock,” Reynard added, taking the girth and turning it over thoughtfully. “But when someone might’ve done it, I don’t know. I used this just yesterday, practicing against Roland Orlac; you were there, Meve.”

    “Perhaps they did it days ago, and it was just luck that kept it from breaking, then,” Gascon suggested, shrugging. “Or it could have been yesterday afternoon, before Pug and Gaspar started looking after your things.”  

    Meve swore angrily, already forming a long list of suspects: disgruntled barons, unscrupulous competitors, foreign saboteurs, domestic anarchists. Reynard sighed in weary agreement with her.

    “Well, annoying as this is, it’s not my first overly bitter rival, I suppose. I’ve survived th’ others; this will be no different,” he said, pragmatically.

    “Yes, well, regardless, it’ll be your last. Find out who did this, Gascon,” the Queen said. “I take attempts to sabotage my General’s equipment very personally.”

    “I’ll do what I can,” he assured, grimly.

[deancasroaringtwentiesbang]

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[painted-crow]

may i ask about mbti too? in relation to sortinghatchats, ofc. (if yes, i'd like to ask about how do you think being a ravenclaw primary relates to being an intp as the introverted thinking dominant thing seems to be very much in tune with the ravenclaw primary system)

I think it is, but it's been 10 years since I really studied MBTI in depth. (13 year old me had some niche hobbies.) Hang on.

(Future Paint dropping in: just a warning, but this post is gonna be kind of a trash fire.)

Okay, I found a site that has descriptions of the functions (here's their masterpost) that seem accurate from what I remember. I don't know about the rest of the articles on the site, I poked around a bit and some of them are a little on the silly side :p

For our purposes I think it should work.

But first,

A bad crash course on MBTI and the cognitive functions system

So, you're probably used to seeing four-letter types like ESTJ thrown around on the Internet. They're each shorthand for a set of cognitive functions (if you're using the right sources and aren't a coward 😉).

There's an Introverted and an Extroverted version each of Sensing, Intuition (the N), Thinking and Feeling--so, eight total, and they're all pretty different from each other. When MBTI people say Ni they're not making a Monty Python joke, they mean Introverted Intuition (the little I = introverted, so Ne = Extroverted Intuition).

Each type uses the functions in a different order. You have a dominant function which is your main approach to the world, and your secondary function which supports it, and they describe a lot of how you think. You also have a tertiary function (opposite of your auxiliary, it's weaker support) and an inferior function (opposite of your dominant, not something you're necessarily great at, some people will say you should try to strengthen it... it's up for debate).

Intuition and Sensing belong to one category (perceiving functions) and Thinking and Feeling belong to another (judging functions). You get one of each category for your dominant and auxiliary, and one will be Introverted and the other Extroverted. So for INTPs it's Ti dominant and Ne auxiliary, for ESTJs it's Te/Si, for ENFPs it's Ne/Fi, etc.

If you find your top 2 functions, you can reverse engineer your type. Works like this. Say you've landed on Ti dominant and Se auxiliary. You already have the ST that makes up the middle of your type. Your dominant function is Introverted, so your type is too: IST. (If your dominant is Extroverted, you get an E.) If you use Ne or Se in your top two, you're a Perceiving type so slap a P on there: ISTP. (Te and Fe users get a J.)

Confused yet? It's because this is a bad explanation! Good ones take even longer! xD

MBTI is an amalgam of Meyers and Briggs' ideas, weird old versions of the functions made up by Carl Jung which have morphed into something that kinda makes sense through basically a game of Telephone (this isn't a bad thing) and various adjustments, theories, and simplifications someone decided to write a book and a quiz about. It can be useful if you read good sources, or it can be... weird. (No, you're not a J type just because you like to keep your desk clean.)

If you like MBTI and want to study it, my 13-year-old self would highly recommend Personality Type: An Owner's Manual by Lenore Thomson. Amazon has used copies for ~$7 if you can't find it locally/in a library.

Bad crash course over, back to the post.

So, Ravenclaws and Ti.

Yeah! There are similarities! And probably correlations in their... userbase? That's the word I'm going with.

Here's my post about how my Ravenclaw primary feels/works.

Here's a reference article about Introverted Thinking.

Some cherrypicked bits from the article (highlights are mine):

People with Introverted Thinking want the world to make sense in a logical manner. They form an internal framework of how the world works. It is constantly being modified and improved through life experience and experiments.

They have the ability to find commonalities in seemingly unrelated things.

Someone with Introverted Thinking may take a while to fully understand a concept. This is because they want to know all the components and how everything works together.

However, once a Ti user figures out the whole system, everything clicks. They can see how the car and motor works, and how it all fits together. They have created a map and an internal framework, which could be applied to understanding how engines in other machines work. Pieces of this framework could also be used to understand seemingly unrelated concepts, like how a plumbing system works, or how computer programming languages interact with hardware.

So, that whole linked article echoes my post really loudly! Like I said, lots of similarities.

Let's have a look at Ne, the INTP auxiliary function (article link).

Extraverted Intuition (Ne) deals with experiencing the outer world, noticing possibilities, and what could be. Ne deals with seeing how all things in life are interrelated, and allows the user to see the world in multiple different perspectives.

Okay, go on...

Extraverted Intuition is always seeing possibilities. They always want to know “what could be”. They are adept at understanding the external environment, but they always want to take it one step further. They wonder, “if I change this, what will happen?”

Uh huh...

Extraverted Intuition also has the ability to make obscure connections. The Ne user can take two seemingly unrelated topics and bring them together. This can also cause the user to have an off-beat sense of humor.

Oh wow. I dunno about that ;)

Correlation, not rule

The thing is, I don't know how much I can say about this. There are lots of Ravenclaws who aren't INTPs, or even Ti users. There are probably lots of INTPs and Ti users who aren't Ravenclaws.

My older brother from the last post? Pretty sure he's an INTJ. (I don't care what Keirsey tells you about "oh they're both NT types, they're the smart types so they're similar."* INTJs use a different set of functions and don't have Ti as part of their stack.)

The SHC community is a lot smaller than the MBTI one, of course, so I don't have a way of testing this very effectively, or a good pool of examples. Like, I can say that Luna Lovegood is often considered an INFP, but she's not exactly available to take an online test, what with magic messing with technology so badly in the wizarding world ;)

Readers, go ahead and stick your MBTI and your Sorting (as best you know them) in the replies or reblogs, if you like. We're going to have some selection bias here but it'll be interesting anyway.

This post is a mess but I don't know how to make it better. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

------

*I was hoping Keirsey might have developed a little more nuance over the past 10 years, but glancing over the site, it seems to be the same oversimplifications and stereotypes as I remember. Rationals are still the "smart types": the first word they use to describe them is "ingenious."

This kind of thing loses credibility with me real quick, especially because Keirsey is one of the most aggressive in selling their model to companies in order to evaluate employees.

[godstaff]

Clark shows Selene and Aster his parents hologram message

Author’s note: In my fantasy about SM/WW, their children are 12 years apart, being Selene the eldest. This makes sense given the family incredible long life span. In only a century the difference will be insignificant, and the parents will still be able to procreate, so they are not in any rush to have all the children in a short period of time. This also makes difficult for the parents to organize activities the children could perform together in their early years, specially those of educational nature. Please take note when Aster goes through an educational moment or first experience, Selene most probably had it twelve years ago.

Clark (entering the Control Room of the Fortress with 9 years old Aster): Here we are: this is the heart of the Fortress. You can access every part of the complex from here.

“Until today, you couldn’t use this place because it only responds to commands in Kryptonese, written or verbal. Aunts Karen and Kari told me you past the last exam yesterday, and your pronunciation and writing are flawless, so here is your reward: you’ll learn the secrets of this little piece of Krypton on Earth and the history of my planet of origin, which is also half of yours and your sister’s origin too.

Aster: Why did the aunties have to teach me. Couldn’t you?

Clark: I could, but they are the better teachers, because both lived on Krypton until they were 14 years old. They actually spoke Kryptonese on Krypton, they’ve learned it in school. It was their native language. In fact, They were the ones who corrected my Kryptonese. I studied it here, at the Fortress since I was 16 and I thought I’ve nailed it, but to hear it from someone who spoke it on a daily basis, day after day, is very different.

Aster: Is was like...say...going to France and hear French people talk?

Clark: Pretty much. The first was aunt Kari. She was very strict as a teacher. 

Aster: I know. Believe me.

Clark: She kept calling me “baby cousin”.  

Aster: Why?

Clark: Because the last time she saw me on Krypton, I was a baby. She said I spoke it with a heavy Kansas accent, and that’s why the central computer had problems understanding my verbal commands. It seems they didn’t have a Kansas on Krypton.

Aster: And Mom? How did she learn?

Clark: Aunt Karen came to this Earth five years later than Kari, and she was seven years older than her, already. She became your mother’s BFF and when she discovered Mom and me were dating, she insisted on her learning the language. She didn’t tell her why, Diana found out here, at the fortress.

“Your Mom has a natural predisposition to learn other languages, she speaks Kryptonese better than I myself. I believe it has to do with her empathy gift, which allows her to speak with members of the animal kingdom.

“She taught me ancient Greek, She said: “If I’ve learnt your dead tongue, you’ll learn mine.” Although that’s not entirely truth: it’s the language spoken on Themyscira, so it’s still in use. That’s why she insisted on you two speaking it as well. The day little Lena talked to Grandmamá in her own tongue, she almost faded.

“Now, Ast, this is the crystal switchboard. The green one in the center is the one who allows the others to work. It can’t be removed or the whole computer won’t work. It also has the capacity to recreate this Fortress in case something bad happens. I had to replicate it and hide those copies around the World for the same reason.

“The computer has many functions, but today we’ll focus on the archives of Krypton: its culture, its history, etc.

“There’s so much information, that it will probably take you 12 years to go through all its content.Your sis is almost ending her journey , and I brought her here when she was your age. (Clark switched a screen on) There she is now, in the projection room, still studying.

“When you feel comfortable operating the switchboard and learn its commands, you’ll be capable of accessing the info from every part of the Fortress.

Aster: Any part? Like my bedroom?

Clark: Yes, like your bedroom. Here (Clark gave his son a transparent tablet) this is your terminal. From here you control almost every app of the Fortress.

Aster: Almost?

Clark: Yes. there are a few you can only access from the crystal switchboard. Mostly those which have to do with the autonomous systems, like energy managing, repairs, ventilation, etc. Your terminal will warn you if something is not right, but you can only modify or repair it from here.

Aster: I see.

Clark: Good. Now, we begin your journey. You will have two very special guests to guide you: Jor-El and Lara, my biological parents. These are interactive A.I., they will answer all your questions and walk you through every procedure. There are holo-projector all around the Fortress. Once Jor and Lara greet you, your biosignature will be stored in the main frame, so the computer will recognize you.

(Clark pushes one crystal down its tube) Your journey, like mine, beguins with these words (a life like figure of Jor-El appeared on the main holographic projector):

Source: http://www.kryptonian.info/doyle/translations/jor-els-blessing.html

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 1: The Fall

A convoy of technical vehicles sped through the desert towards a recently sighted pillar of fire. Octavia looked out the vehicle’s backseat window as they raced toward a rising plume of smoke in the distance. The sun hovered just above the horizon. Orange light cast long shadows that stretched over the dust dunes. Pandora was beautiful when everything on it wasn’t trying to kill you.

It had only been four days since the Calypso Twins had stolen the powers of the legendary Firehawk. Four days! And the Crimson Raiders were responding to distress calls nonstop. Octavia had barely kicked her feet up after returning from the last one before she received the message to rejoin the convoy. Reports poured in from all across the planet. With their limited manpower, it was a struggle to keep up. 

So much had changed recently between the warring factions. Octavia recapped the events in her head to keep things straight. 

The Calypso Twins were self-proclaimed gods leading a cult called the Children of the Vault. Tryeen Calypso- one of six powerfully magical beings called sirens- could leech the life force from any living thing, draining them until nothing remained but a hollow husk. She managed to absorb the powers belonging to the commander of the Crimson Raiders, another siren named Lilith, famously known as the Firehawk. 

Tyreen was having fun with her newly acquired powers by teleporting her brainwashed cultists around everywhere in a telltale pillar of fire, spreading their influence by broadcasting videos of their raids on the Echo net. 

Troy Calypso was the propaganda mastermind who operated mostly behind the scenes, editing videos of murderous raids and turning them into slapstick jokes, air horns and all. His weapon of choice was an enormous sword wielded in a cybernetic arm. Although he spent most of his time out of the spotlight, Troy proved to be equally as brutal as his sister.

In short, the Calypsos were powerful monsters with hordes of mindless followers at their disposal, hell-bent on becoming the brightest stars in the sky while watching the universe burn at their feet.

The Crimson Raiders were doing everything they could to keep that from happening. That included Octavia. She fidgeted with the long sleeves of her shirt. Her anxiety sat heavy in her stomach like a chunk of eridium. She held up her arm to check the device attached to her wrist for what must have been the twelfth time. Straps secure, poison darts loaded, compression mechanism functional, safety off. Oops. She flicked the safety switch on and pulled her sleeve back over it. The last thing she needed was to accidentally shoot a poison dart at anyone.

She always hated being asked to come along on these calls. She wasn’t much of a fighter. Ah, who was she kidding? She was damn near useless. Octavia set her medical bag onto her lap to remind herself why they needed her there. The Crimson Raiders fought the bad guys, and Octavia patched up the good guys. She didn’t claim to be a doctor, nor was she legally allowed to. She was an herbalist. Ever since Dr. Zed went missing, Octavia stepped in as the primary medic. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her greenhouse right now.

Lilith looked back from the driver’s seat. “I know that look. Are you psyching yourself out?”

“As always. Is it that obvious?” Octavia thought she was holding herself together better than last time. Of course, Lilith always picked up on little things like that. Not much gets past the commander of the Crimson Raiders. Maybe intuition comes with the job. 

Lilith smiled. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. We’ll clean up this mess and be back up in Sanctuary in no time.” Her golden eyes glinted as she drove, fiery red hair slightly muted with dust that settled everywhere on this planet. It was still strange to see uniformly fair skin on her arm which was once wrapped in blue glowing siren marks. No one called Lilith the Firehawk anymore, avoiding what that implied. Even though she was no longer a siren, she continued to live up to her legendary status.

The technical’s radio crackled. “We’re almost there,” said a female voice. “Let’s stop here outside the entrance.”

There already? Octavia looked out the window at the camp before them. Its high scrap metal fence made it impossible to see inside. The Children of the Vault were probably tearing the place apart shouting the Twin Gods’ praises. 

Lilith picked up the radio’s microphone and responded, “Copy that, Maya.” The technical came to a stop. Lilith grabbed an SMG from the passenger’s seat. Turning once again to Octavia, she asked, “You ready?”

Octavia squeaked, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She gulped in an attempt to force her heart down from her throat and opened the door.

Before them stood a rundown camp that looked abandoned. Smoke billowed from inside. It was relatively quiet. No bandits screaming, no gun fire, no explosions; just a distant metallic screech. Crimson Raider soldiers filed out of the technicals parked beside them. 

Lieutenant Cramer stood at the ready. He was an older man that exuded pure military discipline. If you got out of line, he was the one to whip you back into shape. And he enjoyed doing it. 

Maya’s electric blue hair and siren marks made her stand out like an orchid the desert. A hood was pulled over her head, coat flowing behind her in the breeze as she walked swiftly over to Lilith.

“Strange, it’s never this calm,” said Maya.

“Stay on your toes. By now, we should know better than to underestimate them,” Lilith warned. 

Once the whole group gathered around, Lilith gave everyone their instructions. “Maya, you and I will stay outside with teams Beta and Charley. Octavia, wait in the technical, and be on standby. Lieutenant Cramer, take team Alpha through the front gate. Stay alert and keep an eye out for survivors. I wanna see everyone back in Sanctuary at the end of the day. Let’s do this.” The soldiers spread out. Lilith gave a nod to Lieutenant Cramer. The battle scarred veteran nodded in acknowledgement. He began giving orders to his team and used hand gestures that Octavia wasn’t familiar with. 

Octavia climbed into the front seat of the technical as instructed. She took a deep breath steadying her nerves. She was definitely going to her greenhouse for some kragweed after this. The view from the windshield gave a better vantage point of the area. She gripped her dart gun concealed on her wrist, praying she wouldn’t have to use it. 

Team Alpha was about to make their move when Cramer held up his fist signaling to halt. The screeching sound had grown so loud it made Octavia want to grind her teeth together. Maya held her hand in front of her, fingertips sparking and siren marks flaring to life. All eyes and guns were on the entrance prepared to meet what was about to emerge. Showtime. The gates swung open.

The hunched figure of a man limped out dragging a heap of machinery behind him. Wires sparked from the twisted metal as it scraped along the ground. Upon first glance, it was easy to miss that the machinery was actually attached to the man; a cybernetic arm that threatened to tear itself from the shoulder. Blood stained the dirt behind him in a dotted trail as he hobbled forward. The screeching stopped when the figure paused and looked up. Oh, shit.

Lilith’s eyes widened in horror. “What the hell,” she whispered under her breath.

Troy Calypso.

The once mighty God King himself stood before them in a mangled mess. He’d been stripped of his ornate coat and oversized sword. His ribs slid feebly beneath tanned skin as his breath rattled inside his bare chest. The iconic side-swooped hairstyle had fallen; his black hair soaked in blood and stuck to the side of his face. One side of his modified jaw slacked as if hanging from a broken hinge.

Octavia had briefly seen Troy in the cult’s live streams. Countless people died at this man’s hands as he laughed and broadcast their deaths. That same man now stood in front of them broken and bleeding, and Octavia was paralyzed with shock.

She jumped as Lilith broke the silence. Lilith called out to him, “What happened?”

Troy lifted his gaze. His icy blue eyes scanned across the teams of Raiders, passing over Octavia making her blood run cold. After focusing on Lilith, he cocked his head to the side and started to laugh which quickly turned into a wet cough. He gasped for air, then spat onto the ground. Gold capped canines glinted through a bloody smirk. “What, this?” He glanced down to his mechanical arm as it popped sending a shower of sparks bursting from it. “Ah, y’know. Got denounced, excommunicated, and left for dead in the middle of nowhere. How was your day?”

Lilith was stunned. She seemed to be at a loss for words at his flippant response. The expression on her face was more confusion than fear. Octavia wished she could say to same for herself. 

Maya pressed further, “Excommunicated? Are you saying you got thrown out of the Children of the Vault?”

“Yeah, well. Guess I overstepped my boundaries with the God Queen. She labeled me a heretic, and our followers turned on me. Not really much I could do to fight back. Must be nice,” Troy pointed to Maya with his remaining human arm covered in unmistakable red glowing marks, “to be a functional siren.”

No, it couldn’t be. Troy Calypso was a siren? Octavia was far from being an expert, but it was common knowledge that sirens were always female. This would make the first male siren known in history. Male sirens were unheard of, thought to be impossible. 

Maya lowered her voice to Lilith, speaking just loud enough for Octavia to overhear. “This doesn’t feel right. It could be a trap. What do we do?” They didn’t seem to be surprised at this revelation. Did they already know?

“I’m not sure. He’s in pretty bad shape. Do you think Tyreen would do this to her own brother to pull one over on us?” Lilith concluded. 

‘Pretty bad shape’ was a drastic understatement. No one would willingly do this to themselves, especially someone as egocentric as Troy. Something was definitely off here. He must have done something pretty bad to get disowned and banished by his twin sister. Octavia shuddered at the thought.

Octavia jumped from the vehicle. Lilith and Maya turned to her after hearing her feet hit the dirt. “If he doesn’t get medical attention soon, he’s going to die,” Octavia interjected. “The COV is unpredictable, but I don’t think they’d go so far as to beat one of their Gods within an inch of his life just to trick us.” After receiving questioning looks, she added, “Th-that’s just my opinion.” 

Lilith was quiet for a moment, deep in thought before reaching a decision. “Bring him in for questioning.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Maya’s voice echoed. After being shushed by Lilith, she continued in a strained whisper, “This guy is dangerous. There’s no way we can take him to Sanctuary. He could be lying.”

“Then we keep a close eye on him.” Lilith returned her attention to Troy. He hadn’t moved, standing in a growing pool of blood and oil. He simply waited for the Crimson Raiders to decide his fate as if he lacked the strength to do anything else. “Octavia, can you keep him from bleeding out?”

“Of course,” she responded. That was her job, and she was damn good at it. Although- “I don’t know much about cybernetics.”

“We should talk to Ellie. Luckily, she’s stationed at an outpost nearby. We’ll take Troy there until we can decide how to move forward,” said Lilith. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We’ll figure it out.” 

Maya stopped glaring as if she didn’t realize she was doing it. “Sorry,” she said and directed the glare at Troy instead.

What the hell were they getting into?

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

Hello, Tumblr! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of my new ‘In The Shadow Of Starlight’ series. Shout out to @border-spam for the Calypso Twins Prompts. ‘Heretic’ was such a huge inspiration that it influenced me to create an entire story of my own. (All the shorts can also be found on their AO3.) I will post a few more chapters regardless, but if enough of you like the series, I’ll keep it going.

Thanks for reading my garbage!  

[kandadiff]

HA Chapter 11: Creepy

--- Its about to get creepy also this is more from Viktor’s POV ---

As soon as he stepped foot back into the hotel room he flipped the sign that rejected maid service and locked the door behind him. Odd enough part of him felt at ease, Kevins words seeping into him, he was right after all, if tehre were to be no repercussions then why nit have a little fun, that was his intention of coming over in the first place. 

But as soon as he looked over at my limp body, a wave of shame washed over him and he felt panicky and hot. He moved toward the thermostat as though that was going to make everything more clearer as he lowered it. Honestly, this scenario crossed his mind once or twice but in a very different light. He pictured it more that he would wander into one of the parties I would be invited to and one of the ingrates I hung out with would have left me passed out on the floor or a couch somewhere and him acting like the knight in shining armor would nurse the hangover out of me and we would go back to being friends like once upon a time ago before Zayn or any of his friends tainted my opinions of him and before all my focus lay on Marcel. 

He had to do this, how else was he going to compete with the other boys. He couldn’t go against Woo or even Yoongi one on one. No he had to approach this smart - like Namjoon or Kevin would. He had to learn and use what he learned against the others. yes, this was worth it. He turned back toward me, the wave of shame washing over him although it felt like it was less then before. 

“Sorry love,” he said as his hand stroked my bare cheek “but I have to do this, for you- for us.” he sat next to me on the bed looking over the 1960′s style turtleneck tea dress I was wearing. Due to the sudden passing out it was a little disheveled and my hat and phone had both fallen on the floor. This reminded him to set an alarm for his own phone. Kevin said only three hours but he didn’t want to risk it. After two hed walk out that door and tuck me in maybe I would think I just took a nap for something. He reached over me and picked up the hat, smiling at the posh design and fixing it before placing it on the night table. He then picked up my phone pressing the ring button on, if Yoongi were to get suspicious where I was then he would need a warning. He placed the phone next to the hat and for a while just stared at me. 

The steady rising and falling of my chest, the small gestures my face mad as I dreamed, he wondered what I was dreaming about and if the ‘love Potion’ even allowed dreams. He started to carefully run his fingers through my hair smiling at the purple tips that had almost faded out at the bottom. He liked my hair when it was curly and natural … was it Yoongi that preferred it straight? Is that why I haven’t had it curly for a few months? Or perhaps Negan? The true threat even Viktor couldn’t bring himself to share with the rest of his friends. 

He had been suspicious of Negan ever since he came to sub for a month at the school two years ago. He had done ‘research’ about that on his own and while it wasn’t confirmed he knew the relationship with me and the older man was romantic possibly a sugar baby deal... how else would I be able to afford that ring that Yoongi had been wearing. He would never ask for such extravagant gifts when we’d get together. No instead he’d be showering me in gifts - his parents had money and with the promise of grandchildren they would be happy to give him his inheritance early. 

As he played with my hair he thought of our future and the things I have wrote and said on the matter, like in my journal. Another wave of shame washed over him remembering when he found my journal while installing the long-range modifier with Kevin just a few weeks ago. Kevin had went into your room and he had gone into mine. Just looking around innocently and the journal had fallen from behind a book on the shelf. He didn’t mean to read it... no that was creepy and wrong. But its not like he was some creepy pervert like Ian or Mark... All he wanted to do was feel closer to me - plan our future so I wouldn’t have to whats so wrong about that? He read about a pheoneom in a science magazine about psychology. The more you mimic a person in certain things or the more you know about a person they will more easily become attached to you. And that was the whole point. So he can plan things out - something he knew freaked me out and it wouldn’t be weird. Yes it wasn’t weird it was smart. 

He went back braiding my hair and began to talk about our future half wondering if like in a coma I could hear him, maybe my subconscious will link the ideas and make them stick in my head. It would be much easier that way. “I know you like New York, but that's no place to raise a family. We could get married there have the Gastby Wedding you always wanted. I know how much you want you dad to walk you down the isle but I know how much he doesn’t like me- so maybe we do something else. I would never take away your first dance with him but maybe down the isle is a bit much. He’d never give you up to me.” he laughed finishing one braid and beginning another. “And then we should move to England, I know, I know its always raining but you love the rain and plus our children will have my accent - not that yours isn’t charming - I love it, but imagine four little Malik kids speaking Japanese with british accents. How adorable. Yeah I want four kids, I know I know its ambitious but I am willing to adopt two if we have two of our own. We can even adopt them from Japan. Two boys and two little girls, I love the names Connor and Henry, I liked the name Jackson to but Wang really ruined that for me.” He finished another braid and moved to the next “For girls I know you love the name Marceline but Sara is so classic and beautiful. Okay how about you name one girl and a boy and ill name the other?” He laughed to himself looking down at my sleeping face. “You’re so beautiful Kay,” he let go of my hair, the third braid unfinished and leaned down towards my lips. he placed a chaste kiss on them a flush overcoming his body. He smiled with a new found confidence and went to do it yet again before spotting a deep purple mark on my neck. Due to the sudden onset of sleep that over came me my turtleneck dress that expertly hid the markings came down just a bit and now all the deep purple bruises Yoongi left on my neck were visible. Viktor felt a surge of anger hit him and he quickly turned away from me. He opted to distract himself with the buzzing of my phone. It was a group texted entitled ‘FUNHOUSE BIQTCHES!’ He grabbed my finger pressing it to the home button and unlocking my phone. He scrolled through the messages only half paying attention to them. Most of them just telling Adi to shut up and that she was being to loud and if she didn’t shut up GD was going to wake up. 

It took him a few moments before he could look at me again. His eyes stayed glued to the marks and he leaned over me fixing my collar so it covered the marks “I know this isn’t your fault but you can’t let him do that to you.” He was getting angrier and angrier with each word. When he pulled the color up the dress went up slightly revealing the marks Yoongi had left on my thighs. “Disgusting” He remarked yanking the skirt down with such force that he heard a tear in the dress. His anger instantly turned to fear. The dress had a visible tear in it. How would that be explained? Sometimes hotel rooms left sewing kits incase. He dug through the empty drawers of the room and came up empty. “Look what yoongi made me do!” He shouted at me then rushed over fingering the tear. “This wouldn’t have happened if you picked me first. he marked your body like you are some common whore, Youre not - stop acting like one!” He shouted and sighed looking at the timer. He had only an hour left. He looked back at me and pressed his lips to mine again. “I’m sorry, you just make me loose sense sometimes.” He sighed laying next to me. 

For the next half an hour he lay cuddled next to me speaking about whatever came to his kind, that was until an idea presented itself into his head. He used my finger to unlock my phone - it had a lot more texted then before not all from the group chat. He saw Negans name on it and had to resist going through that if he was going to have enough time to link our phones together. He saw a few texts from Yoongi and once again had to say no to temptation and set to work.

His alarm went off just as he was finished. Satisfied he pressed the small bird app on his phone. If anyone were to go threw his apps they’d find the one labeled Bird Watching and scroll past it thinking nothing of it. But as soon as he clicked on it. The screen changed to a copy of my screen, every app, every text, every picture - he could see. This was perfect. He took one last look at me and kissed my lips once again. “I love you.” He said before walking out the door and into the elevator. 

----

I woke up confused feeling like death. I knew I was in Hotel Dumont due to the patterns on the ceiling but it took a moment for me to remember why I was here. I was here with Yoongi “Oppa!” I called out and immediately felt like vomiting. Did we drink last night? No. I was sober.. yeah I had breakfast. Why did I feel like this? I sat up and quickly grabbed the trashcan by the bed vomiting whatever breakfast was in my stomach out. I groaned, my head pounding and looked around for Yoongi. “Oppa?”

He wasn’t here. I was alone in the room... wait thats right. He left to get Jungkook... then why was I still here? My attention was drawn toward my phone dinging next to my hat on the night stand. I put my hat on the night stand but woke up across the bed? Something was wrong. I grabbed at my phone seeing text after text of people asking where I was and missed calls. I stood up shaky and grabbed my purse and keys. 

I barely made it downstairs, my entire body felt like Jello and my stomach turned every time I took a step. A bellhop helped me to my car before another familiar face walked up to us a cocky grin on his face. “Yoongi treat you so well you can’t walk?” Damien smirked “Or where you just waiting for me to come home.”

“Fuck off” I mumbled and his eyes furrowed in concern. he grabbed me from the bellhop ordering him back to work while I leaned on him. “Bring me to my car?” He nodded walking me over but the closer I got the more I knew I couldn’t drive home in this condiotion and so did Damien. So we took a sharp turn towards his hulking black truck. “No I want my car.”

“Fuck off.” He mimicked and helped me into the passenger seat. He hopped in the drivers seat. “What Yoongi dumped you and you got drunk and waited for me? Next time shoot me a text and believe me I would have come over right away.” 

“None of that happened.” I said taking his sunglasses from the dashboard and trying to steady my stomach. “Me and Yoongi had a wonderful night.”

“Yeah he tear your dress too?” He pointed as the rip in my dress as he started to drive. I looked down at it, that hadn’t been there this morning... had it?

“No, I don’t know what this is.” I huffed “I feel sick, D. I kept throwing up but I was fine this morning then I had your hotel food!”

“My hotel food is great!” He said defensively “What did you order?”

“Well they gave to to me for free-”

“Free? You brought Yoongi to my penthouse.”

“No dick brain we were on the second floor. Room 221.”

“And they gave you food for free?” he shook his head “Did you say my name?”

“No I tend not to think about you.”

“Then why the fuck would they give a nobody free food?”

“A nobody?!”

“Yeah! When your not with me in there your a fucking nobody.”

“Pull over the car im getting out!”

“Oh shut up im taking you home!”

“DONT TELL ME TO SHUT UP!”

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