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crystallinestars · 5 months

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How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #kaveh x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wriothesley x reader #For some reason Lyney's part is the longest

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 months

Text

peppermint gum, m | jjk | savor...

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

It’s impossible to fall in love when you’re already in love. And Jeon Jungkook was in love. Helplessly. But what could he do? Time passed. The world became tasteless to his eyes. All he could do was hold onto the crisp and intense color of those memories, remember her words, and wonder where she was now. Savor, and burst forth.

this is part i | click here for part ii | total wc: 25.6k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse - child neglect and abandonment; sloooow burn; mild alcohol consumption; hardcore pining JK; angst and fluff and feels; (in part ii) smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamic, so much kissing, hair pulling, scratching / marking. grinding, choking, m-receiving oral, finger sucking, fingering, nipple play, m-masturbation, thigh riding, edging, penetrative sex, doggy, multiple orgasms); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; from lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again :)

non-idol!AU; pining!Jungkook x noona!reader — ft JK's helpful? friends Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin; reader's close friend and talented guitarist, Kang Hyungu (ONEWE's Kanghyun if you want to see his appearance, hehe, same personality); JK has all his piercings and has hair (lol) had to be broken up into two parts bc it is 25k words, rip

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll forget you?”

Those last words rang in his head, accompanied by her smile.

“Your mind might forget me, but the body always remembers.”

He wanted her to be wrong. But, of course, she wasn’t. Life wasn’t so kind. Life wasn’t so kind to give him a dramatic ending. Rather, it was a calm one of slow decay where he gradually learned to not miss her anymore. No ill feelings. Just helplessness. He had wanted her to be his morning, his afternoon, his night. She didn’t. He had been younger then. He had thought he could change what was already written.

She had done the right thing, actually.

Years past. The memories became a blur with everything else. Everyone else – between nights and bodies and the feeling of not quite right. Searching but not knowing what he was looking for so he cut them off just as he had been cut off. It hurt, of course, but not as much as it would have if he had let it drag on. Maybe that was what he had learned from that time.

He forgot to miss her.

But he still thought of her and wondered where she was now.

Tattoos, piercings, and countless hours at the gym later. Running. Life an endless loop despite the differences. Nowadays, he was making an effort to hang out with his friends more, not just for birthdays or online games, but socializing at in-person events that he still wasn’t very good at. Becoming older meant drifting apart since they didn’t have those common places to mingle in anymore, so it was important to put in the effort. If he wanted to improve in talking to people more casually, well, he should at least put himself in those opportunities, right?

Right.

Running.

Always running.

Sometimes, when he was in the dark surrounded by people and with just the right amount of alcohol in his system, he missed her terribly, but he couldn’t remember what standing next to her was even like.

Other times, he completely forgot she used to like this type of tea or that kind of snack. These details faded into the background, only to return to him in disorienting dreams and half-realities.

And most of the time, he forgot.

In between hands and lips and legs, he felt the rush. The exhilaration. Lust. He could make magic in the bedroom. Wasn’t that what it was all about? Wasn’t it all about the chase between two? Wasn’t love about strangers becoming forever-afters? Wasn’t it? He didn’t know anything about that when he was younger. Right. How could that be love?

Maybe.

Maybe he just forgot.

The spark always died so fast. It must have been not quite right.

She must have forgotten him too, by now.

When Jeon Jungkook saw her again, he hadn’t expected it at all.

It was at a nightclub concert. Loud and obnoxious and full of infectious energy. A friend of his was a singer of the band that was going onstage next. Currently, there was alternative rock band vibing with the crowd, singing songs that no one knew but spoke to feelings everyone understood. Breakup lyrics to sweetheart melodies. He was enjoying himself, but not paying much attention. In a split second, he had whipped his head around because one of his friends was playfully flicking the back of his hair, being an idiot, and then he saw her at the edge of the stage. Right there. He almost didn’t think it was her at first, but his eyes recognized that face right away, even amidst the chocolate smokey eye and cherry lip stain. He almost looked away, not wanting to stare at a now-stranger, but his body froze when she smiled, remembering the way his heart fluttered when those past-lover-now-stranger’s eyes sparkled with mischief when she smiled.

That couldn’t have been love, right?

He couldn’t remember.

Was she more beautiful than before or had helplessness desaturated his memory?

She was cheerfully speaking to someone. A young man who had cerulean hair. His undercut was dyed a gradient purple. Taller than her, with broad shoulders. Black t-shirt and tight jeans showing off a built body. He lingered near her the same way a cat stayed by its owner. She shook her head at him and said something. The man chuckled despite a demeanor full of nervousness. She handed him his purple electric guitar and pushed him, motioning him to interact with the band standing offstage. Oh, that was right. His singer friend had mentioned that their actual guitarist was out taking care of his grandmother. They had to call someone to fill in on short notice.

It was clear, by the instrument, that this was the fill in.

The young man trotted over to the band and introduced himself. He was meant with open arms and gracious bows that left him flustered and shaking his head.

Jeon Jungkook looked away, not wanting her to see him.

Would she know it was him?

He glanced at her again during the break for the band change. She was standing at the side, not too close to the wall but not too far. Could be noticed right away, because she was not drinking and because she was alone. Simply standing there. Almost regal even in a tight white crop top and hip-hugging black trousers. The thick black strap of her sling bag had a large plush keychain dangling by her waist. A tuxedo cat with a tangerine on its head. She didn’t seem bothered to be alone with no one to speak to. She also held onto a big, thick, black leather jacket. Folded and tucked in her arms. Could be hers.

Could also not be.

She was smiling in the direction of the substitute guitarist. Jungkook caught a shared gaze between them. She gave the man a thumbs up. He returned the smile, albeit awkwardly. A wordless exchange. Two people who knew each other very well. The lights dimmed. An announcement was made and cheers erupted around him.

But Jungkook was in the dark, surrounded by people, with not enough alcohol in his system to place the emotion he was feeling right now.

He looked to the stage as the spotlights returned to the stage, lighting up the band and his friend, but his mind held onto the image he had just now seen. Something about her makeup, with the striking eyeliner and black-cherry tinted lips. His own lips tingled, remembering the taste of a kiss from years ago.

A bright and refreshing flavor, so strong that it had seemed to last for hours after.

He was not self-centered or bitter enough to call her an ex-girlfriend. It had been a crisp and intense connection but, in retrospect, the time had been short. Fast and in a rush. The kind of love that made his skin prickle and his heart race. There had been no way to know how long it would last. There had been no comparison to realize that that love could be as fleeting as it was powerful.

A peppermint gum love.

Ah, what was he going on like this for? Maybe she didn’t want to be bothered. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see a ghost of her past. Maybe she didn’t even remember him. Jungkook knew he looked very different now. Back then, he had been a lot more worried about being presentable to everyone. Now, he was old enough to know he couldn’t and didn’t have to please everyone. He could wear loose clothes even if he worked out to look toned the way he wanted. He could get those lip piercings even if people told him eight ear piercings was already too many and adding two more on the right side of his lower lip was overdoing it. He could get a sleeve of colorfully dark tattoos and maybe consider getting more if he really wanted, even if some people found it tacky or not to their taste.

Well.

As long as he had the money for it, anyway.

He tried to discern how she was looking at the young man playing guitar, but Jungkook couldn’t figure out if it was the same expression that she had given him all those years before. He couldn’t remember.

His mind couldn’t remember.

But.

There was an interlude mid-act. He had made up his mind. He excused himself from his friends, mumbling the excuse of the bathroom. It was nerve-wracking to cut himself away from that safety. He didn’t have to do this. There was no ill feeling.

Just helplessness.

He moved through the crowd, winding between the people. Right there. There was so much noise. Conversations. Laughter. Drunken bickering. But all he could hear was silence. Bodies pushed up against him, bumping into him by accident, mumbling out apologies. But all he could feel was the suggestion of a touch, the faded peppermint gum love, grasping for a memory that he couldn’t seem to recall.

His finger tapped her shoulder.

He just wanted to know something.

“Do you still feel the same as you did back then?”

After the hey, how have you been, after the look of recognition and half-amused smile and the flutter of his heart, after the small talk of where are you now, he asked her the question. Those things were only the precursor. The filler and fluff. The pretense to the question that had been on his mind for a long, long time now.

“About what?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“I don’t know if you remember…” He didn’t either, actually. Remember her original words. “But you said that you didn’t think you could ever understand love. You said something like that to me a long time ago and I wonder… I wonder if that feeling has changed.”

He knew it was a strange question and yet.

He just…

Needed to know.

The shadows in her eyes became darker, impenetrable. “Sounds like something I’ve said. But, are you asking me because you think that feeling should have changed?”

He shook his head quickly. “No.” Looked at her head-on, unsure if this bravery was from alcohol or the question itself that had been lingering in his mind for so long. “I remembered what you said after all this time because…”

Hot and heavy, but ultimately forgettable nights.

Cold and bright.

Unable to last and, yet, lasted.

“Because I think now I am beginning to understand what you meant.”

There was a lot of noise around them, but he barely noticed. There was so much light, so many people around them, but this moment was a spotlight between him and the past cold brightness. The shadows in her eyes softened, no longer bristling thorns, fading into a dark forest of overlapping leaves. He couldn’t know, but he felt those eyes were different now. Darker. More decisive. And yet, in some ways she hadn’t changed at all. One of the things that he had always liked about her back then was that she always answered him seriously and wisely even if the question seemed out of the blue.

They always had an inexplicable closeness, even as strangers.

She was even more beautiful and more attractive than he remembered though.

“I lied,” she admitted with a half-smile. Was that a sparkle of mischief in her irises or was he seeing things? “I remember what I said to you. It had upset you a lot, I remember, when I said I didn’t understand love. You cried. It must have hurt you, but I couldn’t understand why back then. Back then, I said I didn’t understand love because I both didn’t want to learn and couldn’t feel it. Only the latter is true now. Or, rather, I don’t think I feel the same things that other people feel when they are with the people they love. But why do you say you’re beginning to understand that I meant?”

His body remembered the feeling of her hand on his shoulder. Now, their relations weren’t close enough for her to touch him. He didn’t remember crying but he wasn’t surprised to be told that he did. When he was younger, he had been a bit of a crybaby. Just because he didn’t recall didn’t mean it didn’t happen.

But.

His heart could still feel that deep scratch of those familiar words, even now.

“When I met you back then… I thought I knew everything about love. Love was for good people. I wanted to be a good person so I could be loved. All I had to do was become the person that people wanted to love. But then I realized I wasn’t doing the things I wanted to do, only what was expected of me. Then you told me you didn’t understand love and I, someone who wanted to be loved by you, realized I had nothing to fall back on because I was only made of others’ expectations and ideals.”

He shook his head. He did remember crying after they parted. He remembered trying to make the sadness go away. He remembered nights in beds and stumbling home to cry in the shower, feeling disconnected in the physical connection. He remembered nights alone, empty bottles and holding a shot glass of tears, feeling unable to speak about this to anyone. Lost without knowing how to be found. Doing things based on impulse because only impulses were truly his and not poisoned by the opinions of others. Laughing at the search of happiness. Above all, he had been afraid. He had been afraid to give voice to his worries because then maybe they would gain power and overtake him.

But then he remembered the person who didn’t understand love.

There was such a person that existed out there.

He wondered how she was now.

“I wanted to tell you…”

And now he knew.

“I wanted to tell you I understand now. Or… don’t. Um.”

She smiled at him.

It was not the same way as she looked at the guitarist.

“Huh, you’ve become so mature and grown up. Well, welcome to the smoke-and-mirrors of adulthood, Jeon Jungkook,” she chuckled teasingly, shaking her head. “I scarred you that bad, eh?”

“No, I didn’t mean–”

She raised a hand to stop him, waving away his apology. “No, it’s okay. I’m surprised you still remember me. And don’t hate me. A lot of them hate me.”

Your mind might forget me, but the body always remembers.

His body did remember.

“A lot of them?” he echoed, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

The faintest tick of her eyebrow. “You gonna tell me you have all these tattoos and piercings and don’t get laid?”

His heart dropped. “You don’t like them?” He blurted that a little too fast.

She laughed. “My opinion of them doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, it does,” was his quick reply.

She paused. The shadows in her eyes swirled. He tried to discern their meaning as he stared into those dark irises but the shadows were all evasive and clever, flitting away from him playfully. When she spoke again, there was a sternness to her tone. Not scolding him. Just getting her point across.

“Answer the question of whether or not you get laid.”

Hot and heavy nights that meant nothing compared to the cold and bright scratch on his heart.

“I…”

The tips of his ears suddenly burned but maybe it was the alcohol.

“I do. But I haven’t remembered or been bothered to remember a single thing they’ve said to me,” Jungkook heard himself say and wondered where that bravery came from.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then she smiled in the way that made him shiver.

“Hyungu is gonna be pissed,” she laughed as the sound of a guitar riff pierced the air.

Oh, shit.

The spotlight faded.

Everything rushed back. Sound, color, light. It suddenly became very clear that he was too far and too long gone from his friends to go back now and face them. Jungkook spun around, seeing that the crowd had packed up tightly again. To his dismay, he had no idea where his friends were. They were no longer in that little pocket they had been. Did they get closer to the stage? Had they seen where he had gone? Did one of them text him? He was afraid to pull out his phone, both in rudeness and in the possible mortifying teasing. His phone was always on silent, at least. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

He turned back.

The melody echoing behind him was sharp and bright chords followed by a soulful voice.

She had been looking at the stage but immediately caught his gaze with a surprised expression. As if she hadn’t expected him to stay once the music started. And he shouldn’t, for it was rude and intrusive and inconsiderate to stay and invade a stranger’s space any longer.

But.

“You didn’t give me an answer.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

He pulled up the sleeve of his charcoal hoodie, revealing more of his tattoos. Her eyes tracked the movement, widening in surprise at the burst of color combined with thick black outlines. She had been able to see some of them, as his sleeves had been pushed up slightly, but it was much more obvious with the cuffs to the elbows. His forearm was covered with ink and there was no sign of stopping past the black patch in his inner elbow.

He looked back at her.

For a moment, they were young again.

Haloed by music, immersed in each other. A movie in real life. Suddenly it felt worth it – worth taking the risk of being rude, intrusive, or inconsiderate. Suddenly, it felt worth rolling the die and betting double just to…

Have a taste of that peppermint flavor.

“Yes or no?” he insisted, frowning, stubbornly pushing for an answer.

Deep down, Jungkook had always hoped she was thriving, shining brighter than all the stars, because then it proved that he, someone who also felt like he didn’t understand love, could be as impactful as that sparkling smile.

The corner of her lips ticked up in amusement. “Does a stranger’s opinion matter that much? I thought you weren’t going to let the opinions of others bother you anymore.”

Are we really strangers?

He grinned. “A stranger’s opinion would be the most unbiased, right?”

Can strangers speak like the way you and I do?

She stared at him for seconds that felt like forever-ever-afters.

Then she laughed, reaching up with a graceful hand and touching her fingertips to her forehead. His breath caught his throat, suddenly flooded with memories of youth and rashness, short as it was. He could see it all in a whirlwind. Crystal clear and fleeting all at once. A perfect storm and now caught in the eye, all of his wonders and helplessness thrown to the wayside upon seeing this familiar gesture that he didn’t even know until now was familiar, realizing now just how precious it was.

She lowered her hand with a mirthful and sparkling expression.

Beckoned with a downward wave as the music swelled, dangerously close to melting into the bridge.

“Step closer. You’re in someone’s way.”

Jungkook jolted, stumbling, realizing there was a short woman with carrying three full cups of foamy, honey-colored beer looking confusedly at him.

“Oh, shit, sorry–”

Her hand touched his shoulder, directing him gently.

His body moved but his mind froze at the touch.

“Listen. This is my favorite part. I’ll tell you after.”

One moment, there was space between them.

The next, he was standing next to her.

She tapped the air, closing her eyes.

“Listen.”

He closed his eyes obediently. Took away the visual, and suddenly his world was flooded with the auditory. An intricate guitar solo to bring life to his fluttering heart blending with piano and drums flowing together. Memories flashing past, too fast to grasp onto, happiness and misery, and then the bridge came, the lyrics painting the photo of two colorless roses abandoned by the heavens.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

Her eyes opened at the final chorus, exhaling softly. Turned her head and he could see in the shadows of her gaze that she, too, remembered their minty whirlwind of memories.

Or…

Was he just hoping for that?

She smiled.

“I love your tattoos and piercings. You suit them well. I’m glad you found your own color, Jeon Jungkook. You shine so much brighter now than you did back then.”

It was at this moment that he knew...

He fucked up.

He shouldn’t have walked over here. He shouldn’t have asked the question. He shouldn’t have stayed and continued the conversation. He shouldn’t have asked if she liked how he looked now. He should have stayed with his friends and wondered. He should have preserved in the hot and heavy instead of searching for the past of crisp and bright. He might get used to it. He might end up finding what he was looking for, whatever it was. Or, better yet, he might just forget this whole feeling and her lasting words if he never saw her smile as she spoke to him again.

But he didn’t, so that meant he really fucked up.

Pit-a-pat.

He stared at her for so long that he didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything in reply until the song ended and her expression changed, tilting her head in puzzlement. She thinks I’m insane. Say something, Jungkook! Anything! But nothing was coming to mind, as how it always was in these situations. Awesome.

“Uh…”

She smoothly interrupted his awkwardness. “Did you come with friends?” Expression neutral. “I would hate to keep you from your company for too long.”

The notable shift from more casual to formal slightly stung.

No.

Really stung.

“I… Well, honestly, I don’t know where they are,” Jungkook confessed, scanning the crowd for a moment in attempt to look for them. It was a half-assed attempt, but it was an attempt. “I think I’ll have to look for them after the show. We’re meeting up with the band to eat, I think.”

“Oh? You know them?”

He pointed awkwardly to the stage. “Ah, yeah, the lead singer… We met in high school and are in the same friend group… Well, I’ve only recently started hanging out outside again. We’ve played a lot of online games together.”

“Oh, really?” She looked back up to the stage. “In that case, do you think your friends would mind if Hyungu tagged along?” A cautious smile. “It’s just… Hyungu-ah is in a band too, but they’re on hiatus right now. A few of them are doing military service. I think he really misses that environment. I can’t really talk music with him though, I don’t know anything,” she added ruefully, shaking her head and scrunching her nose. “Sorry, that’s probably a bit much to ask you after seeing you all this time. I’m just worried about that introvert, haha.”

Oh, right. The substitute guitarist. Right, because she didn’t simply magically appear as an act of fate or red string level of storytelling in a drama. Real life wasn’t like that.

“S-Sure, we can all go together–”

She was asking him to suggest or go along with the proposition to not alienate the guy. It was clear that she cared about him. He didn’t want to see them together, but… If she became part of his friend group, he might have a reason to go out more. Maybe he was a masochist. Maybe he just wanted to see if she was happy with that guy. Maybe he…

Okay, he wanted her to be close, even if it was all futile.

She relaxed. “Ah, phew. It really did take me a while to convince him to get out of the house,” she chuckled. “It’ll be nice for him to be around people that understand his true language of music, haha. I’ll stick around just in case, but don’t worry, I’ll leave and let you guys be guys, heh.”

Wait.

What?

Jungkook blinked rapidly. “Huh? Aren’t you coming too?”

She stared back. “Huh? Why?”

He looked at her and she looked at him.

Both blank stares of confusion.

“Why wouldn’t you go with your boyfriend?” he blurted.

Invisible question marks popped up over her head. Then she jolted and jerked her head to the band, to the blue-haired guitarist tearing it up on stage with a grin, then back at Jungkook, her eyes wide. “Me? Me?” She pointed to herself quickly, half-laughing in disbelief. “Me and Kang Hyungu?”

Jungkook gawked.

She burst out laughing.

“Oh, fuck, no, no, no,” she puffed, waving her hand all over. “No, no, he’s not… Oh, sheesh, no, we’re not dating. You thought… hah, sorry, there’s a misunderstanding here, hahaha…” She flicked her hand downward as if that idea was so ridiculous that it needed to be physically slapped out of existence. “Ah, no, how can I explain…”

Huh?

Wait, didn’t she mention earlier that his Kang Hyungu was going to be angry? She did directly say, Hyungu is gonna be pissed, right after Jungkook had told her he never bothered to remember what other girls told him, which would imply… argh, this was very baffling and Jungkook found his scatterbrained thoughts spinning trying to comprehend it all.

She straightened and ticked her head to the stage. “Me and him are just friends. We’ve been friends are a long time. Sorry, I can see why you’re mistaken since I came here with him, but Hyungu-ah is the type that really doesn’t like new situations. When he got asked to fill in for another band, he wanted me to come with him, since he wouldn’t know anybody. I believe he said he only spoke to these guys a couple times at festivals and he just needed some moral support.” She grinned. “Ya know, a tough cookie in case things get tough, hehe.”

Jungkook understood but also he was confused. “O… Oh…”

She motioned away his doubts. “In his words, you’re scary, noona. I’d feel much better if you came with me. Can you believe this guy? Just admit you’re lonely.” She rolled her eyes. “Hyungu-ah is a guitar genius. He’s a music nerd. I’ve known him since…” She paused, a dark shadow casting over her eyes as she recalled the past. “I was asked to tutor him when he was in high school and I was finishing university. He was shit at math and science. I helped him pass and then I…”

And again.

That pause.

Jungkook got the feeling she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him or not.

She shrugged. “I moved away. Then I saw his name on a poster. Turns out this nerd made his dream a reality and started that band after all.” Her expression became fond. Gentle. “I went to go see him perform. I was surprised he recognized me, actually. Hah, kinda like–”

Her gaze shifted to him.

It was as if time stopped.

She continued, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I’m not dating anyone. Definitely not Hyungu. He’s more like a little brother to me. Or I’m more like a bodyguard, heh. With only intimidation tactics. I really should work out, huh…”

He frowned. “Have you talked about him before? I would have remembered someone so important to you.”

“Nah, I think you and me was after university. When I was being a slu–” She cut herself off. “Ahem, I mean, I was young and didn’t really want to deal with, well, anything. Running from myself, so to speak.” She sighed. A little heavy. “I meant to say sorry, back then. You got caught up with my madness.”

She winked.

Jungkook felt his heart skip a beat.

“But, hey, you dodged a bullet, eh?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. That burst between them wasn’t there anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

He grinned.

“Nah, I’m bulletproof.”

Something about her.

Do you feel it too?

Her gaze sharpened and she stilled, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah?”

Well.

Can’t say you expected the events of tonight to be on this year’s bingo card.

You laid in bed and scrolled through your phone, but you didn’t pay much attention to anything on the screen. On one hand, you felt a little restless leaving Kang Hyungu to fend for himself with his low alcohol tolerance. On another hand, he was a grown man and would call you in the middle of the night to pick him up if he was really fucked up. Eh, he was too much of a good boy to be irresponsible.

You chuckled to no one in particular.

You were alone, after all.

It was a miracle, really, that little Hyungu still wanted to be your friend now.

In some ways, he was still the same kid you had met all those years ago. You didn’t really interact with him much as you were a couple years older and, well, a girl. You couldn’t really look at him either, all things considering. After all, wasn’t it highly probable that the bags under his eyes was your family’s fault? Your family and his family happened to be next-door neighbors at the apartment complex.

No one really talked about it.

In certain areas, the sounds of yelling and thrown dishes were simply background noise. Normal circumstances. The first near two decades of your life was that every day. Most of the time, your presence was as insignificant as a cockroach. Sometimes you would be spoken of but never spoken to. You learned from a pretty young age to shut up or be forced to shut up. The family motto was, children are not meant to be seen or heard. The adults were speaking. More accurately, arguing, escalating to screaming, and then to scalding silent treatment. Repeat cycle. You learned to snatch food from the fridge as soon as you saw it. No one was going to prepare anything for you, but at least there was always something edible in there.

Until you became a teenager, that was.

It got especially bad when you attended high school as both sides picked up hideous habits to deal with their issues. In your opinion, they should have picked divorce to deal with them, but instead they chose gambling and serial cheating. Sometimes neither would come home for days. Whenever they crossed paths, the endless war continued. There was no way to predict when the silence could become suddenly violate and now you were old enough to understand what was going on – and old enough to loathe it. You barely saw your next-door neighbors at that time because you did basically anything you could to avoid going home. There was only so much a child can take.

They either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

It was also about this time that you started using sex as a coping mechanism.

Approval by society wasn’t high on the list for you at that time, nor was it now. Must have been the upbringing. You watched alcohol become an expensive addiction for your parents and, paired with their mindless days at the casinos and excess spending on extramarital pleasures, illegal drugs were out of the question. Sex, however. If you knew what clinics to go to or where to shoplift, well. Free protection. Yup. During university, though, was when you needed money. You couldn’t go far as you couldn’t pay to live in a dorm. Your scholarships were barely covering tuition, so living at home was the only option. At this point, your parents had mostly forgot forgot that there was someone they birthed living in the apartment with them, which was fine by you, except when you needed to eat.

How Kang Hyungu knew things he shouldn’t know was a mystery you never figured out.

You had gotten locked out, again, and some loud dispute was happening behind the door. Deadbolted. It was shaping up to be a shit night – that was until a tall high schooler with a guitar bag approached the door to your right. You tried not to look at him and decided you would leave to find a PC bang to spend the night. But he must have seen your university-branded bag and called out your family name.

That was when Kang Hyungu started talking to you.

He must have noticed the many times that you had been locked out. Well, how could he ignore it? You didn’t want to do the small talk thing except for immediately informing him with your given name. However, your ears perked up when he mentioned that he needed help with math and science classes. He was looking to pay a tutor. Cram school was pretty expensive. Turns out you both had attended the same high school – of course, considering you lived in the same damn apartment building – and the high school posted notices about alumni that had received scholarships. That shit was a big deal to educators.

That was how you ended up in a basement studio room listening to five high schoolers make songs for hours and teaching them calculus, biology, and chemistry. All of them ended up being mild levels of garbage at those subjects, but it made teaching in a group much more efficient. It was thanks to Hyungu that you were able to eat all of university. Honestly, you didn’t really need the money as much as you needed somewhere to be. Yeah, it was pretty clear that Hyungu knew that somehow. He was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for. Neither of you really talked about it even though you should have.

Maybe, then…

When you graduated university, it was clear you had to leave. It was clear you had to put some distance between you and those who birthed you. Turns out, they did it for you, because one day you came home from job hunting and you didn’t have a home anymore. The apartment door was open and some random people were moving in. Cool. A talk with the leasing office, then. Turns out your parents moved out and didn’t bother to tell you. Together? Separately? Who the fuck knew. You found a box of your clothes in the dumpster along with some other random shit. Your birth certificate, even.

Your entire existence thrown in the trash.

It had really not been the best time.

Couple months of living strictly from PC bangs and business hotel rooms, you started a desk job at minimum wage. Funny how a degree didn’t do much but whatever. You also continued your not-so-great coping mechanism of fucking around, which is how you met Jeon Jungkook. He definitely had a different idea of how it all went down, but.

You paused, seeing that you had pulled up your phone contacts and there he was.

Even through changed models, your phone contacts transferred over. You never bothered to clear them out unless the person was worth blocking. Jeon Jungkook wasn’t worth blocking. The breakup, if you could call it that, was pretty simple. You said what you said and he didn’t fight you. You didn’t need his number in the years after, but you forgot about thinking you needed to delete unused numbers. You didn’t really forget him, though.

He was the only one that you felt sorry for breaking his heart.

He hadn’t been your type back then. Your type had been self-destructive, and you had become tired of that, so you chased for the complete opposite instead. You knew full well that it wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t even go into it invested. But you chose well, and he was the complete opposite. He trusted everything you said. He put up with your cold front. He liked you more than you liked him and he had no idea that he did. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised that he wouldn’t care even if he knew. He was good in bed too. Eager, quick to learn, and listened to everything you said. Tried everything you asked without questioning or judging. It was precisely why you broke it off before it got too deep, because it got too deep way too fast.

He thought of you too highly when, at that time, you were too low to be anything above a grey area.

Aren’t you afraid I’ll forget you?

Just by asking you that, you never forgot Jungkook. He was the only one who seemed worried about that. Everyone else called you a heartless bitch or a dumb whore who was making a mistake. But Jungkook asked you if you were afraid that he would lose your memory, as if it was valuable enough to be tarnished.

Life worked in mysterious ways.

The happening of you seeing Hyungu’s name on a poster was by chance. The choice to go to that concert back then was on a whim. The chance of Hyungu recognizing you and coming to find you, dragging you to his bandmates that all yapped excitedly around you as if no time had passed was surprising. You had always thought they had forgotten or resented you on some level. After all, you didn’t have a working phone for a while since you couldn’t pay for a plan. You had essentially ghosted them for years, but Hyungu acted as if you had always been there. I’ll never forget that you took good care of me, noona. There was no way you could even attempt to date Kang Hyungu. How could you ruin a relationship that he kept preserved so preciously when you abandoned it? He spoke highly of you even when you hadn’t been around, even when you had been too busy being selfish and self-centered. He smiled at you and relied on you once again because he trusted that you could be relied on. You would sigh and be hauled around by these young loons and support their blooming music career as you got your footing and made it to a better desk job with better pay.

And, by some fate, being close to Kang Hyungu caused you to cross paths with Jeon Jungkook once again.

Weird, eh?

You lowered your phone, staring up at the ceiling.

Well, life was full of coincidences, right? There was no reason to think this was a special event. After all, you had been trying your best to forget that time in your life where you felt the most lost. It took a lot of pushing past your own stubbornness to realize that how your parents felt about you had nothing to do who you were. Accepting that you weren’t the worst fuckup ever to exist, thanks to the saving grace of someone who remembered to call you noona in an endearing way and not in an obligated way. It would be counterproductive to…

Jeon Jungkook’s smiling face flashed in your mind.

You only had one orb-shaped lamp on currently. It was one of those that you could set the lighting color and tone to your taste. You liked the low, moody, cool blue lighting. Besides, you knew the layout of your apartment by now, and the overhead lighting wasn’t necessary unless you needed to look for something.

The orb shone like the moon.

Jungkook had known such a different version of you and yet he still smiled at you like that.

“You must have somebody, don’t you?” you sighed to the shining moon.

It was silly to think too much about a random conversation. And, really, all he wanted to know was if you still found him hot or whatever. Yeah, he was just looking for external validation. You just happened to be there. Tattoos and piercings and working out? Sounded like a quarter life crisis to you. One that worked out in his favor, though. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, but it wasn’t from a tangible cold.

In the darkness, the moon-shaped light glowed brightly.

“It would be nice if you had somebody.”

You frowned and turned your back to the light.

It was a coincidence. Another moment of going through life and realizing you had been climbing Penrose stairs all along. How different were you from back then, really? It wasn’t as if you magically started getting into relationships and had a damn epiphany. The cruel epiphany was that we were all stuck in this endless loop of our respective pasts catching up to the present. No amount of heat could dissipate the coldness of the future.

You sighed, melting into the comfort of your cool bedsheets.

“I should just forget about Jeon Jungkook,” you mumbled.

Whatever.

Wasn’t like you were ever gonna see him again.

You dozed off.

Your phone vibrated against your chest.

“You idiot, you know you have no tolerance…”

“Noona, it was so fun, ahahaha…”

The air was cold. The sting of winter clung to his cheeks. He called out her name, feeling like the sound was drowned out by the cars and white noise in his head, but, once again, Jeon Jungkook completely forgot how loud he was.

Passersby jumped as he ran past clutching a guitar bag.

Her arms were wrapped around a blue-haired man who was dwarfing her frame. He looked half-asleep and too proud of himself but that was probably under the influence of alcohol and good vibes. She jolted, startled, her eyes widening as Jungkook skidded to a questionably close stop in front of them, nearly colliding into her.

In fact, he did.

“Woah!”

“Yah!”

He threw an arm out and around them, snapping back to hold the three of them up, pressing the guitar bag to her chest. There they were, a bundle of people who somehow ended up like this with a guitar cuddled between them, standing in the middle of the sidewalk at midnight with nightlife bystanders staring at them like they were all insane. At least Kang Hyungu was completely oblivious. Come to find out during dinner, he had low alcohol tolerance. Less than a soju bottle low. Welp. Nobody had believed him and he had given in a bit. At least he had the backup plan of a close friend picking him up. The group of guys had all stayed at the restaurant, making sure he was safe until she arrived, flushed and windswept, bowing repeatedly in thankfulness.

Therefore, Kang Hyungu was blissfully unaware of the sudden awkwardness of past lovers staring at each other with their stunned faces millimeters from each other.

Jungkook froze, holding her tight.

“H… His guitar…”

Her lips parted but no sound came out.

In his shock, he had only now realized she had removed her makeup. His heartbeat leapt to his throat, suddenly remembering how much he had loved the shape of her eyes and the color of her natural, full lips. How her cheeks seemed more filled out now. Healthier. Her skin glowed. He could almost…

Almost.

His body shivered.

She blinked, casting her eyes down. “Oh, shit, how could I forget… T-Thank you. He would be heartbroken without his precious guitar,” she breathed out quickly and exasperatedly, reaching up to grab the strap. “Thank you. Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s o-okay…”

Jungkook reluctantly peeled away from her, taking a step back. There was an awkward moment of her still holding onto her friend and shouldering the guitar, juggling between the two. Even in that short moment, Jungkook realized Kang Hyungu must work out. He was not as light as he seemed. Instinctively, Jungkook reached out and held Hyungu’s shoulders when the guitar slipped from her narrow shoulder.

“Aw, fuck–”

Jungkook almost laughed at her puffed cheeks and under-the-breath swearing.

Almost, because his heart ached suddenly.

She had been so cute when she was mad, even if it was being taken out on him. He always thought that, so it had always been hard to argue when he was trying not to be in love with those cheeks.

“Sorry, I got him,” she sighed. “I’ll get him home even if I have to drag him.”

“I’ll help you, noona.”

She froze with her arms around another man. Her eyes darted and fixated on him.

Jungkook realized his mistake and also froze.

He had been calling her formally by name out of politeness until now. The same way strangers would address each other with no intention of ever meeting again. The honorific had just slipped out naturally. Or unnaturally, depending on how one considered the effects of alcohol. The blue-haired guitarist was half-asleep on her shoulder. There were only two conscious souls under this streetlamp on this cold night.

A diffused spotlight.

He sputtered. “S… Sorry, was that too informal…?”

Her gaze shifted. Were her cheeks pink from the crisp air or was it his eyes playing tricks on him? “No, it’s fine, I just…” She shook her head, swallowing hard. “It’s been a while since you… It’s okay,” she chuckled, the corner of her lips rising. “I mean, I would be pissed if you called me anything else. Our age difference is not that significant, but it’s there.”

“Y-Yeah.”

Was there hope in those shadowy eyes or was it all in his mind?

“Don’t you have to go home too?”

He grinned.

“Ah, I stay up until three in the morning every night anyway. Let’s get Hyungu-ssi home.”

Which was how you ended up on a bus with not-so-little-anymore Kang Hyungu snoring on your left shoulder and your past fling Jeon Jungkook on your right.

Awkward.

You clutched Hyungu’s guitar bag like your life depended on it. Actually, deep down you were kind of glad it somehow ended up this way. Being on a bus at midnight meant the crowd was the unpleasant kind. It must have been an odd sight. Sleeping Hyungu by the window, you in the middle seat holding a very expensive guitar, and Jungkook at the aisle being a great big buffer to keep the unsavory folk away. He was wearing a thick black parka over his charcoal sweat set, and he had his hood up to protect his ears from the cold.

For some reason, his jaw was clenched.

His eyebrows were furrowed too, giving him a very mean appearance for no reason. Or, at least, no discernable reason you could conclude. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular as far as you could tell.

“Sorry about this,” you suddenly said.

Jungkook flinched and turned his head to look at you. Instantly, his expression burst into life, the stern expression melting away into sparkling big peepers and pink lips in a small ‘o’, making your breath catch as the small mole under his lip appeared.

You used to kiss that mole first before you kissed his lips.

Used to.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he replied with a smile.

“I feel like I cut your night short.”

He gave you a lopsided grin, scratching his cheek. “Eh, I can go to the club or karaoke bar some other time. And maybe I need to not be so easily influenced, ahahaha…”

You hummed. “Guess you’re still the same, going along with our people’s suggestions.”

He puffed his cheeks. “No, I’m not. I’m here with you now, aren’t I?” he shot back.

Pause.

You both looked away at the same time.

Hyungu snored softly in your ear.

Thanks for that, man.

You tried to ignore the creeping goosebumps along your back. It was not the outside temperature. You were wearing your big black leather jacket over the black sweatshirt and jeans you yanked on to quickly get out the door. Your shoulder bumped into Jungkook’s as the bus stopped and let some passengers off. It was still a few stops yet of this awkwardness. For fuck’s sake, you were the older one. Come on. You resisted the urge to slap your own cheeks to get a grip. Nothing is going on here. The heart palpitations were in your head. Yeah. Totally.

“Thank you, again.”

You felt him shift, sitting up straighter. “I really don’t mind at all, noona.”

You sat up too, casting him a sideways half-smile.

He bit the left side of his lip, mumbling.

“I never minded doing anything for you.”

A strange tingling sensation danced over your scalp and down your shoulders. Sigh. He was doing this on purpose, right? One look and of course not. You shut your eyes. Maybe you could just make up a reason to hate him. You thought you had lost him under other bodies and darker nights and bad decisions. You thought he hated you for ending it the way you did, so coolly and unfeelingly. You thought.

“Have you been happy, Jungkook?”

You felt him hesitate. You could almost remember how he smelled back then. Like crisp linens and bright cotton. He loved fabric softener and similar clean scents. Have you been happy after me? You hoped so. In retrospect, you had been such a small, meaningless part in this winding road of life.

“I… I guess? I’m doing things I like to do. I feel like I’m able to live more freely, and I figure I can just… keep doing what I’m good at.”

You smiled.

“That’s good.”

You opened your eyes.

“What about you, noona?”

Have I been happy?

Did you even know what that meant? And yet you felt the weight of precious Hyungu’s head against your shoulder. Someone who relied on your good heart wholeheartedly. Never mind your opinion of if your heart was good or not, or even there. Happy? You went to work. You enjoyed your hobbies like music and games. You stayed home and shopped online when you were bored. You had the money to buy your favorite snacks and you had the luxury to have poor time management to eat them at midnight and wake up puffy the next day.

You had a very simple life that your younger self could barely dream of.

I don’t want to end up like my parents.

Was that why you didn’t want to be in a relationship?

“Noona?”

You looked up suddenly, noticing your surroundings. Quickly pulled on the cord to create the gentle bell tone.

“We need to get off here.”

Somehow, Jungkook ended up in a stranger’s corner apartment surrounded by vinyl, boxed CD albums, and music equipment. It was on a lower floor so at least they didn’t have to climb any stairs to get to the front door. The living room area was less like a living room and more like a half-music studio, complete with guitars, speakers, and a computer with lots of expensive looking music equipment around it. The surrounding walls had black foam squares taped neatly, even on the ceiling. The rest of the wall space was occupied by posters of various indie and mainstream bands. He was surprised to see the few plushies of penguins on the couch. Along the wall of the stairs were flyers that each had a corresponding nail that hung lanyards with plastic cards – artist passes. Festivals and concerts and such, each one containing a recurring name if he looked closely enough.

He, along with his past lover, helped the young man he had just met tonight into the bed in the loft area.

It was a small space.

Somehow, they managed being that close.

“Thanks, again,” she sighed, descending down the stairs in front of him. “You must be thirsty. There has to be some water around here.”

Somehow, Jungkook found himself standing in the hallways of a stranger’s apartment drinking a bottle of water as he watched the one who got away rip a memo note off a pad and scribble something down, finding a Pingu mug to sandwich it under.

Somehow.

She turned around and sighed, looking relieved. The guitar bag was on the sofa, safe and sound.

Then they stared at each other, realizing they were now alone.

Well, not alone.

Above them, Kang Hyungu was in dreamland.

“Ah…”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Sorry, I didn’t even ask how out of your way this was. I’ll pay for a taxi back.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay. I can make my way.”

“Don’t be like that,” she scolded, although not with much severity. “I can’t take advantage of your kindness.”

He paused, staring into her eyes. They hadn’t turned on too many lights. Enough to see, and then turned off most of them right away to avoid waking up the neighbors with the brightness. Only the warm bulb by the door was on now, illuminating them together.

“Noona, can I ask you something?” he asked softly, realizing his voice shook a little.

She lifted her head, pulling her hands out of her pockets.

“Yeah, of course. What is it?”

Have you ever been in love?

He looked at her, and he remembered the question she didn’t answer on the bus. They had been hurried and trying not to inconvenience anyone. Now that what about you was lost in the whirlwind of sights, sounds, in time past. Jungkook was pretty sure that he knew what the line of love and distraction was, but he found he had no real words to describe it. Only a feeling of sureness, just as he was sure that if he asked this question, have you ever been in love, he would be overstepping a boundary somehow.

Mostly because it seemed obvious.

And also because it was not fair to ask questions that he was personally invested in the answer and honestly didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer.

Had he ever been in love? Sure, although he knew it was always with the caveat of what he knew at the time and driven by the image painted by his own parents. A miracle that he had a chance to witness. He hadn’t really thought about how deeply seeing them interact affected him until he met her. She never spoke about her parents. It was like they didn’t exist. No photos, no calls, no casual drop-bys to hand over a home-cooked meal and say hi. In contrast, Jungkook had the unfortunately mortifying moment of being balls deep and then interrupted by his own mother right before the big finale. She just silently laughed while hiding behind the door as his mom attempted to enter his apartment, why are there clothes all over the floor, aish, I keep telling you that I didn’t teach you to be messy, and him trying to reassure her that everything was fine and he had to be somewhere soon.

Yeah.

Anyway.

It the time it had been embarrassing, but she had told him something that had, again, stuck with him for a long time after. You are lucky that she takes the time to bother you. Some people would do anything to have their parents care for their well-being just one more time. The realization had humbled him. Sorry. I didn’t know your parents passed away. But she had just shaken her head with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

No, Jungkook, they’re very much alive. They just never cared about me, ever.

He had felt very sorry then, but she had waved her hand and laughed.

Don’t be. I can’t miss something I’ve never had.

It was then that Jungkook realized that he believed in love because his parents were in love. It was later when Jungkook realized that he, too, had been in love, but this was only after he had stopped seeing her. Only after he stopped tasting her strong, concentrated flavor. The world had become a tasteless future despite all the color and saturation trying to grab his attention.

Because she had left.

It might have been short, but that time had been a forever-after packed into a few months.

Jungkook jumped as she tapped the back of his hand with her fingertip.

“Hello? Welcome back to Earth. Did you enjoy your time spacing out?”

She looked amused.

“Guess you haven’t changed from your random space-outs, heh,” she chuckled, taking his empty water bottle and tossing it in the recycling. Even removed the paper label and everything. “Come on. You shouldn’t be interrogating me in Hyungu’s apartment anyway.”

She ushered him out of the apartment and made sure to lock up behind herself. He wondered why she had a key. Then again, her and the guitarist were very clearly good friends. Jungkook wondered if it would still be like that if Hyungu or her started dating. Or, maybe not, if they ended up dating each other.

Suddenly, Jungkook felt incredibly helpless.

She bumped into him because he stopped walking, bouncing off. They were still in the narrow hallway, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors at this late hour. The light in the hallway was warm and low. Not due to the night. More because the lightbulbs were generally old and shitty.

“Woah, what’s going on? You don’t know how to walk straight? Do you need a leash?” she whispered lightheartedly, coming around him.

He looked up.

It must have shown on his face because the playful laughter in her features immediately slipped away upon eye contact.

He had millions of unfair questions swirling in his mind, can we try again, is there something wrong with me, why did you leave me, and Jungkook knew he could ask none of them. For fuck’s sake, they had only just seen each other again tonight. He should just be happy they were together now, even in this platonic way. He should just be happy that she seemed healthy and content. He should just…

But you’ve always known me so well.

You aren’t hard to read, Jungkook, she used to laugh when they talked about how fast they had gotten into bed together.

She placed her hand on his elbow.

Dragged from his minty whirlwind memories and thrown into the present, Jungkook stared at her unreadable expression, but there were too many shadows and his vision was too clouded with what was.

“Come on. We can’t stay here,” she murmured gently, pulling him along.

“I’m not letting you go home alone. It’s not safe.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Teleporting?” You scowled. “Besides, turns out your apartment is closer to here and mine is further down. It makes no sense for you to double back.”

One thing about Jeon Jungkook was that once he got an idea in his head, he was more stubborn than an ox. It was true back then when he was chasing after your ass and it was true right now. He was frowning at you and furrowing his eyebrows. The frustrated expression was broken by how big his dark brown eyes were.

“I keep telling you it’s not a big deal for me, noona. I don’t mind.”

“This isn’t about whether or not you mind,” you sighed grumpily. “It just doesn’t make sense. Fine. Fine, do whatever you want.”

Which was how you ended up in a taxi with Jungkook, crammed in the backseat of a tiny sedan with a grandpa who didn’t make small talk and blasted trot music. Well, it probably would have felt less tiny if Jungkook wasn’t right next to you like a big fabric blob. You hadn’t paid much attention to how crowded you had been on the bus since you were already weighed down by half-dead guitarist and his guitar. You had thought Hyungu had been playing up his drunkenness for the attention but he had thoroughly passed out by the time the bus had arrived. He was a lightweight so you weren’t super worried to leave him alone. Then again, you couldn’t tell Jungkook to get lost and leave you at another guy’s apartment, because what kind of message would that send?

Not that Jungkook’s opinion of how you spent your time mattered.

It had just felt rude, that was all.

You were kind of worried about him anyway. You witnessed him zoning out and simply standing there twice already. Boy was gonna get kidnapped one of these days. Sheesh. The car rolled to a stop. You paid the driver through the app and thanked him, getting a wordless nod in return. Cool. Opened the car door and climbed out, followed by a big shadowy blob.

Uh.

The car drove away.

“Jungkook, you should have asked him to drive you to your place,” you pointed out.

Those big brown eyes looked from your apartment complex to you. “Huh?”

Was the heck is on his mind? You sighed and pulled up the taxi app again. “Give me your address. I did say I’ll pay for it.”

“I, erm…”

You looked up at Jungkook’s uneasy tone. Confused. He looked uncomfortable and awkward, not really looking at you in the face.

“I kinda have to go.”

You blinked at him.

He waved his hands. “Eh, it’s fine. I’ll go find a bush or something. Um.”

“Jungkook, I’m not letting you pee in a bush. Do you see this place? You think they’ll let me continue living here after seeing on one of their cameras that my guest peed in a bush?”

He looked from the white walls to the stone fence to the black iron gate to the immaculately clean, very neatly trimmed, small ball-shaped bushes. They weren’t even knee-height. “I-I-I just don’t want you to t-think…” He shifted, wavering a bit. Eyes darting in every direction. “It was all the water and the alcohol earlier, um…” You sighed and turned around to punch in the code. “I didn’t want you to think I’m doing it on purpose.”

You paused.

Then you pushed the gate open and motioned him in.

“Come on before your piss yourself.”

Which was how you ended up sighing as you tossed your jacket onto your large charcoal sofa while Jungkook emptied his bladder in the bathroom of your apartment. At least you hoped that was what he was doing. You weren’t going to be a creep and try to listen for evidence. You flopped down, cozying into the soft but durable fabric. You wouldn’t have brought this couch if it wasn’t for the great deal and the ability for it to be modular, meaning you could lock the pieces together to make a bed and watch television, as well as also having the ability to make it look like an L-shaped sofa when you had guests over so that they didn’t know that you really put the potato in couch potato several times a week.

Hey.

Money well spent.

Of course, you usually only had very few guests over. Occasional one to warm the bed and maybe hosting Hyungu’s band members. Not at the same time. Duh. You weren’t trying to traumatize the five friends you had – Hyungu and the other four band members. Yeah. Wasn’t much, but they existed, even though they were busy right now being Korean men and all that. Soon, Hyungu would be egg-headed and off to duty too. You puffed out your cheeks. Temporary, of course, and yet.

Who knows what could happen?

You were always prepared to find yourself alone.

Wouldn’t be the first time to come home, only to realize home didn’t exist.

It never had.

You heard commotion and Jungkook reappeared, looking relieved. Probably because he was. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off.

You stood up.

You were past the wishing phase. The pretending phase. Past the numbness and looking for promises when there were none. Expectation was only the precursor to disappointment, after all. To be honest, if it wasn’t for your carnal sex drive, you would be past the distractions too. Good to know you weren’t completely ready to throw in the towel yet. If it wasn’t for someone relying on you, you as well have chosen to fade away.

If it wasn’t for…

You made eye contact with Jeon Jungkook, even though you didn’t want to.

Before today, you really wouldn’t have cared about seeing someone you used to date. Past was in the past. You had made a lot of bad decisions. So far, they hadn’t come back to haunt you yet. As you stared into those big brown eyes, frozen in place by your sudden attention, you wondered what you could say to assure him that you were different from back then. You could admit it now. You could admit back then you were weaker than anybody else, fighting your own demons by running away, wondering what was wrong with you to have parents who fought every day and did everything to run away from their internal struggles except the solution of divorce, and you could admit now that you took out that loss on everyone else around you, all the while knowing the reality.

That was just how life was, sometimes.

Life didn’t know fair and unfair. People made choices without caring about the consequences all the time. You didn’t care enough back then, because you knew you wouldn’t know what to do if they cared back. You knew you could never be beloved when you had nothing and no one to call home.

I don’t want to avoid reality, even if I’m afraid.

The past memories flickered like a whirling panorama – Jungkook nervous in front of you, trying to ask about how the automated system worked so he could get ramyeon with the soft-boiled egg at the PC bang in the dead of night. Playing computer games with him, laughing because he wasn’t very good but still trying for some reason. Learning that he wasn’t doing very well in university and that he was trying to do the escapism thing while working on his video editing business on the side. Sharing a bed with him, not saying anything about how all your belongings only fit in one duffel bag. He didn’t have to know. His face between your hands. Kisses that took his worries away. Body to body, warm for the first time in a long time. Your fingertips walking up his chest, all the way to his rattling heartbeat, turning a simple night into a fantasy.

The thought of your actions having any positive effect seemed foreign and impossible.

But maybe that was the victim mentality talking.

“Can I ask you something, Jungkook?”

He looked surprised. “M…Me?”

You hooked your thumbs into the belt loops of your jeans, doing something with your hands so they wouldn’t fidget about. Even now, he was the same. There was still this persistent innocence about him, stubbornly sticking around as if he could be young forever. He still believed in something, even if life kept trying to tell him time and time again that it wasn’t true.

“Do you still have feelings for me?”

You saw the whirlwind flash through his eyes.

Guilt. Nervousness. Uncertainty. Helplessness, wondering if he was asking for something that could never be given. He was still so easy to read. Those big brown eyes couldn’t hide anything and it wasn’t his nature to lie. There were stars in his eyes.

Those stars were tears.

“You said… You said you can’t feel love,” he shuddered, blinking hard.

There wasn’t much space between you and him. Somewhere around a meter. But it felt like light-years of desolate space and sudden heartache from a heart you weren’t sure you had. Maybe you were born with one, but all flowers wither with no care. You were the desert and he was the ocean, at least in the emotional sense.

You wanted to insist.

I can know love!

But, could you?

You collected a breath and nodded. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for back then. For using you, even though you probably don’t think you were used. For breaking the unspoken promise I couldn’t understand.”

Jungkook looked back at you. His voice small, stranded and lost.

“I have never fallen in love after you, noona.”

You were different now, you told yourself, but maybe you weren’t really and that was the problem.

“It’s impossible to fall in love when I have always been in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that was silly. It had only been a couple months. You hadn’t even really been that attentive. It had been a short-lived romance, if you could call fucking constantly and gaming at the PC bang at three in the morning that. A fleeting gratification. A sharp burst that lit up the timeline of a very long and eventful life that Jeon Jungkook would have. Nothing more.

Just…

A pop of peppermint gum.

You had meaningful relationships. Ones that taught you things about yourself and people. Maybe even ones that other people could consider love, depending on what their definition was.

But, then there was…

Jungkook.

You opened your mouth to tell him he was silly but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Had it been love?

And could it still be love?

“You… You don’t even know what I’m like now,” you blew out, suddenly feeling winded. “I could be a total asshole.” You looked away, tucking your tongue in your cheek.

“But I helped you make sure you got your friend and his guitar home safe?” Jungkook questioned, sounding confused. “Would a total asshole would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you rambled, not so sure about anything anymore. “I mean… you’ve only just met me again after how long?”

“A really long time,” Jungkook answered, frown in his tone.

“Yeah, exactly.” You latched on, not caring that he didn’t even calculate it. “How do you know it’s not rose-tinted glasses and all that?”

He shrugged. Glanced at you. “I don’t really think I have the brainpower for that, noona.”

You stared at him.

Jungkook shrugged again.

You shook your head. “You can’t say that about yourself.”

He scratched his cheek, looking sheepish. “At least I know where I’m still lacking?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No, you–”

He beat you to it.

“Do I have to understand?”

You froze, realizing you had taken a few steps towards him, perhaps in hopes of shaking some sense into him. This was crazy. This didn’t make any sense. This was only a coincidence turned convoluted by memories, tangled emotions, circumstance…

“My mind might forget, but my body always remembered. There is only you for me.”

Your head snapped up, seeing his soft smile. The recall was so fierce that it was déjà vu, except you had been the one with the gentle smile and he had been the one lost, wondering if you were afraid of losing his love. Now. His short black hair a little windswept, his dark brown eyes a little glassy, and yet he smiled at you, mole peeking out from under the center of his lower lip. Do I have to understand? To understand was to know and to know was to be sure that you were in love, except that you said so yourself that sometimes the thoughts didn’t quite catch up to the heart.

He looked embarrassed, abruptly looking away, letting out a shaky breath.

“It’s just… I think I knew it all along but, even if I know, it doesn’t mean I can change your mind, ha… ha, can you imagine, running off to track you down, you would just think I’m crazy, and if I jeopardized your happiness for my own selfishness, I don’t think I could live with myself… and, anyway…”

He wasn’t really looking at anything anymore.

“Even if what I wanted was ugly, our time was beautiful.”

You stepped forward.

“It’s a common, basic story, isn’t it? My wish for us to be exceptional is too foolish,” Jungkook laughed weakly. Rambling. Speaking from his heart but still unable to focus on the present.

You reached forward.

“I wanted everything about you. I still do.”

Your fingertip touched his cheek.

“Don’t cry,” you finally said.

He froze.

You wiped away a fallen star, the overhead lights of your apartment catching the tears before Jungkook even realized they were there. You brushed the droplet away, but they were falling, falling, and he turned his head, still not really registering what was happening, even as the base of your palms pressed into his cheeks and swept his tears away, quickly breathless as you were captured by the universes entangled in his eyes. You could feel the wetness on your skin. The shudder in his breath. His hands came up to touch your wrists, and you still believed you couldn’t be enough for him, even now, but your body responded on its own, cradling his face, bringing him to you.

“Please don’t cry,” you said again, softly, and realized you said it because, a long time ago, you would have done anything to have someone tell you that in the past, please don’t cry. So, you told Jungkook instead.

He was someone as precious as a memory.

And, yes, even if your thoughts didn’t catch up right away, you pulled him to you, body to body, feeling him shiver, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this isn’t very manly of me, and like clockwork you told him to shut up and cry, holding him because you remembered he liked to be held. You had told him back then that you weren’t really the type to cuddle, but he had finally confessed late one night that he yearned to be close to you, even if only for a little while, and that he had been afraid to admit it in fear of pushing you away. So, you relented, if only to comfort him and make him happy.

Is that love?

“It’s okay to cry,” you murmured gently, stroking his hair. “It’s just not okay to cry alone.”

He buried his eyes into your shoulder and wept.

He was still in his jacket, swamping you with his frame and excess layers. You placed your arms around his waist under his parka, feeling his warm and shaking frame, gently placing your hands on his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry… I-I don’t k-know why I’m c-crying…”

“Shh…”

You tugged him along. Step by step, and made him sit on the sofa with you, curled up in a tangle of limbs with your hands on his back. His body was hot from emotion, and he pulled his arms out of his jacket to wipe his nose and eyes with his hoodie sleeves, still not looking at you, and you gave him the privacy, not looking at him either, only holding him as close as possible and keeping his parka on his shoulders, covering you and him together.

“T-This wasn’t how… I t-thought… how I would be hugging you a-again…” Jungkook sobbed quietly, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

You held him close.

“Yeah, well, nothing is really turning out how you or I planned it. Mostly because neither of us had a plan to begin with.”

He laughed, albeit feebly and wetly, but you just smiled and placed your hand on his head again, running your fingers through his hair. You didn’t have a grand speech planned. You didn’t even really know the right words to say or the correct way to organize your thoughts. You simply leaned him against you, nestled in the cushions, and kept your arms wrapped around him for a long, long time.

click here for part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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the-little-ewok · 8 months

Text

Collateral Damage

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 6800 (ish)

Warnings : Friends to lovers, sort of slow burn I suppose, angst, fluff, reader has a fear of flying, arguing, vague illusions to Poe's torture by the FO, vague mention of parental death (Poe's mom), mentions of panic attacks.

Summary : Poe finds out you are scared to fly, and makes it a personal challenge to fix that. Only spending so much time together, causes some complications.

A/N : there's a few bits here that mention Poe's past as a child which is from Freefall however there are no direct Freefall spoilers contained, and it isn't necessary to have read it to enjoy this.

To the anon that requested an angst to fluff Poe fic...I hope you enjoy!

"Poe, please don't look at me like that!" You beg.

"Like what?" Poe gives you a genuinely confused look, as though he hasn't been staring at you for the past ten minutes like you're a particularly complex puzzle he needs to work out.

"Like there's something wrong with me," you sigh, twisting the mug of tea nervously in your hands.

"I never said that! But seriously? You're scared? Of flying? This is a joke right?"

"I just think if we were made to fly we'd have wings is all." You shrug, trying to be nonchalant as you sip your drink, your fingers pressing hard into the china as you try to ignore his shock. You don't look up but you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"How did I not know this? How have you hidden it from me of all people! I'm equally impressed and offended." You suspect by his tone he's more offended than impressed, but it was never truly your intention to hide it from him. The secret just sort of… happened.

When you were children you barely knew Poe, not until after he returned to Yavin, his eyes a little darker than they had been before, his steps a little more calculated, though no less bold. When you started helping Kes out around the little farm he bought, you had gotten to know Poe a lot better. Barely tolerating him at first, before you fell into an close friendship. It had been easy enough to deny his requests to go flying with him in the early days, especially given the amount of trouble he got into.

Then when you were older Poe seemed to flit in and out of your life. Between the academy, the navy, and now the resistance, sometimes it seemed like he was never around.

But he always reappeared eventually. He came back to Yavin sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. He used your back garden like his personal shipping yard, but you never had the heart to tell him off about it, despite the fact you had smashed more than your fair share of crockery in shock at the sudden noise of a roaring engine coming down on your house.

Everytime he asked if you wanted to go flying you found some excuse not to, sometimes elaborate ones you aren't even sure Poe believed. You assume perhaps he thought you were avoiding spending time alone with him, which was in part true some of the time.

You could have told him the truth, but the way he lit up when he talked about flying — the freedom of it, the adventure of it — had always made the words dry in your mouth. He couldn't possibly understand, and you knew he would react, well, exactly as he had.

"I didn't! You never asked, and it never came up in conversation. It shouldn't have tonight. It's irrelevant. I don't need to fly," you shrug stubbornly, wanting to get away from the topic if only to stop the quizzical gaze he's fixed you with since it came up.

"But-but there's a whole galaxy you're missing out on!" He splutters, still wide eyed with shock. "You can't tell me you want to spend the rest of your life on Yavin."

"I like Yavin!"

Poe gives a huff of disbelief at you, folding his arms.

"Liar."

"You know Poe, not all of us have the need to fly out into the night and get blown to pieces like you," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your eyes, frustrated at his reaction. "Anyways it's late. I should go."

Getting up you put your mug in the sink and grab your jacket, intent on leaving and finding some way to avoid this topic for the next however many years, probably forever.

"Hey, hey, don't go. I'm sorry, okay?" Poe begs getting up and taking a gentle grip of your arm to prevent you moving. You ignore the fire that ignites your skin where his fingers are wrapped loosely around your arm.

"Tell me what scares you? About flying I mean? Let me try and understand," he pleads.

Taking a breath you sigh. How could you explain it to someone who spent their whole life up there? How could you explain it to someone who lived and breathed the freedom of the flight?

"Pilots die, all the time. Things go wrong, fights, pirates, technical failures…" you trail off with a wave of your hand, freeing your arm from his gentle grip, not used to his touch. "I just…can't stand the thought of dying alone out there in the cold. It's hard enough worrying about that happening to you."

"You sound like my dad," Poe sighs quietly. "He didn't want me flying either. Not after my mom."

Reaching back out you squeeze his hand briefly, knowing that while the relationship between Poe and Kes had somewhat mended over the years, some cracks ran too deep to ever be fully healed.

"You know, Kes never shuts up about you flying. Always talking about what a good pilot you are and how your mom would be so proud of you, how you fly just like her. I swear it's all I heard for weeks the last time you were here."

Poe falls quiet for a long moment, deep in thought, a frown etched deep into his brow.

"He's proud of you, Poe. I know he struggles to say it sometimes, but he is," you offer gently.

Poe waves a hand nonchalantly, as though it doesn't bother him, but you know it does.

"Well you know my dad likes to keep things to himself, but apparently not from you," he eyes you somewhat suspiciously. "He likes you, you know. He told me once I should marry you. Imagine that, us, married."

He lets out a snort of a laugh as he shakes his head at the thought. You want to make a joke about it, you want to laugh it off and tell him you'd never agree to it even if he asked, but the spark of feelings you've so carefully navigated all these years flared to life suddenly and in full force at his words.

There's always been something between you, something a little more than friendship, something you both know can't be. Something both of you have avoided talking about for a long time now.

Perhaps when you were younger maybe you could have figured something out, but Poe was hardly ever around and now, well now your worlds were too far apart. Yours here on the ground, his far off in the stars. It was better not to prod too hard at open wounds, but Poe's laughter at the thought of you together, still cuts deeply.

Something must flicker across your expression because his amusement dies and Poe gives you a half smile.

"It's just, you know, you're seeing someone. Aren't you?"

"It didn't work out." You shrug as though you don't care. The truth was it never worked out, because you would always be in love with someone else. How were you supposed to give your heart away when at any given moment the one that makes it beat could drop from the sky without warning?

"Oh," he sounds genuinely sad which only drives the knife further in. You drop your eyes from his, pulling at a loose thread on your jacket as he continues. "I'm sorry. You'll meet someone else though! Although maybe…. Off this planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. Really you shouldn't be surprised that he found a way to spin the topic right back to your issues with flying, which you suppose was better than your love life so at least there was that.

"Oh come on. You can't be scared if you haven't tried it! Lemmie take you!" Poe sounds like an excited child on life day. Clearly the thought of conquering your fear appealed to him.

"Absolutely not! I've seen the way you fly!"

"Did you not just say even my dad thinks I'm good at flying? And besides," he leans on the counter, a shit eating grin plastering his face, "didn't you hear I'm the best pilot in the resistance?"

You roll your eyes at his cocky statement.

"Poe, I've heard a great deal of things about you over the years, not all of them I can believe and most of them I've had to defend your good name against!"

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like a curious loth cat.

"Like what?"

You quickly go through the ment rollerdex of things you've heard, deciding to pick out your favourite.

"Like… the time you apparently almost married a Hutt."

Poe opens his mouth and then closes it again, suddenly becoming very interested in a tin of tea on the side. He picks it up, rolling it between his palms, purposely not looking at you.

"Well, really that wasn't even my fault," he mumbles eventually, realising you aren't going to fill the expectant silence.

He can't seriously have done that? The ridiculous story can't possibly be the truth?

"You have to be kidding me! I got into the biggest argument that you wouldn't be so stupid to get into something with them. Do I even want to know the real story?"

You had vehemently defended your friend, arguing well into the night that while yes, Poe was reckless, and yes sometimes he spoke without thinking, and yes sometimes trouble found him, you were still absolutely sure the story was completely untrue. You suppose you have a few apologies to make now.

"It's not like I intended to agree to the marriage! It just sort of… happened."

You stare at him, open mouthed waiting for the rest of the story, knowing he won't be able to resist defending himself. But instead of launching into a lengthy explanation he grins, setting the tea down slowly and fixing you with an expression you are all too familiar with. The one he uses when he knows he's about to get something he wants.

"Trade. I'll fly you somewhere. Then I'll tell you."

And there it was. He knew you wanted to know the truth, unable to resist a good story about the far off places he visited and troubles he got into. You should have predicted the bastard would use that against you.

You fold your arms.

"No."

"I'll just fly you to the other side of Yavin? Short trip, in and out."

"No!"

Poe sighs dramatically, pushing himself up off the counter.

"Fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you the whole story if you let me show you around my ship and tell you how unscary it is to fly. Strictly no piloting."

"Please agree so you can both shut up. It's after midnight, and the noise you two make will bring the first order down on our heads without them even looking!" Kes Dameron booms from the hallway, making both of you jump.

"Sorry dad!" Poe yells while he gives you a grin of victory.

"Sorry Kes! I'm leaving now." With a sigh of resignation you slip on your jacket. "Fine. No flying."

"No flying," Poe agrees with a nod, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers invitingly. You hesitate to take it, but he slides his hand into yours anyway, squeezing your fingers. "I'll walk you home."

You try not to think about how right it feels to have your hand in his.

"Poe, Poe," you repeat a little louder as he continues rambling away, pointing to the different parts of his X-Wing, a misty look in his eyes. You're sure you lost him a good while ago, and he hasn't stopped talking long enough for you to explain you have no idea what he's talking about.

"You have to put your hand up to ask a question when I'm teaching," he chides you teasingly. Rolling your eyes you put your hand up, glaring at him when he grins silently at you for a long drawn out moment. Just as your patience breaks, opening your mouth to ask anyway, he cuts in first.

"You have a question?"

"Several," you respond dryly. "Firstly, can you please slow down? I've no idea what you've been talking about for the last twenty minutes. Secondly, I'm pretty sure you've told me about everything that can go wrong and now I want to be near this thing even less. Thirdly -"

"This thing? This thing?" He interupts, his eyes going wide with shock. "This thing is a T-70 X-wing. I've done a lot of work on this thing!"

"I apologise I insulted your ship," you laugh, watching his brows pull together in an annoyed frown. Maker, Flyboys! As cute as he was you couldn't really expect any other reaction.

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to her!" He points at his ship before he folds his arms stubbornly, as though he's actually serious. You pause for a moment, realising he is serious.

"Thirdly, I don't think this is helping and I'm sure you have better things to be doing," You continue, ignoring his sulk. Poe drops his arms, his expression softening.

"It is helping," he insists. "If you know what can go wrong then you know how to fix it, or how to account for it at the least. Then that part isn't so scary anymore. I promise."

"It doesn't feel like it's helping," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your chest, the low hum of anxiety vibrating under your ribs. "I'm sorry. I'm not being ungrateful. It's very nice of you to do this."

"You don't think I can do it," he grins and you roll your eyes at him for what feels like the thousandth time since he's been back.

"I'm not a challenge," you remind him with a glare.

"You kinda are though," he grins. Trust Poe to see this as some sort of game he can win. "Come on. You can trust me. I know about these things. How'd you think I survived this long?"

"Sheer dumb luck?"

Poe laughs, a deep elated noise that brings a smile to your lips and makes your heart ache with affection. It seems so rare these days that he truly laughs like that, and when he does, here with you, it only makes his inevitable absence harder to swallow.

"Probably a bit of that too," he admits with a shrug. "Okay, new plan."

He plonks himself down on the ground, patting the space in front of him for you. When you're settled opposite him he takes both your hands in his. When you try to pull away, the touch giving a jolt in your chest, he grips your fingers tighter, forcing you to stay with him. It's an all too familiar dance now. You push him away, and he only proceeds to try and hold you closer. When he's here you wish he wouldn't, but when he's gone, you ache for his easy familiarity.

He gives you a genuine open look, and your heart aches a little that he's truly trying to help when you feel so beyond helping.

"What do you think about when you get scared? When you think about being up there. What is it that worries you so much?"

"I guess dying alone?" You suppress a shudder at the thought of floating out there in the darkness, no one to hear you scream for help.

The pilot doesn't even miss a beat before he answers quickly.

"Okay, I'd be with you so that's not a problem. We would die together."

You glare at him, unamused. Ignoring your vehement stare he gestures for you to continue.

"Fine. Being shot out of the sky. Lot of time to think about dying while you're plummeting to the ground."

He gives you a grin, "We both know that's not an issue because I'm a great pilot, so no matter where we are I promise you I'll land safely, all parts intact, especially all the bits I like," he winks and you desperately try to ignore the flare of heat on your skin. "I've done it so many times I could do it in my sleep! Next problem."

"Kidnapped by pirates." You shoot quickly.

"They'll give you back after half an hour." Poe snorts with laughter when you reach out and slap his arm hard.

"Asshole," you grumble, fighting back a smile.

He grins at you, clearly enjoying himself at your expense and while you should mind his teasing, you find it hard to care, not when his eyes are lit up with genuine joy.

"You are really not helping," you laugh eventually, shaking your head. "I'm a lost cause."

"Not entirely, just mostly. I mean none of these are good reasons to be scared," Poe smiles and you have to admit it chafes you a little that he still doesn't seem to understand.

"I never said my fear was rational."

"It's not entirely irrational either," Poe acknowledges with a shrug, finally allowing you to pull your hands out of his while he taps his chin in thought. You curl your fingers into your palms, willing away the memory of his touch.

"What you need is a distraction!" Poe proclaims brightly. For a shocked moment you think he's talking about a distraction from him, which is entirely exactly what you need. But he keeps talking and you realise it's nothing like that, although he inadvertently makes you distracted anyway, from flying at least.

"Yeah, something to take your mind off getting up there."

You shake your head, knowing it won't work. Suddenly this whole thing seems like a bad idea. Poe wasn't one to give up, and yet over the years you've tried just about everything to get over your fear. A weariness starts to creep in, encouraging you to make your excuses and leave.

"I doubt anything would distract me that much. Anyway, I think we should do something else. Flying isn't that important." You try, knowing it's hopeless now you've encouraged him this much.

"What if I flew naked?" He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. His constant blatant flirting is starting to take a toll, and you can't muster even a smile this time. He knows, yet he does it anyway. It's infuriating sometimes, purposely poking and prodding when you're just trying to get by without spilling your heart all over the grass.

"Coming from the person who laughed at the notion of us being married, I don't see how you think I'd care about that." You don't quite mean to bite it out the way you do, but Poe ignores your attitude and leans back on his arms, gazing at you.

"Yeah, because we'd argue all day long about everything. I'd be messy, and you'd want a tidy house, we would fight over what to have for dinner, because you won't believe I'm the better cook, I'd want to paint the walls blue, but you'd want green. You'd want to live here and I wouldn't." He waves his hand, indicating that there would be a longer list of issues if he continued. "The thought of us being married is funny because it would be chaotic, not because I don't love you."

The words hit you like a shot, and judging by the look of fear on the pilot's face he probably hadn't thought them through before they left his mouth.

"Guess the cats out of the bag now. Well, suppose it was never really fully in the bag anyway," he mumbles, running a hand through his messy curls, before he stares up at the sky. "I mean, I know we've never….I know we've never gone down that road, but you know I've always had a soft spot for you."

You knew. Of course you knew. You both held an affection for each other, but you also know it wasn't meant to be. Maker knows you've spent your life trying to get over him, and Poe… well he never breathed a word about his feelings in the matter. You assumed he had moved on some time ago. If his list of conquests was anywhere half true, he moved on quite well.

You avoid his gaze, looking down at the dirt. "Love is a lot different than a soft spot. Seems funny you never mentioned that before."

Poe swallows, sitting back up properly and reaching to take your hands, you snatch them back before he has a chance, a swell of anger starting in your chest. There is no need for him to tell you this. You don't want him to tell you this. It won't make any difference to say it out loud.

"I knew I couldn't stay so what was the point? You've said yourself how much you love Yavin. Who was I to ask you to give it all up? You deserve someone who could be there for you, where you wanted to be. You still deserve someone like that."

"So why bring it up when you know it isn't you?" You snap angrily, getting to your feet, panic pulsing through your veins. While you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, in reality you have no idea how to react. Suddenly the open wound becomes a sinkhole, and every wall you've placed around your feelings starts to crumble in. Your chest constricts with panic. He can't do this now. Not after all this time. You won't be able to rebuild what he's torn down. This will burn your friendship to the ground.

"Because I'm selfish," the pilot admits, jumping up and following you as you storm across the garden towards the house, the flaring pain in your chest getting worse with each word that leaves his mouth. You won't talk about this. You can't talk about this.

"Yes, you are! You blaze in and out of my life and everytime I think I might have a chance to mend myself, you come tearing down from the sky. Maybe it is about time to actually have this conversation so we can both move on!" You spin on your heel to face him, stepping back when he reaches for you again.

If he touches you now you won't ever be able to let him go, he'll find a way to calm you down and you don't want to be calm. You want to be angry. You want to yell, scream, and let out every feeling you've kept locked inside. You want him to feel even a small spark of what he's done to you for years. You need to be angry.

"Why can't we just be together now?" He interrupts your rant.

"What's the point, Poe? You know I won't leave, I can't leave. And you can't stay. It won't work and we both know it."

"We don't know that because we haven't tried!" He implores passionately. "You can come with me! The resistance would be lucky to have you. If you just try! If you just let me show you. I promise it's not so scary, and then we can go anywhere we like!"

"I can't do it, Poe. I just can't and there's no point trying to make you of all people understand that."

You turn to leave but this time he's quicker than you, reaching out and catching hold of your wrist.

"So this is how it ends is it? We dance around this for years and then we just do what? Give up?" The pain lacing his voice is enough to make your lip tremble as you bite back the tears.

"You're right. We've danced around this for years because we both know it isn't going to work! Why now? Why after all this time decide to drag all this up now?"

"Because we are in the middle of a war. Because I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Because I might not be here to tell you this, and for some reason it kills me that I might be gone and you would never know that I loved you. I've waited years for you to find someone who makes you happy, someone who gives you everything I can't, but everytime I come here I know it hurts you because it hasn't happened. And I need you to know that someone, that I, love you. I don't think I can just walk away this time." He sounds resigned and it crumbles away every last brick you had to protect yourself. Poe doesn't think he's going to survive this war. In the end, he knows he's going to leave you anyway.

It makes you angry to hear him talk that way. Poe was the upbeat one. Poe was the one who always figured a way out. He doesn’t just accept the inevitable. And you don't need him concerned about you either.

"Well you should just walk away, because I don't need your pity!" You yell, feeling the hot tears escaping your eyes.

"That's not what it is!" Poe takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself and de-escalate the situation. "I'm just trying to be honest with you for once. I can't just leave and say nothing this time."

"You mean like you have every time you disappear into the sky for months on end?" You laugh bitterly.

The pilot swallows, his eyes searching yours, pleadingly, begging you to understand why now, but the anger still swells in your chest.

"I've always come back to you. Every time I can. For Makers sake do you think I'd be here so often if you weren't?"

When you say nothing Poe frowns, reading your expression all too clearly.

"You won't even consider coming with me? You won't even try?"

You wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself together as you shake your head.

"I can't. We can't and you know it. I…can't leave. I can't leave," you repeat in a whisper, shaking your head, the tears flowing fast down your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Poe apologies softly, reaching out to take your arms, drawing you close to him. You try to fight it, pulling your body away, but Poe ignores you, holding you tight against him until you stop fighting, allowing him to hug you tightly.

"I know you can't leave," he admits, letting you go to cup your cheek, his palm warm against your cooled skin, his thumb sweeping away tears. "You don't have to, okay? Just say the word. Say the word and I'll be here, with you. I'll stay right here so we can try. Tell me that's what you want. Tell me you feel the same and I'll do it."

You know what he's offering, and you know he can't fulfil it. He's speaking without thinking it through, in desperation, trying to fix things, to fix the damage his words have done.

You wish you could accept it, but the thought of Poe grounded, here, a place he fought so hard to escape, causes an ache in your chest. You know it can't be that way.

Maybe he would give it all up for you, but it would never be enough. Not for him. Eventually the cracks would form, and he'd be gone, and leave you so much more broken than you already were.

"Tell me you feel the same," he whispers, leaning into you.

"Don't do this," you beg softly, bring your hands up to rest on his arms to push him away. You can't seem to make your body follow through with the action.

"Then stop me," Poe challenges, his hand sliding around the back of your neck. He's so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

Maker, he was going to break your heart. He won't stay, he can't stay. You won't make him do that, not for you. But you're sick of fighting it, sick of trying to pretend. He's here, with you, wanting you. Just this once, once can't hurt.

The screeching beep of his comms stops you both, the sudden insistent noise cutting through the tension and your own clouded thoughts, making you step away from him quickly. Poe lets you go, his expression pained, though he doesn't move to answer the incoming call.

Swallowing hard you gesture to his pocket, refusing to meet his gaze, fearful of what you might find there.

"You should get that."

"Yeah," he nods distractedly, taking a breath and fishing the comm out. He holds it in his hands, glaring at it before his gaze flickers back to you. "Can we talk later?"

You hesitate initially but then nod. Later gave you time to think, to process everything, to try to explain to him why this can't be. Maybe you can salvage your friendship after some time apart.

A tiny voice in your head whispers the vicious truth. It was too late for that.

It's less than an hour before he leaves again, back on urgent business for the resistance. You hadn't opened the door when he came to say goodbye. You hadn't answered when he asked if you wanted him to stay, and you hadn't the strength to smile and see him off this time. He left you with the memory of his muffled voice, promising he will come back, promising he'll figure out a way to make this work, begging you to think, to try.

For once you're grateful he's gone. At least he isn't around to see the damage.

The tea Kes Dameron had pressed into your hands has long since gone cold as you stare out at the grass, little shoots growing where previously a star fighter engine had burnt them away, one that so far hadn't returned, and perhaps never would.

There's a sigh behind you, a creak of the porch steps as Kes sits down next to you. The older man had come to help you fix the flickering light in the kitchen, something you'd have once asked Poe how to fix, allowing him to instruct you via comlink, teasing and laughing at your questions and frustrations. But you hadn't spoken to Poe, not in months now, too ashamed and regretful of your behaviour, and too fearful of what speaking with him may bring up.

"He was asking about you again earlier. You can't keep avoiding his comms."

You can feel Kes's eyes on you but you refuse to look up from the dent in the grass. You don't need to ask who he means.

"I'm not. Poe calls at bad times."

Kes makes a disbelieving noise, taking the now cold mug out of your hands and setting it down to the side, making you finally look up.

"It's been a bad time for the past two months. What happened between you?" He frowns at you.

"Nothing." It was the truth. In the end nothing had happened, not really. But the almost of it, the almost hurt worse.

You don't want to talk about Poe. You don't want to think about it. But the next question slips out without you being able to stop it.

"How is he?"

Kes lets out a long breath.

"You know Poe, all smiles and reassurances but he hasn't been the same. Not since…" Kes trails off and your stomach gives a now familiar lurch at the memory of Kes turning up at your door, pale and scared, stuttering out that the First Order had captured his son. As far as you know Poe never told Kes what happened in those days he was gone, but if the stories you heard were even half true, you're surprised he made it out alive.

"He needs someone there," Kes continues eventually.

"He has his squadron." You ignore what Kes is implying. It's a conversation you've had a hundred times over now. It makes your chest ache in a now all too familiar way.

"He needs you, and for all your denial you need him. You can't spend your whole life moping around here. I can make the arrangements to get you there. You just have to say the word."

You had tried in the weeks following his departure to do as he asked, to fly. You had walked to the shipping yard every day, listened to the roar of the engines, talked to the pilots, tried with every fibre to set foot on a ship, any ship, but you couldn't do it.

You had come to accept that you were right to distance yourself. There was no way for you to be together.

"Kes, I can't do that. I… me and Poe… we just aren't… our lives don't fit together." The shame burns in your chest that you couldn't be there for him when he needed someone the most, after his escape from the First Order.

Kes scoffs in an all too familiar way. You wonder if Poe knows where he got that reaction from, if he knows how much like his father he can be.

"Don't fit together? You kids," Kes rolls his eyes. "Nothing in this life is ever easy. If you want something enough you'll find a way through it. Poe's mother," he hesitates, the words catching in his throat. It's rare for Kes to mention Shara, but when he does, it always seems it causes him physical pain. The older man swallows hard before he continues, looking up at the sky.

"She was a free spirit like Poe. But she loved with her whole heart, and so does he. He'd give up the world for you. Don't let your fear hold you back. Don't make the same mistake with him that I did. If you do, you may lose him forever."

Kes was right in a way, your fear was holding you back, it always had. You'd always known Poe's heart was in the stars, and your fear would never let you leave the ground. But Poe had offered to give his world up for you — his stars, his resistance, his freedom. Even if he couldn't stick to it, he was willing to try.

Maybe you could try again. For him.

Poe is still in his flight suit, his hair damp and messy, helmet clutched in one hand, talking animatedly with another pilot who you vaguely recognise, who apparently knows you straight away. The pilot nudges Poe — who continues to chatter away obviously— before forcefully spinning him around to point at you.

You can tell you are probably the very last person he's expecting. His eyes go wide and he blinks a few times, as though he's imagining you here. He opens and closes his mouth but whatever words he wanted to get out, don't seem to come, or at least you can't hear them across the yard.

You hadn't told him you were coming. In fact, you still hadn't answered a single one of his comms. It's not that you hadn't wanted to talk to him, but more that you hadn't wanted to disappoint him if, in the end, you couldn't go through with it. Getting here had taken weeks, the trip was rearranged three times after you found yourself unable to get on the ship, and in the end Kes had dragged you in himself and tied you into your seat, reasoning that you needed a push. He was probably right, but you would still be having words when you saw him again.

Raising a hand to Poe you give him a small wave, glad that you landed a good few hours before he returned from whatever mission run he was on this time. It had given you time to clean up and compose yourself, for the shaking to finally stop.

You hesitate in the landing bay, unsure if you should go over or stay put. Poe decides for you because the moment you move a foot forward, he runs to you, skidding to a stop almost toe to toe with you.

"Here-you-h-how?" He stutters out looking you over, as though you might have been kidnapped and dragged here against your will. "Is everything okay? What's happened? My dad-"

"Is fine," you cut him off, recognising his rising panic. "Everything's okay at home. I just thought it was about time I came to see you for once." You give him a nonchalant wave of your hand and a shrug, although your stomach feels full of stones as you take in the new scar across his cheek.

"But… you wouldn't even fly with me!" He sputters out, as though that's the most important point.

You give him an apologetic smile.

"Your dad made me realise I needed to be here," you confess, "We heard about what happened. Your dad was worried about you and how…" you were coping after being tortured.

You don't finish the sentence, swallowing hard.

"I was worried about you." You drop your eyes, instead gazing down at his scuffed boots, still feeling ashamed you hadn't been here sooner.

The pilot sighs, "I'd have come to you if you'd just answered my calls. I just thought you didn't want to see me, and then things here got… a bit crazy."

"I know, but the way we left things. I didn't know…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I tried to come, I really did. I couldn't and… I couldn't tell you…I panicked and everything that happened, and what we said, and what I did, and I wanted to be here for you when you were… but I couldn't. I tried but i couldn't do it, and then -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Poe shushes you, pulling you into his arms and holding you against him tightly, while you try to ramble out an explanation, an apology, and confession all in one, the words tumbling together, desperate to escape.

"Shhh stop," he repeats softly, squeezing you against his chest.

It's more than just a friendly hug, it's more than just a greeting. He holds you tighter than he ever has, one hand curled into the back of your shirt while the other grips his helmet, his face buried in your neck, as though he could hide from the world. Your heart aches for him and everything he's been through as you hold him.

You wait for him to ask you questions, to call you out on how you acted, even to tease you for the whole situation.

Instead, "I'm so proud of you," is all he says.

You bite your lip hard to hold back a flow of tears, gripping his flight suit as he squeezes you breathless.

"I can't believe I wasn't your first," he huffs suddenly against your skin.

"What?" You squeak, heat flushing over your skin at the sudden change in conversation.

"Pilot! I wanted to take you on your first flight," He sighs, pulling away to pout at you in the most adorable of ways. It makes you want to laugh at the look of actual disappointment on his face. You hadn't realised it had meant so much to him, then you remember that he had seen you as a challenge and can't help but wonder if it's purely that someone else won, where he lost. You can tease him about it later and find out.

For now you'll sooth his jealousy just a little.

"Does it help if I tell you your dad had to basically restrain me. I cried, had I don't know how many panic attacks, shut my eyes the whole way, and I absolutely never want to do it again?"

Poe considers this for a minute before he grins, "Kinda does… but not the crying or panic bit. Or the fact you don't want to do it again" he clarifies quickly, before you have a chance to tease him about enjoying your misery. "We can work on changing that last part. And I'm still sad you didn't trust me to take you first."

"Well maybe if you didn't fly that barely legal piece of junk X-Wing I'd have-"

He suddenly leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting off any further insults you could throw at his ship, and while his kiss takes you by surprise, it's not unwelcome, and you immediately find yourself sinking into it.

The kiss tastes of desperation, of impatience, of longing buried for too long.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You tangle your fingers in his sweat damp curls in the way you've wanted to for so long.

His helmet thumps noisily to the ground when he drops it to wrap both his arms around you this time, pulling your body hard against his. He slides one hand up your back to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as he kisses you passionately.

This time it isn't his comms that interrupt you, but the hollering cheer of his squadron.

You pull apart suddenly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Poe gives you an abashed smile, throwing a rude hand gesture to his still cheering comrades, mumbling a soft apology.

"Sorry, I just decided it might be better to skip the talking part this time, since it didn't really work out so well last time."

You can't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling dizzyingly elated at the lingering feel of his lips on yours.

"No, it did not."

Poe grins, drawing you close once more, "now what were you saying about my beautiful custom X-Wing that you are absolutely going to be flying one day?"

You roll your eyes. Flyboys.

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

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron

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bts-0t-7 · 5 months

Text

So What? | MYG | Chapter 14

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.7K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle @ldysmfrst @idkjustlovingbts @popcatx0 @yoonjinsgirl @marblemoonstones

A/N: As promised :) hehe...

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Seokjin had come over in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep and inerputed him for a movie marathon. Beyond tired was a mild way of putting it. He woke up early in the morning, struggling and finally managing to shimmy out of your grasp after a long fifteen minutes. He stilled against the bed, one foot out on the floor, bed hair spiking everywhere, and head slowly turning to you as you whined about the loss of contact. Acting fast, Seokjin tucked a pillow under your arm.

You sighed and nuzzled it, quickly falling back into the Dreamland.

Seokjin rubbed his face and got out of bed, padding to your kitchen on soft feet to prepare some breakfast. As he opened the refrigerator, he found two lunchboxes of overnight oats. Opening them, he took a sniff, trying to sense how long they had been in the fridge. After he deemed that they were edible, he placed one on the table and headed to pack your living room as he ate.

It wasn't long before you woke up to the birds cawing outside your window, silently cursing them to let you sleep a little longer. Just as you were almost back asleep, they started calling again, causing you to groan out in frustration. Everything has been frustrating recently. You patted the space beside you, only for your hands to touch against the cool sheets.

Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed, heading to the kitchen where you were sure your brother was.

Only to find it empty with a box of half-eaten overnight oats you had just made last afternoon. You tilted your head, yawning as you tried to think.

"That's mine." Seokjin came into the kitchen with arms full of opened snacks and dirty, empty cups. "Go take yours. I left it in the fridge."

"Where were you?" Your voice came out scratchy and hoarse, the aftermath of all the tears and screaming last night.

"Living room." Seokjin placed the cups in the sink. "I'm surprised you walked straight past me at the couch just now." He snickered, keeping your snacks in the baskets.

"You were probably hiding from me, waiting for this moment."

"Nah, I wouldn't be so bad."

The both of you started the day by cleaning your house, Seokjin nagging at you for not taking care of yourself and the place you live in. The constant "Look at the amount of dust there is on this!" and "Oh my gosh, Y/N!". At least your brain took a break from what you were running from. After dinner, Seokjin had left, saying that he was called back to the hospital. You shooed him off despite him worrying over you.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" His brows were creased against his forehead. "I can cancel anyway. My licence is no longer valid so technically calling me back is unnecessary. So I can stay if you need me."

"Just go, Seokjin."

"They'll probably make me stay the whole night, you know that."

"I know that." You patted his shoulder. "Just go, I'll be fine."

With your constant pestering and deflection, Seokjin reluctantly left your house, leaving you once again in your mind. You watch as his car revered from the parking lot, driving away. You closed the curtains and turned off the lights.

Might as well get some sleep to escape reality.

The sad truth of that.

You had woken up just as Lillianne burst into your house screaming, “FBI, OPEN UP!”

Groaning, you turned to the side, hands blindly grabbing your phone off the coffee table. When your sleep-muggled brain finally registered the time that your screen showed you, you shot up, cursing your way to your room.

“I was wondering why you weren’t out yet. You better be lucky I came in.”

Hastily, you got yourself ready, shrugging on clothes like you were just caught. Technically, you were. You and Lils managed to leave the house in a record time of seven minutes, only missing your water bottle. But the water in the shop was free anyway, so you’d just take that.

Starting the car, you drove off in the direction of the shop. The moment you stepped in, you were already dreading coming to work. The shop was filled with customers.

Good for the business, not good for your health.

Starting the orders in the receipts, you prepped yourself for a long night ahead. Lils worked at the cashier, shoving more receipts your way as you balanced making drinks and serving to scoop ice creams.

You were certainly not pleased with the amount of people in the shop at four in the afternoon. But it was a Saturday - what could you say?

Family gatherings, children playing around, couples on dates. It made your heart clench every time you had to serve a couple. Seeing the lovey-dovey looks they send each other reminded you of a certain hybrid. Shaking your head, you tightened your apron and continued. The coffee would not make itself and the food would not serve itself.

Oh, how you would love that.

Then, you wouldn’t have to constantly run about. But that is the nature of the job. One could only expect so much from a food and beverage job. The night went on much busier than usual on a Saturday night. Parties were held there with big gatherings and by the time the shop closed, you had heard a good four birthday songs and seen an uncountable amount of bouquets.

Cleaning up, you cleared off the used cutleries and dishes, setting them in the sink for the kitchen staff to wash. Ensuring that no ice cream scooper is left in their respective boxes overnight, you then swept and mopped the floor before cleaning the tables. Going out to throw the trash, you grabbed the bags from the kitchen and outside.

Spotting a black cat sitting idly at the bus stop, you gave it a small hello before speed-walking to the bins. They were heavy trash bags. There were a lot of baking and alcohol bottles used today. You weren’t sure when the cat had leapt down and followed you, but you soon found yourself stumbling over, trying not to step on the cat’s wagging tail. It walked in between your legs, rubbing its head against your calves - chasing it was more likely - as its tail swished violently.

Its actions reminded you a lot of Yoongi. That cat loved to show affection by constantly rubbing your calves and scenting you in between your shoulders. He had said that it was a comfortable spot to sleep on.

Your heart clenched at the thought of him.

After throwing the trash away, you squatted down to give its head a small pat with the back of your hands. “I’m sorry, buddy. My hands are filled with syrup right now and I wouldn’t like you for you to get sick when you groom yourself.”

It followed you to the shop, stopping just outside the doors.

“Come on in, buddy.” You gestured for the cat.

It was dark outside and with the heavy trash bags, you didn’t take a good look at the cat, trying to work your way around not hurting it. But now that it was inside, it mewoed and continued to rub at your ankles, going around you in circles.

“Sit.” You instructed it. It was something you hoped it could understand. And it did.

After washing your hands, you rummaged through the kitchen for a can of tuna. Spotting three, you took them all with you and headed out. Opening one, you placed it in front of the cat. “There you go, you can have all three. I’ll go get you some water, okay?”

When you headed back to the front, you found it prodding at the second can. “Here,” You placed the bowl of water onto the floor. “Have some water first. I’ll open it for you.”

You were stopped with two paws on your arm, the cat jumping up onto your lap. Sitting down in a cross-legged position, gave it more space to roam. But it seemed to know exactly where it wanted to be. In the middle with his head propped on your upper thigh. Its loud purrs fill the room as you stroke it from ear to snout.

It looks just like Yoongi.

You knew that but your conscious brain was just trying to reject it.

It wasn’t until its moonlit eyes slid to yours did the waterworks started. Carrying him up, you looked at the cat in your arms through watery eyes. Its shocked expression and terrified meows -

Your eyes closed the moment you felt his rough tongue lick your cheek. Tilting your head away from him to not cover his shiny fur in your slob, you tucked him between your neck and shoulder, head hanging down.

Yoongi knew Jimin was right.

Yoongi knew that he needed to talk to you.

Yoongi also knew the address where you stayed and worked.

So when he overheard Seokjin asking a favour from Jimin to keep his phone on call in case you needed him, Yoongi dashed out of the house. Scurrying from Jimin’s home to the shop, his little cat paws could only get him there so fast.

By the time he reached it, he was parched. Panting, he stuck his tongue out to moderate his temperature. He wanted to take the chance of the next customer to enter the shop and call your attention to him. But seeing you so busy, running from place to place without a stop, Yoongi decided that it was better if he waited until the shop closed.

So Yoongi took his spot at the shaded area of the bus stop and watched you work. You were quick and agile, moving like the wind. Many times, he saw the flinch of pain and growth of your eyes when you were scared. When big groups of people came in, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes. You tried not to show the customers - but Yoongi knew better. The pain in your eyes when you see couples made his head hang.

It was his fault.

When the day was finally over and the shop closed, Yoongi waited for his chance. Like a cat hunting for his prey, Yoongi’s attention grew sharper. He noted each of your movements and when you finally came out with trash bags in hand, he leaped for it.

He did not expect you to spot him from far but you did.

It made his heart swell with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Pride, most probably.

She noticed me.

Rubbing against your ankles, he meowed for your attention, glad to finally be close to you. You hadn’t recognised him and it made Yoongi feel a little… sad. But the moment you did, you burst into tears and Yoongi couldn’t find a way to stop it. He was essentially trapped in your hold. He meowed frantically, hoping that you would sense the distress in his voice and stop. But you didn’t.

You continued, caressing his fur and mumbling his name over and over again.

With a meow and a particularly harsh tug, he slid out of your grasp and stood on your thighs, licking your face. You laughed as he found your sensitive spot just behind your ear. Trying to get him out of your face, Yoongi held on and continued. It was better than you crying.

“Okay, okay.” You got up, placing him on a table as he hissed from the cold contact. “I’m okay. But now I have to go wash my face since you just covered me in slobber.”

Yoongi sat up and watched your movements. From cleaning up yourself to cleaning the floor and leftover water to you turning off everything and picking him up, he didn’t dare relax. It wasn’t until you placed him in your car and wrapped him in his favourite towel did he started to feel it.

He was holding it in for such a long time that -

Tears unconsciously slid down his eyes, matting his fur.

He didn’t know how long it was before your arms pulled him up again, carrying him onto your lap. “Yoongs… Don’t cry… We’ll figure it out, I’ll try harder. I promise.”

But it has nothing to do with you.

It’s me.

The silence was kept at a peaceful wavelength until you reached home. Picking him and your bags up, he cuddled closer to you, seeking your warmth in the chilly air. The moment you opened the door, Yoongi lept out of your arms and slinked through the cat door on his door, pleased to find that it had not been locked.

Quickly shifting and changing, Yoongi left the room and slid to your side on the floor.

You brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks but he did not dare grumble. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

“I chose you, Y/N. I choose you, mate.” Yoongi confessed.

You closed your eyes as your lips trembled and Yoongi brought his hands up to wipe away the tears that streaked down your face.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered.

“No, please don’t be. Please.” Yoongi begged. “You are the most amazing person ever. The most beautiful and does everything you can just for me. I am sorry. I have let you down - hurt you just because I thought it was easier to let you hate me than love me.” Yoongi let himself go, crying in your lap. “My strong, beautiful, exceptional mate.” Yoongi looked up at you, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

This is one of the few times that Yoongi broke down in front of you.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” Yoongi kneeled in front of you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry. I did not mean - I -”

You gently placed your hands in his hair, ruffling them and stroking his ears. Yoongi’s harsh sobs could be heard throughout your house. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You mumbled into his hair, bent over onto his body. “It’s okay, Yoongs. I’m sorry too.”

Yoongi’s head tilted upwards, voice hoarse as he asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I jumped to conclusions and didn’t put enough trust and hope into our relationship. And that I let this become when we could have easily talked it out properly if I had chosen the right words to tell you.” You smiled down at him.

You had never thought that you would ever say these three words that would mean so much. You thought that our chance had been blown the moment you started that argument. You expected your chance to stay blown when Yoongi walked out of the courtroom without looking back. Saying them to Lils and Jin was a different thing from saying to Yoongi. You were always the person to express instead of say but this time -

“Yoongi,” You tilted his face upwards to you, eyes boring into his as you muttered the three words of magic. “I love you.”

From this view, you can see the widening of his eyes.

“You - You love me?” Yoongi’s eyes sparkled with a shimmery glow. “You love me?”

You nodded, smiling at his goofy expression. Yoongi suddenly shot up, bouncing around the house - much like an excited dog might when he goes on walks.

“You love me! You love me!” Yoongi ran to the windows. “Y/N love me!”

Your eyes widened, hands instantly pulling him back. “Don’t go screaming it to the world! It isn’t even 5 a.m.!”

Yoongi turned, the light in his eyes knocking the breath out of you. “But you’re mine.” Yoongi’s eyes crinkled and a gummy smile was full on show. “And you love me.”

You nodded undoubtedly. Yoongi brought you close to his chest, hugging you tightly. “You love me and I love you too.”

“Yoongi -”

“I love you.” He shook his head, eyes shining with inner light and it knocked the breath right out of you. “I love you, wholly.”

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mabelstone · 5 months

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hello babie

little angst fic in light of the new matt pics? gruffy stubborn horknee matt? a little christmas miracle?

love u miss u

hi sugarpie miss u more

hope this suffices <3 i couldn't think of a 'christmas miracle' i am sorry xx maybe i'll write a soft christmas fic after this

18+ ofc, you know me by now

Nobody Compares to You

matt stone x reader

word count: 2.1k

***

Being with a prolific near-billionaire with a ridiculously successful TV show and a close-to cult following has its downsides. The copious amounts of groupies, stalkers, etc, etc. Not to mention that he's the textbook definition of a workaholic, which often meant you would go days without seeing each other due to your conflicting work schedules, despite sharing the same bed each night.

You knew this going into your relationship with him and you swore you wouldn't have it any other way.

That was until you found out about the new hire at South Park Studios. A painfully beautiful, bubbly young woman around your age, funny and oh, so intelligent. To your dismay, everyone in the studio had grown very fond of her, including your beloved boyfriend. The part he failed to mention was that she was now his personal assistant, hence why she would text him at inappropriate hours and was practically glued to him each time you visited him at work on one of your days off.

You could look past the groupies and die hard fans as you knew they wouldn't ever stand a chance. But a young woman so full of life, someone who made Matt cackle the way only you and his friends could unearthed something deep inside you. An unmistakable hatred for this girl, though she hadn't done anything wrong, per se. This created a rift in your relationship with him, and though you wanted to blame her, it was painfully clear that it was your doing.

One day you'd surprised him with lunch, taking in a container of his absolute favourite meal that you'd slaved over all morning.

"Oh, thank you, gorgeous," he'd kissed you tenderly, though his words to follow suggested he wouldn't be eating it any time soon. "I wish you'd called... Belle and I just got Chinese, I'm stuffed."

Your smile faltered, peering over at the twiggy blonde tapping away at her laptop with her long, neon orange nails. "I wanted to surprise you. My mistake."

Belle looked up intermittently with an unreadable expression, "yeah, so sorry. What was your name, again?"

"Y/N," you shot her a fake smile that was about as friendly as a kick to the jaw. He mustn't talk about me often. "Ah," was all you could muster, a pang of disappointment flooding your veins.

"I'm sorry," he frowned lightly, a gentle hand taking yours. "I'll have it for dinner! You know me so well."

"So you'll be staying late again?"

"At this rate, it's a safe bet," he smiled sympathetically. He looked tired, no surprise. You sometimes selfishly wished that he'd get a bad cold or something so he'd be forced to stay home with you. "I'm really sorry."

"Meeting in five, Matt," Belle spoke up, her tone a lot friendlier than it was with you.

"I'll get out of your hair then." You didn't say bye, instead speed walked to your car, fuelled by your rage toward his assistant.

Matt: Not even going to say goodbye to me?

Matt: This isn't my fault

You: i just didn't know you were having lunch dates with your assistant

You cursed yourself straight after your message sent, realising just how ridiculous you sounded. Like a jealous teenage girl.

Matt: Lunch date? You mean having lunch with your coworker is now considered a date?

You: does she even know you have a girlfriend?

Matt: Do I really have to share my personal life with my assistant? She does, yes. What has gotten into you?

You: she gets to spend every minute of every day with you

Matt: So this is about her? Don't be so jealous, this is a work relationship.

Matt: Gotta go.

Your eyes blurred with tears as you drove home in silence, your jaw ticking in frustration. You couldn't help but wonder if you were in the wrong. Surely he would have had to pick her as his assistant, right? Why couldn't he have picked a man. Or, as awful as it sounds, a girl who wasn't so attractive. Or maybe a girl who wouldn't have graduated the same year as you.

He got home at 11pm, a bit earlier than you had anticipated. You couldn't sleep though, your mind running wild at the possibilities. With all the time spent with her and away from you, would he fall for her? Would he stop loving you? Was she planning to whisk him away from you? Was your little argument today just pushing him further into her arms?

He walked into your bedroom and didn't say a word. He walked straight into the ensuite and locked the door before you had a chance to speak, closing your mouth immediately.

When he came out, he looked visibly more relaxed, newly grown out curls dripping beads of water onto his skin. He sat in front of you on the bed, only a towel keeping him decent.

"Care to tell me what that was earlier?" His voice was stern, eyebrows slightly raised.

"You tell me," you tone was unwavering as well, arms folded across your chest.

"I wish I could," he huffed, the frustration clearly creeping back. "I can see that you're jealous. But I think theres a bit more to it, isn't there?"

"I miss you."

"Of course I miss you too. But I have to go to work. I can't control the hours!" He raised his voice slightly. Maybe there was more to this for him, too.

"We haven't had sex in two weeks, Matt," you sighed, looking toward the ceiling as that awful, sad feeling reared its ugly head again. "You used to want it- need it, every second day, at least."

"We haven't had time!" He sighed now, running a hand over his face. "I've had to... deal with it myself."

"Does your assistant have to be there for that too? Does she add it into your calendar?" You bit, meeting his eyeline again, that now had narrowed on you, angry brows knotted together.

"You are a brat, you know that?" He spat, appearing as if he were about to double over in anger.

"I'm a brat, huh?" You laughed humourlessly, shaking your head at him. "I spent all morning cooking for you. Every day I do all the cleaning after I've been working all day. I iron your clothes for the next day and have them ready for you every night before I even think to do anything for myself. Before I even have dinner!"

He just stared back, not interjecting for a change. His expression softened as he let you get it all out.

"I have done that for you for four years now! Four years! But I'm a brat, huh? All because I miss you and yes, I'm upset that you have a pretty new assistant. I'm upset that she spends all day with you, gets to have lunch and sometimes dinner with you. She gets to eat and laugh with you, all the while I come home to our house alone. I go to sleep alone and wake up alone. Do you know the things I would do to have lunch with you just once a week? The fact that I'm even explaining myself is ridiculous, I-"

Your rambling was cut short but warm lips pressing gently against yours. Your hands instantly found damp curls, fighting the urge to cry at the fact he was finally at your fingertips, and not when he was snoring beside you in the small hours. He was finally there, finally, you had his undivided attention.

His fingers quickly hooked into your panties, pulling them off in one autonomous motion. He wasted no time disconnecting your lips, positioning himself between your thighs. His warm tongue flitting over your clit sent a shockwave of electricity through your body, a sharp gasp from your lips piercing the overwhelming tension in the room. You grabbed a fistful of his hair without a second thought, grinding down onto that beautiful face. The coarseness of his beard scratched your inner thighs, sending a chill down your spine. With your eyes screwed shut, you moaned his name just as you had imagined for nights on end, his own groan vibrating against your core. You opened your eyes when you thought he'd pulled out your vibrator, soon realised it was just his phone buzzing somewhere on the bed spread. He didn't slow his motions, continuing to lick dizzying stripes across your clit. You felt around for his phone, wishing you hadn't when you saw her caller ID on the screen.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Mm, what?" His voice was muffled against you, only pulling away when you pulled your hips away. "Oh, come on. I can't control when she calls me, babe. It's probably something really important."

You realised you weren't angry at him, but absolutely livid with her. You just had a gut feeling about her. You knew girls like her, you could tell from he minute you laid eyes on here. She just wanted to climb the hierarchal ladder that was your beloved boyfriend. Unfortunately he was going to have to figure that out on his own. You couldn't help but give him the cold shoulder that night.

***

Things had slightly improved between the two of you. You'd been intimate more frequently, things often getting so steamy that one time he'd bent you over the kitchen counter, resulting in very burnt chicken for dinner.

For the sake of your own sanity, you'd stopped torturing yourself with your imagination over his beautiful assistant. He loved you, he was as faithful as they come.

Matt: I'll be home in 30 xx

He'd messaged you that two hours ago. You were worried you'd have to start calling police stations, but he finally responded to your missed calls with another text.

Matt: Long story. Talk soon.

He returned home an hour later, the door slamming behind him. You startled from where you sitting on the couch, having stress drank through half a bottle of red wine at this stage. He scooped you up from your position on the couch, eliciting a loud squeal of surprise from you, followed by the thunk of your wine glass hitting the carpet, effectively painting the rug crimson.

"Don't worry about it," he breathed against your skin. "Missed you," he trailed kisses along your jaw and neck, your breath hitching when he would hit your sweet spots.

"Mm- what happened at work? Where were you?" You grabbed his jaw in an attempt to slow him to no avail. He continued to carry you to the bedroom, physically in front of you, but mentally somewhere deep between your thighs.

"Don't worry about it," he echoed, placing you down onto the bed. You felt a little worried - he only got like this if something really stressful happened. He was usually great at talking about his feelings, especially when something happened at work.

He continued to kiss down your body, trying to strip your clothes with such haste you could barely keep up.

"Babe- stop. Stop." You huffed, finally getting a grip on his tireless wrists. "What happened? Were you with her?"

Then he came back into his body, eyes narrowing on yours. "We're seriously still on this?" He groaned, sitting back on his knees. "I fired her."

"Fired her?!" You couldn't hide the surprise in your tone, but masked the happiness very well. "Why? I thought she was a hoot, no?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," he sighed. Catching your expression, he realised you weren't going to let up until you had the full story. "Jesus- okay, she tried to make a move on me. Happy? You were right." He rolled his eyes.

Now you were beaming. You thought you'd be more upset, but his obvious disgust debunked that thought immediately. "Say that last part again."

"You were right," he rolled his eyes again, playfully this time. "Now take off your clothes."

"Yes, sir!" You laughed too, stripping off your clothes so fast, you'd miss it if you blinked. Immediately, he was on top of you, a growing hard on pressing into your thigh.

"Nobody compares to you," he mumbled against your lips, stripping his boxers without taking his eyes off you, drinking you in. "Nobody."

His words warmed you to your core, words you didn't know you needed to hear. Despite the intensity leading up to this moment, he slid himself in slowly, stretching and filling you inch by glorious inch. You arched your back into the feeling, bare chests rubbing against one another.

"I love you," you breathed, grinding gently into him, both of your hips connecting in slow synchronicity. His warm arms surrounding you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I love you," he kissed you slowly, "so, so much."

You felt more connected than you had in weeks, months, even. And in that moment, you too though, nobody compares to you.

you know me by now. no proof reading sozzy and this ending sucks balls... but its dry out here

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #matt stone smut

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demelza00 · 1 year

Text

Glass.

Tsireya x Fem!Omaticaya!Reader

Contains: angst, comfort at the end, Avatar: The Way of Water spoilers

Word count: 969

Edited <3

Basically Lo'ak's twin sister and coping with the events of the movie. Written in 3rd & 1st person This will be posted in 3 parts, hopefully all within a few hours! 1st part: build-up 2nd part: after 3rd part: comfort<3

Tsireya had only known the girl for a few months, since her family came to Awa’atlu, her father running from a war that he never intended for his children to get involved in. They had come seeking ukturu, and while the woman was reluctant, Tsahik Ronal allowed them to stay.

Despite the short amount of time, Tsireya had grown to adore the entire family, often chastising Ao’nung when he would pick on them. She knew all of Tuk’s new favorite sea creatures, and admired the way Kiri took naturally to the water. She got along with Neteyam and Lo’ak as well, but she knew about Lo’ak’s crush, and tried her best not to lead him on; she had no interest, but really didn’t wish to be harsh and hurt his feelings.

The sibling that she didn’t really know much about, however, was the third sister. Unlike the others, she was a bit more standoffish. She had very little to say most of the time, and it seemed that this was also true around her family; Kiri had told Tsireya not to worry, as this was how the Omaticaya girl always had been.

She’s shy, maybe, but Tsireya found this unlikely. No shy person carries themself the way she did, much like her older brother, in a way that showed a humble confidence, a security in herself.

It wasn’t until Kiri had a seizure at the Spirit Tree that Tsireya saw a different side of (Name). Seeing the always-composed, neutral-faced girl hurry past her after hearing of what happened, a look of mortal panic on her face, Tsireya remembered; this was not just a warrior, this was a teenage girl, just like her.

After the events of that day, Tsireya amped up her efforts to communicate with (Name). She would be friends with this girl, she swore it to herself.

Eventually, her efforts were rewarded. (Name) began opening up more, became more willing to hang out outside of the training.

Once Tsireya got the big, towering walls lowered, her and (Name) became amazing friends immediately. They didn’t have a whole lot in common; Tsireya was the Tsakarem, versed in medicine and healing, while (Name) was a warrior, and knew how to fight.

This did not stop them. If anything, it gave them more to talk about. Often, (Name) would sit and talk to Tsireya, while the Metkayina girl would braid her hair, weaving in beads and shells. Tsireya rarely had anyone to talk to that didn’t know much about medicine and cared to listen.

Other days, (Name) would teach Tsireya how to shoot a bow, and common hunting tactics in the forest that were drastically different from that of the sea.

Although the boys would fight, and Lo’ak would get into trouble a lot, it seemed like - for the girls at least - things were finally looking up.

When the marui of the Sully family was full of tension and silent nights, no one daring to speak with one or both of the parents angry about Lo’ak or Neteyam’s behavior, (Name) had someone to go to. She could finally have an outlet for the stress in her family, though she kept it to a minimum, not ever wanting to upset Tsireya.

But Tsireya understood. She herself had a troublesome brother, and would always offer comfort and a similar story of something Ao’nung did and why she didn’t understand why boys couldn’t just behave themselves.

(Name) didn’t know what she’d do without Tsireya.

It was amazing when the tulkun returned. While (Name) had been resting in the marui with Kiri, she heard all of the excitement outside, Tsireya’s voice calling everyone.

When she hurried out to see what was going on, she saw the grin on Tsireya’s face that she had began to adore, the beautiful dimples showing. Much quicker than Kiri and Tuk, she called for her ilu and dove into the water.

“(Name)! Come with me, come meet my spirit sister!” Tsireya’s voice called out to her. How could (Name) say no?

Both girls greeted the tulkun, Tsireya smiling widely and (Name) watching in awe. Later, she swam off to find her family, altogether missing when Tsireya signed to the tulkun, 'I met a girl'.

Of course, the good times were bound to end. Just when it seemed like the family was fitting in, and tension in the Sully household was easing, Lo’ak bonded with the outcast tulkun, Payakan.

To make matters worse, he sat there and argued with the Olo’eyktan, as though he forgot who he was speaking to. And (Name) really tried to be understanding; Lo’ak was always a bit of an outcast, so naturally he bonds with one.

But seriously, was it necessary? When everything was going right, and Ao’nung was getting more friendly, and the Metkayina people were beginning to accept them, and even Tsahik Ronal herself was slowly changing her mind about them, he had to go and do that!

(Name) would never say it to her brother’s face, would never admit it, but she was livid. All she wanted was peace, to learn about the ocean and finally feel at home, and her skxawng twin brother went and pissed off the Tsahik. It wasn’t about the outcast tulkun, for her it was just her inability to do anything, to have fun, without eventually getting the talking-to of a lifetime because of something that she didn’t even do.

And it had to get worse. Of course. Everyone woke up to sounds of terror, a heavy weight in the air. Something was very wrong.

A tulkun, Ronal’s spirit sister, floating dead in the water, her calf alongside her. Killed by the sky people, and for no justifiable reason.

Now, the village was ready for war. A war that the Sully family would pay the price for.

#tsireya wlw #tsireya x fem #tsireya avatar #tsireya x reader #wlw #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #tsireya comfort #neteyam #tuktirey #kiri #ao'nung #lo'ak #pls i love her

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

Note

I really like your writing, so here we go. Daydreaming made me do this...

How about you're close friends with Joseph. And because of an argument about some really stupid stuff he says he doesn't want to talk to you anymore. You loose contact with him and after a couple of months you meet him again. You ignore him (because he said he doesn't want to talk to you anymore) but he comes up to you and start the conversation with an old inside joke you two had.

In the end he finally confess his feelings to you he had for years. You can make it smutty in the end.

I really like your daydream 😮 I hope it's good enough, I'm flued up so I'm not in the best headspace. 🤣

Thank you for your request and patience in being answered lovely x

Warnings: small doses of angst, fluff and smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Confessions.

You'd played the moment over and over in your head, the minute Joe told you he never wanted to talk to you ever again, the pinpointed second that he walked away from your long well-kept friendship with one another for the last time.

It was all over a drunken kiss with your mutual friend, nothing was meant by it, just the disgusting amount of consumption of alcohol and the wrong time in Joe seeing what he saw, it pissed him off something good. You'd wondered why he'd caused so much commotion over it, but you guessed it was down to him always being so protective of you - this particular friend was a little bit of a dick when it came messing girls around and he didn't want to see you hurt, maybe. Joe grabbed a hold of you after witnessing and pulled you outside, yelling in your face not letting you get a word in edge ways and then tears streamed down his face and then the words you'd never expected him to say erupted from his lips.

Joe had made sure he stuck to his word, he hadn't seen or reached out to you in over 3 months despite your efforts in the beginning and it was not long ago you'd been told by another of your girl friends to probably just give up on him and that he wasn't worth the chase. Deep down, you knew she was absolutely right, although you'd always had a secret affection for the boy, you'd never confess it. He'd always been too close of a friend to you and that was a friendship too good to ruin. So, you got on with your life, always spending the odd time thinking about Joe and how he was doing, heartache contained you once you'd got him on your mind, but he was an impossible thought to shake.

You'd spent the first part of your Saturday in the quaint streets of Soho, London, ordering your usual mid-morning coffee from your favourite small cafe. You stood waiting to the side whilst they got your drink ready, bopping your head to the music coming from your headphones daydreaming up at the menus above the counter, the doorbell ringing a couple of times with people coming and going. "Y/N!" the barista hollered at you to pass you your beverage, thanking them you swerved round to leave, your coffee pressing straight into the person crashing into you, some of your coffee splashing from the lid, onto your hands and onto their shirt. "Shit I'm so sorry." you muttered, looking up to find familiar brown eyes staring back at you.

"My fault." Joe muttered back to you. You swallowed a huge gulp, the seconds you were stood in silence just simply gawking at one another felt like an eternity, you nodded and shoved past him, walking out the cafe's door and plonking yourself down on a nearby bench to gather your thoughts. You rubbed at your forehead and there he was again, gobbled up in your thoughts. Taking a sip of coffee, you let out a huge sigh and got up to continue your walk back to your flat, you almost felt like you needed to go back to bed and start the day again.

Your thoughts came crashing into reality when the subject on your brain stood before you, you ignored him getting out your phone and scrolling at nothing. "Oldest trick in the book right there, love."

You broke your silence. "Excuse me?"

"Ignoring me on purpose, staring at your phone, that old chestnut."

Two can play at this game. "So is pushing me out of your life for 3 months and then accidentally bumping into one another and pretending like everything's ok."

Joe slowly nodded his head at you. "Okay, does it help that I regret that?"

"Very much, now if you'll excuse me, I must enjoy my Saturday being head fucked in peace." Maybe that shouldn't have come out the way it did, but you couldn't take it back. "Head fucked?" Joe snorted a laugh. "You, you're a head fuck Quinn."

You stood up making him stand back, raising his hands slightly so he didn't get another ounce of coffee on his already stained clothing from the previous incident. As you turned to walk away, he caught up with you, gripping his fingers around your arm to pull you back. "I'm the head fuck?"

"Is there an echo? Do I need to say it twice?"

He contemplated on saying yes but didn't want to cause anymore drama in public than he'd already presented. "Can we please go back to yours and talk?"

"About what?" you snapped.

"This." He gestured his hand between the two of you.

"This was done because of you." You mirrored his hands.

"I won't give up until you say yes." That was already clear to you.

"Then you've got 10 minutes to say what you need to say then I want you gone."

"How about 15?" Joe tried to make light of the situation, but your face remained blank. He'd had 2 months to explain his behaviour from that night after the regrettable kiss, but he'd never reached out.

"Come on then." You moved ahead, Joe skipping up to you, so you were side by side, walking in silence for the rest of the way back to yours.

You threw your keys into the bowl by the door and walked over into the living area, propping yourself onto the arm of the sofa whilst Joe took the seat next to you. Twiddling his thumbs around not quite knowing where to start, the truth was to come out in a sudden instant.

"Well, are you going to talk then?"

Joe stared down at his fingers entertaining themselves nervously.

"Earth to Joseph. Now you're-"

"You want to know the reason I overreacted the way I did?"

You were all ears now, the answer you'd been searching for almost apparent. "Actually, yes."

His face was pale in colour like he was about tell you about the worst news in the world, but you it couldn't have been further from the truth.

"It's because I was... j-jealous."

"Jealous? Are you for real, what do you have to be jealous about?"

"I think it speaks for itself, don't you?" Joe hesitated when you moved to sit closer to him, but he stayed put.

"So, you're telling me, because of the drunken mistake I made, you were jealous of it and therefore cut me out of your life?"

"I was drunk too Y/N, that was stupid of me."

"Then why ignore me for months, were you drunk for all that time too?"

"No. It was because I didn't know what to do or how to tell you."

You sighed out of both relief and nervousness, surely this now meant he was about to confess, and you'd have to do the same. You don't know why you did, but you held his hand just out of courtesy to let him know it was ok to do so.

"I've liked you for longer than I'd like to admit, and I was stupid to let you go like that, but knowing you were kissing someone that wasn't me yet again, I couldn't take it." There it was - your turn.

"And what would you say if I felt the same?"

His eyes lit up to look into yours from where he was previously staring into nothingness; his hand gripped yours tighter, he'd plucked up every amount of courage he had to tell you this and now you were blurting out such a reply. "Don't play on my feelings like that Y/N, I'm pouring my heart out to you and I-"

You threw yourself onto him, kissing him desperately like it was your last chance. His hands found the back of your head, pulling you in closer to keep from any space getting in-between you. Everything in those mere few minutes you spent in fierce contact spoke the volumes of your mutual pining for each other. Your tongues battled for dominance against each other, the kiss growing more and more heated by the second. Joe lowered you down, so you were laid on the sofa, falling on top of you to continue where you'd left off. Breaking the kiss, his open lips breathed out inches away from yours.

You played with the curls around the back of his head, twirling them in your fingers, the eye contact was sincerely heavy, and you'd need but not another word to be spoken because your sights said everything you both needed to hear.

"So, you're serious?" He clearly wanted reassurance that this wasn't a dream, and it was really happening.

"Deadly." you whispered.

"Then why has it taken us this long to admit it?"

"Better late than never, Quinn."

Joe smiled down at you and you returned the emotion. Pulling his head down for yet another kiss, this time feeling Joe's erection grinding down into your inner thigh. "Someone's excited."

"Someone's been waiting for this moment for years."

"Don't imagine any longer then, let's make your wish come true."

"Are you sure, is that what you want?"

"Fuck me, before I change my mind." You didn't mean for your reply to come out the blunt way it did, you bit down on his bottom lip making Joe whimper out to give him full confirmation to go ahead.

"Oh, you wouldn't dare love."

You peered up away from his face, pondering it like it was something you had to think about, his hand reaching down to cup your cunt caught you and the entirety of your body by surprise.

Joe leaned down to your ear and whispered in a low, gravelly tone that sent pulses of electricity racing through you, enough to push you to your limit from your already sodden state the kisses had brought below. "That's what I thought." He leaned back and bit your lip right where you'd previously marked his. Joe knew you wouldn't change your mind and he had you right where he needed you, all that was left to do was to rid you from your clothes so he could give you everything he'd ever desired, everything he'd ever imagined doing to you and bring out all of the locked-up emotions that had been held by you both.

That was then, this is now and if you weren't before, you were indisputably his from the moment your lips touched. Your friendship blossoming into something hopefully truly special.

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multiwreckedmess · 1 year

Text

No Reason Part Four (Final)

Synopsis - You needed an easy going person with no strings attached and San knew just the man. Now memories of Mingi haunt your daily life despite your best efforts to forget him. There’s no reason to mourn something that never existed, right?

Pairing - Mingi x fem!Reader (I try to limit pronoun usage but AFAB is what I know best)

CW - Smut. Angst (a substantial amount in this part). An additional TW under the cut.

Words - 3k~ (in this part)

This is sort of an angsty multi part smutty thing I started writing this past spring and I am oddly attached to it. I’ll post the other parts later as I clean them up. it’s been across like 2 computers and 2 word processors so sorry for any of the formatting/grammar fallout from that. As a reminder this is a work of FICTION by clicking to read under the cut you acknowledge that you are mature enough to understand that this does not represent Mingi or any member of Ateez in any way. If you have difficulty with this concept please do not continue forward or interact with my work!

This is a multi part series please check out my masterlist for other posts!

TW: Crying, feeling dumping, y/n is very self flagellating, LONG perhaps too detailed cleanup/aftercare but ya’ll it’s so important. Author gets a little handwave-y fiction magic but you all know that the real world works different. ~ ~

Truly you don’t know how long the two of you have been standing nearly nose to nose in silence. Mingi patiently waiting for your answer. Or excuse. Or anything really. Some small part of you wonders if you just don’t say anything he’ll move on. Another part of you holds onto the idea that staying silent will help you ‘win’ the argument, even though there is no argument to be won.

“Did I hurt you?’ Mingi asks again, his normally bassy voice tuned to a high whisper, backing off slightly. Tears well up. Furrowing your brows, you bite your lower lip trying to contain them. “Can you not-- you didn’t do anything. Really you didn’t do anything. It’s not you it’s-” “That’s so fucking cliche and you know it. We’re both adults. I can take it. I can try to understand. Give me the opportunity to understand. If you ever cared about me at all-” “I did. That’s the problem.” “You cared about me and that’s a problem? Is there some part of me that’s so unlovable to you? Is it so unbelievable that someone like you would like me?” Still swaying from side to side in your apartment, Mingi looks at the ceiling. You duck the other way, eyes cast to the floor. Suddenly Mingi laughs, “This is so fucked.”

Chest tight with anger, something deep inside snaps. “This is why I wrote a note. This is why I didn’t tell anyone what happened. You think it’s been fun changing my entire routine to avoid you? You think I did this because I just wanted to have a fun time? Of course it’s fucked. I loved you Mingi. I loved you so much that it hurt. It physically hurt and I just didn’t want it to hurt anymore okay? So no, you didn’t do anything to me. I did it to myself. It’s my fault. It’s my fault that I’m just not a chill person, I’ll never be a chill person. I have never ever even once in my life been a chill person. I’m sorry that this was supposed to just be a one time thing and I forced myself into your life. I tried to leave quietly but here you are in my apartment demanding answers of me so here are your fucking answers.” Silence. Adrenaline still pumping your stomach is tight. You feel like you might throw up. All color has drained from Mingi’s face, mouth open as though you’d punched him in the stomach. “So yeah. It’s fucked. You’re fucked. I’m fucked. I’m sorry.”

***

“Besides, I need pjs.” Mingi pouts and wraps himself completely around you as you struggle to leave the comfort of his bed. “You don’t like my t-shirts?” “They aren’t mine. I want mine.” “What’s mine is yours,” he tries to pull you into facing him but you resist so he has to kiss your cheek instead of his intended target. “What about that woman at the bar,” you snip so quickly Mingi doesn’t even try to dodge it. “Share her?” He’s silent for a second, neither of you moves. Even your breathing slows to a stop waiting for what happens next. “So you are jealous.” His tone is unreadable. “I knew it.” Stiflingly tangled up in the blanket and his limbs somehow Mingi squeezes you closer. You huff and wiggle back towards him, letting the small lingering words disappear like smoke into the air. Nose pressed to the back of your neck his breath is warm as he hums, pressing his lips to you occasionally. A bold move to soothe an upset person. It works on you. The words “I’m sorry” were often too hollow, each peck he leaves is a wordless apology. “I’m supposed to be angry with you! This isn’t fair!” You wriggle in his grasp turning to face him. You lunge in to tickle him and loosen his hold. Trying to suppress a giggle he tenses instead, laughing as he retaliates. It’s a fierce grapple battle between the two of you. Mingi could easily humble you by sheer height, his long limbs granting him a natural advantage, but he’s careful. He’s not the big dog who grew up believing he was still a puppy. He’s the big dog who knows that sometimes the other person needs to win to learn. Smiling and giggling and out of breath, you emerge the seeming victor, having managed to wrestle yourself on top of him and pin his arms to the pillows. “Do not FUCK with me Song!” You joke, looking down at him fit snugly between your thighs. “Oh no, you got me! Oh I’m trapped! Oh help!” He cranes upwards to kiss your nose. In one graceful move he twists his forearms from your grasp. He flips the two of you equally as deftly, your legs still clinging to him as your back lands on the bed. “You’re too cute, you know? That’s why i can’t let you go.”

***

After the explosion of feelings and words you had expected Mingi would turn around and head for the door. He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d wrenched the words from you. He’d found that sore spot in your soul that just needed the smallest of prods to explode into the painful oozing wound it had always been. Years of stuff it down, carefully binding it off to save yourself undone by one man.

Lower lip trembling you barely manage your last request. “Please leave.” You gulp, holding your breath to hold your tears. It’s your last shred of strength, he would not get your tears. You’d promised yourself no man would ever get your tears again. “You know I can’t leave you like this,” his voice is sweet and warm like a blanket tucking itself protectively over your shoulders.

You stare at the wood grain of the floorboards, willing yourself to maintain your stoic disposition. If you just keep your eyes busy, your mind busy, you can’t think and you won’t feel.

Water. Running water. The soft click of your kettle returning to its cradle and small lever being pressed. The hiss of heat hitting the cool water inside of it. “Min-” your lip quakes again, totally unable to say his name. “What are you doing?” You ask without looking, trying to sound as cold and detached from the answer as possible. “Tea.” You bite the inside of your lower lip and hum in acknowledgement.

He sighs, a deep earth shattering gut-wrenching sigh. “I won’t - I can’t leave you like this. I never asked you to be that. I never asked you to be anything. I don’t even know where you got that idea that I wanted that to begin with. You think I was totally relaxed about you? I planned every time we met at a bar or nightclub or wherever. I asked San every time if you were coming. Do you know how stupid I sounded? How clingy I sounded? And you didn’t even tell anyone about me? I assumed-I was so stupid. I assumed you knew. I assumed you knew how I felt about you. I assumed you knew I’d rearrange my entire life for you if you’d just asked me. I wanted you to just ask me.” The water in the kettle roils, steam pouring from the mouth.

“I can’t.”

“You still can.”

The kettle beeps. Once. Twice. Three times.

It’s ignored.

Mingi’s hand is large. Not large in comparison to him, it fits him. His hand is large in comparison to yours. Red and warm from being clenched he offers one to you with an outstretched palm facing upwards. A universal gesture of peace. An offer to take it. He’s giving you permission to take it. If you want to-if you will have him. A chill runs down your spine. You can’t hold it anymore. You know your next breath you won’t be able to. Your diaphragm kicks as you exhale as you lose the fight and tears run freely down your cheeks. The colors of the floorboards and Mingi’s black coat swirl together swimming behind your eyes. You sob, full body gut-wrenching sobs. Sobbing in a way that you’ll know you won’t be able to stand for much longer. Mingi catches you in his arms, burying your face in his sweater. He braces you as you give yourself into his embrace, letting your tears soak into him, slowly and rhythmically stroking your spine. “I hurt- so much,” you manage between sobs, muffled by his chest.

He gently shushes you, “I know.” “I hurt you so much.” “I know,” he repeats, continuing to pet your back. “It’s been months.” He kisses the top of your head, “we have years.”

“I’m not even wearing a bra,” you wail. “I know,” he chuckles, a small explosion of breath escaping through his nose. Tentatively you wrap your arms around his waist. He’s less squishy than you remember but the chunky knit of the sweater makes up for it. It feels so good to hold him. Your heart seizes and you hold him tighter more forcefully burying your face into his chest. Having calmed down slightly your face burns with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I love you.” Mingi chuckles again, “can you just say it? Without the caveat?” “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The thud his coat makes as it hits your floor is impressively loud and deep. It’s almost not fast enough for your hands as they sneak under the hem of his sweater to help him pull it over his head. Mingi looks you over, in your disheveled state he makes you feel like you’re wearing the sexiest pair of lingerie ever.

“Say it again.” “I love you.” He scoops you up, like the first night, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist. “Again.” “I love you.”

You see it again, the stars in his eyes, the gentle part of his lips. He’s holding his whole world in his eyes and you are his whole world. “I love you. I need you. I want you. Please.” “Yes. Please. Yes. I-” The time for words is over, your lips meeting in a frenzied kiss. Every kiss feels like life giving air entering your lungs for the first time. Hot and heavy his hands roam under your ratty shirt, just to touch your skin, to memorize the curve of your spine. You don’t even notice that the two of you have passed your couch and into the corner of your apartment that they’d sold to you as a bedroom until Mingi tosses you like a ragdoll into the center of your mattress. It only takes a single tug to rid you of your sweatpants, “no underwear?” Mingi raises an eyebrow. “It’s my apartment, my rules,” you sass back at him. His belt buckle clinks loosely, “our rules. It’s our rules now.” Mingi leaves your side briefly backtracking out of the french doors that quarden off your bedroom. He grinning as he turns, brandishing a wand in his hand. “Same model?” “Same model.” You roll your eyes He kisses you, “you missed me.”

“You’re such a fuck-” your sentence cuts off as he presses the vibrating head to your clit. In another person's hands the tool takes on new excitement, the thrill of the unknown tickles in the base of your spine. Heat spreading from your belly you rock yourself grinding down on the toy, chasing your imminent release. “But I missed you,” you whine, hand wandering toward his thigh. “Oh now you admit it, now that you want to cum…” he teases, suddenly removing the toy, denying you your peak as you groan. “Do you want a cond-” He can’t even finish the sentence before you reply, “no, please, Mingi, I need you. I need to feel you. Need you now.” Locking eyes, the power of your demand lands squarely in his chest. Wasting no time he climbs between your knees, eyebrow raised, lightly questioning.

“I usually-” “Just fucking-just fuck me.” Mingi kisses the tip of your nose as he positions himself at your entrance. The stretch as he breaches your core is painful, your nose wrinkling, brows knitted in concentration. A small pained squeak catches in your throat. “Babe. Breathe.” You hadn’t even noticed you were holding your breath. Releasing with a sigh you reconcentrate, your fingers finding your clit to massage the hurt away with pleasure. “That’s it, there you go-” he encourages sweetly, pulling back before burying his face in the crook of your neck and filling you to the hilt. Your hands fly to his shoulders, fingertips digging in and arms pulling him into your body. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, gasping and panting, sweat slicking the limited space between you. “You’re just so fucking tight for me,” he marvels, chest heaving against you. Rubbing the bridge of his nose against the side of your neck he nuzzles you, “can I-please-please let me mark you.” “Mark me,” you reply breathlessly. “It’s fine. I want them.” Immediately he bites down on your shoulder leaving you squealing and writhing, cunt clasping around his member. The mark lands at the column of your neck, his lips sucking harshly at the delicate skin. It’s feral and messy, his ministrations sure to leave purple conspicuous bruises for the next few days. The mix of pain and pleasure as you ride him from below, grinding your clit into his pelvis as he ravages your neck and chest, overwhelms every bit of sense left in your body. You cant your hip forward to accept more of him inside you, sweat dripping down the backs of your thighs. When he lets you go it's only to place the vibrator at your clit once more, watching your stomach contract with every clench of your walls around him. “Please, please cum, please Mingi, please.” You mewl. Orgasms quickly overload you, unable to count the spaces between the highs any longer. “Don’t worry love,” he leans over, sandwiching the wand between you, “I’ll give you everything.” Forehead pressed to you, nearly folding you in half, his hips smack into you. The sound of skin on skin echos in your apartment, hopefully drowning out your wailing. Finally your mind has permission to let go, float away into oblivion as your lover fills you completely. Warm and wet and sticky and overstimulated and exhausted both of you collapse. Mingi tugs the still whirring implement from between the two of you. Your nerves buzzing in total bliss, still shaking under him. Arms wrapping up and around his shoulders you hug him to you once more, cock still pulsing and filling your aching pussy. A soft curse escapes with every twitch passed from him into you. “Idonwannamove,” you slur, curling up around him. “Juswannasleep.” Panting he kisses you, “you should use the bathroom.” “I know-” you elongate the word into a whine. Mingi tries to slide off you but you fall sideways with him, clinging like a koala to him, drifting in and out of consciousness. It isn’t until his dick falls from you with a soft plop that you take the impending threat of dripping cum seriously and waddle off to the bathroom, followed closely by Mingi. “I can clean you,” he offers. “You seemed to like that before-” he stops sheepishly mid-sentence. You stare at him on the other side of the door frame as you flex your pelvic floor. “It’s fine. I got it.” “No I mean…I want to. I want to help you. I liked it, before, I mean, that one time-” he trails off again before stepping onto the tile floor. Your miniscule bathroom is immediately claustrophobic with his added presence. Mingi has to basically climb into the tub to turn on the faucets, drawing the plastic curtain around him as he does so. “At least shower with me?” He sounds hopeful. It’s that hopeful tone that wins you over, twanging your heartstring with a perfect harmonic vibration. “My shower isn't really made for two.” You check between your thighs, fields swirling at the bottom of the porcelain bowl. “It's really weird…the shower head is actually-” you hear the thunk of the toggle between the tub faucet and overhead shower a half a second too late. The curtain rustles dramatically as Mingi’s torso hits it, jolting back in surprise. “Yeah so the shower head is actually in the center of the tub. I was going to warn you but-” you giggle, “I guess I don’t have to now.” Mingi’s damp head pokes out from the curtains, “okay so you have to now.” Long fingers securing themselves around your wrist. “I was going to anyway.” Carefully you join him, shoulders shrugging upwards as the water hits you. Half of you is warm, the other half suddenly violently freezing. Your eyes close instinctively against the droplets ricocheting off of you, the wall, the curtain, and Mingi. You whine and pout, this is the part of the shower process you hate most. The transitionary period between fully wet and fully dry where your body tenses and freezes in place unable to decide which direction it naturally wants to go, into the water or away from it. Standing there half in half out of the water with your eyes screwed shut you feel him, arms wrapping around you and guiding you into his chest. “Let’s warm you up, okay?” His voice rumbles through your back. Carefully the two of you perform a dance, legs tangling and various parts brushing by each other, so that your face is in his chest and your back is to the steady jet of the showerhead. Mingi’s height allows him to dodge the majority of the back spray as the water hits you. Warm washcloth in hand he lathers your body in large circles, the grapefruit scent of the soap filling the room. Each repeated circle hypnotizes you, lulling you into a passive sleepy state, head relaxing on his chest. With every pass you become mushier, rocking into the arc of his scrubbing. Cheeks damp you don’t know if its tears or water drops but it doesn’t matter to him, he raises your chin and kisses them all the same.

“There’s no reason for you to have to do everything alone. I’ll always be right here.”

#mingi smut #ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez angst #mingi angst #mingi x fem!reader

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year

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Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part XIX.

GIF: Originally posted by @

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Hello there, hope you are well. It’s been frosty and snowy in the UK over the past few of days and it is making everything look so pretty. How about you, what’s your weather behaving like? Also, please prepare yourself for massive feels in this one. Take care, all my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

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

You awaken naturally when the sun begins to cast a glow and warmth into your bedroom.

There's a smile on your face. You feel so light and airy.

Images of your time in Fiddler’s Green with Morpheus flash behind your eyelids. The way the sunlight touched his face, carving out his cheekbones. The rosy pink of his lips as they were upturned by his contentedness. The lustre in his eyes as he watched you drink in the beautiful nature around you. How he had sat so still and serene when you had explored the celestial scenes inside his coat.

The kisses too. You can feel your mouth tingling from them, despite the fact that it had technically happened inside your head.

Morpheus’ technique was faultless; there was the correct amount of pressure and yield between you both, and the fact that you hadn’t gone any further, it was refreshingly mature. You were no longer a hedonistic teenager and he was definitely not either, if he ever had been one.

What surprises you the most is that you don’t feel frightened by this development. Before, you had admonished yourself for kissing him and had sought to contain your less than platonic feelings, yet kissing him had felt like the right thing to do.

The two of you clearly shared a mutual attraction. Why else would Morpheus have initiated it?

You grin widely, it is impossible to suppress.

Were physical interactions with humans going to pale in comparison from now on? Based on the satisfaction you currently felt, it was looking highly likely.

You reach up to swipe at an itch on your nose. Something strange is found there; a soft disc. You open your eyes to inspect the object.

A petal is sticking to the pad of your index finger.

A cherry blossom petal.

You then notice the Sakura scent that is dispersing around you. It is luscious, but it shouldn't be there.

Adrenaline forces you up into a seated position.

There's pink everywhere. On every surface. Sticking to your exposed skin. Caught in your hair.

Realisation dawns on you with a stomach dropping shock.

You've just pulled some of the dream through into the waking world.

"Fuck!" You curse out loud.

With flitting thoughts, you are going back through the past few days to try and find a trigger.

There's nothing bad.

No confidence knocking incidents at work, or disquieting news, nor fear inducing encounters.

If anything, you have been the opposite of bad. You have been happy. Morpheus had seen to that.

Perhaps too well, it now seemed.

“Fuck,” you repeat again, more quietly.

***

It takes you hours to clean your room. You resort to scooping the petals into a bucket and then depositing them into the compost bin by your front door. It is tiring but at least the manual task gives you time to think about things.

You reach the conclusion that it is intense emotions of any kind that causes your ability to manifest.

You know you must tell Morpheus of what you did but after the events of last night, you are somewhat conflicted.

There is care and affection and understanding between you. Friendship. A considerable achievement based on how precarious your association had been at one time. The thought of shattering such a fragile thing, a thing that indicated the beginnings of an attachment, you cannot bear it. And when you factor in the other friendships you have forged in the Dreaming...

When all the debris is cleared, you sit dejectedly on your bedroom floor. Various courses of action are followed through to completion in your mind. You do this repeatedly, agonising over minute details in the hope that you can figure it out. Yet the only thing you settle on is this:

There is just one route that can be taken.

When it reaches night time, you heave your leaden frame into bed. You close your eyes and picture him in your mind.

"Morpheus." You whisper. “I need to talk to you but I don't think it is safe for me to come to the Dreaming.”

You are pulled under in a matter of minutes.

You are standing in a void.

An inky, echoing void, painted in hues of twilight, deepening into midnight the further you look. You are unable to locate a boundary in the barren space.

Morpheus emerges from the darkness.

“Where are we?” Your voice echoes eerily.

"A place outside the usual boundary of the Dreaming."

"And the dreamers will be safe from me here?"

"Yes," he utters the word with total reassurance.

You release the breath you had been holding with a shaky exhalation.

"You are distressed, Y/N," he states, drawing closer to you. “Has someone hurt you?”

You shake your head. Your heart constricts uncomfortably as you prepare to divulge the terrible information.

“I pulled part of last night’s dream through into my bedroom. The blossom from the trees.”

From the disturbed expression on his face, this was something that Morpheus had not anticipated being able to transpire.

“You have not been stressed,” he reasons.

“I know.”

“And I did not feel any disturbances in the structure of the Dreaming.”

It suddenly dawns on you however, that you had been trembling; you had reasoned it to be because of the coat but maybe there had been something else at play.

“You have to do something,” you say firmly.

He shakes his head. “I am forbidden from taking action against a human who is not an active threat.”

Your voice rises in pitch, “What about this do you not consider an active threat?”

“I will find a way to handle this,” his tone implies he is trying to shut the conversation down.

This only riles you further. “No. You have to take away my ability to dream.”

He blinks and processes your statement. “I will not. To sever you from the Dreaming, it would take away so much of what it means to be human. I could not do that to you.”

“So you would rather see me dead?” You blurt out.

Pain and confusion flicker in his eyes.

“Matthew told me how vortexes are usually handled. I may not be one, but I know that I pose a serious threat to the Dreaming and that you must neutralise it.”

You begin to intellectualise out loud. “The function of sleep is not to dream but to rest and repair the brain and body, and process the day's events. As long as I can still do those things, it doesn't matter whether I can dream and I’m fairly certain that is the case otherwise you would have already mentioned that.”

You look Morpheus straight in the eyes, challenging him with the stubbornness of your gaze. “Am I right?”

His mouth falls into a severe line. “You are correct. Your health would not be compromised.”

It’s all the confirmation that you need to feel like you are making an informed decision, yet it doesn’t stop him from making a last ditch attempt to sway your resolve.

One of his hands twitches towards yours as if he wants to touch you.

“If I cut you off from the Dreaming, you will turn your back on all the relationships you have made here. You will be unable to visit the places that bring you comfort. I would-”

“I know,” you interrupt, forcing back a sob. “Of course I would miss the life I’ve built here. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since the moment I woke up.”

You can see that it is going to take more than that to persuade him so in your desperation, you begin to lie about your feelings. You hate yourself immediately for doing it.

“That being said, I can't live in a dream forever. I have a life in the waking world. The only reason I am here in the first place, with such awareness, is because of a malfunction in my brain. You have to let me go."

He turns away from you, taking a deep breath.

“There is no other way. You know I am right,” you persist verbally and move to keep his face in view. “It’s the only way to protect your realm.”

His face is blank.

“Please, Morpheus,” you are almost begging now. “I don't want to hurt anyone again.”

Time crawls sluggishly as you wait on tenterhooks for his answer.

Begrudging acceptance takes his features. He eventually nods in defeat and takes two steps backwards. Anguish seeps from his form.

When he looks at you again, the familiar and comforting blue of his eyes has gone, replaced by a shining silver. It’s like the eyeshine seen in nocturnal animals when a light catches their retinas.

The effect unsettles you.

His coat suddenly whips in the wind, each movement casting shadow shapes into the space around and between you.

He extends his right arm and for the first time, you feel his power in its undiluted form. It warps every molecule creating a chimera curtain across the confines of your body.

The temperature is tepid, inoffensive, however the intensity is stunning. You choke back a vocalisation of discomfort, stifling it into a shaky whimper.

Numbness takes your fingers and toes before travelling up your limbs.

The boundless energy pushes deeper into your chest, concentrating in the space a few centimetres below the hollow of your throat.

Realisation dawns on you with heartbreaking clarity. There is such thing as a human soul, and Morpheus was about to breach yours.

There is resistance. Painful resistance. You close your eyes, urging the strain to dissipate. You know that you will not be able to withstand it much longer yet you know you cannot give up now.

The tension snaps.

Your eyes fly open.

Morpheus' face jumps.

Everything that he needs to consume rushes out.

You feel the entire agonising loss of it.

It is over in a matter of seconds.

Then everything stills.

Morpheus lowers his hand.

It is done.

You feel like you are falling.

Morpheus moves forwards quickly, arms outstretched as if to break your fall but no feeling of being caught ever comes.

You instead wake in your room with a sickening jolt.

Rivers of tears are tracking down your cheeks and strangled cries bubble out of your throat.

You had done the right thing and you knew it. But it didn’t stop you from feeling like you were shattering into millions of pieces.

Morpheus was unreachable.

The dream was over.

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

A/N II: I’m really sorry.

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

"Forget the horror here. Leave it all down here. It's future rust and then it's future dust."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee @ponyboys-sunsets @fangirlmary @littledollll @fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster @rosaren2498 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @madiebear @sandman-33 @sallysal9 @asiludida164 @elf-punk @grungeisntmything

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runicmagitek · 8 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Oh my goodness, this is so sweet, anon 🥺 I've been having a rough weekend and feeling really self-conscious about my ability/worth as a writer, so this was well-timed and genuinely made me smile. Thank you for sending this!

Ho boy, it's tough to narrow down the to my top five favorite fics, because I have a lot of fics. I love all of them for one reason or another, so this is difficult lol. That said, here's my attempt at a top five, in no particular order.

What Leads You Here A post-canon deep dive into Keitaro's and Natsuno's trauma and how they mourn what they lost and learn to heal and move on together. It picks up immediately where the game ends and explores numerous things I love, from worldbuilding to slice-of-life interactions to delicious angst to heavy hurt with equally heavy comfort. I'm really proud of how I was able to write and edit and post a 214k fic within roughly two years. I put a massive amount of research into this along with using a lot of my own personal experiences and am REALLY happy that those who stuck around til the end thoroughly enjoyed the ride. This story will always have a special place in my heart.

The Lies We Tell Ourselves It's very difficult for me to talk about this fic without ruining the entire game. But I came up with this idea and wrote/edited it within roughly four days?? Like it possessed me and I couldn't focus on anything else until I wrote it. BJ and his journey is extremely heartwrenching and just thinking about what he might have come across and how he handled any of that (or didn't) felt like a story worth exploring. It also has some of my favorite lines I've written in recent years, especially the second to last scene.

The Wings That You Burn Holy shit, I cried a lot when I worked on this fic. It's a Celes-centric fic from Sabin's POV during the start of World of Ruin. I love VI, but in retrospect, I wish Celes was given more time to heal after everything that happened at the Solitary Island. And with Sabin being one of the first people she finds, he's the perfect character to remind her she deserves to live, no matter what.

Burning Bright Yet another fic that made me cry while working on it (this is a trend - I love me some angst). I love Steiner and his friendship with Vivi and (much like Celes in VI) I was really sad there wasn't any like, touch base with Vivi after everything that happened with Black Waltz 3 and the South Gate incident. Trauma and healing are core themes that keep cropping up in my stories, which probably says a lot about myself more than anything lolsob but honestly, I really love seeing characters support one another, despite it all. And I'm genuinely thrilled so many readers said this felt like a missing scene straight out of the game, too.

Long Journey Home You guessed it - this fic also tore out my heart while writing it. There's a reason it's tagged as "sad with a happy ending". Kentucky Route Zero is such a profoundly tragic game and exploring the possibilities of Ezra's past in this fic really hit close to home for me. That and weaving in magical realism and devising fantastical situations were such a fun challenge. This also contains my favorite passage I've ever written (and I very clearly remember needing to get up and walk off the feels for at least five minutes after I wrote this damn line):

She patted his head, much like how he patted the dog’s head. When she left, Ezra stayed and listened to the water carry them elsewhere. He thought of the people he met and those who stayed and those who didn’t and if anyone ever cried for the ghosts of who he used to be.

#runic rambles #my writing

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posts-from-employee-427 · 2 years

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(Important Pinned Post)

(Hey so uh. Hi yes hello. Stanley Admin here. I don't like doing serious posts but some things have been bothering me for a while so.

I wanna start by saying this is all /lh. It's just a stupid taspblog and it's not really that serious, I'm not mad at anyone, I'm just realizing I really need to be more reaffirming on some overstepped boundaries.

I'm just gonna like. Bullet point these cuz idk what I'm doing.

I'm going to try to make a small summary of important events for people who showed up late. Try. I'm not promising anything because writing summaries tends to be very draining for me but I know it's a lot at this point. That being said please don't ask for summaries of large events in my inbox, especially of they're from a while ago. I can't get to all of them and some of them I've already summarized in the past. I've made it clear in the past that while I understand the importance of summaries at this point please don't expect them because it is exaughsting to try and create a comprehensive post of everything important from those events.

Also with asks. Ok how do I word this one. So obviously we handle a lot of sensitive subjects on here and all that. And I love angst! It's a great tool in the writers box. But if you're sending an ask that's... kind of clearly not in character agnst an more just venting, please stop that. I've had several people do this. And some have stopped, but some still do it. I'm sorry. I'm just going through a lot as well and don't know how to also help someone else or even respond to it. especially when it's several people. In character is fine!! In character makes sense and is cool. But when it's like, ok this is out of character, idk how to respond to that. Sorry.

And on characters and lore I love the amount of anon blogs that have popped up! I really do!! But. Ok story time. Once upon a time I was clarifying how anons act in the parable. I clarified that they aren't actually part of the parable, but rather outside of it and capable of interacting or changing things by interacting with Stanley. I tried to be rather insistent on this for some time, but as more people ignored it I kinda just. Gave up. The reason I was trying to insist on this is because I felt like having anons in the parable may like. Disrupt Stanley's actions. Like recently!! When Stanley reset and it effected people who it technically shouldn't have effected. It adds a weird layer of Stanley's actions effecting people who realistically shouldn't be effected by a reset.

Obviously there's exceptions. Like 432 who is obviously in the parable cuz. Yeah. ABPA you could even maybe make a case for, but how the character is handled it really works out. He's part of Stanley's universe though not part of the parable. His own thing interacting with Stanley. Like being stuck in a constant time loop in a void and getting a postcard from your buddy out kareoking saying wish you were here. It works.

Actually let's talk about the mintcident real quick. The mintcident is a great example of bending the rules but still working. It didn't break really any previous lore despite interacting with the parable. It was it's own contained thing that even cleaned itself up with a reset. Everyone was on board and it opened up the gates for me and Naradmin to do literally whatever the hell we wanted with a hard reset, and it's how we even got human narry. It was one of the first major actual plots we did beyond just hijinks. The only thing before that was when Stanley talked, which happened on the same day. It drew back on the carrot association talking about if Stanley was sacrificed to a cult what would happen, and worked itself really well. Mint and Gnarly if you're reading this you handled this greatly and it's why the mintcident is so important to this blog now. I remember they even apologized in case it messed with a prior plan (it didn't lmao).

The point is there can absolutely be exceptions to the rules but. This exceptions aren't often because. It usually doesn't work out. I'm glad when it does! It's always fun to see peoples like and how they interact, but when it gets in the way of the pre set rules I made to not cause any trouble, it gets a little difficult. Yeah.

That's all I can think of right now. This is getting pinned cuz it's kind of important, and as we're entering a new setting I wanna just. Re establish some boundaries. So things run more smoothly and it's less stressful for me. Again I'm not mad I just wanted to bring this up cuz some of this has been really stressing me out and I tried to type this all as delicately as possible. I'm really hoping any of this actually makes sense. Obviously this is all my own stuff and I can't speak for I Naradmin agrees with these boundaries or if they're even reasonable, I may be way out of line asking for this and yeah sorry. Idk how to make these kinds of posts. Not sure what this will look like for people moving forward, I don't have a good answer for solving these problems, but I should probably acknowledge them anyway. Sorry for the long ass post. I'm gonna go drink some lemonade and answer some asks in a bit.)

#not employee 427 #(please read.)

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derireo-galge · 1 year

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Sujim Fam! | 2,5k | yoonmin✍🏼

Feline shifters yoonmin are young parents now!

[ contains nsfw, lactation, handjobs, fluff, past angst, happy ending ]

The first time it happened they didn't expect it. In theory, they of course did. But practice is always different to what is written in the books.

Despite being so young, Yoongi and Jimin thrived to become the best parents for their little one. Ever since they found out they were expecting, they knew it was a fundamental step in their lives. They enrolled in parenting school - a kind of course that their local clinic offered to attend.

They've been continuously reading books on parenting, baby care and cooking written specifically for their kind. And they've researched online, talking to young couples who were just like them, unexperienced, but eager to get better.

Naturally, there were specific to every species and them being the feline shifters made it even easier, soon as there were so many of them out there and all the information was easy to access. And even though they've obtained a certain amount of knowledge, experiencing everything for the first time was completely different.

It was a sleepy kind of morning, the one where you'd wake up several times through it and then doze off again, pawing at the warm body beside you and kissing each other's shoulders with your eyes closed. The one where you'd breathe in the lovely scent of your mate, the most desirable in the world, with its undertones peaceful, calm. Where you'd be able to literally smell how rested your other half is.

Jimin opened his eyes slowly, yet again waking up from the pleasurable dream. His hands quickly went to his soft tummy and discovered it being small, flattened. Funny, just a moment ago he saw it in his dream, rounded, full of their young. He saw how he was expecting, how Yoongi was carrying him in his arms at every opportunity. Saw how they laid in their nest, with the elder scenting his baby bump repeatedly, talking to it and sharing secrets Jimin pretended he didn't overhear.

Despite having had their baby Jimin still had these vivid dreams of their recent past. Could be the hormones in his body or just because it happened to be one of the happiest times in his own life and in their life as a mated pair.

He didn't have time to miss it though. Because their little one was taking a lot of their time, not leaving much of it spare for dwelling on things that don't matter at this particular moment. Even if they were so dreamily joyful.

Jimin's hands raised and his blunt nails grazed his mate's buff chest who was laying in his side facing him. He traced the dusty pink nipples and glided his fingers down his abdomen, now more determinedly going downwards, to his lower belly.

He looked at his own hands, now hooked on the edge of the thin sheet that was covering Yoongi's lower half and that was obviously tenting right where it should be. He didn't get to touch him though as he completely stilled when his mate's palm lazily laid on his chest.

It's been filled since last time he nursed their little one and was now more rounded, tense. Strong fingers moved gently and slightly squeezed the soft nipple. Sensitive, it pebbled right away under his touch. A couple of droplets escaped and Yoongi sleepily bent towards it to lick them off.

- Hyung! - Jimin whisper shouted, - Kiss me first!

The elder chuckled and opened his eyes to look at his stunning mate. He looked sleepy as well, smiling softly and with an adorable blush on his cheeks. His full lips were a little pouty and Yoongi immediately came closer, kissing them again and again.

- Ah, careful, - the younger mumbled into his hyung's mouth when his palm went to cup his full milky breasts, moving as slowly as possible.

- You're so delicious, my love, - he whispered into the skin of his neck, pecking and scenting it, licking along the pulsing vein and moving lower to his full breasts again.

Jimin finally got his hands under the covers and wrapped his palms around the thick shaft, feeling how hard and warm it was, with wetness smeared all over the tip. His hand came back to his own mouth just so he could taste his lover with his tongue and lick all over his palm to make the glide better.

Yoongi sucked on his nipple, tasting the milk and making the younger moan quietly. When his hyung did it, it was a different yet very welcome kind of pleasure.

- Don't be greedy, leave some for the baby, - he whined, arching towards his love and stroking his mate's cock faster and faster, feeling how it pulsated against the skin of his palm.

Yoongi moved his hips, sloppily thrusting into the pleasuring hands until he spilled the trickles of his release over the dainty fingers. With a sweet relieved sigh, he finally let go of the milky breasts and moved his hand down to where the younger was rutting against the sheet that was covering him.

His palm engulfed his length completely, thumbed at the slit and massaged all over the shaft, getting his lover to come in no time. He performed soft strokes intermittently with harder, shorter ones, making his mate almost mewl from the blissful sensations. Jimin came in spurts of white, landing on his hyung's warm hand and his own lower belly.

Sweaty and sated, they cleaned themselves the best they could without needing to get up and laid in each other's arms peacefully. Feeling a little lazy, they exchanged soft open mouthed kisses, breathing in the intensified scents they obtained after their short morning encounter.

That's until it clicked that it was way too quiet for the morning. No baby crying, no noises, nothing.

- Hyung! The baby! - Jimin all but jumped when he sat up and looked at the bedside cabinet. Yoongi rolled over and got to it faster, picking up the baby monitor. Nothing showed that there was anything wrong with it.

- It's working but it really is too quiet. Maybe he's asleep still? - He wondered.

- At this hour? We better check, - the concern was clear in the younger’s voice.

But they didn't have to go anywhere. The next moment the door creaked and opened a sliver. Slowly, tentatively.

The young parents watched in awe as their child, still too young to even crawl in his human form, was entering the room on all fours. He now again, just like when he was born, had tiny paws and a brush like tail. Cute miniature ears twitched and he emitted such a tiny mewl, and the both of the adults had to surpress the urge to coo.

- Why is he like that? I thought he shifted for good? - Jimin asked, whispering quietly.

- They did say it was possible in some cases. We should have kind of expected it. - Yoongi replied in a similar volume.

They were clutching at each other's forearms as they sat there on the bed, waiting for their baby to find them. What they wanted the most was to run to him and pick him up but the young parents realized they should let him do things on his own.

That's how he will develop the best. And if anything, they will always be there to help.

The tiny orange kitten looked from side to side and didn't find anyone. He sat awkwardly and licked his paw, losing his balance and falling on the soft carpet after. He heard a gasp and raised his head.

There he saw what he was instinctually looking for. He mewled louder and went towards the hands that were expectantly waiting for him at the foot of the bed.

Jimin picked their baby up and kissed his head. He passed him to his mate and watched as the love of his life nosed and scented at the soft fir, calming the kitten down and holding him carefully.

In his strong arms he looked even tinier and the elder raised his eyes towards his younger mate. He has been his dream for such a long time and seeing this very dream developed in this direction only made him all the more happy.

- This will never get old, - he rasped, looking Jimin straight in the eyes, trying to convey the amount of gratitude and respect he had for him for bringing this miracle into this world.

- It really won't, - he agreed, watching his two boys' bonding time, - We are so naive, hyung. We've already put all the kitten bottles away.

- Are they on the upper shelf? Let me get them. Here, - he passed him the kitten baby to feed and stood up from the bed with a grunt.

Before leaving the room and having put on his robe that he discarded somewhere on the mattress last night, he leaned down to peck both of his babies on the head. They didn't have that much time left before going out like they originally planned.

Surely, their little one shifting back to his feline form is a slight change to their stroll around the seasonal market that they planned but it isn't a major mishap. They just had to adjust to the unexpected situation.

Yoongi boiled a pot of water and put several tiny bottles to sterilize there. He searched the chest of drawers for different covers and disposable sheets that they barely used now that their baby shifted to human form. Finally he went to their storage room and rummaged through the top shelf, finally finding a woven basket that was given to them by their friends for one of their anniversaries.

What could he say? They saw ahead of time, it seemed, for now it turned out to be a much more valuable gift than he initially thought.

The elder wiped the basket clean of dust and made a little bed there, lining the flannel pocket with the waterproof sheet and checking that the ties were in place. That created a cozy and easy to clean space for the little one that they will carry in their arms, not any worse that a special baby carrier they had used before.

Walking back to their bedroom he saw Jimin, half covered with a thin sheet and a half asleep kitten in his arms. He wanted to save this scene in his mind forever.

- Let's put him in the basket? Look? - he was uncharacteristically nervous but then he remembered that his hormones were wired from having a baby too and it was a gesture that demonstrated how capable he was of providing a safe space for their child.

- It's perfect, hyung! - the younger exclaimed and set the kitty inside the fabric pocket, - You did an amazing job.

With the praise, Yoongi puffed his chest and purred in content. His mate was purring just as happily and they connected in a chaste kiss above the little basket where their miracle has already dozed off.

Used to doing their maximum while the baby was asleep they quickly got dressed, picking their stuff and the baby bag along with the basket. The road to the market was peaceful, with Yoongi playing some music quietly, not to disturb their kitten's sleep. Their destination was just in the neighbouring area, a usually empty promenade was now lined in stalls and kiosks.

Yoongi was carrying the basket in one hand and holding Jimin with the other, walking slowly through the now busy street full of small businesses and displays with produce. They didn't get much, mostly picking things that caught their attention or they were curious to try cooking. All the seller aunties and uncles were eager to chat with them, and both mates indulged every single person, having both lost their parents at a young age and having sentimental feelings towards the other generation.

The moment their kitty crawled out of the fabric pocket and mewled, sleepily sniffing the unfamiliar air around him, things changed drastically. When it became obvious that the tiny orange creature that Jimin carefully wrapped in a small blanket and held with both hands isn't a pet but a shifter baby, they were looked at in a different way.

These seasonal market people, mostly village folk, never once frowned upon such young parents like the people in the city often did. On the contrary, they praised them and congratulated on starting their family.

Yoongi had a hard time paying for everything, with the kind sellers not wanting to take much from them. So the elder resolved to putting money directly into the small boxes everyone had at their stalls next to their scales they measured the produce with.

They went back to their car loaded with fresh meat, eggs, vegetables and fruit and with at least a dozen written recipes on how to best preserve whatever they won't be able to eat. Yoongi sat behind the wheel with Jimin on the passenger seat, clutching onto the basket where their son was playing with his tail.

They made the right decision coming here as they obtained so much more than just seasonal groceries. The reassurance that they craved but never got from the older generation, they found here, so unexpectedly.

Yoongi had his eyes full of tears as he leaned his head on his arms that he crossed on the steering wheel. He rubbed both palms over his face and looked at his beautiful mate that was watching him with a small smile and understanding in his eyes.

- We are fine, we're going to be just fine, hyung, - he leaned over to kiss his mate on the lips, trying to convey all his trust he had for him, all the faith he had in their little family.

The journey back home was just as fast as to the market, only this time their son was wide awake, playfully wriggling in Jimin's hands and nipping at his fingers with his small teeth. Yoongi just changed into his home clothes and turned around where the kitten was playing on their bed to see there were no paws and no tail anymore. There, among the sheets laid a human baby, grunting and sucking on his chubby fist.

- Jimin-ah! He's back! - he announced happily, picking the little one up and wrapping him in a clean sheet he took off the shelf. - Hello, baby. Let's go say hi to your dada?

He paused in the doorway that led to the kitchen. His mate, surrounded by the newly bought groceries and with his hair disheveled was making them drinks, looking out of the window.

His silhouette, although changed with years and rounded deliciously in all the right places, was still the same as the first time he saw him all those years back. And it's with the same kind of fondness, just intensified, he was watching him stir the beverage in the mug he was holding, quietly clacking the teaspoon.

He was right, he was sure of it, that all three of them will be just fine, as long as they're together.

#jimin #yoongi #yoonmin #yoonmin au #bts au fic #fanfic #bts fanfction #hybrids #ai-ee au #ai-ee au yoongi x jimin #hybrid yoongi #hybrid jimin

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awriterofdivinedreams · 1 year

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His Insurmountable Legacy (272 words) by AWriterOfDivineDreams Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante & Devil May Cry Ensemble, Dante & Lucia (Devil May Cry), Dante & Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero's Mother/Vergil (Devil May Cry) Characters: Dante (Devil May Cry), Lucia (Devil May Cry), Nero (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry) Additional Tags: Mentioned Sparda (Devil May Cry), Mentioned Mundus (Devil May Cry), Mentioned Nelo Angelo, Mentioned Arius (Devil May Cry), Mentioned Matier (Devil May Cry), Mentioned Patty Lowell, Mentioned Nero's Mother (Devil May Cry), Mentioned Sanctus (Devil May Cry), Mentioned Eva (Devil May Cry), Dante Needs a Hug (Devil May Cry), Depressed Dante (Devil May Cry), Uncle Dante (Devil May Cry), Determined Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero Needs a Hug (Devil May Cry), Protective Nero (Devil May Cry), Parent Vergil (Devil May Cry), Stubborn Vergil (Devil May Cry), Suffering Vergil (Devil May Cry), Vergil Needs a Hug (Devil May Cry), Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Canon Events, Implied/Referenced Canon Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Past Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Implied/Referenced Depression, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Enslavement, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Triple Couplet Poems, Rhyming, Poetry, Character Study, Introspection, Inspired by Music, Inspired by TV Tropes Character Pages, Inspired by YouTube Video Essays, Inspired by Poetry, Inspired by Fanfiction, Not Beta Read, My First Work in This Fandom, Contains Author’s Commentary in the Notes, I Wrote This While Listening To Video Game Soundtracks, Events of the games and '07 anime in poetry format because that's my style, By looking at the end notes you can tell I'm new to the fandom, Copious amounts of hyperlinks in the end notes Series: Part 1 of A Poetic Legacy – A Devil May Cry Poetry Anthology

Summary: Two thousand years have passed since the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda sealed the Demon World from the Human World. Yet his story is still told to this very day despite humans not knowing if he is alive or dead. They say that the Human World is valiantly protected from malicious demons in the form of his powerful twin sons and grandson.

His legacy lives on.

#Writer’s Rambles #Archive of Our Own #The written word #Tis mine #Poetry #Devil May Cry #Dante Sparda #Vergil Sparda #Lucia of Vie de Marli #Nero Sparda #Sparda #Nero’s Mother

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natsusliljay04 · 6 months

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Echoes of hope through Darkness

A Xiao x Aether story (Angst)

This stories contains angst and Mentions of Torture, blood and mentions of suicide so if you dont like it don't read it

I literally vried while editing this. So have fun..

In the quiet solitude of Wangshu Inn, Xiao stood alone, gazing out at the starry night sky. The world around him was filled with bustling life, but in that moment, he felt utterly alone. Memories of his past resurfaced, memories of a friendship he had once cherished. Aether, the Traveler from another world, had been his closest companion, but now, they were separated by an insurmountable divide. The pain of their parting weighed heavy on his heart, and Xiao's eyes welled with unshed tears as he longed for the return of his friend.

~ Flashbacks to the past ~

In a time not too long ago, Xiao and Aether had been inseparable as they journeyed through the vast lands of Teyvat. Together, they had faced the challenges and adversaries that this mystical world presented, forming an unbreakable bond in the process.

But as they delved deeper into their quest to unravel the mysteries of Teyvat and reunite the Traveler with their long-lost sibling, they found themselves confronted by a malevolent force that sought to keep them apart. The dark and enigmatic powers of the Abyss Order, led by the ominous figure known as the Unknown God, descended upon them. In a fierce battle, Aether was suddenly enveloped by a swirling vortex of energy, and despite Xiao's desperate efforts to reach out and save him, he was forcibly pulled into another realm.

Xiao was left standing on the precipice, helpless and defeated, as the portal to the other world closed, separating him from Aether. The weight of their separation haunted him ever since, and it was a pain that no amount of solitude or meditation could ease.

~Back to the present ~

Now, Xiao's life is a solitary existence filled with endless duty and the solemn task of guarding Liyue from the darkness that lurked within. He had returned to his duties as the vigilant Yaksha, suppressing his emotions and the lingering ache of Aether's absence as best as he could. Every day, he patrolled the streets and protected the people of Liyue from malevolent spirits, but the memory of his lost friend remained a constant and painful reminder of the past.

He found solace in the quiet nights at Wangshu Inn, where he would often stand alone, staring at the same starry sky that had once witnessed their friendship. Although he had tried to move on, the shadow of Aether's absence lingered in every corner of his heart. Xiao had become a guardian, not only of Liyue but also of his own emotions, keeping them locked away to prevent the pain from resurfacing.

Yet, deep down, he couldn't help but hope for the day when destiny might bring his dear friend Aether back to his side, and the two could once again share the adventures and companionship that had once defined their journey through Teyvat.

As Xiao stood on the balcony of Wangshu Inn, lost in his thoughts, a faint cry for help carried on the night wind. His ears perked up, and for a moment, he was transported back to the days when he and Aether had rushed to aid anyone in need without hesitation.

Without a second thought, he leaped from the balcony and, with uncanny speed, raced toward the source of the distress. The cry for help grew louder, leading him to a remote, moonlit grove. There, he discovered a young woman, beset by a group of hostile hilichurls.

Xiao didn't hesitate; his Yaksha form burst forth, and with his swift spear, he dispatched the hilichurls, protecting the frightened woman. As the danger subsided, he turned to her, his expression hidden behind his mask, and asked in a gentle, yet haunted voice, "Are you alright?"

Xiao's eyes widened beneath his mask as he watched the woman vanish before his very eyes. A sense of unease washed over him, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of illusion or trickery. His instincts told him that something mysterious and otherworldly was at play.

Furrowing his brow, he scanned the grove, trying to discern any clues or traces of the woman's presence. He couldn't just dismiss what had transpired as a mere hallucination; it felt too real. Xiao's curiosity was piqued, and his determination to uncover the truth was unshaken. With a resolute resolve, he embarked on a quest to unravel the mystery of the disappearing woman, hoping that it might lead him one step closer to the answers he sought about Aether's disappearance and the enigmatic forces that had brought them to this world.

The voice calling his name was hauntingly familiar, and for a brief moment, Xiao's heart leaped with hope. Could it be? Was it Aether? His thoughts raced as he turned towards the source of the voice, his masked face revealing nothing of the emotions churning within him.

In the moonlight, a figure emerged from the shadows, and as it drew nearer, the features became clearer. It was not Aether but a being who radiated an aura of otherworldly power. The figure spoke with an ethereal, echoing voice, "Xiao, my vigilant friend, you have been waiting for so long."

Xiao couldn't contain his mix of emotions – hope, longing, and caution all intermingled. He stepped closer to the figure and asked, "Who are you, and how do you know my name?"

The figure, shrouded in mystery, replied, "I am a guardian of time and space. I can lead you to the answers you seek, to the one you've been searching for. But first, you must follow me."

Xiao hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to discover more about the mysterious figure and the caution that had become his second nature. The longing for answers about Aether's whereabouts and the possibility of reuniting with his friend tugged at his heart.

After a deep breath, Xiao made a decision. With a firm nod, he said, "Lead the way. I'll follow you, but know that I won't be deceived easily. I've waited long enough for the truth."

The enigmatic guardian of time and space extended a spectral hand, and with a resolute determination, Xiao took it. The grove disappeared, and they both stepped into a portal of shimmering light, embarking on a journey that held the promise of answers, hope, and perhaps, the long-awaited reunion with Aether.

As Xiao and the enigmatic guardian emerged from the portal, they found themselves in an eerie, pitch-black void. The darkness was impenetrable, and a sense of disorientation washed over Xiao. He clenched his spear, ready for any surprises, his senses heightened.

"Where are we?" Xiao demanded, his voice echoing in the empty abyss. He couldn't see the guardian's figure anymore, and he felt a growing unease. "What is the meaning of this?"

The guardian's voice echoed from the void, "Patience, Xiao. We are on the threshold of knowledge and revelation. Trust in the path we tread."

With his heart filled with equal parts trepidation and determination, Xiao cautiously moved forward into the abyss, guided only by the echoing voice and the hope that lay ahead.

As Xiao ventured deeper into the unfathomable darkness, Aether's anguished voice suddenly pierced through the void, echoing with torment and desperation. It was a voice he had yearned to hear for so long, but the pain in it sent shivers down his spine.

"Aether!" Xiao called out, his voice a mixture of fear and determination. He rushed in the direction of the voice, his steps quickening, his heart pounding with the urgency of the cry for help. Every fiber of his being was consumed by the need to reach his friend.

The void seemed to stretch endlessly, but Xiao pressed on, unyielding, driven by the unwavering hope of rescuing Aether from whatever peril he had found himself in.

Xiao's heart raced as Aether's voice grew closer, the intensity of the cry for help resonating in the emptiness of the void. With each step, he could feel his friend's presence drawing near, and it fueled his determination to reach Aether's side.

He called out once more, "Aether, hold on! I'm coming!" Xiao moved faster, his spear at the ready, his focus unwavering as he continued to follow the haunting sound of Aether's voice, desperately seeking a way to bridge the gap that had separated them for far too long.

Xiao finally arrived at the source of Aether's voice, and what he saw tore at his heart. Aether, his friend and companion, was sitting on the ground, bound in handcuffs that bore the marks of a cruel struggle. His body was covered in scars, a testament to the suffering he had endured.

A rush of emotions welled up within Xiao – relief at finally finding Aether, anger at those who had inflicted such pain, and an overwhelming desire to free his friend from his restraints.

"Aether!" Xiao rushed to his side, his hands trembling as he worked to remove the handcuffs, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and anger. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

Xiao's heart sank as he saw Aether's distant, vacant gaze. It was clear that his friend had endured more than just physical wounds; there were scars of the soul, too. Xiao remained patient, understanding that words might not come easily.

Gently, he placed a hand on Aether's shoulder and said, "You're safe now. We'll get through this together." He didn't press for answers, knowing that time and trust would be needed to heal the wounds, both seen and unseen.

Xiao's world suddenly shifted, and he found himself in another scene, one that left him speechless. Aether, his friend and companion, was now kneeling on the ground, tears in his eyes, pleading for forgiveness. The sight was a stark contrast to the strong and determined Aether he had known.

Confusion gripped Xiao as he tried to make sense of the situation. He knelt down beside Aether, his heart aching at the sight of his friend's distress. "Aether," he whispered softly, "What has happened? Why are you asking for forgiveness?"

Xiao's mind raced, searching for answers, as he waited for Aether to explain the painful scene that had unfolded before them.

As quickly as the distressing scene had appeared, it vanished, leaving Xiao with a profound sense of disorientation. Before him stood the enigmatic guardian of time and space once more, their form shrouded in mystery.

Xiao's patience was running thin, and he demanded answers, his voice tinged with frustration. "What is the meaning of these visions, and why are you showing them to me?"

The guardian's voice echoed through the void, "Patience, Xiao. The truth lies hidden within these memories, and the path to it is not always straightforward. Your journey has just begun, and there are still revelations to uncover."

Xiao clenched his fists, torn between his need for answers and the growing uncertainty of the guardian's intentions. With a heavy heart, he resolved to press on, for he could not rest until he understood the mysteries that shrouded his friend Aether's past and present.

Xiao watched in growing horror as yet another scene unfolded before him. Blurry figures taunted and laughed at Aether, who was forced to the ground with a sword held at his neck by a guard. The cruelty and humiliation in the scene sent a chill down Xiao's spine.

His heart ached for his friend, and the intensity of his emotions surged. "No," he whispered, a surge of anger building within him. He yearned to reach out and protect Aether from the torment he was enduring.

With clenched fists, Xiao vowed to uncover the truth behind these haunting visions and to rescue Aether from the suffering that seemed to shadow his every step. He knew that he could not rest until he understood the full extent of his friend's trials and found a way to bring him solace and safety.

The sight of blood running down from Aether's neck, from the wound inflicted by the cruel sword, was a chilling image that stirred a deep well of fear and urgency within Xiao. His heart pounded, and his resolve grew stronger, for he could not stand by while his friend suffered.

With a fierce determination, Xiao surged forward, his spear ready, and confronted the guard who had committed this heinous act. He demanded, "Release him now!" His voice was unwavering, and his eyes bore into the guard, determined to protect Aether at any cost.

The scene, however, remained unresponsive, a haunting tableau of the past. Xiao's helplessness and frustration grew as he was unable to intervene directly, but he was now more determined than ever to uncover the truth and free Aether from the torment of these haunting memories.

The guardian reappeared, their presence a shimmering light in the midst of the haunting scene. Xiao's frustration and desperation were evident as he turned to them, demanding answers. "What is the meaning of these visions? Why are you showing me these painful memories?"

The guardian's voice echoed gently, "These memories hold the key to the truth, Xiao. To understand your friend's past, you must first confront the darkness that lingers within. Only then can you hope to bring him solace."

Xiao's resolve remained unshaken, and he nodded in reluctant agreement. He knew that he had to delve deeper into these painful memories, no matter how difficult, to uncover the secrets and untangle the web of torment that had ensnared his friend Aether.

Xiao's heart raced at the guardian's revelation. The memory of the sword at Aether's neck was not a mere recollection of the past; it was a current reality. Aether was in imminent danger, and a surge of determination washed over Xiao.

"Take me to him," he implored the guardian, his voice filled with urgency. "I won't let him suffer any longer. Lead the way."

With newfound purpose, Xiao followed the guardian, his spear at the ready, determined to rescue Aether from the perilous situation that had become his present reality. The hope of saving his friend burned brightly in his heart.

A faint cry in the distance sent a jolt of hope and fear through Xiao. It was a sound he couldn't ignore, and he knew it might be Aether. Without hesitation, he rushed in the direction of the cry, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination.

With every step he took, the cry grew louder, and Xiao couldn't help but hope that it was indeed his friend who needed him. His thoughts were filled with the desperate wish to finally reunite with Aether and save him from the torment he had endured for so long.

As Xiao arrived at the scene he had witnessed in the void, his worst fears were realized. Aether was still on the ground, with a sword at his neck, and the blurry figures were still taunting him. The cruel and haunting memory had become a chilling reality.

Xiao's heart ached at the sight, but this time, he was determined to act. With lightning speed, he attacked the guards, freeing Aether from their grip and pushing them back. "Aether, you're safe now," he said, his voice filled with relief and determination. "We will get through this together."

Xiao's concern deepened as Aether gave no reaction, his distant and unresponsive gaze fixated on the ground. He knew that the wounds, both physical and emotional, ran deep. Xiao knelt down beside his friend, placing a hand on Aether's shoulder, trying to offer comfort and support.

"I'm here for you, Aether," Xiao whispered, his voice filled with empathy. "You don't have to face this alone. We'll find a way to heal your pain and set things right."

With a heavy heart, Xiao realized that the road to recovery for his friend would be a long and difficult one. But he was willing to do whatever it took to help Aether find solace and to understand the full extent of the torment he had endured.

As the faint sound of Xiao's name escaped Aether's lips, it was a small glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had consumed them. Xiao's heart swelled with emotion, and he leaned in closer to his friend.

"I'm here, Aether," he murmured softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "I'll stay by your side, no matter what. We'll find a way to make things right again."

Xiao knew that the path to healing and recovery would be a long and arduous one, but he was willing to walk it with Aether, guided by the enduring friendship and the promise of a brighter future.

Aether's words cut through the heavy atmosphere of the moment, and Xiao could sense the profound darkness that had enveloped his friend's world. He continued to offer his support, holding Aether's shoulder gently and responding with understanding.

"I know it's dark, Aether," Xiao said, his tone filled with empathy. "But we'll find our way out of this darkness together. You're not alone anymore."

With each word, Xiao hoped to bring a glimmer of light into Aether's world, a beacon of hope that they could navigate the shadows and emerge into a brighter tomorrow.

Xiao's heart skipped a beat as he saw Aether's faint smile break through the pain and darkness that had clouded his friend's face. It was a small but powerful moment, a sign that their enduring bond was not broken, and that there was still hope.

A soft, relieved smile crept onto Xiao's own face, and he said, "That's it, Aether. Hold on to that smile. We'll face the darkness together, and I promise, we'll find our way to the light."

In that brief moment, a glimmer of hope and the strength of their friendship became their guiding light in the midst of the shadows that surrounded them.

a silent "Thank you.." came out of Aethers mouth "You're welcome, Aether," Xiao replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. "We're in this together, and we'll overcome whatever challenges lie ahead."

With those words, the two friends sat in the midst of the darkness, their bond stronger than ever, ready to face the trials and tribulations that awaited them, with the hope of a brighter future shining on the horizon.

Panic gripped Xiao as Aether fainted due to the blood loss. He quickly assessed his friend's condition, realizing that immediate medical attention was necessary. With a sense of urgency, he carefully lifted Aether into his arms, cradling him gently.

"Stay with me, Aether," Xiao whispered, his voice laced with worry. He carried his unconscious friend, determined to find help and ensure that Aether received the medical care he desperately needed. The journey to bring his friend back to safety had taken a new turn, but Xiao was unwavering in his resolve to protect and heal his cherished companion.

Xiao's eyes widened as a portal-like opening appeared before him, revealing Yanfei and other people in Liyue Harbor. The unexpected sight brought a surge of hope that they might be able to find the help Aether needed.

Without hesitation, Xiao stepped through the portal with Aether still in his arms, emerging into Liyue Harbor. "Yanfei, we need medical assistance," he urgently called out to the group, hoping that they would provide the care and support necessary to save his friend.

The people in Liyue Harbor quickly rushed to their aid, and Xiao knew that they were one step closer to helping Aether recover from the ordeal he had endured.

Weeks had passed since that fateful day when Aether had woken up in Liyue Harbor, thanks to the timely assistance and care he had received. The injuries, both physical and emotional, had taken their toll, but he had shown remarkable resilience in the face of adversity.

As Aether's eyes fluttered open, he found himself in a comfortable room, sunlight streaming in through the window. The memories of the torment and darkness that had consumed him were still fresh, but the warmth of the present surroundings offered a stark contrast.

Xiao, who had been keeping a watchful eye over his friend during the weeks of recovery, was nearby, and when he saw Aether awake, he couldn't help but offer a relieved and caring smile. "You're awake," he said softly. "How do you feel?"

Xiao observed Aether's distant gaze, understanding the weight of the trials and trauma his friend had endured. He remained patient, giving Aether the space and time he needed to process his emotions.

With a reassuring presence, Xiao sat beside his friend, offering silent support. He knew that the journey to healing and recovery would be a long one, and he was prepared to walk it by Aether's side, no matter how challenging it might be.

As Aether began to speak about the harrowing experiences he had endured, Xiao's heart sank at the horrors his friend had faced. The tales of torture and cruelty were deeply unsettling, and the revelation that these acts had been orchestrated by his own Abyssal princess sister only deepened the pain.

Xiao listened in somber silence, offering a supportive presence as Aether shared his painful story. He knew that the weight of these memories would take time to bear, but he remained resolute in his commitment to help his friend heal and find a path forward.

Once Aether had finished speaking, Xiao simply said, "I'm here for you, Aether, and together we'll find a way to overcome the darkness that has touched your life."

Aether's words echoed with the profound loss and confusion he felt, now that he was separated from his sister. The absence of a significant family bond had left a void that was difficult to fill.

Xiao, understanding the depth of Aether's emotional turmoil, said gently, "I can't replace your sister, Aether, but you're not alone. We'll find a new path in this world, together, and make sense of this life one step at a time."

He offered his unwavering support and friendship, determined to help Aether navigate the uncertain future that lay ahead and find a sense of purpose and belonging.

Xiao's heart sank as he heard Aether's distressing words about taking his own life. He understood the depth of despair and pain that had driven his friend to such a dark place.

Desperate to offer support, Xiao spoke with a sense of urgency, "Aether, please don't talk like that. I'm here for you, and there are people who care about you. We'll find a way to heal from the past, to find hope, and to give your life meaning once again. Let's seek help together and face this darkness."

He reached out to Aether, his eyes filled with genuine concern, determined to ensure his friend's safety and well-being.

Xiao's heart ached as he saw the tears welling up in Aether's eyes. He knew that the pain his friend was experiencing was overwhelming, and he felt a deep sense of helplessness.

With a gentle and empathetic tone, he said, "It's okay to cry, Aether. Your emotions are valid, and I'm here to support you through this." Xiao remained by Aether's side, offering a comforting presence and a shoulder to lean on as his friend navigated through this incredibly difficult moment.

As Aether hugged Xiao, the physical embrace conveyed a depth of emotion that words couldn't express. Xiao, though often reserved and stoic, welcomed the gesture with open arms. He understood the significance of this moment, the need for connection and support.

Xiao gently returned the embrace, offering a reassuring presence. He said softly, "We'll face this together, Aether. You're not alone, and I'll always be here for you."

In that moment, their friendship became a lifeline, a source of strength to weather the storm of pain and despair that had engulfed Aether's life.

In the days and weeks that followed, Aether's journey to healing continued. With the unwavering support of Xiao and the friends he had made in Teyvat, he gradually found his way back from the brink of despair. The darkness that had overshadowed his life began to recede, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and hope.

Together, Aether and Xiao faced the challenges of Teyvat, forging new bonds and making new memories that would overshadow the painful past. Aether's determination to reunite with his sister never wavered, but he also discovered that life had much more to offer than he had initially realized.

With each passing day, the scars of his past grew less painful, and he learned to treasure the present moments. The friendship and support of Xiao and the people of Teyvat became a guiding light, helping Aether find a new sense of belonging in a world that had once seemed so foreign and daunting.

The story of Aether and Xiao was one of resilience, friendship, and the strength to overcome even the darkest of trials. It was a testament to the human spirit's capacity to heal, grow, and find meaning in the face of adversity. And so, their journey continued, with the promise of a brighter future on the horizon, where hope and companionship would forever light their way..

The End

I hope you guys liked it. Bye for now!

~Jay<3

#angst with a happy ending #Aether #Xiao #genshin impact #aether x xiao

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