#i didn’t expect to like it much because everything I’ve seen in passing within the fandom has been completely unhinged | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jungkoode · 2 months ago

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THE 25TH HOUR | O7

“𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐒”

"The most annoying thing about Agent Min isn’t how easily he dodges your questions—it’s how effortlessly he outmatches your wit."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 7,4k

content: field trips, noma being curious as usual, yoongi being half amused half exasperated, yoongi being a smart lil shit and evading her questions, her growing frustrated, forced proximity, eery memorials and visceral reactions.

— author’s note

Hiii peeps!!!

It’s been a long time coming huh??? FINALLY chapter 7 reached the goals yesterday!!! *cue the confetti that i absolutely do not have the energy to throw*

I’ve been writing this chapter for what feels like an eternity (literally aged 10 years minimum) but I just finished the last scene today and edited and proofread it just now soooo I hope everything’s okay??? If you see a typo… no you didn’t (ಥ﹏ಥ).

Not gonna lie to you, I had to reread chapter 6 because I straight up forgot whether I had tasked Yoongi and Noma to the Monitoring Hub or if that was someone else ahahaha—spoiler alert: it was Tae and Jungkook who got stuck with that chore, not Yoongi and Y/N. Slay for us!

Then I reread some of my notes and remembered some plotlines I had emotionally suppressed and well… the last scene about the park basically wrote itself. Yeah. It’s eery. Prepare yourselves.

There’s SO much to unpack from this fic and SO little we have even scratched the surface of. I know The 25th Hour is my most head-wrecking fanfic so PLEASE, feel free to vomit ALL of your theories at me hahaha. I’m here for the chaos.

As always—remember my fics are sloooooow paced and sloooooow burn because my brain doesn’t know how to operate differently. Don’t expect fast plot movement, I’m intentionally taking my time to build the world and lay tiny breadcrumbs for you to gather. Pick them up. Put them in your emotional basket. Analyze them to your heart’s content.

Enjoy, goblins! <3

— read on

ao3

wattpad

The streets feel fundamentally wrong.

It's not something you can quantify, not yet. The temperature is stable, the air quality within acceptable parameters, and the ambient noise levels hover at a predictable 67 decibels.

But still, something feels… off.

Sector 4 has always been bustling, it is a fact you do not question.

Coffee shops line the sidewalks—windows are fogged with steam and promises of overpriced caffeine. Restaurants have flickering neon signs in rhythmic patterns that seem to draw people in inevitably. Storefronts display fashion statements that you’ve never found appealing but still manage to catch your eye every time you pass them.

You do like fashion—at least, theoretically.

You’ve never bought anything from these stores, though.

Agent Min walks ahead of you now, stride measured as always. You recalibrate your position almost immediately, adjusting your pace to walk beside him instead of behind.

Not behind him. Never behind him.

You don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. To you, at least. Or maybe to whatever part of you keeps acting out without conscious thought lately.

Your eyes betray you again, flickering to his gloved hand for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. Covered, as always. Black leather stretched taut over fingers that move very precisely—cataloging, calculating, anticipating.

You’re still stuck on his earlier words: “Protection from me.”

What did he mean by that? Is his touch scalding? Dangerous?

You haven’t seen him touch anyone else without those gloves—not once since arriving at the facility. It’s plausible enough to form a hypothesis around it, but not enough to test it without risking another nosebleed—or worse.

Still… you want to test it anyway.

And then there’s the matter of your own gloves—thin fabric ones that feel more like a restriction than protection.

Nobody else wears them except Yoongi. Just him and you. You and him.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

The question loops through your mind like a broken record, each repetition louder than the last until it feels like static buzzing beneath your skin.

You want to ask him outright, even though you know it will get you nowhere.

But still… you want to ask.

“Why gloves?”

The words slip out before your analytical mind can filter them properly—an impulsive breach of protocol that surprises even you.

Yoongi sighs—a sound weighted with irritation but tempered by something softer beneath—and doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickers around the street instead, cataloging details invisible to your untrained eye.

“Stop staring at my hand,” he says finally, voice low enough that only you can hear over the ambient noise of Sector 4’s busiest avenue.

“I wasn’t staring at your hand,” you counter, the denial emerging with suspicious automaticity.

And technically, it’s not a lie.

Your focus was on the glove itself—the material composition, the precision fit, the way it moves with his fingers as if designed specifically for his unique biomechanics.

“My gloves cover my hands,” he points out, logic impeccable as always. “You looking at my glove is functionally equivalent to looking at my hand.”

Your analytical mind acknowledges the validity of his reasoning—the correlation between glove and hand approaches 99.7% in this context.

“Stop trying to be clever,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching upward by approximately 0.3 millimeters—a microexpression your body recognizes as amusement despite your mind having no reference point for it.

“I’m not trying to be clever,” you respond, your tone matching his. “Fabric is not skin. I was technically not observing your hand but rather the material covering it.”

His eyes narrow by exactly 1.2 millimeters. “You’re doing it right now.”

“Doing what?”

“Attempting to establish semantic superiority through technical correctness.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Stop it.”

Your lips press together, suppressing what feels suspiciously like a smile. Your gaze shifts to his profile, noting the controlled tension in his jaw, the rhythm of his breathing.

“Why?” The question emerges softer than intended.

He turns, eyes meeting yours with unsettling directness.

The contact lasts 2.7 seconds—42% longer than standard conversational eye contact.

“Because,” his eyes flicker gold for precisely 0.3 seconds, “being intellectual antagonists with each other is essentially our foreplay.”

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.37%.

“That would imply sexual attraction.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Are you sexually attracted to me?”

He doesn’t respond.

You weren’t expecting him to.

Doesn’t make it less annoying.

But curiosity nags at you as your eyes flicker down to his gloves. And before you can process your next question, you’re already voicing it out.

"Can I hold your hand?"

Agent Min halts mid-step, his shoulders stiffening by precisely 0.6 centimeters. The sigh that follows is audible, weighted with the kind of exasperation that suggests this isn't the first time he's had to deal with you derailing his focus.

"Not this again," he mutters, his voice carrying the same energy as someone who just realized they forgot to defrost the chicken for dinner.

You blink up at him, unbothered by the irritation radiating off of him in waves.

“What? I’m serious."

He turns his head slowly, mint-green hair catching the sunlight in a way that seems almost too vibrant for someone with such a perpetually dark aura. His eyes narrow slightly—not in anger, but in that uniquely way of his that suggests he's already regretting engaging with you.

"You want to hold my hand," he repeats flatly, as if saying it out loud might somehow make it sound less ridiculous.

"Yes." You nod once, decisively. "Without the gloves."

His jaw tightens by 3 degrees, and for a moment, you think he might ignore you entirely. But then he exhales sharply through his nose—an audible punctuation mark to his mounting frustration—and tilts his head just enough to meet your gaze.

"Why?" he asks, voice low and measured, like he's trying to reason with a particularly stubborn child.

You pause, considering the question.

Why do you want to hold his hand?

It’s not like you’ve ever been particularly interested in physical contact before. In fact, you generally find it inefficient and unnecessary—an outdated social construct with no practical application in most scenarios.

But this feels... different. Important. Like there’s some unquantifiable variable at play that your analytical mind can’t quite grasp.

"I don’t know," you admit finally, your tone carrying the same blunt honesty that has gotten you into trouble more times than you can count. "I just do."

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly—1.2 seconds exactly—before pinching the bridge of his nose through the fabric of his glove.

“You can’t just go around asking people if you can hold their hands."

"Why not?" Your brow furrows as you process his response. "Is it against protocol?"

"It’s not about protocol," he says, dropping his hand back to his side with a resigned sigh. "It’s about basic social norms."

"Social norms are arbitrary constructs," you argue, crossing your arms over your chest. "If I want to hold your hand and you don’t explicitly object, then what’s the issue?"

"The issue," he says slowly, as if explaining quantum mechanics to a toddler, "is that most people don’t ask questions like that because they understand how it might make someone else feel."

You tilt your head slightly, analyzing his expression for any sign of genuine discomfort. His face remains impassive—calm but guarded, like he’s carefully controlling every microexpression to avoid giving anything away.

"I don’t see how it would make you feel anything," you say finally, your tone more curious than defensive. "It’s just skin-to-skin contact. Statistically insignificant unless there’s some kind of chemical reaction involved."

Yoongi stares at you for a long moment—4.7 seconds exactly—before shaking his head slightly and muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like why me?

"You’re impossible," he says finally, turning away from you and resuming his perfectly measured stride down the street.

You fall into step beside him without hesitation, adjusting your pace to match his once again.

“You didn’t answer my question," you point out after exactly 3 seconds of silence.

"I thought I did," he replies dryly.

"No," you counter, your tone taking on that annoyingly persistent edge that you realize seems to get under his skin. "You explained why most people wouldn’t ask to hold someone’s hand. You didn’t explain why I shouldn’t ask."

He exhales sharply again—louder this time—and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze flickers briefly to your gloved hands before returning to the path ahead.

"Because it’s not normal," he says finally.

"Neither is wearing gloves all the time," you shoot back without missing a beat.

His lips twitch upward for 0.2 seconds before flattening again—a microexpression so fleeting that most people wouldn’t have noticed it.

But you do.

"Fair," he mutters under his breath.

You take this as a victory and press on. "So? Can I?"

"No."

"But why?" Your voice edges into what could almost be described as a whine—not because you’re upset, but because you genuinely don’t understand why he’s being so difficult about something so seemingly insignificant.

Yoongi stops abruptly again—his second unplanned halt in less than five minutes—and turns to face you fully this time. His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse spike by 8 beats per minute.

"Because," he says slowly, enunciating each syllable like it physically pains him to explain this to you, "if I let you hold my hand without gloves, it won’t stop there."

You blink, processing his words.

"What do you mean it won't stop there?"

Your head tilts exactly 4.3 degrees to the right—a physical manifestation of your curiosity. Yoongi's jaw tightens, the muscle visibly tensing beneath his skin.

"Just drop it."

"Is it just the hands?" you press, undeterred by his obvious discomfort. "Or would any skin contact cause this... whatever it is you're concerned about?"

"Any skin contact," he answers flatly.

You process this new variable. "So if I touch any part of your skin, the reaction would be the same?"

"Yes."

His response is clipped, precise—clearly hoping brevity will discourage further inquiry.

It doesn't.

"Is that why we're both covered head to toe? To prevent skin contact?"

The question emerges as you glance down at your own tactical gear, noting how thoroughly it encases your body.

"Yes."

"But not our faces," you point out, studying the exposed skin of his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead. "Our faces remain uncovered."

He exhales, the sound carrying precisely 23% more frustration than his previous sigh.

"Covering our faces would make us suspicious to CHRONOS agents. We need to blend in."

Your analysis immediately detects the logical inconsistency.

“Your resistance movement seems quite popular among CHRONOS employees. I've counted at least 27 defectors in your facility."

"Mhm."

"How come agents don't recognize you then?" The question presents itself naturally as you catalog variables. "Wouldn't they have put a face to your name by now? Especially given your apparent leadership position?"

"Part of my ability."

Your temporal readings spike by 0.12% at the mention of his ability. You've been collecting fragments of information since arriving, piecing together a picture of what each team member can do. But Yoongi's ability remains the most significant unknown variable.

"What's your ability?" You ask directly, knowing the probability of receiving a straightforward answer approaches zero.

Indeed, his lips quirk upward—0.3 millimeters, right side only.

"Guess."

You narrow your eyes, cataloging the available data:

- His ability relates to temporal manipulation

- It affects perception

- It involves skin contact

- It has restoration properties, as demonstrated with your glove

"Time manipulation," you venture, knowing it's insufficient but hoping to prompt elaboration.

"Not specific enough."

"Temporal reconstruction?" You recalibrate, adding the restoration variable.

He makes that sound again—the one that's almost amusement but contains too much restraint.

“Closer."

Your analytical mind sorts through theoretical temporal abilities, discarding those incompatible with observed phenomena.

“Chronological restoration with perceptual manipulation components."

His eyebrow raises by exactly 0.4 centimeters. "Sometimes I forget how unnecessarily technical you can be."

"Is that accurate?" you press.

"Parts of it."

His attention shifts to the street ahead, where the monitoring hub should be visible. But it isn't. Not where your memory insists it should be.

You follow his gaze, temporal cognition struggling to reconcile the discrepancy.

"The hub is missing."

"No," he corrects, "it's been moved. Remember?"

The correction creates a curious double-vision effect in your cognitive processing—you simultaneously remember the hub at its original location AND at its new position three blocks east.

Your nose starts bleeding.

Agent Min doesn't even look—simply extends the black handkerchief towards your nose.

"Stop trying to hold both memories at once," he instructs, voice dropping to 42 decibels. "Accept the new one as current reality while maintaining awareness that it's been altered."

"That's contradictory," you argue, pressing the handkerchief to your nose.

"Not to your brain, it isn't." His eyes never leave the street ahead, yet you sense his focus remains partially on you. "Your temporal signature allows you to perceive both timelines simultaneously. The cognitive dissonance is what causes the bleeding."

"How do you know so much about my temporal signature?" The question emerges with sudden intensity.

His jaw tightens. "Focus on the mission."

"Answer the question."

"No."

Your frustration spikes by approximately 37%.

“You know significantly more about my physiological responses than should be possible given our limited interaction history."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Classified."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes—a social gesture you've never found particularly productive.

“That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting right now." His tone shifts, carrying a finality that suggests further inquiry would be pointless.

Your gaze returns to the street, where two distinct sets of memories continue to overlap in your perception. The monitoring hub that should be directly ahead isn't there. Instead, an upscale coffee shop occupies the space, patrons moving in and out with the synchronized efficiency of people who have no idea reality has been restructured around them.

"They don't notice," you murmur, observing the civilians. "They genuinely believe that coffee shop has always been there."

"Yes." Agent Min's confirmation is unnecessary but appreciated. "For them, reality is singular and consistent. No contradictions."

"And for us?"

His eyes meet yours briefly. "For Outliers, reality is... negotiable."

“Outliers. That’s me now, too.”

"Yes. People whose temporal signatures resist CHRONOS manipulation," he elaborates, voice dropping lower. "People who remember when reality changes. People who can see through the illusion."

"Like right now," you note, focusing on the coffee shop while maintaining awareness of the monitoring hub that should occupy its space. "I can hold both versions simultaneously."

"Exactly." For once, he doesn't sound annoyed by your analysis. "That's what makes you valuable. And dangerous."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.42%.

Agent Min's eyes flick to your wrist. "We need to stabilize you before continuing. Your variance is climbing."

"I'm fine," you counter, though the persistent throbbing behind your eyes suggests otherwise.

"You're not." His contradiction carries no room for debate. "Find somewhere quiet. Now."

You scan the area, identifying a narrow alley between buildings approximately 34 meters ahead.

“There."

He follows your gaze and nods once, already adjusting his trajectory. His stride lengthens by precisely 0.07 meters—not enough for casual observation to detect, but you note the change immediately.

The alley provides 68% reduction in ambient noise and 74% decrease in visual stimuli—optimal conditions for temporal stabilization according to the limited data you've gathered.

Agent Min positions himself at precisely 47 centimeters from you—close enough for what you now understand is temporal alignment, but far enough to maintain whatever invisible boundary he's established.

"Your variance is too high," he states, glancing at your watch. "We need to reduce it before continuing."

"How?" The question is direct, clinical—exactly how you intend it.

His expression shifts, eyes darkening by approximately 12%. "Proximity and synchronized breathing. It's slow but effective."

Your analytical mind immediately identifies the logical gap.

"If proximity helps stabilize my temporal signature, then closer proximity should logically be more efficient. Physical contact would provide maximum efficiency."

His jaw tightens so suddenly you can almost hear the teeth grinding.

"No."

"Why not? It's the most logical solution."

"Because I said so."

The childish response seems deliberately designed to irritate you.

It works.

"That's not a scientifically valid reason," you counter, crossing your arms. "Is there another method besides proximity and breathing?"

"No."

His response comes too quickly—0.37 seconds faster than his average response time. You narrow your eyes, analytical mind immediately flagging the statistical anomaly.

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying," he counters, voice dropping to that dangerous octave that somehow makes your skin prickle despite the climate-controlled tactical gear. "I'm just not telling you the whole truth."

"That's the same thing."

"It's really not." His lips quirk upward in that infuriating half-smile. "One involves active deception. The other involves strategic omission."

"Strategic omission," you repeat, the term rolling off your tongue with obvious distaste. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We've always called it that. You just don't remember."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps again: Temporal variance: 1.57%.

"Your variance is still climbing," he notes, voice shifting to something that might almost be concern if you didn't know better. "Focus on your breathing. Match mine."

You want to argue further, to push until he breaks and gives you the answers your analytical mind craves. But the pressure behind your eyes is intensifying, and your temporal readings are becoming increasingly unstable.

"Fine," you concede, though the word carries more edge than intended. "Breathing."

He inhales slowly—4 seconds in, 6 seconds out—establishing a rhythm that your body automatically begins to follow.

The synchronization feels practiced, like muscle memory you shouldn't possess.

"Why do I know this pattern?"

"Because your body remembers even when your mind doesn't."

"You keep saying that. It is not scientifically possible."

"Then why is it working?”

Your temporal variance begins to decrease—1.52%, 1.47%, 1.39%—the numbers falling in precise correlation with your synchronized breathing.

"Fascinating," you murmur, analytical mind already calculating the energy transfer mechanisms that might explain this phenomenon. "The temporal resonance between our signatures creates a stabilizing effect that—"

"Stop analyzing it," he interrupts, the command carrying a sharp edge. "The more you try to understand it, the worse your variance gets."

"That's counterintuitive."

"Welcome to temporal physics." His tone carries a dry humor that catches you off guard. "Where everything you think you know is wrong, and trying to figure out why makes your nose bleed."

Despite yourself, your lips twitch upward.

Illogical.

“That's an inefficient system."

"It's by design." His eyes never leave yours as he continues the breathing pattern. "CHRONOS doesn't want people understanding how reality actually works."

"And you do?"

A softening around the eyes that lasts precisely 0.7 seconds swallows his pupils before disappearing.

"I want you to understand. Just not all at once."

The admission carries more weight than it should, creating a curious pressure in your chest that defies analytical categorization.

Your variance continues to decrease—1.31%, 1.24%, 1.18%—each number bringing you closer to stability.

"There's something you're not telling me," you state, the certainty absolute despite having no empirical evidence to support it.

His lips quirk upward—0.4 millimeters, right side only.

"There are approximately 7,429 things I'm not telling you, A-735. You'll have to be more specific."

"About stabilization methods." Your eyes narrow, focusing on the micro-expressions that betray him. "There's another way, isn't there? Something more efficient than this."

His breathing pattern falters for exactly 0.3 seconds—a statistical anomaly that confirms your hypothesis.

"Yes," he admits finally, the word emerging with obvious reluctance.

"What is it?"

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that makes your pulse accelerate by 7.2 beats per minute.

"Nothing you need to know right now."

"I disagree."

"Shocking."

The sarcasm in his tone is so thick you could practically measure its density. Strangely, it registers a progress in your head.

"Is it dangerous?"

“Not in the way you're thinking."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

He holds your gaze for exactly 3.7 seconds—42% longer than standard conversational eye contact.

“Because once you know, you'll want to try it. And once you try it..." He pauses, something raw and unguarded flashing in his eyes. "Let's just say it complicates things."

"How?"

"Classified."

You exhale sharply through your nose, frustration spiking by approximately 43%.

"You can't just classify everything you don't want to explain."

"Actually," he counters, that infuriating half-smile returning, "I can. It's one of the perks of being in charge."

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told." His eyes flicker to your watch. "1.03%. Almost stable."

Your variance continues to decrease—0.97%, 0.92%, 0.88%—each number bringing you closer to the standard range.

"We should continue the mission," you state once your readings stabilize at 0.84%.

He nods once, already turning toward the street. But before he can take a step, you catch his wrist—your gloved fingers wrapping around the tactical material covering his arm.

He freezes, entire body tensing like you've applied an electric shock.

"This isn't over," you state, voice low and precise. "I will figure it out."

His eyes meet yours, something dark and dangerous flickering in their depths.

"I know you will. You always do."

The statement carries too much weight, too much history that you can't access. But before you can question it, he gently extracts his wrist from your grip and steps back onto the street.

You follow, sorting through the fragments of information, piecing together the puzzle that is Agent Min.

He's hiding something. Something important. Something about you, about him, about whatever connection exists between you that defies logical explanation.

And you're definitely going to figure out what it is.

You’ve been walking for exactly twenty-three minutes.

And Agent Min has looked at you ten times in the past five.

Each glance is quick—measured flickers of attention, like he’s trying to calculate something without setting off an alarm.

You count them anyway. You always count things when you don’t know what they mean.

The silence stretches between you, and it’s thick; clinging really. You expected him to appreciate it—your restraint, your control, your refusal to ask questions he won’t answer.

But instead, he’s growing restless.

Another glance. Quick. Sharp.

You stop walking.

He takes two more steps before realizing you aren’t following, turning around with a tilt of his head that would seem casual if it weren’t so obviously deliberate.

You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. Catalog the slight shift in his posture.

“What.”

It comes out flat. Demanding.

He exhales—short, controlled, dismissive.

“Nothing.”

You frown, recalculating. “Then stop looking at me.”

He raises an eyebrow by approximately 0.5 centimeters. Very deliberate. Very measured.

“Not looking at you.”

You tilt your head, mirroring his earlier gesture.

“Incorrect. You’ve looked at me ten times in the last five minutes. Nine, if you want to exclude peripheral glances.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, which statistically increases the likelihood that he’s internally debating whether arguing is worth it.

You decide to press anyway. “Why?”

His mouth tightens, a minuscule shift of muscle you might have missed before. Not now. Now you notice everything.

“You’re distracting,” he says finally. Short. Clipped. Like ripping off a bandage.

You blink, recalibrating.

“How?”

He sighs, heavier this time—more oxygen expended, betraying more irritation than he probably intends.

“You’re…” He searches for the word like it’s a personal affront to have to find it. “…loud.”

“I’m not speaking.”

“Exactly.”

You process that.

“So my silence is distracting.”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re used to me questioning you.”

“Partly.”

Your eyes narrow. His left hand flexes at his side, the faint creak of leather betraying tension he’s probably holding in check.

“Then elaborate,” you say. Curious. Intrigued despite yourself.

“No.”

You resist the urge to sigh back at him—your own version of his exasperation.

“Is it proximity?” you try again. “I can increase distance if needed.”

The corner of his mouth twitches—barely—but enough to register.

“It’s not proximity,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“Then what is it?”

His eyes flicker back to you, sharp and cutting.

“You’re unpredictable,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

You tilt your head again, absorbing that.

“Unpredictability usually denotes a flaw in pattern recognition,” you say thoughtfully. “And you pride yourself on anticipating variables.”

His expression tightens, the faintest edge of irritation sparking.

Good. You’re getting somewhere.

“You’re not a variable,” he says finally, voice low. “You’re an anomaly.”

Your heart stutters—not from sentiment, but from the weight of the word.

Anomaly. Noma.

The nickname he’s never explained.

You hold his gaze, cataloging the dilation of his pupils, the slight tremor in his exhale.

0.4 seconds too long before he looks away.

Enough to register. Enough to matter.

You tilt your head a fraction to the left. Testing. Probing.

“Your behavior denotes a penchant for sadism,” you observe. Neutral enough to pretend the words don’t sting a little when they land between you.

Yoongi exhales—slow, the faintest curl of amusement threading through the air.

“Because I’m sadistic, clearly,” he mutters, voice rougher than necessary.

Calculated imperfection.

You narrow your eyes. Catalog the rhythm of his steps, how they slow imperceptibly as you fall into pace again, how the ambient noise seems to dull when he speaks.

“You are being purposefully obtuse,” you accuse, sharper this time. “Being wistfully cryptic does not align with leadership traits. I would assume the leader of the 7th Hour would not engage in childish tactics.”

A beat.

He hums low in his throat—a noise of neither agreement nor denial. More like he’s tasting your words, deciding whether to bother answering at all.

“Me?” he says finally, deadpan. “Childish? Never.”

The dryness of it slashes across your skin like a blade dipped in velvet.

You scowl, which only earns you another flicker of that infuriating almost-smirk.

“I expected more,” you say, voice clipped. Measured. “That is on me for applying inappropriate expectations.”

“You’ll learn.” His tone drops, lazy and lethal. “Eventually.”

The way he says it—you’ll learn—prickles under your skin.

Because it doesn’t sound like a threat.

It sounds like a promise.

Your body catalogues the microadjustments again: the flex of leather at his hands, the sharp lines of his jaw as he grinds out the words with so little effort it’s almost mocking.

You resist the irrational urge to step closer.

Proximity is inefficient. Emotional responses disrupt cognitive processing.

You recite it mentally like a catechism.

Still.

The question rises, unbidden.

The same way it seems to always do with him.

“What is the mission objective?”

Blunt. Necessary. Something to tether yourself back to reason.

He doesn’t break stride. Doesn’t even flinch.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says instead, so casually it almost doesn’t register as condescension. Almost. “You’ll figure it out.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. Inefficient communication strategies. You’re tempted to cite the statistical decrease in operational success rates when leadership fails to fully brief its agents, but he’s baiting you. Purposefully.

And you, predictably, are already chasing.

“Statistically,” you begin, voice taut with precision, “the likelihood of successful insertion without a clear objective—”

“Statistically,” he cuts in, unbothered, “there shouldn’t even be a 25th hour.”

The implication lands harder than it should.

You tighten your jaw, recalibrating, watching how he watches you.

Like he’s daring you to keep up.

“You are evading,” you say. “Obfuscating under the guise of intellectual superiority.”

“Am I?” he says, feigning disinterest. His shoulders shrug—barely, beautifully. “Or maybe you just don’t like not being the smartest person in the room.”

You blink once. Slow. Methodical.

Your pulse betrays you anyway, kicking up by approximately 6 bpm.

“You overestimate your own cleverness,” you say evenly, even though some traitorous part of you wants him to keep doing it.

Keep outsmarting you. Keep sparring until the tension snaps under its own weight.

“You underestimate my patience,” he counters.

Another tiny smirk. Quicker this time. Sharper.

Your chest feels too tight around your ribs.

Inefficient physiological response.

You step away—not because you want distance, but because your processing centers are beginning to overload. You need new data. A new angle.

You pivot sharply toward the park ahead.

Three steps away before you hear his chuckle—so quiet you almost mistake it for a glitch in ambient noise.

You don’t turn back.

Instead, you focus on the new structure—the park that wasn’t there before.

It waits ahead, pristine and out of place. Grass too green. Air too clean. Symmetry too perfect.

Manufactured. Synthetic.

You slow your pace, narrowing your eyes, cataloging inconsistencies: tree spacing (1.3 meters apart, unnaturally even), the curvature of the path (identical to simulation model 8C), the temperature drop (2 degrees lower than the surrounding sector).

You feel Yoongi’s presence a few steps behind you. Not following. Not chasing.

Waiting.

Just like he always does.

Just like he always has.

And somehow, despite everything you know—despite every logic protocol firing in your mind—you want him to follow anyway.

You inhale sharply. Taste static on your tongue.

Focus.

Not on him.

On the mission.

On the park.

Focus on anything except the way Min Yoongi—a ghost, an anomaly—manages to outsmart you without even trying.

So that’s what you do—you focus forward, eyes locking onto the new structure rising ahead of you��all marble paths and manicured trees and gentle, glistening statues under the waning light.

A park that didn’t exist last week.

A plaza that hums wrong against your skin.

Your steps slow as you approach, instinct warning you even before your mind can fully process it.

You analyze the angles of the paths. The symmetry of the displays. The too-perfect gloss of the stone.

The air feels wrong here—too still, like it's been filtered of something vital.

But curiosity nags at you. It always does, when things defy explanations.

You step forward into the park, assessing its dimensions with a precision that seems excessive even to you. The perimeter measures exactly 247.8 meters around. The pathways curve at identical 30-degree angles. The statues are placed at equidistant intervals of precisely 12.4 meters.

Perfect. Too perfect.

Your temporal readings spike by 0.17% as you observe families strolling casually through what your analytical mind categorizes as a statistical impossibility. A man pushes a stroller past a bronze figure frozen mid-gesture. A couple takes selfies beneath the outstretched arm of another.

"The Garden of Stability," reads a polished plaque at the entrance. "Honoring those who sacrificed to maintain our timeline."

You've never seen this place before. You're certain of it.

Yet your Chrono-Sync Watch registers no anomalies beyond the acceptable variance threshold.

Curious.

You move deeper into the garden, cataloging details: like the fact that the statues are eerily lifelike—capturing expressions with a fidelity that exceeds current manufacturing capabilities by approximately 27%.

Furthermore, each statue has a small plaque fixed to its base.

You approach the nearest one, a figure of a woman with her hand extended, fingers splayed as if reaching for something just beyond grasp.

"In memory of Eska Thior—sacrificed herself to stabilize Sector 7 during the temporal disturbance of 2156."

Your eyes narrow as you analyze the woman's expression.

The sculptor has captured what should be determination, but there's something else—something in the eyes that registers as wrong.

Your visual processing identifies it as fear, not resolve.

You move to the next statue. A man looking skyward, one foot slightly raised as if caught mid-step.

"In memory of Vayon Zesian—sacrificed himself to protect civilian timelines during the Sector 4 anomaly."

The black man's face is frozen in what the plaque suggests is awe or reverence. But your pattern recognition flags inconsistencies: the tension in his jaw is 38% higher than would be expected in a reverent expression. His fingers are curved at angles suggesting resistance, not surrender.

Your head throbs—a dull, persistent ache that intensifies as you catalog each discrepancy. Yet you continue, your analytical mind demanding more data despite the physical discomfort.

A sharp tug at your wrist interrupts your analysis. You turn, ready to object to the invasion of your personal space, when you register Agent Min's face exactly 31.7 centimeters from yours. His eyes contain a warning that makes no logical sense given the context.

"Shh," he says, the sound barely audible at 22 decibels. "Act normal."

You blink, processing both the command and the unusual tension in his posture. His hand remains on your wrist, gloved fingers gripping with precisely 42% more pressure than necessary for attention-getting purposes.

"This wasn't here yesterday," you whisper, your voice automatically matching his volume. "It's new."

"Yes, it is," he confirms, his eyes never meeting yours. Instead, they scan the perimeter. "And I'd advise against looking at the statues."

The request is illogical. You're already looking at them. You've already cataloged five discrepancies and three statistical anomalies in their design.

"Why?" you ask, the question forming before you can process the tension radiating from his body.

You turn away from him precisely as he tightens his grip—too late to stop your movement. Your eyes land on a statue directly ahead, positioned 15.3 meters from your current location.

A man in a CHRONOS uniform, arms outstretched as if embracing the air around him.

Robin.

Your cognitive processes stutter, creating a 0.7-second delay between visual input and meaning assignment.

Robin. Cubicle 47-B. Coffee preference: black with one sugar. Temporal compliance rating: 98.7%. Lunch companion: yesterday, 12:37 PM to 1:14 PM.

"That's Robin," you state, your voice dropping to 19 decibels. "I had lunch with him yesterday."

Your stomach contracts unexpectedly, digestive acids rising by approximately 37%. Your neural pathways struggle to reconcile the contradiction: Robin alive yesterday. Robin memorialized today.

Robin moving, breathing, complaining about the cafeteria's tempeh option yesterday.

Robin frozen in bronze today.

No fabrication facility could produce a statue this detailed in less than 24 hours.

The metallurgical processes alone would require at minimum 72 hours for casting and cooling, with an additional 48 for detailing and patina development.

Unless...

Your analytical mind reaches the conclusion precisely as your stomach lurches again—a visceral response you didn't anticipate and cannot control.

They're not statues.

"We need to leave," Agent Min says, voice pitched extremely low.

His fingers adjust on your wrist, shifting downward by 2.3 centimeters until they rest against the pulse point where your glove meets your sleeve.

Your heart rate increases by 13.7 beats per minute.

Not from his touch. From the realization.

"They're not statues," you confirm aloud, your voice clinical despite the acid burning the back of your throat. "They're people. Frozen in some form of temporal stasis."

Agent Min's jaw tightens, the muscle visibly tensing beneath his skin.

“Not here," he warns, his voice barely audible. "Camera at your two o'clock, range 17 meters. Audio capture capabilities."

You process this new variable, immediately adjusting your behavior patterns. Your posture shifts by 4.3 degrees—more casual, less alert. Your expression recalibrates to something 76% more neutral.

"The craftsmanship is remarkable," you say at standard conversational volume, the words feeling like ash on your tongue. "Such attention to detail."

Agent Min's eyes flash with something that might be approval if it weren't overshadowed by urgency.

“We should continue our walk," he says evenly. "There's more to see in Sector 4."

His fingers remain at your pulse point for exactly 2.7 seconds longer than necessary before releasing. The warmth lingers—a ghost sensation you struggle to categorize.

You follow his lead, moving away from Robin's frozen form with measured steps despite the increasing pressure in your chest. Your breathing adjusts automatically—in for 4 seconds, out for 6—matching the pattern Agent Min established earlier.

Families continue to mill around you, oblivious to the horror disguised as art. A child points at Robin's statue, tugging at her mother's sleeve.

"He looks so happy, mommy! Like he's giving everyone a big hug!"

Your vision blurs by approximately 12%—an inexplicable visual phenomenon you'll need to analyze later.

Agent Min positions himself precisely 47 centimeters to your left—close enough for temporal alignment, far enough to maintain whatever invisible boundary he's established.

But something has changed.

His posture carries 27% more tension than before, and his eyes scan the area with a renowned frequency.

"Don't look back," he instructs as you approach the park's exit. "And whatever you do, don't react when I tell you this."

You maintain your neutral expression, eyes fixed forward as instructed.

"There are seventeen of them in this garden," he says, voice low and controlled. "All from your monitoring facility. All disappeared within the last 72 hours."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.12%.

A warning. Your emotional response is affecting your temporal stability.

You inhale slowly, forcing your analytical mind to take precedence over the uncomfortable pressure building behind your sternum.

"Probability of coincidence: less than 0.003%," you calculate aloud, keeping your voice steady despite the data.

"It's not a coincidence," he confirms, voice dropping even lower. "It's a message."

"For who?"

His eyes meet yours briefly—0.8 seconds of direct contact that somehow feels heavier than it should.

"For us," he says simply. "For you."

Your temporal variance increases to 1.17%.

"They're hunting for Outliers," he continues, eyes scanning the path ahead. "This garden is both a warning and a trap. They're watching for reactions—for people who recognize what they're really seeing."

“That's why you grabbed my wrist. You anticipated my reaction."

A ghost of that infuriating half-smile crosses his face. "You're predictable in some ways, Noma."

The nickname dulls the ache sitting low in your stomach for reasons you cannot comprehend.

"Robin greeted me yesterday," you realize aloud, the pieces clicking into place. "At lunch. He looked at me strangely when I mentioned the temporal fluctuation in Sector 3."

Agent Min's expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes darkens.

“How long was the conversation?"

"17 minutes, 42 seconds."

"And did you discuss anything related to temporal anomalies after that?"

You review the memory, analyzing each exchange with renewed scrutiny.

"Negative. The conversation shifted to cafeteria food quality."

He exhales—a controlled release of breath that betrays nothing of his thoughts.

“That might have been enough."

Your stomach lurches.

Robin is frozen in bronze because of you. Because he noticed something. Because he might have reported it.

The data is insufficient for a definitive conclusion, but the probability exceeds 72.4%.

Your temporal variance increases to 1.23%.

"Steady," Agent Min murmurs, his voice carrying a cadence that seems designed to stabilize your readings. "Focus on your breathing. In for 4, out for 6."

You comply automatically, your body responding to the instruction before your mind can process why.

"Is this what happens to all Outliers?" you ask once your variance stabilizes at 1.09%. "They become... monuments?"

"No," he says finally. "Most are simply erased and reprogrammed. This is... new."

"A tactical adjustment," you surmise. "Enhanced psychological warfare."

"Yes."

"Why now?"

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that makes your pulse accelerate by 7.2 beats per minute.

"Because they're getting desperate."

"Why would CHRONOS be desperate? They control reality itself."

His eyes meet yours, something unreadable flashing in their depths.

“That's what I'd like to know," he mutters, voice dropping to that dangerous octave that makes your skin prickle.

The discrepancy registers immediately. Agent Min doesn't ask questions—he provides answers, often cryptic and insufficient, but answers nonetheless. This response pattern deviates by approximately 87% from established behavioral norms.

Before you can analyze further, your body betrays you.

It starts as a contraction in your esophagus—sudden, violent, measuring approximately 74% stronger than standard swallowing reflex. Your salivary glands activate at 243% above baseline, flooding your mouth with excess moisture. Your stomach muscles clench in rhythmic waves, each contraction more intense than the last.

The analytical part of your mind calculates: gastric acid rising at 7.2 centimeters per second, diaphragm contracting at 3.7 times normal pressure, throat constricting at 82% capacity.

The rest of you simply feels.

Robin's face. Frozen in bronze that isn't bronze.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps a warning: Temporal variance: 2.43%.

A dangerous spike.

Your body heaves, doubling you over with a force that defies voluntary control. The acid burns at exactly 4.7 on the pH scale, searing the back of your throat as you fight to contain it. Your vision narrows to a field of approximately 47 degrees, peripheral awareness fading as your sensory systems redirect all processing power to the immediate crisis.

You register Agent Min's hand on your back—exactly T4 vertebra, pressure precisely calibrated at 2.3 kilograms, generating heat at 38.2°C despite the glove barrier.

"CHRONOS agents," he says, voice suddenly sharp with urgency. "Two o'clock, range 43 meters. Moving this way."

Your body doesn't care about CHRONOS agents. Your body only knows that Robin is frozen in timeless agony while families take selfies beneath his outstretched arms.

Another contraction—87% stronger than the previous one. Your analytical mind attempts to categorize the physiological response but finds no suitable parameters.

This isn't logical. This isn't efficient. This isn't you.

Agent Min's hand moves from your spine to your wrist in one fluid motion. His fingers lock around the pulse point where your glove meets your sleeve, grip tensing to exactly 3.6 kilograms of pressure.

"Move. Now."

Your body moves before your mind processes the instruction, legs automatically adjusting to match his sudden directional shift. You register environmental changes with fragmented precision: ambient temperature decreasing by 1.7°C, crowd density increasing by 23%, noise levels rising to 72 decibels.

Agent Min guides you, his body angled at exactly 37 degrees relative to yours—shielding you from direct line of sight with the approaching agents while maintaining casual appearance.

"Temporal signature spiking," he mutters, grip tightening by another 0.4 kilograms. "They'll detect it if we don't stabilize you."

Your watch confirms his assessment: Temporal variance: 3.17%.

Critical threshold approaching.

The nausea intensifies, each wave synchronized perfectly with the beeping of your watch. Their correlation approaches 97.3%—statistically significant by any measure.

"Coffee shop," Agent Min decides, adjusting your trajectory by 28 degrees. "Northeast corner. Dampening field in the walls."

Your cognitive processes struggle to keep pace with the sensory overload. The street blurs around you—not from speed but from some perceptual distortion your analytical mind cannot quantify.

You glimpse your reflection in a storefront window as you pass—your face pale by approximately 37% compared to baseline, pupils dilated to 7.2 millimeters, micro-expressions cycling at 3.4 times normal rate.

You barely recognize yourself.

Another contraction seizes your stomach, more violent than before. Agent Min's arm shifts, sliding around your waist with a familiarity that feels habitual despite being entirely new.

"Almost there," he says, voice dropping to that calibrated cadence that seems designed to stabilize your readings. "In for 4, out for 6. Match me."

Your body complies automatically, respiratory system syncing to his pattern without conscious direction.

CHRONOS agents appear in your peripheral vision—three of them, moving with the unnatural precision that marks them as Timekeepers. Their trajectory will intersect with yours in approximately 12.3 seconds at current velocity.

"They're tracking your signature," Agent Min confirms, pace increasing by 0.3 meters per second. "Coffee shop.”

The coffee shop materializes ahead—a nondescript building with that averageness that makes it practically invisible to casual observation. Its design incorporates exactly zero distinguishing architectural features, rendering it 87% forgettable to the human brain.

Perfect camouflage.

Agent Min guides you through the door body positioned at precisely the optimal angle to shield yours from external observation. The bell chimes at exactly 56 hertz—a frequency your analytical mind flags as mathematically significant though you cannot immediately determine why.

The door closes behind you with a soft click that somehow sounds final.

Agent Min's arm remains around your waist—a point of contact your body accepts with suspicious automaticity.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps one last time before falling silent: Temporal variance: 1.78%.

Decreasing. Stabilizing.

The nausea recedes by approximately 42%, leaving behind a hollow sensation you cannot properly categorize.

Agent Min's eyes meet yours, and he looks… concerned?

"Breathe," he instructs.

You comply, your body responding to his command without conscious direction.

In for 4.

Out for 6.

In for 4.

Out for 6.

goal: 100 notes.

next | index

— taglist

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @ktownshizzle @yoongiiuu93 @billy-jeans23 @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218 @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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lov3-lik3-ghosts · 6 months ago

Note

Can you make a enoch x fem!reader where they liked each other for a while and he finds readers diary and reads infront of the others (i think you know where this is going)

I Bite

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x fem!reader.

Warnings: Not beta nor proofread.

Word Count: 615.

Authors note: This didn’t go exactly as I’d planned so please let me know if you’d like me to give this another try. I had so much fun writing this one.

| mother m-list

Enoch’s bitter wind to rainy days, blistering at your skin and billowing you back. He bites the hand that feeds him, he snarls at a step too close. He’s mean, a rabid lone-wolf lunging at any sign of life with his maw agape. No remorse, no mercy.

You don’t know why you like him. There’s journal upon journal stacked along your bookcase with entries of everything wrong he does, of every attack he spiels your way. There are no milestones between you, no sniff of the offering hand and somehow, still, you can’t repent.

You can’t.

And yet you must.

Because this, how he stares at you — empty and lifeless and cold, like an ice frozen god stuck with the mistake of disciples, like your vermin — while he listens to all you are and all you have been is shattering any resilience you had left.

Two entries out of thousands and Jake doesn’t stop reading. You think maybe he doesn’t realise whose they are and neither do the others who sit swooning over such romance. But Enoch does. He knows and he doesn’t like it.

And he bites.

Hard.

“-defense mechanism. Like if he only ever gives away his bad parts no one can expect him to be good. No one can be disappointed if he doesn’t live up to their expectations. He can’t be disappointed.” Jacob takes a breath. “But I know better. I know he’s good, that he cares. I know he tries, in his own way. However twisted. I see him. I’ve always seen him. I sometimes wonder if he’ll ever see me too.”

Bronwyn hushes the giggles of Fiona and Claire to stare intently at Jake. You can only listen as he begins the next entry, confined within your own horror.

“September 3rd, 1940.” An inside joke you hold with yourself, as though everyday wasn’t virtually the same.

“He’s changed. I’ve forgotten how different he used to be, how much he used to care. I think it’s because it was gradual and not just ripped from me. Victor-” He inhales. They all do — as though they’ve only just realised that this belonged to someone in the loop, someone here.

Jake continues. “Victor's passing was different. It was sudden, yes but it was so sudden that I had no choice but to notice. Grief blinded my perception for a while and overtook him in both our vulnerability. Enoch changed after Abe but even more so after Victor.”

Your gaze drops to the gravel at his name.

“Wait, this is about Enoch?” Olive pipes and you’re surprised she’s not realised sooner.

Emma’s lead boots clink as she sits beside Jake. “Who else?” She says, as though it were obvious.

You imagine Enoch squirming under their scrutiny, tensing and rearing and ready to strike. You hear his barely audible breath before words and you know you’re right.

“Who cares.” He spits with a tongue like venom. “I don’t need anyone’s pity or sympathy. I don’t need some analysis to write pity stories about emotions they’ve decided I feel.”

Somewhere along his speech you lift your head and meet his acorn eyes, storming with winds of spite.

Claire cuts him off with her honeypot voice. “But Enoch, it’s so romantic!”

He scoffs. “And I certainly don’t need some love-stricken, delusional fool to see me.”

It shouldn’t hurt as hard as it does, rippling beneath your ribcage, not when you knew this would be his reaction. Not when you knew him at all.

Enoch strides briskly out of the gathered circle, bumping your shoulder hard enough that you stagger. It overtakes the lurch of your heart for just a moment; you’re almost grateful for it.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

Reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated!

I do not give permission for my work to be translated or reposted!

#thanks anon!#enoch o’connor x fem!reader #enoch o'connor #enoch o’connor x reader #mphfpc x reader #mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #x fem!reader #x reader

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apomaro-mellow · 10 months ago

Text

King and Prince 29

Part 28

“Summer will be upon us soon”, Nancy said while scribbling away on some parchment.

“Mhm, that means a new crop of squires, ready to start their trials”, Eddie was lounging on a chaise, playing with a mess of thread in his hands.

“You know I can’t give Lucas any special treatment. Not because he’s my brother’s friend, nor your paramour’s protege.”

Eddie turned over onto his stomach to look at Nancy sitting at her desk, his eyes sparkling. It wasn’t quite the reaction she had been expecting. He had heard her, right? That she wouldn’t be giving anyone preferential treatment? She never did.

“You think Steve and I could be paramours?”

“....I swear you only hear half the words I say.”

“I heard you loud and clear. I just don’t think Lucas will need a leg up or anything like that. But your thoughts on me and the little prince would be news to me.”

Nancy let out a breath. “I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with you pursuing him.”

“The ‘but’ is so loud you might want to get your intestines checked.”

“But, you should know you’re playing with fire. Even if he’s been unofficially disowned, he’s still a prince. One whose family has wished for our destruction. If this goes to your favor and you are wed, have you thought about what your subjects might say?”

Eddie stopped fiddling with the thread. “I have. And I’ve decided that while I am open to hearing concerns, I’m not giving up on him. Anyone with a problem with that can take it up with me personally.”

“Hm. I thought as much. Just don’t, you know, burn the whole kingdom just for him.”

“Do you really think I’m that far gone?”, Eddie asked.

Nancy thought about how she’d seen Eddie around the training grounds more and more and how that had everything to do with Steve taking Lucas under his wing. And because of that, she deigned not to answer.

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

“You really think I’ll pass?”, Lucas asked, panting as he put his wooden sword away.

Steve was wiping the sweat off of himself with a cloth. “I think you’re one of the most passionate kids I’ve ever met. You’re on your way to mastering swordplay and archery. You’re going to ace this.”

“So like, are you planning on actually marrying Eddie?”, Lucas asked.

He wasn’t the only one curious. Everyone in the castle was abuzz with this new development and of course, the news began to move from within the walls to outside of it. The gossip traveled and everyone had their own spin on it. The king was courting a young man was what everyone got right. But as to the identity of that man, people couldn’t quite agree.

He was a prince, no a duke, no an earl, no he wasn’t from the aristocracy at all. He was in his thirties, no his twenties, no he was only fifteen because he was around the children of the castle often, no he was, but as a mentor so he had to be at least a few years older. He was very handsome, no he just looked okay, well their immortal king had written so much about his appearance so he must be ethereal. The king had written a few, no many, no an entire tome’s worth of letters courting him.

“Either way, can you imagine it? A royal wedding?”

Jason could hear some woman prattle on with his mother while he wrapped up a few chops in the back.

“I can’t even imagine what that would look like”, his mother replied. “King Edward has never done anything like this.”

“He must truly be in love. And if the rumors are true, he’s a real bonafide prince.”

Jason slammed the meat down onto the counter, jolting them both. “Has anyone figured out which kingdom?”

“Oh, this is all just gossip, Jason”, Mrs. Carver said. “If His Majesty is truly courting with foreign royalty, it would be for the good of our kingdom.”

“Well how do we know it isn’t completely selfish? How do we know he didn’t just snatch someone up?”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Or how about this? If they are a prince? How do we know his intentions are pure?”

“Oh you’re being paranoid”, his mother said placatingly. She muttered something to the lady about him recently breaking things off with a lover and the woman nodded sagely before grabbing her order and leaving.

But it wasn’t as simple as all that to Jason. He alone, knew the truth of what was happening and yet he had to hear misinformation everywhere he went. In his own family shop, on the streets, even in the tavern. The very place he had met Steve one night and while he was trying to drink himself to numbness, he had to listen to a group of guys sitting at a table, trading rumors about Steve’s true identity.

“He’s not what you think he is”, Jason finally spoke up, pushing his drink away.

“Huh?”

“What’s the butcher’s boy going on about?”

“The man our king is trying to tie himself to”, Jason clarified as he stood up from the bar and walked over to their table. “He’s a lying snake.”

“And what do you know about him?”

“I know him too well. Met him right here, even talked to him at this very table. He looked sweet. Until he wasn’t.”

The men scoffed and that riled up Jason enough to raise his voice, garnering the attention of the other patrons. Even the musician in the corner stopped playing. Emboldened, Jason continued.

“His name is Steve. And he would come into town. He would, he would spread his legs and break hearts and damn those he left behind.”

“Ahh, he’s just a spurned lover”, someone commented.

“That’s how it was at first!”, Jason quickly regained control of the conversation. “I thought I was just another person on his trail, to be left behind when he moved to the next town because that’s what he led me to believe. That he was just a traveler. But then he gave me this letter. This letter told me everything and now I know the truth.”

When no one interrupted him, he kept going, telling them of the kingdom that Steve had come from. That he was a Harrington, someone who had actively pushed against their borders and that wasn’t enough for them. People began to leave, not wanting to hear the drunken ravings of a man who had been dumped.

But the seed had already been planted. And the longer this courtship went on without an official decree, the more doubt began to spread among the people. The story turned from their wise king finally giving his heart to someone, to an invasion in the form of a seduction.

“Why else would he be going after our king, huh?”, Jason posed the question to a crowd that gathered outside the butcher shop. “He was literally walking these streets, stringing people along, he could’ve had anyone. But he goes for the most powerful man in the country. Nothing he ever did made sense to me but when I got this-” He brandished the letter, crumpled but still legible.

“This made everything so much more clear. Within those walls”, he pointed to the castle, “Is an imminent danger. Today it’s just him, tomorrow it could be his whole army at our doorstep.”

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

Eddie was pretty good at keeping his ear to the ground. So he could tell almost immediately when the rumor mill began to turn against him and Steve. He hadn’t wanted to make an official announcement and thus thrust Steve back into the royal spotlight too soon. But what was happening was getting too much to ignore.

He knew of it, even before his council brought it to his attention. He was pacing about in a sitting room, Robin, Nancy, and Jeff there as he figured out how to bring it up to Steve, and how to move forward. Of course, as if summoned, Steve pushed the doors open and stomped in.

“Have you heard what they’re saying about you?!”

“I have”, Eddie said. “As well as what they’re saying about you.”

“It can’t stand. He can’t talk about his king that way. That isn’t why I gave him that letter!”

Eddie came over to Steve, clutching his hands. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look with the fire of righteousness blazing in your eyes?”

Steve would have been embarrassed to say how fast he melted if it wasn’t for the fact that it came with how warm Eddie’s gaze was on him. It almost made him forget why he had come in here in the first place.

“As I was s-saying, you can’t let this stand. You can’t keep letting him spread these lies about you.”

“What lies? You came from another country with the sole intent to seduce your way to my throne”, Eddie teased, bringing Steve’s knuckles up to his lips.

“Is that how it happened? Because I remember carting a package and dumping it in the dungeon”, Nancy piped up.

“I remember you handing him off to me with little regard”, Robin added.

Jeff started, “And I seem to recall-”

“Now those are lies and slander that I will not allow”, Eddie said. “I have always treasured you above all, my sweet.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t try and change our story, I was there for it. I will say, I think I’m getting to my favorite part…”

“Hey your faces need to be six inches apart at all times”, Jeff reminded.

“We are such good chaperones”, Robin shook her head.

“Eddie, let me do this for you”, Steve said, taking a step back from him.

Eddie’s brow raised. “Do what?”

“Fight for your honor.”

Part 30

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie

@goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble

@jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24

@justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void

@nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie

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ladyhoneydarlinglove · 4 months ago

Text

{one piece ficlet, zosan} second impression

got another one! last of the prompt ficlets i have finished for now, but i’ve got some down time this week so if my motivation stays hopefully i can knock out one or two more! 🤞

Rating: G Notes: pre-relationship, companion piece to first impression

~~~~~

When Luffy told Zoro he wanted to recruit the twirly-eyebrowed waiter from the floating restaurant as the crew’s new cook, Zoro wasn’texactly pleased.

“Him?” he asked, scowling at Luffy. “I know his type; he’s a simpering idiot that’ll drop to his knees in a heartbeat for a pair of tits and a pretty face. No way a guy like that will stay loyal to us. You should ask the old man instead, he’s got experience.”

But Luffy only grinned at him, shaking his head.

“Nah, Sanji won’t do that,” he said. “I saw him feed that starving pirate that tried to hold up the place. He’s got a good heart; he’ll be perfect.”

Zoro remained skeptical, but he’d already learned that once Luffy had his mind set on something, there was no changing it. So instead of protesting he just shrugged and said, “Alright captain, if you say so.”

It was hard for Zoro to say whether or not he expected Luffy to be proven wrong about the new cook’s loyalties; because on the one hand he did know the cook’s type and it wasn’t one predisposed to sticking around, but on the other, he trusted Luffy’s judgement. What Zoro did expect was that the cook would be able to cook (obviously), that he’d fawn over every girl within a ten mile radius (stupid, but whatever), and, based on a brief observation of his behavior at the restaurant, that he’d be kind of a dick to everyone else (which, being kind of a dick himself, Zoro couldn’t really hold against him).

What he hadn’t expected was that the cook could fight.

Zoro thought the few blows thrown his way during their brief quarrel about Nami had been mostly for show; he’d seen it before, posturing from people insecure about their masculinity when standing next to Zoro and needing to prove something, as if he gave two shits about that kind of thing. But then he watched the cook smash a half ton block of concrete into pieces with one solid kick, and Zoro found himself having to rapidly reassess everything he’d initially thought about the twirly-browed freak because holy shit. Holy shit, not only could the cook fight, but he could keep up with Zoro. A very badly injured Zoro who at full health would definitely be better than him, but still.

Zoro didn’t tend to rely on other people all that much in a fight, Luffy being the only and very recent exception. It wasn’t that he was against trusting other people to have his back, it was just that he’d never really found anybody that could. It was easier and safer to deal with things himself, because then nobody got hurt but Zoro, and that was fine, because he knew he could take it when most other people couldn’t.

So being able to say to the cook, “Thirty seconds! I won’t last more than that!” and know that it would be enough, know that curly-brow wouldn’t just try to free Luffy while Zoro held off Arlong, but that he’d actually be able to do it?

Well.

Zoro wouldn’t realize it for years to come yet, but as soon as that singular moment of pure, blind trust passed between them, it was only a matter of time before his heart became Sanji’s for the taking.

#one piece #zosan #sanzo #one piece fic #rereading arlong park is just like #1) east blue crew best crew #and 2) damn zoro really out here falling head over heels at second sight huh #anyway i miss the early one piece designs so much i liked when they were all noodles :(((#sophie fic

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blueberry-lemon · 9 months ago

Text

The Sites Behind Us

Cohost, the indie blogging + social media platform, is shutting down.

It’s sad, because I really liked using it.

While my two years of using it were brief, they also happened to land at the moment where I needed it most. These two years have kind of been the crossroads of two different impulses pulling at me:

The impulse to post, scroll, and be seen online

The desire to want to pull back and retreat from social media, metrics, timelines, and algorithms

Not only do these two things contradict each other, like a terminally-online tug-of-war, but they were also both complicated for me personally over these two years.

I think it would be fair to call Cohost “one of my favorite online platforms”, especially if we’re considering the design and feature set. It fit really nicely into my routine.

On the other hand, I can’t say much about the community, personally. I don’t know anything about the staff, and I almost never surfed around the tags. I stuck mostly to my own little bubble, and only browsed the “gamedev” tag and “indie game” tag to find posts to signal-boost on my alt account, Indie Games of Cohost.

I’ve heard stories of arguments, targeted harassment, defensiveness, toxicity, racial bias, and white privilege expressed across the platform. I believe all of those things 100%. And while I have nearly endless sympathy for small development teams, it’s still frustrating to see failures in properly preventing people from being exposed to that on the site.

It sadly doesn’t surprise me. Not in the sense that “we should accept these things as inevitable when people talk online” but rather that it seems that nearly every attempt to make a social media platform has failed to build in the proper level of diversity of staffing, precaution, and moderation that would be necessary to prevent things like that from festering.

The next time someone attempts to make an online space like this, I hope that they’ll take note of those failures and do better. I wish everyone could have had the same positive experience that I had, even though that clearly didn’t come to pass for a lot of people.

As I said, the feature set and general design was very much up my alley. Cohost was pitched by many as “social media with less metrics”, and thus with more space to be yourself, act like yourself, and breathe. There are subtle differences that have a lot of impact: no “Likes” metric on posts, no “Followers” metric at all, no “Follows you” badge to know whether people were your mutuals or not.

It wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was definitely mine. It had a lot of the convenience of a social media platform (optional comment sections, optional reblogs/shares, the ability to see everything displayed in a handy timeline you can scroll down) without a lot of the aspects that I’ve found detrimental to my focus, confidence, and mental health.

As a bonus, Cohost let you use CSS within your posts. This led to people (with better coding knowledge and patience than me) making some really creative posts that “broke the mold” of what you’d expect to see. It was refreshing because most online platforms have a pretty firm grip on what your “piece of content” is allowed to look like, aesthetically and structurally. There’s been a big drive to try to iron out what posts look like and make them consistent, such as having everything on a platform use the same font or be the same size. It was nice to have a place that didn’t play by those rules.

It was essentially more like a blogging platform, before LiveJournal and Tumblr became bloated with a bunch of more grabby features. It was a place for experimental and long-form posting, as opposed to the machine gun fire of sites like Twitter, TikTok, etc.

It also felt like, at least on my own personal timeline, that it was more about posting stuff than about reblogging an endless stream of stuff. Which is huge for me. There is something about the concept of the retweet/reblog/share that kind of opens the flood gates on most people, letting out an endless stream of “content” that is impossible to ever fully digest. I’ll admit, I’m not a huge fan. I like hearing from people individually, rather than always seeing posts passed along from strangers.

I think a large part of why these things appealed to me specifically is because of my shifting relationship with using the internet.

My impulse to post, scroll, and be seen online

I started posting on the internet when I was around 10 years old.

I went to message boards, webcomic hosting sites, and browser-based online RPGs.

After a few years of that, I found my way onto deviantArt. A few years after…Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr. A few years after…Discord.

For better or worse, “posting” and “scrolling” became central to my identity. I word it that way not out of pride but mostly just to be blunt. If you’re a very indoor internet kind of person, you can probably relate.

When it comes to the question of “Why do I spend time online?”, there’s always been two strands of my DNA. One was built on socializing, being myself, and meeting new people to talk to. The other was built on creative hobbies like drawing, animating, and writing.

So, in a sense, posting and scrolling had always felt foundational to how I lived my life. It felt like a necessary part of connecting with others and discovering who I want to be. Likewise, it felt like a necessary part of expressing myself, learning to draw, learning to animate, learning to make games.

From a purely skill + career standpoint…posting and scrolling are directly responsible for me learning to draw, learning different image/video software, getting commission work, and getting jobs and opportunities.

So in that way, that impulse has been beneficial to me. That’s…probably true? Mostly.

But I have more reservations about it now than ever before.

I’m particularly unsure about the 10-year span stretching from 2010 to 2020, where I was most immersed in Twitter and Tumblr.

On one hand, I’m proud of what I did, directly as a result of my impulse to post and be seen.

I created a webcomic, Soul Symphony, that ran for 5 years and 450 pages, telling a story from beginning to end

From around 2015-2017 I was posting 4 or 5 new drawings to Tumblr per month, usually in full-color. My skills, confidence, and follower numbers were quickly climbing as a result of that consistency.

I ran a charity fanart zine that helped me connect with a bunch of really cool artists and helped raise money for clean water

Posting stuff to Twitter and Tumblr was kind of my creative outlet even outside of college (where I majored in Illustration and Animation) where I could truly do what I wanted to do without worrying about what professors would think

I made new friends and mutuals with different people who clicked with me

All of this was born out of a desire to get attention on the internet. It was driven by an engine of posting and scrolling. It was, for better or worse, driven by the fuel of social media metrics.

As proud as I am of those things, and as much as I know they made me who I am…there is a voice in the back of my head.

“What would life had been like if you’d logged off more?”

That’s probably dramatic, but it’s something I wonder. Would things had been any different if I had played outside with the neighbors more? Or stayed after school more? Or joined clubs in college?

Maybe I could’ve made different connections, or learned different things. Maybe I’d be better at making friends and keeping them. Or maybe my motivation to be creative simply for creativity’s sake, as opposed to getting obsessed with online metrics, would’ve lasted a few years longer.

Maybe I wouldn’t have burnt out.

Even as I get older and think more about “hanging out with people IRL” as the solution for all of these thoughts…the pandemic came along and made that complicated. It’s hard to feel confident and safe going to a local board game shop to learn a TCG, or throw a bunch of get-togethers, when COVID hangs over it all as a potential outcome.

It’s sad, almost funny, to see my pattern of art-posting since the pandemic started. Every time I’d sign up for a new platform (restarting on deviantart, or Misskey, artfol, Bluesky, other platforms I’m probably forgetting, even Cohost itself) I’d do the same thing. I’d start posting some of my favorite drawings, to help get myself set up and see if people would start following. Inevitably, these favorite drawings would be from like 2016-2019, what felt like my “heyday” of constantly growing and experimenting. I’d throw them out into the void, get a few Likes, get a few followers, and then…I’d just feel empty.

For lack of a better phrase, my mind had become too poisoned by the metrics over time. I had slacked off on actually drawing, for its own fun and for improving. I kept hoping that by porting my archive of old art over, it would bring in a flood of followers and reignite my passion for drawing.

It hasn’t really worked.

I’ve been burnt out on drawing, and short dopamine boosts from online strangers has barely put a dent in bringing me back. If anything, the experience of just sending my PNGs to a couple of personal friends and them responding with “cool!” has been more motivating.

If you’ve ever had interest or experience in being a freelancer artist online, you’ve probably internalized a lot of rules for posting.

Post consistently and often

Re-post and bump your post a few times so that people see it in different timezones

Write good captions on your pieces that capture your persona or encourage people to share or comment below

Be smart about tagging

Jump on trends, draw fanart of popular franchises, do memes

Build up your follower count, and then try to see if you convert any of those followers into commissions, merch sales, or Patreon subs

There’s nothing inherently wrong with doing any of those things. But they definitely don’t have any correlation with “getting better at the craft” or “enjoying yourself and fulfilling yourself.” They’re a necessary social-media strategy. It’s tips on running a business.

Though if I’m being honest…there WAS something fun about being in the thick of it.

There was something energizing and electric about pumping out fanart and shotgun-blasting my work onto social media. There was something satisfying about getting commission requests. I think a big part of it was also that I ENJOYED using Tumblr and Twitter at this time. Yeah it was annoying sometimes, and yeah there was weird people on there sometimes, and yeah you had to kind of dodge through “weird discourse” and “overwhelming re-iteration of US politics” and all sorts of stuff, but the thrill on being on there and being a part of it all was fun and intoxicating.

I kind of miss those days.

But I don’t know whether I have the stomach or interest for all of that anymore.

The desire to retreat from social media

As I get older, social media is starting to taste a little weird.

It just doesn’t taste right anymore.

It doesn’t feel “fun” and “exciting.” If anything, it’s like getting a jolt of energy and attention. It’s like hooking myself up to a validation machine, or a convenient way to scroll through endless distraction.

I don’t know if it’s because social media changed, or if it’s because I’ve changed. Maybe this was the reality all along, and the people who stayed off social media from 2010 onwards were the smart ones. Maybe it’s all fine and I’m just too grumpy and sensitive now. Who knows.

Regardless of the reason, there’s a flashing light in my brain that goes off every time I find myself scrolling one of the major platforms. It’s telling me “get out of here, get out of here, this isn’t a good use of your time and energy, this might be bad for you.”

By losing my interest in major platforms like Twitter and Tumblr, it has also changed my style of posting. And by changing my style of posting, I’ve also changed what I get out of the internet and what I use it for.

Which has meant a sharp decline in me sharing art and a sharp decline in me drawing, period.

During my time on Cohost (and starting this blog), I’ve made a pivot towards writing as my outlet. It’s been a nice change of pace compared to drawing, animating, or making comics. Because of the souring taste of Twitter, I’ve also gravitated more towards long-form writing instead of little thoughts shot into the timeline.

That’s been fun, though it also comes hand-in-hand with an expectation that “less people are going to take the time to read this.” It provides less boosts to my ego and motivation, which is hard to adjust to. But on the flip-side, there are benefits. By being longer and slightly less convenient to stumble on, it kind of guarantees that anyone who took the time to read the whole post really digested and gave you benefit of the doubt.

I think that difference is worth keeping in mind, when putting stuff online. There’s a big trade-off between “This is easy for people to discover, comment on, and share” and “This is more off the beaten path, but the people who do look at it will maybe appreciate it or give it more thought.”

I’m at the risk of repeating myself, as I’ve already written my thoughts on the importance of solitude, minimizing distracting technology in my day-to-day, and being mindful of my time and decisions. I want to reform my habits, and go touch grass, so that my time online feels more enriching and interesting rather than the sludge between every idle minute.

All of that to say is that Cohost was a fitting transition period for me, as I’ve been more mindful of online platforms and how they affect me. Cohost gave me something between my previous 10-year phase (hooked straight into Twitter and Tumblr on a daily basis) and wherever I go next (reading blogs via RSS feed, browsing Neocities and Nekoweb, and continuing this blog site.)

I always feel like I’m rambling and sounding crazy, because I’m way too online for the offline normal folks, and I’m way too anti-social media for the folks who are super online. That said, I’ve noticed something surprising after it was announced that Cohost was being shut down. While some people on my timeline are linking to places where you can follow them next (like Bluesky or Mastodon), I’ve also seen a number of people who are like…“I’m not sure if there’s going to be a place where you can follow me going forward. I’m not sure if I’m interested in trying ANY social media again. I may make a blog or a personal site, but if I don’t…I just won’t be online in the same way anymore.”

Never before, when I’ve seen posts of people saying they’re leaving an online platform, have I seen so many people say that there might not be a fitting place to jump to anymore. This might just be the end of the road for posting and scrolling for them.

It goes without saying that the sites and apps we use help shape our habits.

I used to dutifully check message boards each day after school at a desktop computer. Eventually I got into a habit of posting drawings onto deviantArt, and checking for new drawings from the people I liked following one-by-one. The web was something to sort of dive into, a place to explore and express myself and discover something interesting.

After Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr came along…a lot of our habits changed. That doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. It changed our capacity to find and connect with other people, at the cost of encouraging constant scrolling and constant posting. As much as I hate the companies that create those platforms, it’s also on us to reflect on these changes and talk about them, and be responsible for our own behavior.

Every site and app has the potential to shape our behavior and our expectations. Sometimes for good, sometimes for bad.

For me, my impulse to want to scroll and post over and over is something within me. It’s not tied to any particular site or platform, it was there all along. It’s something I have to get over, or find a way to control so that it doesn’t control me.

The idea of not posting, not scrolling, not being seen online constantly…it feels like oblivion to me. It feels like a loss of identity and purpose and…existence? It’s like a tree falling in the middle of the woods with no one around to hear it. Does it matter if I’m an “artist” if nobody sees it and acknowledges it? Posting is a desperate way to reaffirm that I exist, you exist, we see each other.

That doesn’t need to be a fact of life, it’s just a quirk of my own perception. Something that I need to reflect on, and pick apart.

I hope on whatever sites we end up on next…I’ll feel seen, and you’ll feel seen too. Even if our metrics stop being in the “hundreds”, and drop down to being in the “severals.”

#blog #blogofkylelab #cohost

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waytooinvested · 1 year ago

Text

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 12

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

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

‘Ms Luthor, I have a Nia Nal here asking to see you. Shall I make her an appointment for tomorrow?’

‘That’s alright Jess, please send her straight through.’

Lena put aside the copy of ‘The Interpretation of Dreams’ she had been skimming through with a certain amount of relief. Even before she’d opened the book she had been aware that Freud was the wrong place to begin her dream studies, but it had also been the only even vaguely relevant text she could find at the only bookshop within walking distance from L-Corp, and since her computer was midway through an “out of hours” update that had been stalled on 3% complete for the past 45 minutes, it had been her only option if she wanted to get stuck into research without waiting for her online orders to arrive.

The office door cracked open, and Nia peered round it.

‘Hey Lena, sorry for dropping in unannounced like this, I thought you’d be finishing for the day. Are you busy?’

‘Not at all, come in, please, have a seat. Is everything alright? I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’

‘I know, I was just passing on my way home and thought I’d come in and give you a quick update.’

‘Oh? Do you have a plan for how you’d like to work Kara’s dream session? I started some research of my own today to get a feel for dream work, but-’

She gestured at the book on her desk with a grimace.

‘-it isn’t going very well so far.’

‘You’re reading Freud? Lena I can promise you that that is not what dream-power interpretation is about.’

Lena chuckled ruefully. ‘I was beginning to suspect as much. Oh well, at least I can read something more worthwhile now. Anyway, sorry. What was your update? Is everything alright?’

‘Yes, totally fine. Well, I think so anyway... I told Kara I’m Dreamer today.’

Nia’s tone was despondent in spite of her mostly positive words, and Lena sat up straight, the remains of her Freud-induced stupor instantly dispelled.

‘Something went wrong. Did Kara display neurological symptoms? Headache, nose bleed, uneven pupil dilation?’

‘No, no it was nothing like that, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I don’t think it was a Supergirl issue at all. It’s probably fine and I’m just making a big deal over nothing, but she just… seemed a little freaked out. Well. She hugged me and said she was really happy for me and glad that I told her, but she was kind of quiet after that, and she left not long after. And… she left most of her doughnut.’

Lena bit her lip, trying to recall if she had ever seen Kara leave a doughnut before, and drawing a blank.

‘I see what you mean, that doesn’t sound like Kara. Have you talked to Alex? Maybe she just needs a bit of support to come to terms with the whole superhero thing. After all without her own Kryptonian identity we can’t be sure how much she is really aware of aliens and powers, beyond the obvious. From what I’ve observed it seems like all of that side of her reality is being filtered through the context of Alex’s job more than her own experience at the moment.’

‘Well, that’s actually why I came to see you. I thought you’d know what to do for the best.’

Because you’ve been on the other side of this.

Because you lashed out.

Because I want to know how to make sure that Kara doesn’t end up like you .

Nia didn’t say any of it, but the implication was there, just below the surface of her innocuous statement. It was unexpected, and Lena felt the brief, uncomfortable swoop in her stomach of missing a step going down. At another time, or with another person, she might have said something cutting or dismissive to regain the upper hand in the conversation and hide her fluster, but she couldn’t do that to Nia.

Not about her own coming out.

Instead she picked a fountain pen from her pen pot and rolled it between her fingers as she considered what to say, seeking the soothing familiarity of its cool, smooth weight in her hand as much as the excuse not to make eye contact.

‘I don’t think you need to worry about Kara reacting the way I did, even if she isn’t entirely comfortable right now. The two situations are very different, and in any case, Kara doesn’t exactly have the Luthor temperament.’

She thought she had done a good job of keeping her tone neutral and her response measured, but rather than looking reassured Nia smacked a hand to the side of her forehead in a gesture that was simultaneously comical and self-admonishing.

‘I just totally put my foot in my mouth didn’t I? I’m sorry, at this point I think it basically lives in there, but I honestly wasn’t even thinking about that. I just thought that since you’re her best friend, you’d be the person Kara would most want to talk to right now.’

‘Oh.’

That possibility had never even occurred to Lena, and now that it had she felt flustered in an altogether different way.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Of course! Kara has been so much happier since the two of you started spending time together again. She’s even getting along better with Andrea now, and she talks about you and all the funny clever things you said last time she saw you pretty much constantly. It’s actually kind of adorable.’

Nia’s cheeks went a bit pink then, and she squirmed in her seat like she had said more than she meant to.

‘Uhhh, maybe don’t tell Kara I told you that. I don’t want to embarrass her.’

Interesting. If Lena didn’t know better she would think- but it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not like she would have been able to do anything about it. Not now.

‘Look, Nia, I really would like to help, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea. My friendship with Kara can only ever be temporary, so it wouldn’t be fair to push the boundaries too far. Besides, how can I go and reassure Kara about her reaction to you when I can’t forgive her for doing more or less the same thing to me? Even if it was much worse in our case.’

Nia tilted her head to one side, as if she didn’t quite catch Lena’s meaning and was checking whether a new angle might make it fit better with her perception of reality.

‘Why?’

‘Why is it worse?’

‘No, why can’t you forgive her? I get that there’s a lot of history between you and I don’t know the finer details of everything Kara did to hurt you. Maybe some of it really doesn’t deserve to be just forgiven, and that’s fair enough if it’s really how you feel. But from everything I’ve seen, you want her back in your life as much as she wants you in hers. You want to forgive her. So why won’t you? Who is it really serving to force yourself to stay mad when you could just… stop? Let yourself be her friend again. Be all of our friends again. Just come back.’

Just come back.

As if she had merely walked out early on a night out, and could choose to turn around and go back to the bar any time she liked, to be welcomed in from the cold with hugs and warmth and an easy acceptance that she wasn’t sure she entirely deserved.

‘It’s not that simple.’

It can’t be... Can it?

‘Sure it is. If you want it to be. Lena… you do know that we want you back, don’t you? Not just Kara. All of us do.’

Lena opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it again. Because no, she didn’t know that. She knew that, with the exception of their latest meeting, they had all been getting along well, and that she had enjoyed the time she had been spending at the DEO far more than she expected to, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think beyond that.

Now she did.

She thought about it, and what came first, as always, was the flash of anger and sting of hurt humiliation that echoed what she had felt on first finding out how much of an outsider she truly was among her supposed friends. She had believed they were all on even footing, only to discover that every single one of them had been part of a circle of trust that did not include her, and that when push came to shove, they were perfectly happy to drop her from their lives the moment she walked away from Kara (because they were her friends, first and foremost, and Lena had been allowed to tag along only because Kara had wanted her there, not for her own sake).

That came first.

But this time, it didn’t stop there.

Because things between them had been different since Atlantis.

With Alex first, who had been the most unsympathetic when she first cut Kara out, and yet had also been the one to reach out to her after the kidnapping, and to keep on reaching out, even when Lena had snarled at her and tried to push her away. Alex had accepted her anger, and apologised, and somehow turned it into something less like hatred and more like catharsis. From there the others had followed easily in her wake. None of them had treated Lena the way she had expected them to (with reproach or recrimination, even suspicion that she really had had something to do with Kara’s condition), and without Kara beside her to be the focal point of Lena’s attention she had been getting to know all of them properly in their own rights, and found that she liked them.

Now she was giving space to the idea, she had to admit that they seemed to like her too, and not just for what she could do for Atlantis or the DEO, or as a tacked on extension of Kara. It had been starting to feel like she was really one of them…

Only then Kara had been hurt and she had let her guard down too far. She had exposed a raw, volatile part of herself that they had not been meant to see, even implying to her girlfriend’s face that Kelly's life mattered less than Kara’s. The memory made her wince (not least because although she really, genuinely liked Kelly and knew that the suggestion had been neither reasonable nor fair... she had meant it. She still meant it), and she couldn’t help worrying that the lapse had knocked them right back to square one.

‘Even if that was true before, I’m not sure it still can be after the other night.’

‘What, because of the Atlantis meeting?’

Nia sounded confused, as if she really wasn’t sure what Lena meant by ‘the other night’, and Lena nodded without looking up from the pen she was now holding too tightly in her fist.

‘Lena, that was nothing, you were just sticking up for Kara, we all knew that.’

‘I don’t think J’onn would see it that way. Or Alex.’

‘Pfft, J’onn’s like 300 years old and used to be Alex’s boss, he can take a bit of snark. And Alex actually told me after you left that she was glad you were there, because she had to speak for the DEO and National City as well but you were just 100% there to advocate for your friend, even if you did go a bit “hangry Kara with eyes on the last potsticker” about it. That’s in her words by the way, not mine.’

She couldn’t help it. A slightly guilty laugh bubbled out of her at the hangry Kara comment (that sounded like Alex alright), and it diffused the tension enough that Lena looked up at last, finding nothing but frank openness and conspiratorial amusement in Nia’s returning expression. Her grip on the pen eased along with her anxiety, and she let herself accept that maybe she had been making the whole thing much bigger in her mind than it had been in reality.

Still though…

‘I am sorry you know, for getting so confrontational about it. I think I may have skipped a few steps on the negotiation spectrum and let myself forget that I wasn’t in a room full of Luthors, and no one else there wanted Kara hurt either.’

'Yeah but it was about Kara, and she’s your- well, she inspires strong feelings in people who care about her. And it’s not like you’re the only one who lashes out sometimes, we’ve all done it at some point. You calling J’onn a fucking idiot doesn’t mean we don’t like you anymore.’

‘I did not call J’onn a fucking idiot!’

‘Oh really? Huh maybe that part just happened in my head, which is kind of a shame because it was honestly hilarious, I was ready to grab popcorn.’

‘Nia Nal!’

Nia laughed, mischief written all across her face until she noticed that Lena wasn’t joining in, then she turned sombre again.

‘Okay, but seriously. Even if you had said that, it wouldn’t mean we would kick you out the group. That’s not how friendship works.’

Isn’t it?

That had always been more or less exactly how it worked, for Lena. Maybe not over one simple argument or a heat-of-the-moment insult, but there was nothing simple about their broader situation, and her whole life had taught her that to give second chances was to invite nothing but further betrayal, manipulation, and, on more occasions than she cared to dwell on, assassination attempts. She had learned at her mother’s knee to be unforgiving and unforgivable, and for the most part she had been right (look what happened when she tried to give anyone in her family the benefit of the doubt).

But now she was being told that she wasn’t unforgivable after all, and she couldn’t help dwelling on Nia’s question of who does it serve to force yourself to stay mad? Because it wasn’t serving Lena. It was making her miserable, and lonely, and unlike all the times she had known that withholding her forgiveness was the right thing, this time the moral high ground she was standing on was becoming increasingly shaky underfoot, because this group wasn’t embroiled in some evil plot to wipe out aliens or turn the sun red. They weren’t ruthlessly ambitious business tycoons or social climbers out to wring what they could from her. Whatever else they might be, Lena truly believed that they were good people. Messy, complicated, caught up in their own baggage as much as Lena was in hers and capable of doing things that were intensely hurtful, but at their centres… good.

She still didn’t think Nia was right about forgiveness.

Not entirely.

But… maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong either.

She rubbed her temples with the fingers of one hand, unsuccessfully trying to press the conflicting instincts inside her into a single coherent train of thought.

‘You’re far too young to be full of all this sage advice, you know.’

Nia pulled a silly face that both lightened the mood and slightly undermined the compliment by making her look practically Ruby’s age, and anything but sage.

‘You are really not that much older than me.’

Lena smiled a small but genuine smile, feeling crinkles that would one day be crows feet appear around her eyes.

‘Aren’t I? I feel ancient. I found a grey hair last week.’

This earned her a snort and an eye roll, and her smile grew an extra quarter inch.

‘Maybe that’s because you never freakin’ sleep. You’re probably about 50 in awake years, but that’s not the same as being actually old.’

‘Hey, I sleep!’

Only about four hours a night at the moment, and not always consecutively, but Nia didn’t need to know that.

‘Uh huh. So how come that time I was awake for 46 hours straight during the whole Midnight debacle, you were in the DEO lab every time I went by. I drank like 6 cans of Monster the second night and was going loopy, but you were just in there doing your science like it was totally normal.’

Lena remembered the occasion Nia was talking about only too well, and wrinkled her nose in rueful acknowledgement. She had hit a snag with the Q-wave generator and had refused to budge until she solved it, even though it had meant rearranging several meetings and going an ill-advised amount of time without sleeping, eating or showering. In the end she had only conceded her need to rest after Brainy had told her very seriously her that exhaustion was making her behave like a fifth level intellect, and if she didn’t get some sleep soon she would be no better than the average Daxamite (she maintained that a desire to beat her former-rival-for-Kara’s-affections Mon-el in every conceivable measure had nothing to do with the decision, and she had merely been concerned about making mistakes).

‘This seems like a bit of a pot/kettle situation given that you just readily admitted to staying awake for 46 hours straight yourself. And if you think I was unaffected you clearly didn’t see how much espresso I got through, or hear me talking to my screwdriver, apparently. I gave it a lecture for not being the Philips head I was looking for.’

Nia laughed delightedly. ‘See, this is why we need you back in the group for real, you’re the only one whose sleep pattern is as messed up as mine is. Just think of all the 3am shenanigans we could be having.’

‘Nia, I…’

She wanted to say yes.

She wanted to, but the word stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t bring herself to step over that edge.

‘No, I know, I’m sorry. I’m pushing you and you’re not ready. I’ll drop it for now. Just… think about it, okay? And in the meantime, do you want me to call Alex to go and see Kara?’

‘No.’

Somehow the no was easier. Too easy, because for all her complicated feelings about the rest of the group, Kara was the one who had actually betrayed her trust, and should therefore be the person Lena was least willing to break her established boundaries for. And yet she had answered Nia’s question instinctively, the word slipping out without waiting for her to think through the implications of the choice.

But it was the logical solution, wasn’t it? Someone needed to talk Kara round so that she would be comfortable doing dream-work with Nia, and Alex was so busy at the DEO it might be a while before she could spare the time to visit her sister. Besides, it would be a way to contribute to Project Atlantis now she was no longer working on the Q-waves. It didn’t mean she was committing to anything more than that.

And... as much as she told herself it wasn’t relevant, she couldn’t help dwelling on the part where Kara talked about her when she wasn’t around, and seemed happier for the time they spent together, and where Lena was the person Kara would most want to talk to when she was upset.

Then there was t he part where she could have died , and Lena had felt in that moment what it would be like to truly, irrevocably lose her, and the horror of it still reverberated through every cell of her body like a struck cymbal that would not be ignored .

She shook her head and repeated in a more measured tone ‘No, I’ll go. Thank you, Nia.’

Nia beamed back at her as though Lena’s decision about Kara and the rest of them was already made, and got up to leave.

‘You’re welcome. See you at the Atlantis meeting on Monday?’

‘See you then.’

Lena waited until Nia had gone, then buzzed through to the outer office before she had time to think better of it.

‘Jess, I know I said I’d be in until late tonight, but would you mind letting the lab team know I’ll have to stop by tomorrow instead? I have somewhere I need to be right now.’

‘Of course Ms Luthor. Would you like me to call you a car?’

‘Yes please. And if you could arrange for them to pick up a box of doughnuts en route, I would appreciate it. Anything that has an obscene amount of chocolate and more sprinkles than could reasonably expected to fit on them should suffice.’

‘Right away Ms Luthor.’

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #leaving me a comment on AO3 is a surefire way to become one of my favourite people #if that's something you have any interest in being #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #kara x lena #multi chapter fic #Forgotten Not Forgiven #my fic

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neontokyoo · 3 months ago

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Just something really short because I didn’t have much to write about but the urge was too strong.

Also something a little bit different because I feel like I had a little more freedom with this writing about my Tav, Aurelia instead of just a general Tav.

Pairing: Astarion x Aurelia (my Dark Urge Tav)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: It’s been a few years since defeating the Netherbrain, and Astarion and Aurelia have finally gotten their happy ending. But Astarion’s life has changed after their daughter was born.

Warnings: none

Extra: this was somewhat inspired by From Eden by Hozier, and the scene where Astarion asks you to act as his mirror because he’s unable to see his reflection.

After saving the city and getting rid of the parasites that were living in their heads, the group broke up and went their separate ways, with the exception of occasional visits.

Now, Astarion and Aurelia lived in a cute little house within the city walls. They agreed that it was the closest to ‘home’ they’d ever be. They never really had homes, but they both knew the city really well and didn’t want to leave it again. So it was here that they decided to stay.

But it wasn’t long before Aurelia had discovered that she was expecting a baby. But it wasn’t just any baby—it was Astarion’s baby—a dhampir. A rare creature that nobody has seen for quite some time. Or at least, nobody’s thought they’ve seen one before.

Astarion was ecstatic when he heard the news. Being a vampire, he didn’t think it was possible to have children, but perhaps there are still things about himself—his condition—that he has yet to discover. Sure, it was a big jump considering everything that’d happened in those past few months, and he was a little bit stressed out about it, but there was also an overwhelming feeling of happiness.

And these feelings only grew stronger after the baby was born. Aurelia, his beautiful wife, had finally given birth to a baby girl, whom they named Evangeline. The brightest star in the dark, night sky. And, as she got a little bit older, Astarion almost couldn’t believe what he saw. This beautiful creature, this little girl, was created by him.

A few months had passed since the baby was born and Aurelia sat on the couch in the main room of their home, reading a book as she held their daughter. Their daughter who was around eight months old now.

Evangeline was asleep in her mother’s arms when Astarion entered the room, taking a moment to pause and admire the scene of his two beautiful girls sitting together.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” The vampire finally spoke, spooking his wife just a little bit as she jumped slightly before the couple shared a laugh.

“That, she is,” Aurelia spoke softly, careful not to wake the sleeping infant. “And she looks just like the spitting image of her father.”

Astarion chuckled, giving into the flattery. “That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t really know. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen myself.” He took a moment to look at his daughter. The tiny little elf was still sleeping, swaddled in a cute little pink blanket. She was chubby, but so were most babies. She was a healthy weight and she just seemed so perfect. Small strands of curly blonde hair—her father’s hair—framed her face. The tiny dhampir had the same eye shape, lips, and chin as her father, but her nose, brows, cheeks and jaw were very similar to her mother’s.

Evangeline moved a tiny chubby hand to rub at her eyes but she remained asleep. Astarion smiled at the baby, before meeting the gaze of his wife. “But she has your eyes that shine like gold,” he pointed out, “and a majority of her face is yours.”

“But she still looks just like you,” Aurelia pressed.

And it was true, she did look a lot like her father, but to Astarion, Evangeline was the perfect resemblance of both her parents. She filled their hearts with joy, love, and a hope that neither of them had felt for some time. This beautiful thing that they created, they loved and adored more than anything else. And they couldn’t wish for anything more. Evangeline, in her own way, was the light in their lives, and they vowed to cherish every moment with their daughter, and protect her at all costs.

They wanted the best for her, and they wanted to give her the best childhood that neither of them could remember having. For this small, helpless creature was their greatest gift.

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xweetok-starmap · 3 months ago

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(I actually did lie down after that last post /soft laughs/ and took a really good nap)

/me checking tumblr after waking up from a nap like/ “What’s a ‘boymodder’ /yaawns~/ is that like a boy who is modding their dress to look like something else, like me? like how I’m a boy(sometimes when not agender or enby) but still wear dresses?” /tries looking it up but doesn’t find anything/ /realizes “OH no I mis-read that, it’s 1 d not 2; boymoder, as in boy mode, as in a transgirl who is currently in boy mode; so like the complete OPPOSITE of what I thought; but also still actually kind of like me because my [socially understood] sex mixed with my dress makes people think I’m very cis instead of a crossdressing queer boy /also sleeepy yawns/“ Tumblr is funny ~ /curl snuggles back up but not to go back to sleep, just cause I’m comfy/

/little bit of time passes/

Maybe I should actually go take a walk or something . . .

Oh, oh but first I wanted to give an update that top surgery healing is continuing to go great! The surgery itself was on March 3rd so it was just under a month ago. How it’s looking now: All of the dead areolae skin is sloughed off, and the central scabs that were atop the center of the nipple have fallen off (though one of them accidentally got brushed off during cuddles and bled a tiny bit — like, the fullstop at the end of a sentence tiny bit — so that’s a new fresh scab that’ll have to heal and then fall out of the crevice of the inverted nipple oops) All of the tape and the sutures were removed during my appointment a week ago, but now all of the glue has also worn off! The incisions around my sternum still have the most inflammation of all the incision parts, and the inflammation is pretty hard so it can be felt through a shirt that I’m wearing (or the raised shape of the incision can actually be seen through the shirt if it’s pulled really tight to me), but for the most part it has gone down quite a bit; I’ve been told that for how recently I got my surgery, the incisions are looking amazing and I shouldn’t expect any issues with them fading into mostly obscurity :333, My mobility is looking really great; I can raise my hand up “proper” classroom style, and I’ve been spending time stretching out while lying down on bed before sleeping (or even just during the day) sometimes — though my mobility is a little bit less on my left side, because the incision goes up higher on my left side than on my right side (there was more tissue to remove). A lot of the new sensations to get used to is the fact that my skin itself is needing to stretch in ways it didn’t before . . . so for instance the skin in my underarms is LITERALLY pulled more taut than it used to be — so that feels kind of funny! I think I should be able to start rollerblading again! the reason I was waiting is because the most physically demanding part of rollerblading is if I make a mistake and fall and have to catch myself, and it’s pretty normal for me to fall within the first 5 minutes and then in the last 5 minutes after I get tired. I stopped having to use the non-stick pads to cover my areolae one week ago (so last Tuesday) and that has been really nice, it’s much less demanding to take care of everything — I pretty much just spray it with Briotech, wait for the area to air dry, and then rub the Beeswax Shea Butter stuff that I have over it. If I have the resource available I use aloe vera gel from a plant himself on the incisions, too; though he is only at one of the houses I go to and I haven’t been over there a lot recently so that’s been pretty on-and-off. Everything is comfy enough that as of 2-3 nights ago I started being able to sleep proper naked again! I wasn’t really comfortable with sleeping without a silk shirt on Just In Case for a while, but now it feels like nothing should be stopping me. I’m also comfortable in just about any sleeping position (which is good because I’m a “slowly rolls over onto my stomach and then stays there” sleeper). Though if I am on my stomach, I can’t really arch my upper body up very far without tightness at the bottom of the pectoral anatomical line. I delight in, soooooooooo muuuuch, skin to skin contact on my chest /big big smiles/ it’s sooooooo gooooood. It’s just really phenomenal to have my chest touched in general. It’s so much better than I ever could have imagined it would be. I’ve always really enjoyed my (non-breast tissue, that felt icky) chest affectionately pet or rubbed by friends so there is just so much more to do that with now!!!! and it’s really nice that stroking straight down from my clavicle to my stomach with no interruptions is something that can happen!!! And I’m so so vocal and responsive about chest touches in situations where it is appropriate for me to be so /soft coughs/ even my spouse who discovered after I got my surgery that “oh, he LIKES boobs” is really into it because of the sheer SOUNDS and positive feedback squirming /happy little wiggles/ so that’s good!

ALSO I noticed something funny! When the scab of my right areolae got brushed off by accident, I noticed this really weird black string thing, and I wondered if ?maybe there were sutures in the middle of the nipple that got forgotten, since an irregular technique was used for me so that the areolae and nipples could remain single pieces as a graft? But then I noticed that on the center of my right side chest, there is one weird little black string thing above the incision, and then another little thing below the incision And I’m realizing, OH!!!! that’s body hair!!! body hair that has been ‘displaced to really funny places’ now since the top surgery happened! Of course!! I forgot about that. I forget about body hair since I’ve been getting electrolysis done, 90 minutes weekly, for two years now. And I started at the underarms and arolae + they’ve just been maintained by zapping the 1-3 hairs that sometimes pop up this whole time that we’ve also been working on legs and groin.

Oh other funny parts is doing activities for the first time where the last time I did them, I hadn’t had my surgery yet: So answering the front door while at my spouse’s apartment while just wearing a single top layer and realizing “OH YEAH I DON’T HAVE TO FEEL AWKWARD BECAUSE THERE’S NOTHING THERE MAKING STUPID CHEST TENTS” Or cooking hotcakes for breakfast (I delayed that for like 24 hours, I wanted to do that yesterday aaa), I used to just kind of idley hold my chest while waiting for the hotcakes to be flip-ready, and now I’m like “oh!! right, this is different now!! /playfully fast ruffle-pets over my chest and incision/

Also my chest is flatter than my spouse’s now (since mine is surgically flat where the goal was to restore it to a pre-pubertal — that’s the exact term that my surgeon wrote it in his notes by the way, which I thought was really really cool — look; not normal guy flatness) and I think that is funny /humoured squinty happy smiles/

#2025 april #journal: body #journal: surgery recovery #journal: gender #journal: tumblr (meta)#xweetok-original

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

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Devastated

Ivar the Boneless x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2794 words

Warnings: Reader cannot have children. It is covered in very little detail but content may be triggering to some. Read with caution darlings.

Summary: The reader finds out that she will never bear children, and knows that she must tell her husband, eventually.

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You were devastated.

In your entire life, you were sure that you’d never been given such bad news.

When you went to visit the Seer, the last thing you expected him to tell you about your future was that you would never be able to have children, and yet, that was just what had happened.

You begged the mighty one to reconsider, to tell you something different, but there was nothing to be done.

The reality was that you would never bear children of your own, not in all your life.

You couldn’t believe it.

Child rearing was incredibly important to you, and your people in general. You should have been able to bear strong, strapping sons to carry on their father’s name and daughters who could hold their own against any warrior.

It was your birthright as a woman, and a Princess of Kattegat, but the seer was very clear. There were no young ones in your future, at least, not any that you would carry on your own as your mother had with you.

It wasn’t going to happen.

By all accounts, you were heartbroken.

Since you were a young child, you had dreamed of becoming a mother to brave children who could bring just as much glory to Kattegat as you and all the others before you had. You owed it to the Gods, but evidently, they had a different plan.

You weren’t to be a mother.

You considered this, and everything else the seer had said as you walked down the path toward the great hall, your feet heavy beneath you. Perhaps, if you made enough offerings to Freya, something would change.

Though, you knew it would never work.

The seer had never been wrong, in all the years you’d lived. If he was ever going to be wrong, you doubted it would be over this in any case.

You couldn’t rightly ignore the facts.

Your body wasn’t fit to carry children, and if your womb couldn't support life, there was nothing you could have ever hoped to do to change that. The most you could do was accept what you knew to be true.

Which was much easier in theory than in practice.

Not only did you have to come to terms with this new reality, but you also had to share the unfortunate news with your husband, who would certainly not take it well.

Every man wanted sons, men whom they could be proud to leave their name to when they were finally called to Valhalla. The idea that you were taking that away from Ivar made you rethink everything.

Would he want to be married to you anymore when he found out? Your marriage was relatively new, and you couldn't blame him if this was something that he simply couldn’t overlook and even worse, what if he was angry?

Ivar wasn’t exactly a joy to be around when he was angry, and you fear what he may do if he blamed you for something like this.

Was it your fault?

Gods, maybe it was.

You weren’t aware that you couldn’t have children before this morning so it wasn’t as if you could have been expected to warn him before your marriage, but now that you knew, was it possible you had done something wrong.

It was really starting to feel as though you were being punished for something, but for what, you were unsure.

Surely you’d done something wrong. Why else would the Gods see fit to take your children away from you before you’d even had a chance to consider having them?

It felt like a cruel joke, one that you could never escape.

The more you thought about it, the more distracted you’d become, and before long, you found yourself entering the mouth of the great hall, where Ivar was already waiting for you.

Of course he was.

Your husband was kind to you, most of the time, when his temper didn’t have a handle on his emotions. You had never found yourself worried about speaking to him, or telling him anything before, but today was different.

Today, you found yourself more willing to go into the woods to fight a bear as Bjorn had done, rather than tell Ivar of the news you’d gotten from the seer on your visit this morning.

It was simply too much to put on one person.

“Well hello my wife, how are you?” Ivar hummed, letting his eyes fall on you in the doorway once he’d decided he was bored of watching Ubbe and Hvitserk try to best one another in an arm wrestle.

They had been going at it for the last hour or so, and it had gotten tedious shortly after that.

Hearing about what you had gotten into today seemed to interest him that much more, especially because you had taken it upon yourself to get out of bed and leave before he’d even opened his eyes.

You didn’t speak at first, instead opting to admire the man you loved in a silent contemplation of how he was feeling today.

If he was already in a sour mood, you weren’t going to dare bring something like this up.

Still, compared to how Ivar acted on his worst days, he seemed rather content today. If nothing else, he was bored, which you couldn’t really fault him for. His mother had more or less kept him here his entire life.

He didn’t voyage away from Kattegat and he never was one for frivolous activities to pass the time.

In any case, if there was ever going to be a good opportunity to have such a sensitive conversation with him, it was now. At least, you had a better chance of him staying calm, rather than getting angry.

“I’m just fine, Ivar, how are you?” you hummed, sitting down beside him as gingerly as you could without disturbing him, though you were more in your head than you’d ever been.

You knew that you should pay attention as he told you about what he’d gotten up to today, not missing the subtle comments he made about you leaving him to wake up on his own, but you couldn’t focus on anything more than the sinking in your gut.

Deep down, you knew that he would blame you.

That it was bad enough that you weren’t as fair or petite as his brother’s wives, and that his father had arranged your marriage, but now, you wouldn't even be able to bear his children for him.

You had been rather fortunate to avoid Ivar’s wrath before now, though you’d seen it pretty frequently, and you could feel that luck running out. You knew that this would upset him, that he would be angry.

You just weren’t sure what you could do about that.

It would be foolish to believe that you could keep this from him forever.

Eventually, he was bound to put the pieces together when you couldn’t get pregnant, and even if he didn’t, the seer was sure to mention it to him at some point.

You could only keep this from him for so long, and if he found out you knew this long before he did, he would punish you for sure.

So, as much as it made your stomach turn, you knew that you only really had one choice.

“What did you do today that was so important?” he questioned, all but snapping in your face to get your attention once he’d finished speaking, only to find you as far away as ever.

Clearly, your head was a million miles away, and while that normally would have frustrated Ivar, he found himself strangely concerned for your wellbeing. Usually, when he spoke, you hung on every word.

Today, it was as if he wasn’t even here.

“I went to visit the seer, about the strange way I’ve been feeling” you shrugged, hoping that wouldn’t bring on any other questions from him.

This was your chance.

All you had to do was tell him.

Though, when you raised your eyes to meet his, you found that same knot in your belly twisted up even more. There was no way that you could tell him, he would never understand.

Still, you knew that at some point, he was sure to pull it out of you. He always did, no matter what it was you tried to keep away.

“Well, what did he tell you?” came his second question, the one you’d been anticipating, and trying to avoid, this entire time.

You did your best not to let the heavy sigh building in your chest escape as you tried to figure out how to word what you had to say, your eyes falling on both Hvitserk and Ubbe across the room.

It was bad enough that you were about to tell Ivar the worst news you’d ever gotten, but now, you had to do it with them within earshot? It was perfect. The entire Ragnarsson clan could hate you at once.

Not that them being here was a completely bad thing.

At least with his brothers in the room, there was less of a chance that Ivar could get so angry with you.

Perhaps they would be a good buffer for you.

In any case, you knew that you had reached the end of your very minimal stalling. If you waited any longer, the more you were sure that Ivar’s peaceful mood and ticking patience would fade.

The longer you waited, the harder it would be.

“There is nothing outrightly wrong” you allowed, doing your best to make him feel better about that, at the very least. It wasn’t a lie, just as much as it wasn’t exactly the truth. You weren’t dying, or seriously ill.

You just weren’t as you thought you were this morning.

“Then why were you away for so long? Surely the seer was able to tell you something” he groaned, bothered that you had been away for so many hours without so much as a warning to him.

After all, you had been missing from his side since before he opened his eyes, something he had never really taken kindly to.

You nodded, sorry that your clear absence had upset him so much before you finally let that sigh fall from your lips.

“Yes, he did, but the news is rather difficult to accept,” you warned, forcing some words out when you found the truth unable to leave your tongue. With every second that passed, you could just feel his patience leaving him.

However, even with all the blatant stalling you were doing, Ivar remained as calm as he could.

It was clear to him that no matter what you said, there was something you were keeping from him. The only question Ivar really had was why?

In all the time that you had been married, he was always kind to you. He took care of you as any husband should and though his temper was a bit harsh at times, he was always careful to be fair and gentle when he spoke to you.

All in all, Ivar thought himself to be a good husband but perhaps he was wrong.

He couldn’t imagine anything that could be so bad that you were so timid to tell him.

“Y/N, what did the seer tell you?” he prompted, shocking you a bit with the use of your name. Ivar never used your name, not if he could help it, always instead opting for ‘wife’ or ‘darling’ if he really wanted something.

It was never Y/N with him.

“I cannot have children, Ivar. Not ever” you finally broke, desperately wishing that you hadn’t said anything to begin with.

You should have been able to do this, and you both knew it.

Still, once you’d finally built up the courage to look, the upset that you expected from Ivar wasn’t anywhere to be seen on his face.

Instead, he wore an expression that was almost confused.

That was what you were so afraid to tell him?

You had come in here after a day of absence, as closed off and cagey as he’d ever seen you in all the time that you’d known him and that was what it was about? He just couldn’t believe that was the thing that you hesitated to share.

Of all the things it could have been, he would have thought that among the first that you could talk with him about if need be.

Not that you could read all of that from his silence and pensive expression.

From where you were sitting, you were even further convinced that he was about to tell you that he couldn’t be married to someone that couldn’t give him children, and that you would be on your own once again.

News that you couldn’t have been more unwilling to hear.

While your marriage to Ivar had been his mother’s idea in the beginning, you had begun to really care for him in the time you’d been married. Separating from him was sure to break your heart.

No matter the circumstances.

“And you’re upset by that?” he hummed, after a few seconds of silence between the two of you, a casual question that seemed so out of place in such a serious, tense conversation.

It was so strange.

He truly seemed as if he didn’t understand what the big deal was.

Though, you were talking to a man who had never truly been sure children were in his future to begin with. Not to mention the fact that even if he knew he was physically able, Ivar didn’t know how he felt about fathering offspring.

After all, if they had to live life anything like he did, he wasn’t sure it was worth it.

So, the idea that you couldn’t bear his children didn’t bother Ivar as much as you’d been expecting. Something that would have made you feel better, had you not been heartbroken over it.

You wanted to have children, all your life, so now knowing that you couldn’t, it felt as if something you’d never even had, had been stolen from you.

“Of course I’m upset, Ivar. Are you not?” you sighed, shocked at how this conversation had so drastically changed from what you’d been expecting. All this time, you thought your husband would be the most affected by this.

All the while, he remained almost entirely unphased by the news that you were barren.

It was almost insulting.

“Did you really expect to have children when we married, anyway?” he asked, his question giving you pause for a moment.

You supposed you’d never really thought about it before.

He had a point.

There was never any real guarantee that you were going to be a mother with him in any case, a fact that hadn’t even been important enough to cross your mind when you were getting married.

“I never thought much about it” you allowed, your eyes once again sinking to the floor as you thought about everything that had somehow changed, in the matter of a few hours.

It was hard not to feel as if your body had betrayed your trust, taking away something you had always thought to be promised.

You were upset, and rightfully so.

Ivar may not have ever considered himself a father, in any capacity, but that didn’t mean that your upset was any less real. He’d had his entire life to come to terms with this, whereas you’d only known for a day.

Of course it bothered you, and even if he didn’t really get why you were allowing something like this to get to you so much, he could recognize that you were hurting.

...and what kind of husband would he be if he left his grieving wife to her own devices.

“I understand that you are distressed by the seer’s news, but I promise you, it changes nothing between us” Ivar assured, his fingers brushing over the top of your hand as he held it between you.

It wasn’t the most comforting gesture outside of this moment, a simple hand holding as it were, but coming from Ivar, it made all the difference in the world.

As desperate as you were to change the state of your body, and as much as you wished it wasn’t the way it was, you knew that nothing could be done.

All you could do now was move on as best you could, and perhaps, sometime down the line, the gods may gift you with a child that you could care for.

Even if such a child wasn’t of Ivar’s and your own.

At least, until then, you had Ivar by your side.

613 notes · View notes

naomikozura · 3 years ago

Text

➣The Only Exception

Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader (College AU)

genre: enemies to lovers, sfw

wc: 4.2k

previous / next

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02. The Game

♪ Cough Syrup - Young The Giant ♪

Classes seemed to hit you like a wrecking ball, expecting them to be an easy work load, but in the end it was more than what you thought. The entire first week of class was dedicated to already reading texts and finishing homework for the upcoming week. Who the hell even assigns homework the first two days of class? You thought silently as your professor continued giving out what seemed like a whole semester worth of readings in the first ten minutes of class.

Professor Shadis seemed to ramble on and on about philosophy and half the class was already zoned out. You really wish you didn’t have to take another philosophy class but it was the last class to fill for an elective. Once the clock hit end time, the entire class quite literally ran out the door. You sighed, walking to the nearby coffee shop to settle down before heading back to the dorms.

It was only 3pm, but having classes from 8am to 3pm seemed like a pretty good trade off because you would still find ways to fit in your social life somewhere in the last 6 hours of the day.

Sometimes you wished you didn’t care so much about school or having to keep up with your parents' reputation as notable doctors in Trost. They hoped you would follow in their footsteps, but convincing them to let you stay within your own degree plans was difficult.

You didn’t want to be a doctor or do anything with medicine to be honest, they had a hard time accepting it but agreed to you picking your own major so long as you promised them you would focus on your academics and find a good place to work or intern at during college. It seemed like a pretty good trade off to be honest, you didn’t care too much for anything besides small hobbies like going on walks and reading books. You didn’t really care about a lot but those were some of the things you did enjoy.

Living three hours from home gave you a sort of freedom, something you didn’t really have while you were in high school, but it was relieving to know your parents trusted you to go off to Paradis to complete your degree. It was nice to make a decision for yourself for once.

The past five hours seemed to pass by quickly, you checked the time and it was already 8 pm. The shop closed at 8:30 so you packed everything and decided to walk back to the dorms. Taking the long way back since it had the most amount of street lighting and made you feel more safe knowing there were lights everywhere.

You reached the dorms and quickly walked inside. You pressed the button to the elevator, patiently waiting. You heard someone behind you walk past you and press the button again. You turned and saw that it was the same blonde guy from the coffee shop.

Oh, he’s kind of cute. You thought quietly.

The elevator pinged announcing its arrival and you got in quickly, the guy following behind you. He was kind of tall with blonde hair that's shaved on the sides, it looked like he had golden eyes and nice lips. He was listening to music, and was wearing a bomber jacket with a number and name on the back. Most likely his own.

The elevator stopped on the third floor and he got off. You noticed the writing on the back of the jacket. It had the number on the back with Liberio Private Academy written underneath it.

Wait. That’s where Reiner said he was transferring from.

The thought went just as quick as it came, it seemed like there were a lot of references to the Liberio Academy around you recently. The elevator moved up another floor before you got off and walked to your room. You opened the door and you were instantly tackled to the floor.

“(Y/N)! I’VE MISSED YOU”.

“SASHA! I CAN'T BREATHE!”, you choked out before your roommate strangled you.

“Sorry, I just feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”, she said excitedly.

Sasha was such a hyperactive person, very outgoing and really loud, but you loved her nonetheless. You both met in class during your freshman year only to find out later that you were roommates since your roommate assignments were messed up during the first week of classes. She was the one who introduced you to everyone in the friend group since she and Connie had been dating since high school.

They were from neighboring towns that were so small, they pushed all the high schoolers into one school. Her and Connie were a good pair, both equally outgoing and friendly, only Connie had to be more reserved since his coaches were strict on him and his teammates. The soccer coaches seemed to be more strict with the players, especially since Connie was one of the star players.

Regardless, the guys were still outgoing and goofy, you and the rest of the girls loved it nonetheless.

“Yeah, I know, having opposite schedules can do that to you. How were classes?”

“Oh god, horrible. My professors are already assigning homework and I wanted to walk out of class so badly but the attendance is a grade and I can’t afford to get bad grades because of attendance.”, she groaned overdramatically.

Sasha may be a really hyper and outgoing person, but her focus on school rivaled even yours, only you felt as though she could go a whole month without doing anything and still pass all her classes. It was like she didn’t even have to try in her classes and she would still do well.

“Oh, do you wanna go with me to Connie's soccer game tomorrow? It’s the first game of the semester, it starts at 6pm and it’s a weekend so you’ll be able to sleep in.”, you actually really enjoyed going to the soccer games on the weekends, and since the school moved up in division, the games were held in the spring now instead of the fall.

“Yeah, I think that would be nice. I haven’t been to one of the games in a while”, it was like a ritual for the group, the games would be on the weekends and after you all would go out to eat or to the bars on 9th Street, but things have changed since you got the internship. Time was no longer on your side with work and keeping up grades.

You changed out of your day clothes and into an oversized t-shirt and lounge shorts. You threw your hair into a bun, washed your face and brushed your teeth before hopping into bed and getting ready to go to sleep. You heard your phone vibrate and checked it before setting your alarm.

You swiped to see who texted you and it was Reiner.

R: Are you busy tomorrow?

Y/n: Hey, um, yeah I’m busy around 6 but I’m pretty free before then.

R: Ah, I see, that’s perfect actually. I have something at 5pm. Would you want to grab lunch with me tomorrow?

Y/n: Yeah, that would be nice, what time?

R: How does 12 or 1 sound?

Y/n: 12 works for me :)

R: Great, I’ll see you at 12 then. I’ll pick you up, you stay at the dorms off Marley Dr right?

Y/n: Yeah, I do.

R: Great, I’ll be there at 12. See you tomorrow. Have a goodnight (Y/n).

Y/n: You too Reiner, goodnight.

You didn’t know exactly how or when you started hanging out with Reiner more often, but it started happening around two days after the party. He would invite you out on walks or just for coffee and you always found yourself accepted his invites. You enjoyed hanging out with him, and most of your time was spent getting to know each other better.

He told you about how he transferred from the Liberio Private Academy and was on the football team. He was the Quarterback and got in on scholarship since he came from such a prestigious school. He even mentioned how he hated it, that his value was only seen in his ability to play a sport, not for him as a person. He loved football but wished people saw him for something more than just a good player.

You understood him, you wish people saw you as more than just the daughter of the two most prestigious doctors in Trost. When you left to Paradis, you never mentioned who your parents were, not even to Reiner. You had created a fake pair of parents that were average working parents, not household name doctors with one of the biggest medical practices in the city. You created a the story of being an ordinary person, with a ordinary parents, just like every other college student.

You locked your phone and set it on the nightstand before going to sleep. Tomorrow would be a good day, you were going to make sure of it.

The next morning you were getting ready. You decided to wear a thin tan sweater with some loose pants and some nice sandals. It was a bit windy but the weather was warm. Your hair was up in a hair clip with some of your hair framing your face.

Your phone vibrated and it was Reiner letting you know he was outside. You quickly wrote out and left a sticky note on the counter for Sasha and walked out the door.

You went down the hall to the elevator and pressed the lobby button. You felt the elevator come to a stop on the third floor and you stepped to the side for the people coming in.

Only one person, actually it was the same guy from yesterday. He looked up from his phone and looked you up and down. He stepped inside and the doors shut behind him. He was wearing a wind breaker with joggers and a sports bag with a pair of cleats hanging off of it. It looked like he had a sports uniform in his bag but you didn't pay enough attention to what kind of uniform it was. The elevator started going down to the lobby and when the doors opened he walked out behind you and out the side door.

You pushed through the front and walked and over to Reiner’s car. He was already outside leaning on his car, opening the door for you, “You look really nice. What’s the occasion?”, He complimented you with a smile following after, you laughed a little before he closed the door and walked to the opposite side.

“Nothing, just with lunch and meeting up with my friends later, figured I could just start the day dressed up.”, Reiner smiled before driving off onto the road.

“Well, I think you look amazing, (Y/n)”.

The radio was soft in the background, both of you sitting in comfortable silence. There was really no reason for the two of you to force conversation. Reiner liked sitting in silence and so did you. It worked out well for the both of you, especially since there wasn’t much to talk about right then and probably would save catching up for lunch.

You pulled into the parking lot of a small diner off campus. It was older than most of the shops nearby but stayed in business due to the busyness of the nearby university. Reiner opened the door for you and asked for a booth. The host led you to the table and you both sat down. You opened the menu and saw a section for breakfast food. It was still pretty early, but you could consider it a brunch outing. The server came by and got your order, giving her your thanks and she walked off.

“So, how have classes been lately?”, he asked softly as he took his straw out of the wrapping and putting it into his drink.

“Just here and there, kind of stressful to be honest. Especially since I’m interning in Sina this year.”, you said as the server dropped off your food, thanking her once again.

“Wow, an internship already? Aren’t you barely in your second year?”

“Yeah, but it’s with the wife of one of my professor’s from last semester. He put in a good word and she was impressed with my resume so she gave me an offer to intern with her.”, you tried to be as humble about it as possible, but interning with anyone apart of the Reiss or Fritz company line was a huge leg up in the industry.

Honestly, if Historia wasn’t the niece of your current boss, and you being friends with her, you doubt anything would’ve really happened. Historia knew the struggle of being a part of a household name family that everyone knew about, just like your parents were. Maybe things would be different if you didn’t have to completely hide half of your life from your friends and other people who knew you.

“Oh, Reiner, I had a question.”, you said, suddenly remembering the guy you saw wearing the Liberio Private Academy jacket. “Yeah?”

“You said you transferred from Liberio Academy right?”, he grunted as his response for you to continue. “I saw this guy who was wearing one of the academy jackets and didn’t know if you knew him or not. He had, like, blonde hair, and it was shaved on the sides.. kinda tall?”, you asked about the guy and described him to Reiner.

“Oh? Do you mean Porco? You remember Marcel right? Well that’s his younger brother. He transferred in with the rest of us.”

“I thought you said only four of you transferred in this year?”, that bit was confusing to you and pressed for an answer anyway. “Yeah, it was originally only four of us, but Porco was going to go to Wall Rose U but changed his mind before classes started and since he’s from the Academy, they pulled some strings to enroll him in time for classes.”

Oh, that made a bit more sense to you now. You concluded that that might have been the reason you didn’t meet him the night of the party. That night was just a blur, mainly because you were bored and blocked out the majority of the night.

You and Reiner finished catching up and eating your lunch before he dropped you back off at the dorms and you went up to your room. Sasha was home, per her stuff being thrown carelessly on the couch, knowing she was getting ready for the game that was in less than 3 hours. You hadn’t realized you were out for so long, time just flew by when you were with Reiner.

He made you feel good, always listened to you and never spoke over you. It was nice to have someone like that in your life that wasn’t part of the main friend group. Maybe one day you could introduce him to the group. You didn’t think there could be more than a friendship with him, your parent’s say would also forbid it.

So being close as friends would be the furthest you could go for now.

You went into your room to rest to study for a while before it was time to leave for the soccer game tonight. A while had passed before you turned to the clock and it read 5pm, and heard Sasha call your name out. You closed your books and went out to the living room. You were fixing your hair back in its clip when Sasha stepped into the common area.

“You ready? Let’s get there early so that we can get good seats in the stands” Sasha was always such a supportive girlfriend, she always liked being early to Connie’s names and being able to cheer him on.

You nodded and both of you walked out the door.

The drive wasn’t too far off campus, only about ten minutes. Sasha parked the car and you both walked over to the fields and found a good spot front and center of the stands. You sat down and watched as the players were warming up. Most of them were second and third-years, with only a few first years on the varsity team.

Sasha seemed to be watching Connie, who was also team captain, give out instructions to all the players. He was the center back and did a really good job of leading his team. You had arrived around half an hour early so you and Sasha just waited until Mikasa, Annie and Historia showed up.

It wasn’t too cold outside so you were able to stick with your outfit from the morning, but wished you could’ve brought just another layer just in case but forgot it on your bed in the dorms.

The game was starting pretty soon as the opposite team finally showed up and started their own warmups. After a while, the rest of the group showed up and sat with everyone. The girls were talking while all the guys were warming up. The stands were starting to fill up quickly since soccer was the hot topic of the year due to the team moving up in divisions and being one of the top teams in the region.

The game started with both team captains bowing to one another and the teams bowing in return. The referee called a coin flip, both captains calling out their side. The coin landed on heads which gave the opposing team the start off with the ball. The game kicked off and it seemed to start off well, Sasha already on her feet yelling at Eren and Jean who were on defense and Armin as the goalie. The entire middle section was already cheering and yelling as the ball was passed around and hit to the other end of the field.

You didn’t understand anything about soccer but enjoyed coming out with everyone regardless. It was one of the only ways you were able to catch up with everyone, especially now due to your job. You kept talking with Mikasa and Annie until you felt someone standing behind you. “Well, I guess you really were busy.”, you leaned your head back and saw Reiner and Bertholdt staring down at you from their insanely tall statures.

“Reiner? Bertholdt? What are you guys doing here?”, you asked as you stood to hug the both of them. They both hugged you back before waving at everyone and Annie rolling her eyes. “We came to see our infamous little player on the field”.

You raised an eyebrow, a bit confused at his statement.

“Who?”, you asked while looking back at the field.

Reiner laughed a little before pointing out at the field to a specific player you hadn’t noticed before. A familiar blonde ran with the ball while two players from the opposing team followed him before he put all his force to his left leg and shot the ball into the goal, the goalie missing by just a few centimeters.

The stands cheering so loud your eardrums felt they would burst. He walked back towards the center of the field and lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, his toned body showing off and you could hear some of the girls from the left side of the stands screaming.

“Our Porco there is the new addition to the team, he’s the new midfielder since he got offered a scholarship for being the top player at the Liberio Academy.”

Well, that was not something you expected. I guess Connie was right, they would get a new player on the team. You looked at him as the ball went back into play. He did seem like the type to play this sport, but he seemed to have a lot of stamina for the game. He passed the ball back over to Connie who had Marco, the left wing, running with him, cutting off the other players who tried to get close to the ball.

You asked if Reiner and Bertholdt wanted to sit with the group and they accepted, Reiner picking the spot specifically next to you. A few minutes passed, and Pieck, Colt, and Marcel joined the rest of the group.

The game continued on, the score tying out to 1-1 by the end of the first half. Everyone seemed really excited to see how the final score would be. You continued talking with everyone and introduced the girls to the guys and Pieck. Annie was the only one that already knew them since they attended school together and she transferred out early.

The second half of the game started and noticed that Porco was the only one besides Connie and Armin who hadn’t been swapped out. For being on the team for the first time, he got a lot of field time, most everyone got switched out due to exhaustion but he stayed.

“It makes sense they kept him in”, Colt said from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You focused in on his voice, and he continued. “He has insane stamina, he could do five marathons back to back and still run a sixth. Wall Rose U and this university wanted to sign him. He’s a natural and can make it pretty far if he tries.”, you kept listening to his words before going back to the field.

The intensity of the game got higher as the last five minutes of the game were panning out. The ball on the home team's side of the field, Porco trying to push the ball back to the opposing side before they could score. The whistle went off and Porco ran towards the player with the ball, kicking it out from under him and following up with Connie, passing it to him and sprinting past the other players to receive the ball.

The last 20 seconds of the game continued as Connie tried to pass back to Porco but got double teamed by the opposing players. Connie found an opening and passed the ball to Porco with only 10 seconds left on the clock. The entire stands screaming and cheering for the final goal. The defense teamed on Porco but almost like he knew, he kicked the ball ahead and shot it past the defense right as the last two seconds showed on the clock. Right at the buzzer, the ball went into the goal and the count went from 1 to 2. The entire stands started shouting and screaming in celebration and all the teammates ran to Porco, tackling him for making the winning shot of the first game.

All the team members started chanting his name, Sasha yelling in return and you noticed that Reiner and Bertholdt also started cheering him on, and walked down to the end of the steps to give the players high fives. Sasha ran down and tackled Connie and he gave her a kiss as Eren, Jean, Marco and Armin got congratulated by you and the rest of the girls. Pieck, Marcel and Colt went over to Porco and gave him congratulations for scoring the two winning goals.

While everyone was congratulating their friends, you looked over and saw Porco smirking while some of the girls from the stands were cheering for him, thanking them and his friends for cheering him on.

In that second of you looking at him, he turned back and made eye contact with you while the people around him were talking. Your heart seemed to jump a little in your chest. His eyes felt like they were boring into you and his smirk turned into a grin, almost mockingly, before he turned around and shook hands with Connie who was giving his captain’s appreciation to the new member of the team.

“We’re going to clean up in the locker room then go to Garrison if you guys want to come for a celebratory drink.”, Connie said to the group, Porco’s included and everyone seemed to agree to go with the team, but you shifted in your spot before tugging on Sasha’s sleeve.

“Do you mind dropping me off back home? I really need to finish some work and kind of want to get a head start on my homework.”.

Sasha looked at you, a disappointed look on her face, “Are you sure? You never come out with us, it’ll be fun!”, you shook your head and just grabbed your phone out of your bag to check the time.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just want to get caught up on work.”, you said trying to stand your ground this time.

“Oh, okay, I can do that then I’ll meet you guys at Garrison”, she said looking back at the group. The guys all said their goodbyes and you gave Reiner a hug goodbye and said goodbye to the rest of his group then followed Sasha out to her car.

Unknown to you, you had two pairs of eyes watching you as you went, one that wished for your attendance at the bar and another that had a growing interest in them. As the team went off to the locker room, and the girls went to reserve a table, one of the guys stayed to watch your disappearing figure a second longer before following behind the rest of the group. Intrigue filling his thoughts.

A/N

Second chapter guys! I think I’ll keep my posting schedule for Wednesdays, mainly because I know a lot of other fics post on Sundays, so you’ll be able to look forward to these chapters just like I look forward to the fics I read.

Also, I have links attached to all the outfits for (y/n) attached, so each text that has a small underline in it (like the one in this chapter) so you get an idea of the style for this series for the reader.

The positive feedback on the first chapter meant so much to me, I was honestly surprised but thank you guys so much <333

154 notes · View notes

vivaciousvermin · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I hope you’re well, can i request an imagine where reader is Embry’s imprint and they haven’t seen eachother in months because reader has a life she can’t just drop for him but she comes back when the pack is blowing up her phone ? Thank youu and don’t worry if you don’t write it, it’s fine!

Thank you for the request! It took a Long time But It's now complete with a total whopping 5k words!! Any way I hope you enjoy the fic.

I put it under the cut because it's so long but it's my brain baby at the moment lo.

Returning to you.

Embry Call x Reader

5058 words

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

Most of my life has been spent in the Forks area so getting to travel to Europe for six months to see the art and culture was a dream come true. The past four months I’ve been travelling through Europe, starting in Greece and ending my trip in the Irish countryside.

The old art and architecture filled me with a joy that I could not get anywhere else in the world. The smells, sounds and sights all played their own part into the experience. I got to see the moon rise over Mount Olympus, the David by Michelangelo in the Vatican, tour through the Louvre, drink wine on the beaches of France and so much more. I’ve been living my best life.

It's been a dream to see the world, I've met so many new people and tried so much food. I’ve enjoyed every minute of my trip, but there was a part of me that longed for the beaches of La Push.

That part is Embry. Embry Call. My boyfriend, my pal, my love and my light. To me Embry is my everything and to him I’m his everything. That is one thing that has been made perfectly clear the past four months I’ve been away. Every day he’s told me he misses me and I know he means it, I’ve been told not just by him but also the rest of the pack.

Everyday I’ve woken up to ‘Good morning I miss you.” Sometimes he phones to tell me that he feels like he might die if I’m away for any longer. I always chuckle and tell him he will survive, it’s not like I’m going away forever; but that's what he feels like it is. This usually earns me a long winded whine from the other end of the line.

My phone buzzed against the smooth surface of the bedside table while Embry’s face flashed across my screen signalling that he’s calling. A smile graces my lips as I pick up the phone to be greeted with his loving voice.

“Hi (y/n)!! I miss you so much.” sadness was laced in his usual cheery greeting, it hurt my heart to be away from him but I would never trade this experience for anything. I’ve been planning this for years and I wasn’t going to pass up cheap plane tickets.

He filled me in on the pack's shenanigans, complaining about how they keep teasing him for being glued to his phone awaiting any updates I would send him. The later it got the heavier my eyelids seemed to feel, my speech started to slur with exhaustion of time zones while Embry continued to become more energetic with each passing minute.

“Em. . .” A yawn interrupted me mid sentence, a low whine emanated from the phone as he knew I would want to get to bed to have the energy for the long trip I’ll embark on tomorrow for Ireland, which is my last stop. I’d be spending the remaining two months of my trip in the lush countryside.

“I think I should get to sleep, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” I mumbled into the phone.

“But (y/n)!” he dragged out. I knew he wanted to talk longer but I physically cannot do it. Even though Embry and I don’t live together officially yet, we’d talk into the early morning till one of us fell asleep.

“But (y/n) what?” I dragged out the ‘a’ matching his whine.

“I miss you and want you to come home.” I could hear him pause over line before he continued.

“Besides, sleeping isn’t the same without you.”

I ran my hand through my hair gently tugging on the roots easing the tension that’s built up over my trip. As much fun as I’ve had, he does have a point. Sleeping just isn’t the same without Em. My nights have been spent restless in beds that aren’t mine without the comforting touch of my boyfriend; but that doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and go back home.

“Em you know I can’t just pack everything and go home. . .” I looked at the painting that hung over the tv that sat opposite of my bed. A puppy-like whimper fell from his lips when he spoke again, his voice cracked like he was going to cry. It broke my heart hearing him upset.

“I-I know I just really miss you.”

“I know Embry I miss you too, but it’s only two more months then I’ll be home.”

We chatted for ten more minutes before I fell asleep on the phone. As much as I missed falling asleep in his warm embrace I can’t just fly back home, not yet at least.

The blaring of my alarm woke me from my slumber. The clock face read 6:02 a.m. taking everything within myself to peel back the blankets that encased me in their warm grip. I patted through the bed sheets to find my phone only to knock it onto the floor in the process.

My lock screen adorned a photo of Embry with icing smudged across his face from his birthday party but a swamp of text messages from the pack covered my favourite photo of him. Five texts from Leah, seven from Jake, nine texts from Paul, 12 texts and two missed calls from Sam and a whole group chat titled ‘(y/n) come home.’

The group chat kept pinging with the members of the pack who were still awake discussing the logistics of flying out to Ireland to take me back home. Was Embry really causing that much strife in the pack for them to create a group chat? Knowing him, it couldn’t be too far from the truth.

Leah and I call once a week to check in and make sure the other is doing okay since I left. It’s one of my favourite parts of the week being able to have a one on one with someone sensible. Every week she fills me in on Embry begrudgingly, she does it because she knows it makes me happy which I appreciate.

Reading through her texts she didn’t say much in regards to Em’s behaviour the only message relating to him was “come get your man child please, he’s getting snot on the floor.”

I listened through Sam’s voice mails which were begging me to come home, he informed me that once Em knew I was asleep he started moping around Emily’s house again for the fourth consecutive night in a row. This was news to me.

The texts entailed that Embry was becoming a pain on patrol and that Paul ‘couldn’t take another minute of the incessant whining.’ I told them the same thing I told Embry; I’m not dropping everything and rushing back home to sooth the wails of a love sick boy. There isn’t much I can do from across the ocean anyway.

I stretched my body and headed towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower before I had to leave for the airport.

I packed the few remaining things I left out to prepare for the flight and headed my way to the lobby to check out. I enjoyed travelling but I wasn’t going to miss sleeping in hotels and hostels.

Two weeks have passed since I touched down in Ireland and to say I’ve been having the time of my life is an understatement; I’ve been having a ball living my best life.

The land was capped in a luscious emerald green sea of grass that waved in the wind, the roads were lined with hand built stone walls that marked the division of farmers fields.

Sheep and cattle grazed in pastures, and old castles dotted the countryside. It was gorgeous. It was a view that I wanted to see again, a view I want to see with Embry.

It felt like time was flying by between sight seeing, trail hiking, museum tours and calls with Embry and Leah. It has already been a month. I had one more month before I was to jet set back to the U.S. and see my Embry.

One more month before I was back in La Push surrounded by the scent of sea water and trees with the looming threat of rain constantly overhead except in the summer. For two months of the year La Push was bright and sunny with the expected summer storms that happened.

I had fallen asleep on the phone with Embry again when I realized my phone was lost in the sea of sheets as it buzzed with an incoming phone call.

I couldn’t find it until the call had gone to voicemail and my phone landed on the ground when I gave up and ripped the blankets off of the bed but whoever called must have felt it was really important. Picking up my phone the most unflattering photo of Jacob was plastered on the screen, his name in white.

“Hello?” I asked groggily into the phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I looked over at the clock which said in bold red numbers 1 am.

“Hey (y/n)! You sound like you just woke up.” I heard him chortle from the other end.

“That’s because I just woke up Jake, it’s one in the morning.” a yawn escaped my lips, I know I’ll have a rough time getting over jet lag when I go home.

He occupied twenty minutes with idle chatter and borderline interrogation about all the sights I’ve seen before I asked him why he was calling me so early in the morning

“Embry has spent the week at my house, you need to come home there’s nothing we can do anymore to occupy him till you return.” He sighed, Jake knows I want to finish my trip but we made a deal that I would come home early if there were absolutely no options left to keep Embry from sending the pack into hysterics.

I knew he was buttering me up for something.

“Are you sure you can’t figure something out? It’s just another month!”

“Another month of him eating my cereal and getting dirt on me from my dad!”

I snorted with laughter at the fact that Billy was telling Embry every embarrassing detail from his childhood.

“Jake please just let me think about it okay?” I sighed, flopping back into my hollowed cave of blankets and sheets.

“Okay, I’ll let you think about it but don’t think I won’t be telling Sam.” he warned.

We laughed together and he wished me a good night before hanging up the phone, before I slipped back into slumber I sent Jake one more text.

‘You wake me up at one in the morning again and it’s over for you.’ in which he responded with ‘Oh no I’m so scared lol.’

I reached over to the bedside table and plugged my phone in before the sweet embrace of warmth and slumber took over my senses.

The next three days I was bombarded with texts from Paul whining about the wolf mind link and how every patrol shift he had with Embry was spent tuning out his constant thoughts of me.

Standing in the shower with hot water running over my skin soothing my tense muscles I heard my phone buzz against the granite countertop. I rolled my eyes and continued to bask in the endless hotel hot water.

As bad as staying in hotels could be, the hot water made up for the early breakfast and sheets that were tucked in a little too tightly.

I had shampoo in my hair when my phone started buzzing again, this time with a call. I grumbled under the stream of water washing away the soap before it could get in my eyes; whoever's calling can wait.

I moved on to conditioning my hair, letting it sit while I wash the rest of my body with a lightly scented lavender soap.

I refused to use the complimentary soap because it dried out my skin and the lotion just left me feeling sticky instead of moisturized.

Watching the soap run down the drain my phone rang again, I clenched my fists, who could possibly be calling me now? I still refused to get out of my steamy heaven to answer my phone.

My gut told me that whoever was calling wouldn’t let up until I answered. I washed out the conditioner from my hair and wrapped it in a towel.

The mirror was coated in a layer of steam, the tiles were cool against my feet. I wrapped the plush towel around my body, mopping up the droplets of water that remained.

My phone started vibrating with rapid fire text messages from the pack’s group chat they made a month ago. I sighed, picking it up to sift through the messages. I read a message from Jared telling me he’d pay me to return.

The pack always made me laugh, together they’re a walking sitcom. There is never a dull moment with them, someone always had something witty or sarcastic to say.

I checked to see who had called me and it turned out it was Sam, I listened to his voice mails and immediately phoned him back.

As soon as I hit the call button it only rang for half a second before he picked up.

“Thank you for calling back, I thought I’d have to call two more times.” he chuckled.

“Well I was in the middle of a shower, can’t really take a call there.” I moved through the room with my phone pressed between my shoulder and cheek. Stopping at my suitcase to pick out what I was going to wear for the day.

“I’m going to be frank with you, I need you to come home. . .” I let out a huff before he continued.

“Embry needs you badly, he’s just a pile of mush on the floor now. It’s a chore to get him up to go on patrol. Please?”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do Sam, I’ll try to book a flight for the earliest date I can find.” I knew I was giving in but from what they were telling me and the constant texts were getting to be difficult to manage.

“Thank you, when you get back I’ll buy you take out for a month okay?”

“I hate that you know what my weakness is.” I laughed through the phone, a month of free take out? Hell yeah. It made the prospect of going back a little brighter since I wasn’t going to complete the rest of my trip.

I wasn’t losing out on too much though, I had seen and done everything that I wanted. It wouldn’t be too bad to go home early.

We talked for a couple more minutes before parting ways, I threw my phone on the bed and watched it bounce a couple times before turning my attention back to getting dressed. Since I had a flight to book it was okay to spend the rest of the day lounging in pj’s.

The soft fabric of my pj’s brushed against my skin as I jumped into bed with my computer in hand, and now it was time to book a flight back home. Maybe text Paul and tell him he can quit complaining as well.

I woke up the next morning with my flight booked for take off in the afternoon and my daily good morning text from Embry. I felt a little sad to be leaving such a beautiful country but the trees, ocean and Embry all called my name.

Pacing through the room I grabbed the comfiest set of clothes I packed for my return flight back to Seattle, I had enough time to sleep on the plane to be conscious enough for the three and a half hour drive back to La Push.

I was set for a long day ahead of me but it was going to be worth it in the end, seeing the bright and happy face of my boyfriend, getting to hug him and kiss him again.

I made one last check of the room before I gathered my clothes and toiletry kit and made my way into the bathroom to shower before my long flight. As I was stepping into the shower my phone pinged from the counter with a text from Sam.

“Have you booked that flight yet?” it read.

“Yeah I’m due for take off at 1. I should be back in La Push some time tomorrow!”

My fingers brushed the cool surface of the counter top as I put my phone back and got into the shower, hot water immediately running down my back; this time my phone wasn’t being blown up by a desperate wolf pack trying to get my attention.

I can’t sit in the shower for hours on end this time, I have a flight to catch and a boy to surprise. Embry was currently still under the impression that I would be coming home in two weeks. Boy would he be in for a surprise.

The residual steam wafted out of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth revealing my towel wrapped body and hair in the mirror behind the skin. I checked the time and noted that I had two hours to check out, make my way to the airport, and check into my flight back home. Two more hours before I could smell the trees and ocean, two more hours before I could see my friends and hug Embry.

The time managed to move by in a blur by the time I was shutting the trunk of the yellow cab that was going to drop me off at the airport. I got into the back seat and the driver peeled away from the hotel front onto the winding roads.

“Aye where are you headin’?” The driver inquired in a thick Irish accent.

One thing I noticed in my stay here was that the accent changed in every town or village I passed through. It added to the charm

“Well, I’m on my way home after spending six months in Europe.” My eyes scanned over the green hills that rushed past in a blur.

“My favourite places I’ve been have definitely been Ireland and Greece.” I smiled towards him.

The lines around his eyes crinkled with the smile that graced his face at the mention of Ireland.

“Well that’s good to hear innit? Glad you’ve enjoyed your stay. We welcome ya with open arms if you return.”

We held a light conversation until we arrived in front of the drop off area for passengers, thanked him and grabbed my bags before heading into the crowded lobby.

The front of the terminal was metal and glass that reached towards the heavens with automatic doors gaping open like a mouth. Inside was a dull white with light grey floor which my shoes clicked against with each step.

It was packed with people like a can of sardines, I weaved my way through the masses towards the check in desk which thankfully only had a short line to get through.

Under the mix of fluorescents and natural light the desk lady’s bags that donned under her eyes glared with visible exhaustion from the mass amounts of people that swarmed the terminal.

Despite her clear drowsiness she still greeted me with a warm smile and a soft hello.

I grabbed my ticket and thanked her then turned and pushed myself through to the security check, dropped my luggage off and took a seat to wait for the boarding call for my flight.

As I waited grey clouds started to fill the sky blocking out the little sun that was once shining in its place.

My eyes grew heavier by each minute that passed, waiting could be hard, but waiting in an airport where there’s no sense of time is worse. So I distracted myself by people watching.

A lady was bouncing her baby, the old man across from me was snoring. A businessman paced back and forth speaking urgently into his phone, a family chatted excitedly for their family trip to the Canary Islands.

I pulled my eyes away from them as the call for my flight rang out over the crowded terminal, grabbing my suitcase and making my way towards the gate.

Excitement filled my every step as the anticipation grew and bubbled inside me. I gave the greeting flight attendant a small smile and made my way to my seat, for being last minute I managed to get a window seat.

We sat on the tarmac for twenty minutes before taking off and before I knew it the seat belt light pinged off and I was fast asleep jet setting my way back to America, back to my home.

I couldn’t tell what time it was when I woke up but the clock on the tv screen said 2 a.m. and that we’re due to arrive in an hour. I sat up in my seat and gazed out the window into the starry night sky.

Energy started to course through me as I watched the arrival time tick closer and closer. A light rain misted down over Seattle as I left the Seatac terminal and made my way through the maze of cars in the night that was made darker by the rain.

I spotted my blue Subaru and popped the trunk so my interior and seats wouldn’t get wet. It had been a long six months since I last sat in my driver's seat, the wheel almost felt foreign in my hands as I turned the key and listened to the engine roar to life.

I drove through the winding roads of the city to the Seattle-Bainbridge Ferry to take the 45 minute ride into Bainbridge and headed North to get on the 101 then turn onto 110 which would take me back into the heart of La Push.

The closer I got to Forks the brighter the sky became; well as bright as it could be on a gloomy day. The clouds became painted in the glow of purple and pink as the sun rose over the horizon, the rain had let up and left me with an overcast sky for the remainder of the drive back.

Since I slept virtually the entire flight back I didn’t feel the weight of exhaustion at all, but surely when I arrived back in the arms of Embry I knew I’d hit the wall with sleep deprivation.

As I barreled through the corridor of trees I passed the signature ‘welcome to Forks’ sign and turned right onto the 110, twenty minutes to home. I was so close but my soul felt like it was light years away.

The clock on my radio told me that it was currently 6:45, the pinks and purples that coated the sky faded away to the typical grey that fills my senses with delight. Sea salt and washed up kelp started to seep into the air that circulated into my car making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Closer to Beach Drive I got the stronger the smell of the ocean became. The turn signal clicked as I turned onto the road that gave way to Sam and Emily’s house so they could take me over to Embry’s in the off chance that he happened to be awake at this hour.

It’s highly unlikely that he would be up at this hour but it’s not something I could be one hundred percent positive about. I stepped out of my car and turned around to see Emily running as fast as she possibly could towards me with open arms and a huge smile plastered across her face.

Dropping my bags I dashed across their lawn into her embrace.

“Oh (y/n)! I missed you so much, you must be so tired.” She released me from her hug and settled her hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I missed you too Emily, I knew I’d be tired but not this tired.” I chuckled while wiping at my under eyes in a feeble attempt to wipe away the exhaustion.

She put her hand on my lower back and led me inside for the awaiting cup of tea while Sam moved my bags into his truck.

The warmth of their home embraced me, the comfort of their kitchen was familiar. The only thing missing was the rowdy group of boys that made up the pack who usually occupied every available seat in the home.

I took a seat at the kitchen table where three cups of tea sat waiting, I should have expected a q and a when I returned. Wrapping my hands around the mug the warmth that radiated from it filled my hands.

Emily took a seat beside me and Sam entered through the door and sat adjacent to both of us.

“So how was the trip?” We sat around their table chatting until our cups were empty and filed out of the house into the early morning air.

“Emily and I will drive your car back to your place after I drop you off at Embry’s, the kid’s been sleeping in my living room more often than I’d appreciate.” Sam’s eyes crinkled with a smile, I knew he was joking but at the same time there was truth to his words; and honestly I couldn’t blame him.

“Thank you for putting up with him while I was gone, I owe you guys one and you owe me take out for a month.” He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair turning into the Call's driveway. Embry’s mom had already left for work leaving him to his own devices; which meant he would sleep in as late as his heart desired.

We got out of Sam’s truck and he dropped my bags on the doorstep. I turned and gave him a quick hug and a thank you before sticking my key into the lock.

The door creaked open and I dragged my suitcases to a stop in their front entry way and shut it behind me.

My shoes landed on the floor with a soft thud and I gingerly walked up the stairs to ensure I wasn’t too noisy while making sure to avoid the one squeaky stair.

I got to the top of the stairs and hung a left down their light beige hallway that gave way to the oak door that guarded Embry’s room. His soft snores filtered through the door, it’s door knob was cool in my hand. Making an audible click with the turn of my wrist.

Dark mahogany brown hair peaked up from beneath the sheet that tucked Embry’s body out of view. One pillow was on the floor while the other was tucked firmly between his cheek and arm, I smiled at the sight of my sleeping boyfriend which filled my every inch with the utmost joy.

My sock covered feet pressed into the carpeted flooring with each step I took towards his bed making sure to step over the piles of dirty clothes that were scattered around the room.

The sun filtered through the gaps in the window blinds casting pools of golden light on the floor and along his walls causing the crystal prism that hung above his closet to sweep dashes of colour across his walls.

I pulled back the grey top sheet to reveal his peaceful face and I swear my heart was going to burst with the amount of love that I feel for him. His hair was tousled in every direction and a cow lick stuck straight up on the left side of his head.

My hands ran over his hair, smoothing it out while I whispered his name. Embry groaned a bit and rolled over, I whispered his name a little bit louder and moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders running them along his arms finally waking him from his slumber.

“Hi Em!” I gushed out as his brown eyes opened and focused on me. His face split with his toothy smile and his arms shot around me, pulling me down into his chest.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” Embry mumbled into my hair.

“I figured a lot with the amount of texts I got from the pack.” I reached up brushing the hair from his face.

“You can never leave me for that long again. . .I didn’t know what to do without you here.” He ran his hands through my hair placing a gentle kiss upon the top of my head.

“I was so worried about you. I couldn’t protect you and make sure you were safe.”

“Well next time I’ll make sure you can come, then you don’t have to worry.” Craning my neck up I placed a kiss upon his lips which were still a bit swollen from slumber.

“The important thing is that I returned safe and in one piece. The other important thing is I get to spoil you with the gifts I brought back!”

His laugh filled the room sending vibrations through my body.

“Hey! That’s my job to spoil you, not the other way around.” He ruffled my hair causing us both to laugh. I peeled off my socks and wiggled my way under his blanket.

“I think it’s time we catch up on six months worth of cuddling.” I poked a finger into his side.

“Yeah I think that’s a good idea, you owe me for being gone so long.”

“What? I came back early!” His hands made their way under my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back sending waves of heat through my body from being pressed into him. Oh how I missed my heater.

“Yeah, by like what? Two weeks?” his silky voice chuckled out.

“I missed you Embry.” I told him, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“I missed you too. Now let's go back to sleep, you look tired.” He said to me as he rested his chin atop my head and pulling me closer.

#embry call imagine #embry call x reader #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack #twilight renaissance #twilight revival #twilight saga #wolf pack #embry call #jared cameron #jacob black #sam uley #paul lahote #quil ateara #seth clearwater #leah clearwater

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jikookiekosmos · 4 years ago

Text

Stay With Me || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, husband!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Being married to Jungkook was everything you’d wished for and more. There wasn’t a problem the two of you couldn’t tackle together, and building this life with the person you loved most was all you could ask for. But when a ghost from your past returns and threatens to pull you two apart in whatever way they can, will things still be the same?

➥Genre: established relationship, heavy angst (I’m so sorry), smut, fluff, hurt/comfort

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~14.2k (more of a one shot than a drabble I know, oops)

Before you continue there are darker themes explored in this drabble; please read at your own risk. Appropriate warnings are listed below.

➥Content Warnings: POV switches, feelings of anxiety from being in danger, jungkook is protective (and for good reason), we see a pissed off hoseok, (tw: harassment, violence, implied/attempted kidnapping, reader gets injured), yoongi & jimin to the rescue (bless them), jungkook is pissed off (again for good reason), jungkook cries, reader also cries, jungkook has feelings of insecurity and not being good enough, they have ✨very emotional sex✨ up against a wall, cursing (fuck is said a lot), slight hair pulling, fingering (very brief), jungkook has a big dick, unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), dirty talk, rough sex, cumming inside, aftercare, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops except there’s a twist this time around

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! However, I would highly recommend reading OFY beforehand so as to better understand the relationships between these characters since there’s a lot of history behind everything that will make more sense. (I also mentioned this in the post for OFY but for those who haven’t read it, the Kun in the story isn’t referring to any other irl person specifically, it was just a name I chose to make the initial story easier to write.)

The POV switches between the reader and a few of the characters, but this will always be indicated by the name in the switch being bolded (i.e. you or Jungkook will be in bold, etc.).

I always do this but thank you to @dntaewithluv for keeping me sane during the writing process and giving me feedback as well as the motivation to continue when I feel discouraged, I love you so much 💜

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait - ~6 months after OFY

When I Dream Of You - ~1 year after OFY

This fic takes place a few months after the dream drabble. I welcome feedback, so if you ever want to talk to me about my writing, please do! I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @diorkookie @swee3tcreature @sugaslittlekookies @moonchild1 @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Visiting Jungkook at the bar during his shifts had become one of your favorite pastimes over the last few years. And not just because you got to see him, but also because it gave you a chance to get closer to some of his - and now your - friends as well.

Take tonight for example: you stopped by on your way home from work, and everything happened like it usually did. Jungkook’s smile was typically the first thing to greet you when you walked through the door before he and Jimin got into a playful bickering match about bar duties.

You parked yourself in your usual stool at the bar and watched the scene before you unfold - Jimin tossing one of the bar towels to Jungkook, who caught it with ease, all the while mumbling ‘less distraction and more action, Kook.’ Jungkook slung the towel over his shoulder before making a big show out of walking over to you.

“Hey pretty lady, what can I get for you tonight?” Jungkook’s voice was dripping with charm and it made you giggle. He leaned across the bar, resting his forearms on the wood. Even when he was just standing here in a plain black t-shirt with his dark hair curling in front of his eyes you still thought he was the most ethereal person you’d ever seen.

You hummed. “Hmm, I think I’ll have just a water, thanks.” Jungkook was already moving to fix your beverage before you even finished. “Do you always greet people like this,” you teased him as he sat the glass down in front of you.

He was wiping his hands on the towel still perched on his shoulder. “Nah, I only save it for the special ones. I am a married man, after all.”

You giggled again and he reached further across the bar to give you a quick kiss before being interrupted by Jimin again.

“You two are adorable, I love that, but I really could use some help over here, Kook!”

Jungkook playfully rolled his eyes before he excused himself to tend to his actual job. You just sat and observed while you drank, looking at him with loving eyes. He was really in his element here and it showed. All his customers were always happy patrons because he treated them all well.

Yeah, everything was playing out as it normally did on nights like these.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was for that to change.

On your way to find Yoongi so you could stop by and chat with him before heading home, you passed by a booth where a few rowdy men were seated. You tried to slip past them and pay them no mind-

-until one of them caught you by the wrist.

You froze. You wondered if maybe this was someone you knew and had possibly offended by not saying hello, but one look at the table let you know you’d never seen these 3 men before in your life.

“Hey, where you off to in a rush, baby?” The pet name made your skin crawl and you wanted nothing more than to just slink away and pretend like this never happened. But it was happening, the man’s tight grip on your wrist a reminder of that.

One of the other booth members spoke up. “Yeah, why not have a seat with us and talk for a bit? You look like you’re in need of some company.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a small smile so you could turn them down easy. You’d read and heard way too often about moments like these that could turn out badly if you acted a certain way.

“No thank you, I was just on my way out,” you hoped that would be the end of it, but the man holding your wrist wasn’t having it. He jerked you down to where you were seated right beside him in the empty space of the booth, making you whimper in pain when you hit the seat hard. His other friends laughed boisterously at your distress.

You situated yourself and looked up to see if you could spot someone, anyone around that you knew. You were unfortunately at the back corner of the bar, since Yoongi’s office was around here.

You tried to get up and make a break for it, but the man pulled you down again. “C’mon sweetheart, we don’t wanna hurt you. We just wanna talk, that’s all.”

Before you could respond, another voice cut through.

“Hands off,” the voice was low and stern, making all heads at the booth turn. When you looked up you saw Hoseok standing above you, arms crossed and looking pissed.

“Hoseok,” you breathed out, grateful that he was working the floor tonight and had stopped by before the situation escalated.

Hoseok didn’t say another word as his eyes drifted down to you quickly before glaring at the man still holding on to you.

“Lighten up, man, we’re just trying to have some fun-”

“I saw the whole thing and she’s clearly not wanting to engage in your idea of ‘fun’ so again: hands off.” Hoseok’s fingers flexed around his forearm, and apparently that was all the warning they needed.

The man let go of you and shoved you away from him, almost making you fall to the ground if Hoseok hadn’t steadied you. He wrapped an arm around you before calling out.

“Joon, Jin, need a hand here!”

Within seconds, the bodyguards of the establishment - also friends of yours - were at the table, looking as intimidating as ever. The 3 men still seated were starting to look a lot less pleased about the ordeal.

“I think these 3 have had it for the night,” Hoseok stated, starting to walk the both of you away so your friends could work their magic. You looked back at them one last time, just barely catching their interaction, which consisted of Seokjin promptly putting one of the men in his place when he tried to throw a punch.

When Hoseok had you seated in an empty booth at the other end of the bar, he knelt down beside you.

“Hey. You ok?” His voice had lost all its frightening timbre, now laced with nothing but concern. You didn’t realize you were still a little shaky until you noticed yourself trembling. You nodded, the best answer you could give right now.

Hoseok patted your knee before he stood up. “Stay here, I’m going to go get Kook-”

You reached out lightning fast to grab onto his sleeve before you pleaded “Don’t.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What, why not?”

“I don’t- I don’t want him to worry.” You were telling the truth; Jungkook had been on edge lately, and things were finally starting to get somewhat back to normal. If you didn’t have to add to that worry, you didn’t want to.

Hoseok’s frown deepened. “Y/N-”

“There you are!”

That voice that always managed to make your heart flutter only made you panic more in this instance. Jungkook was walking over to your booth quickly with a huge smile on his face, waving to the two of you. Hoseok moved out of the way so Jungkook could see you more, and you tried your best to smile back.

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Jungkook addressed you as he pushed his hair out of his face. “I thought you went to go talk to Yoongi, but he said he hadn’t seen you yet.”

“Yeah, I was just on my way, but I ran into Hoseok-”

“Y/N,” Hoseok warned. Jungkook’s smile turned into one of confusion.

“What’s going on,” Jungkook was quick to ask before you could respond. It was then that he fully noticed how you were seated, somewhat curled into yourself.

“You need to tell him,” Hoseok’s eyes were burning into yours, and Jungkook felt a small pit of unease settle in his stomach. He knelt down beside you, similar to how Hoseok had done moments prior.

“Angel, hey, talk to me. What’s this about?” Jungkook took one of your hands in his and shook it slightly before placing a kiss on the back of it.

“It’s nothing, really-”

“Some guy put his hands on her.” Hoseok clearly was over you beating around the bush.

“What,” Jungkook’s tone was slipping into one you didn’t recognize and for good reason: he sounded furious. His hand tightened around yours.

Hoseok nodded, Jungkook’s attention on him now. “Yeah, I’m glad I noticed. Saw some dude grab her wrist and pull her down into the booth with them.”

Jungkook was up on his feet, hand disappearing from yours.

“What the fuck, where did they go,” he started to walk off but Hoseok held him back.

“Joon and Jin already took care of it, don’t worry. But I still just thought you should know.” Hoseok patted Jungkook on the shoulder and you watched as his body, still visibly tense, relaxed somewhat.

“I gotta get back to work, you can take a little time though, yeah?” Hoseok started walking off after giving you one last look, almost as if he was saying sorry but you knew he did the right thing.

Jungkook took a deep breath before finally looking back at you, his face softening instantly. He slid into the seat across from you, placing his palms on the table as he looked down.

“Koo-”

“Are you ok, at least,” his voice was low, but you could still hear it just over the faint tunes of the jukebox.

“I’m fine-”

“Define fine,” he scoffed. It was clear the two of you wouldn’t get anywhere like this, so you did the only thing you could think to do: you reached out and took both his hands in yours.

Jungkook looked up then through the curtain of tresses still falling into his eyes. He sighed.

“Sorry, baby, I know I shouldn’t be acting like this. It’s just- with everything we’ve been through with him I can’t help but worry about stuff like this.”

You understood completely because you were in the same boat.

Both of you had recently been experiencing less than pleasant encounters with your ex-fiancé, Kun, who for some reason decided he had a vendetta against the two of you. A vendetta that only got worse when you both made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

The past week had been pretty quiet, but neither of you could shake the awful feeling that Kun wasn’t gone for good. And tonight’s fiasco did nothing to help that.

“Well it’s over now and I’m ok and I didn’t get hurt so let’s try not to focus on it, yeah?” You squeezed his hands for emphasis and he sighed. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to be worried the rest of his shift, and he still had a few hours left.

“Yeah, I’ll try. I’m just so glad Hoseok was around...are you still wanting to talk to Yoongi?”

You nodded, happy to see Jungkook had relaxed some more from when he first sat across from you.

“I’ll take you to his office, then.” Jungkook got up, pulling you with him since his hands were still in yours. When you both were standing, he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug.

He looked down at you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Also I hate to ask but do you mind staying until I get done with my shift? I’m not too keen on the idea of you going home alone now with everything-“

You giggled and caressed his cheek. “Of course, Koo. I’ll come sit at the bar when I get done talking to Yoongi.”

Jungkook brushed his nose against yours. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you responded before you reached up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. His hold around you tightened, and he deepened the kiss for only a moment before pulling back.

“Fuck, I forgot I’m at work, I need to be careful when you’re around.” He carded a hand through his hair before shaking his head to let it fall back into place.

You laughed at his flustered nature, feeling a bit flustered yourself at the fact that even now you still had such an effect on each other. “Well we are back here in a dark corner where not many people are around,” you teased.

Jungkook smirked before tickling your sides, making you laugh louder as you squirmed to get away.

“Don’t tempt me. I’d rather not get fired for public indecency if I can help it.”

“Fine, fine, I guess just take me to see Yoongi then,” you pretended to pout and were rewarded with a chuckle. He led you to the back now where Yoongi’s office was at, his hand wrapped around yours while he scanned the bar the whole way there.

When the two of you reached the familiar door, Jungkook gave your hand one last squeeze and kissed your cheek.

“I’ve gotta get back to the bar, just come chill up there when you’re done, yeah?” His eyebrows were slightly furrowed like he was still worried, but your gentle smile helped smooth them out.

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

You knocked on the door and after hearing Yoongi’s muffled greeting you opened it to walk through, not sparing another glance at Jungkook.

“Y/N! I was wondering when you might be stopping by.” Yoongi smiled brightly at you, always making you feel welcome no matter the circumstance. You took a seat in your usual spot across from his desk where he was currently reclining in his chair.

“Hey, Yoon. How are things?” It’d been a little while since the two of you had properly caught up since things had been so chaotic lately.

Yoongi shrugged. “Can’t complain. Business is good and we’ve been pulling in more regulars. I’d like to say it’s thanks to Jungkook but don’t tell him I told you that. Kid has a big enough head as it is.”

You couldn’t help the proud grin that stretched across your face. Jungkook had been working hard to help turn the bar into a more welcoming environment and increased his work hours to also assist with some building upgrades Yoongi had been wanting to install for years. Their business had increased exponentially as a result, so you knew Yoongi meant it when he said he had Jungkook to thank.

“I’ll be sure to keep it our little secret,” you brought your hand up to mimic a ‘shh’ expression and Yoongi chuckled.

“Perfect.” He leaned forward then, an elbow resting on his desk and his head supported by his palm. “So tell me: how’s married life?”

“It’s everything I could ever want and more. I can’t say much has changed except the whole ‘legally being bound together’ thing, since we still act the same. It’s just…nice. Really, really nice.” Your gaze drifted down to your wedding ring, and as it was with every other time you saw it, you could feel something akin to butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

Yoongi gave you his trademark lopsided grin. “Glad to hear it. You know, I was always rooting for you two from the start.”

You feigned annoyance, playfully rolling your eyes. “I know, I know, you only tell me every chance you get.” Yoongi never took a liking to your ex-fiancé and had always favored Jungkook, this much you knew. Even before Kun turned into the person he was now, Yoongi never cared for him. And he made sure it was known.

“Have you thought about when you’re going to pop the question?” You decided to switch gears and put him on the spot, giggling at the way he seemed flustered.

“Well I uh, I’ve thought about it I just- it’s hard to figure out the right time, you know? And is she even ready for that, I can’t tell-”

“Min Yoongi, you stop that right now. She is so in love with you that I bet she’s ready for you to ask any day now, just so she can say yes like she’s been wanting to for so long now.” You had spent enough time around Yoongi and his long-term partner to know that the two were head-over-heels for each other, nearly rivaling you and Jungkook in how easy it was to tell.

Yoongi grinned. “You think so, huh?”

“No doubt in my mind. In fact-” you were cut off by the feeling of your phone vibrating in your pocket. You hastily took it out, not sure who could be calling at this hour.

It dawned on you then that you had been expecting a new client to call, and the number on your screen was one you didn’t recognize so you figured it could be them. Your boss had heavily expressed the importance of this client and their business venture they were offering, so without giving it another thought you hopped out of your chair.

“Sorry Yoon, I need to take this real quick. Do you mind if I step out the back door? It shouldn’t take too long.” You were already heading to leave his office, trying to catch the call before it stopped ringing, barely missing his soft “Go ahead.”

You bolted through the back door of the establishment, out into the dimly lit parking lot. As soon as you heard the door shut, you swiftly answered the call.

“Hello, this is Y/N speaking, may I ask who’s calling?” You gave your usual greeting for work related or other conversations when you didn’t recognize the number. The silence that you were met with on the other end made a chill run down your spine.

You froze altogether when the other voice spoke.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to answer calls from numbers you don’t know?”

You felt your lower lip tremble. “K-Kun?”

A dark chuckle from the other end of the line. “Missed me, sweetheart?”

‘Just hang up,’ your brain was screaming at you, but you were holding your phone in an iron-tight grip, knuckles taut.

“Leave me alone and never contact me again,” you were finally able to respond, moving your arm to bring your phone down to hang up.

Your phone hit the ground before you got the chance.

Someone had come up behind you and pulled both arms behind your back, a hand coming around to muffle the scream you let out.

“Shhh,” someone whispered beside your ear. “You don’t want to make this harder for yourself, hm?”

That voice, why did you recognize that voice?

The person started dragging you off into one of the darker corners of the parking lot, ignoring your futile attempts to kick and writhe out of their grasp. You continued screaming into their palm but to no avail.

When you reached where they wanted you to be, they let you go and pushed you down onto the ground, causing your back to hit the wall and briefly knock the breath out of you. Before you could pick yourself back up, 2 other shadowy figures blocked your path. There was just enough light for you to finally make out the faces of the 3 people standing over you.

They were the same ones from earlier in the bar, the ones who had harassed you and yanked you down into their booth.

“What do you want,” you sobbed out into the night air. You were too terrified to try screaming again, afraid of what they might do. Especially now that you were across the lot, away from your phone and any chance of contacting someone else. Not to mention the fact that it was loud inside the bar, so screaming wouldn’t do you many favors anyway.

And if someone walked by, nothing would look out of the ordinary since it was just dark enough where you were to obscure the vision of anyone looking from the outside.

Before any of them could answer you, there was another sound you heard faintly in the distance: footsteps.

“Hel-,” you started to cry out, but as if they knew what you were planning, one of the men dropped down and covered your mouth again, now letting you see who was approaching behind them. Your eyes widened in terror as you took in the newcomer’s sinister grin.

You watched as Kun nodded to the other 2 men and they moved aside, while the third one still keeping your mouth covered moved slightly out of the way. Kun knelt down and moved his hand, replacing it with his own before you could scream again.

“Well well, fancy seeing you here.” Kun reached out and caressed your check with the back of his other hand, making you let out a strangled whimper as you tried to move back and away from him. He shook his head at your action and grabbed onto one of your arms now instead, pulling you and himself up in a swift motion.

His grip around your arm was painful, making you wince. Kun either didn’t notice or didn’t care. One look into his eyes was enough to see that the man you’d spent many years of your life with was completely gone with no trace left whatsoever. You didn’t know this person standing in front of you now.

And you didn’t ever want to.

“Now, I’m gonna move my hand, and you’re not gonna scream. Got it? Because if you do,” he moved forward to where his face was inches away from yours now. “I promise this will be so much worse for you. And you know I always keep my promises, don’t you?”

Kun was laughing before you could react at all, knowing good and well he’d broken several promises during your time together. He must have taken your silence as compliance because you could feel his hand relaxing around your face.

“Good girl,” the words made you shudder repulsively, wanting nothing more than for this to be just a terrible figment of your imagination and for you to be back inside at the bar waiting on Jungkook.

Jungkook. The thought of him caused a lump to form in your throat. You had no idea what Kun had planned for you, and that caused your heart to constrict as the vision of Jungkook smiling lovingly at you flashed through your mind.

You squeezed your eyes shut and felt a tear roll down your cheek. You opened them again once you felt Kun’s hand disappear.

“Ah, so you can take direction well. I guess Jungkook’s trained you somewhat since you’re his bitch now-”

“What do you want,” you asked through gritted teeth. The last thing you wanted to hear come from this man’s mouth was the name of your beloved. You didn’t want him brought up at all, the less this was focused on Jungkook the better.

But, since it was Kun, that obviously didn’t happen.

Kun laughed again, a loud, ugly sound. “What do I want? The same thing I’ve always wanted. Isn’t it obvious?”

The 3 men were crowded around both of you now, and it dawned on you then that they were blocking any means of escape for you. That didn’t bode well for you and you knew it, but you held your ground. You didn’t want to give Kun any more of the upper hand than he already had.

Kun finally dropped his other hand from your arm in favor of now caging you in against the wall. You were trapped even more now, but you just stared back at him, trying your best to look unfazed. Kun dipped his head down and you held your breath.

“What I want,” you could feel him barely hovering over your lips and the feeling made your skin crawl, “is for Jungkook to pay.”

“Pay for what,” you couldn’t help your annoyed tone. Kun’s obsession with Jungkook and ‘coming out on top’ – whatever that even meant, you weren’t entirely sure – had gotten old and you were beyond sick of it. “He owes you nothing, we owe you nothing.”

Kun hummed and shook his head, his nose almost brushing against yours, but you turned your head and let it graze against your cheek.

”I don’t think you get to decide that, not in the position you’re in, anyway. You see, I’m tired of seeing Jungkook get literally everything handed to him without trying-”

“Jungkook has worked hard for everything he has, something you wouldn’t know about,” you spat back. Kun was right, you were certainly in no position to be talking back right now, but you wouldn’t stand idly by while he slandered Jungkook just because he felt like it. “You’ve always been jealous of him-”

“Shut up, shut up!” Kun snarled, all but yelling in your face before he grabbed you by the jaw. You grimaced from the pain of it, a sound something like a scream starting but dying in your throat.

“You fucking infuriate me sometimes, you know that? I can’t believe I wasted so many years with you.” His grip around your jaw tightened as he finished talking, making it almost too hard for you to respond.

“Likewise,” you managed to get out, not being able to help the sob you let out when he squeezed more.

“Doesn’t matter.” Kun’s face stretched into that evil, Cheshire-like grin and for the first time that night you felt genuinely horrified about what his true intentions might be. “I’m not concerned with you or how you feel.”

Kun finally let go of your jaw and you let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in. He grabbed one of your wrists and tugged you closer, knocking you off balance and unfortunately causing you to brace yourself against his chest.

He hugged you to him and whispered in your ear: “What I do care about is seeing Jungkook’s reaction when his precious wife is suddenly nowhere to be found.”

That kicked you into fight or flight mode, eyes widening and mouth opening to scream as you flailed your hands around. Your flailing did little to help you because Kun was already dragging you alongside him away from the wall, still holding you close.

“Let me go, you psycho!” you screamed, only causing him to turn you around and put a hand over your mouth again while his other arm held you firm against his torso.

“One of you bring the car around,” Kun ordered, and you saw one of the men dashing away. As you were pulled further away from the bar, your vision was clouded with a film of tears and your muffled sobs were hidden behind Kun’s hand. You were no match for his strength, and he proved it because he was literally dragging you across the concrete despite you being so uncooperative. Gentle raindrops had just started falling from the sky, further impairing your vision.

It was then that you heard a pained grunt followed by a thud coming from a little further away, in the direction the other man had ran off to. You tried to focus your eyes to see what was happening when the next sound that graced your ears was fast footsteps as they pounded against the pavement.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!”

A familiar voice made you cry out with joy and fight harder against Kun.

“Yoongi,” you cried out, still muffled but enough to draw his attention to your face now. He was running toward Kun fast, and when he saw the position you were in, he sped up, determined to free you by any means necessary.

You briefly worried about the other men behind him, until you saw that another was already knocked down and someone else – you thought it might be Jimin – was currently fighting with the third man. While your attention was on them, you didn’t register Kun tossing you aside until it was too late.

You slipped on the now wet pavement and fell down, barely able to brace yourself for the impact in time. Your earlier vision of Jungkook smiling was the last thing to flash through your mind before your head hit the ground.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Yoongi glanced at his watch for the second time. It’d been about 10 minutes since you stepped outside to take your phone call, and he figured it had to have been important if you were still outside.

As he was wondering whether or not to call you himself to see if everything was alright, Jimin stuck his head inside the office, peeking around the door. “Hey boss, is Y/N around?”

Yoongi sat up straight. “Yeah, she stepped outside to take a call but it’s been a few minutes. Why?”

Jimin’s face blanched. “She went alone?”

“Yeah... Jimin’s what’s going on?”

Jimin took a deep breath. “It’s probably nothing, but earlier there were some guys that straight up harassed her. They were thrown out but-“

Yoongi held a hand up. “Wait. Pause. Someone harassed her? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

Jimin had stepped fully into the room now, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. “Well it wasn’t that long ago, so maybe nobody had the chance yet.”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. “Does Jungkook know?”

Jimin nodded. “Yeah, he’s the one who asked me to come check on her without being too obvious about it. I think the whole thing has him spooked.”

Yoongi didn’t like the feeling that was slowly creeping up on him. He dialed your number and put the receiver to his ear, hoping to hear a busy signal on the other end.

When he was met with a series of rings, his heart started beating faster. He was up and out of his chair fully by the time he heard your voicemail greeting.

“Fuck,” he mumbled out loud to no one in particular. He was jogging over to the back door, a confused Jimin following close behind.

“Yoongi, what-”

“Not now, Jimin.” He picked up his pace, feeling his chest tighten as he approached the door. He was hoping that when he opened it you would be on the other side, because maybe you just lost track of time and your phone was on silent.

Wishful thinking helps in times of peril, right?

Yoongi pushed the door open quickly, letting it bang against the side of the bar. You were nowhere in sight, his eyes frantically searching through the lot for a trace of you.

What he was met with, though, was instead the sight of 3 - maybe 4? - dark figures across the lot, huddled in a suspicious way. His heart dropped to his stomach.

He started running, not knowing what would meet him when he did, but not caring either. As he approached, one of the figures tried to block him. He took them down easily with a single punch, making them groan in pain as their body connected with the ground. Yoongi never stopped running for even a moment.

His heart wrenched when his vision finally adjusted enough to the darkness outside and he could see you and exactly who was holding you.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!” He shouted as he continued running, getting ready to barrel into Kun at any moment.

Hearing your faint cry of his name only made him go faster when his eyes landed on your horrified face.

It was raining now but Yoongi wouldn’t let that stop him from saving you. What he didn’t anticipate was for Kun to throw you in the opposite direction, making him conflicted about who to go after now. He settled for pursuing Kun still, finally reaching him and grabbing him by the shirt.

“What the actual fuck is your problem,” Yoongi yelled in Kun’s face. Kun brought his hands up to try and tear Yoongi’s away, but they wouldn’t budge.

Kun stopped trying to fight back and smiled at Yoongi, making a fresh wave of disgust cascade over him. When Kun spoke, his voice had a calm edge to it. “I’ll just keep coming back, no matter how many times you and those idiots in there,” he jerked his head in the direction of the bar, “try to keep me away.”

Yoongi quickly spun Kun around and forced him to the ground, keeping his hands behind his back and not giving him a way to escape. “Jimin, call the cops,” he called over his shoulder before leaning closer to Kun’s face. “We may not be able to keep you away, but they certainly can with all the dirt we have on you.”

Kun chuckled slightly before grimacing when Yoongi twisted his arm further. “You know,” he huffed out, “Y/N was pretty off balance when I threw her earlier.”

Yoongi stilled. He realized that Kun was trying to distract him by making him worry about you, and unfortunately for Yoongi it was working. Especially when his eyes fell on your unmoving figure several feet away, lying on your side.

“Shit,” he jumped up and ran over to you, completely abandoning Kun, beyond caring at that point. He knelt down and turned you over. He swallowed when he saw the way your arm landed limply on the ground beside him. He embraced your upper body within his arms, shaking you a little.

“Y/N, hey, wake up,” he begged. He could feel that you were still breathing, but it was very evident your fall had knocked you out. And Yoongi knew there was no telling what happened before he even got to you, so he had no clue how injured you might actually be.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind him, splashing against the puddles that were starting to form in the parking lot. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Jimin, since the other man was calling out his name before he got there.

“Yoongi, I called them, they said – wait where did he go?” Jimin was standing over Yoongi now, looking from one area of the parking lot to the other, but Kun was nowhere in sight. “Did you let him leave?”

Yoongi’s silence prompted Jimin to finally look down and his mouth dropped open as he himself dropped to kneel next to Yoongi.

“Holy shit, what happened,” Jimin reached out to gingerly touch your arm, frown deepening when he got no response from you.

“She probably hit her head when that bastard threw her earlier. She’s just knocked out, I think,” Yoongi’s voice was lined with unbridled anger. “Go see if you can find Jin since he’s the closest thing we have to a medic right now. And get Kook.”

Jimin nodded and without another word took off toward the bar. Yoongi couldn’t fathom how Jungkook would react but he knew it wouldn’t be good. As he waited, he held you closer, trying to shield you from the rain.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook’s fingers were drumming against the bar absentmindedly as he listened to one of his regular patrons drone on about their week as they usually did on nights like tonight. He was genuinely trying to focus on what they were saying, truly he was, but his mind had been so muddled ever since the incident earlier that he found it hard to think about anything else.

Which is exactly why he had asked Jimin to casually check in on you and Yoongi.

It’d been a few minutes and Jimin still wasn’t back; Jungkook hoped that they were all 3 chatting and Jimin was just taking his time. He did want him to be inconspicuous about it, after all.

His patron finally excused themselves to go to the restroom, and Jungkook offered them a soft smile. For a second, he allowed himself to take a deep breath and try to push any lingering negative thoughts out of his mind so he could make it through the rest of his shift.

Jungkook should’ve known better than to hope for a moment’s peace.

He heard Jimin before he saw him, colliding with the other end of the bar. Jungkook cautiously started walking over to him, trying to ignore the heavy feeling that settled over his body like a suffocating blanket.

“Kook,” Jimin panted, “we need you. Now.”

The expression on Jimin’s face and the urgency of his voice made Jungkook’s blood run cold. He wasted no time in leaving the bar as he followed Jimin, nearly running him over when Jimin stopped once they were outside. As his sight adjusted to the drizzling rain, he saw something that made him run as fast as he could before eventually falling to his knees, panic seizing his heart.

“No. No no no no no,” Jungkook was chanting over and over as he stared at you, huddled against Yoongi as he held you close. Your eyes were closed and you weren’t moving.

Jungkook’s hands were shaking, and he could feel his lips quivering. Yoongi stared at Jungkook somberly before gentle passing you over to him.

He immediately drew you to him, burying your face in his chest while he cradled the back of your head with his palm.

The rain started pouring down harder now and he knew it was pelting against his back, cold and wet enough to chill him to the bone. But Jungkook felt nothing. There was nothing but numbness as he continued to rock you gently in his arms and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Hey angel, I’m here,” his voice was unsteady. “It’s me, baby, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be ok,” his arm that was wrapped around your back tightened its hold on you and he placed his head in the crook of your neck. You still didn’t rouse, no matter what he tried, and his shoulders started to shake.

“Kook-” Yoongi had to talk loud to be heard over the sudden downpour. “We need to get her inside.” He tried reaching out to touch Jungkook’s arm but Jungkook flinched away, embracing you even tighter now as if he was trying to protect you from anything and everything.

He just wanted to protect you. And the fact that he had failed was currently eating him alive with regret.

Yoongi sighed but tried again. “Jungkook,” he said it softer this time but still loud enough, “let’s take her inside. You don’t want her to get sick.”

At the mention of your well-being potentially suffering further damage, Jungkook started to somewhat come back to his senses. He held you tight and stood up with a little help from Yoongi, making sure to keep you as close to his chest as possible so you wouldn’t get soaked and because right now, he needed you near.

When the 3 of you were inside, Yoongi ushered you all into his office since there was a small couch in there were you could lie down. Jungkook placed you as gently as possible on the couch, feeling his heart break piece by piece every second you remained unmoving. The only thing that could offer him solace was the faint rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

He dropped to sit on the floor beside the couch, holding one of your hands in his while he used his other one to brush some of your wet hair out of your face. He leaned his forehead against the arm of the couch and inhaled shakily.

Yoongi was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, looking at the two of you. Jungkook appreciated Yoongi for giving him time to try and calm down before talking again.

“What happened,” Jungkook managed to croak after a minute or so had passed.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Kun was here.”

Jungkook whipped his head around fast, his hair splaying water droplets on the couch. His eyes were glazed over with unshed tears, and Yoongi had never seen him look so angry.

He’d never seen Jungkook look so hurt.

“Kun did this to her,” Jungkook asked, tone low and dark, but it came out more as a statement because he already knew. He could tell by the angered inflection in Yoongi’s voice when he mentioned Kun.

Yoongi nodded. “Unfortunately. When I first made it outside, he was holding onto her, dragging her away-”

“Dragging her where,” his hand that was holding yours involuntarily squeezed harder.

Yoongi shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, it looked like he was trying to take her to a car…”

Jungkook didn’t miss the way he trailed off. He waited for Yoongi to collect his thoughts.

“Jungkook, I- I think he may have been trying to abduct her.”

Jungkook felt like the room had suddenly tilted. The idea of that – God, the idea of anything remotely close to that – made him feel violently ill.

He looked at your face then, noticing how it wasn’t scrunched up in pain; you actually looked quite peaceful despite the circumstances, almost like you were simply in a deep slumber. He tried hard to swallow around the ever-growing lump that was still forming in his throat when he brushed his fingertips along the length of your arm.

You were here, physically here. He could see you and he could touch you. Yoongi had saved you in time before you had been whisked away to who knows where. The fact that Kun had even dared to try to take you away… the possibility of you being gone and Jungkook not knowing where you had been taken to or if he’d ever see you again-

It made Jungkook see red.

This isn’t the life he wanted for you. He never wanted you to have to look over your shoulder in fear at the idea of someone following you, like you’d been doing the last several weeks. He never ever wanted you to get hurt, especially in such a way as this.

He could feel anger flowing through his veins, seeping into his bones and consuming him, with the only thing able to ground him right now being the feeling of your soft hand enveloped by his own.

Yoongi was saying more but Jungkook couldn’t make it out over his own voice screaming at him inside his head. His mind was waging a war with itself, questioning so many things-

Was he really the best person for you?

Was there someone out there who could protect you, who could keep you safe in ways he couldn’t?

…

Would loving you be enough if he could never fully promise you peace?

What if-

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s stern voice cut through the thick fog of his mind and Jungkook shook his head to try clear it completely. He focused his attention on his friend that was now staring at him, sporting a frown on his face full of concern.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

Jungkook gulped. “Honestly? No.”

Yoongi’s frown intensified. “Kook-”

“Don’t, just- please repeat it. Please.”

Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before he continued. “I was saying that Kun threw her to the ground and that’s how she hit her head.”

Jungkook’s unoccupied hand balled into a fist and he clenched his jaw. Yoongi could see him tense up but continued speaking.

“I asked Jimin to fetch Jin seeing as he’s had more medical training than any of us and I figured it’d be better than waiting on an ambulance.”

He had barely gotten the last word out before there was hurried knocking on the door. Yoongi walked over to the door quickly to open it, and Jin rushed in without a moment’s hesitation.

“Sorry it took so long, I needed to get supplies.” He made his way to the couch, crouching down in front of it next to Jungkook. He placed the bag he was carrying down onto the ground beside him as he started sifting through it to find other things he needed. Jungkook watched Jin without really seeing him, flinching a little when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Kook,” Yoongi said softly as Jungkook looked up at him. “We need to let Jin look at her. C’mon,” he patted his shoulder before walking away, and Jungkook knew Yoongi expected him to follow him.

Jungkook also knew Yoongi was right, and he needed to let Jin get to work. He hated the thought of leaving you, but he knew he wasn’t going far. In fact, he wasn’t even going to leave the room, and if he was encouraged to, well-

There wasn’t anything anyone could do to make him leave that room short of physically removing him themselves. And with how wound up Jungkook was about this entire situation, that wouldn’t be an easy feat by any means.

Thankfully, Yoongi didn’t ask him to leave, opting instead to offer him his office chair. Jungkook graciously accepted the offer and sat down, briefly observing how Jin carefully examined you from across the room before he placed his head in his hands.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Some time passed before Jungkook felt like he could properly breathe again. And he was only feeling like that now because you had finally started to stir.

As soon as the faintest noise was heard from you, Jungkook was out of his seat and in front of the couch again.

You groaned as you rubbed your eyes, trying to adjust to the light by blinking a few times. After doing this, you tilted your head to the side and your eyes landed on Jungkook. He inhaled sharply, feeling like he might break apart when you gave him the sweetest smile.

“Koo,” you breathed out softly as your hand reached up to caress his cheek. He vaguely heard Jin telling Yoongi something about you still having decent control over your motor skills being a good sign, but right now all his focus was on you specifically.

Well, he was also focusing on not having a breakdown, but you were most important.

His hand came up to cover yours that was still on his face and for the first time in what felt like ages, his lips curved upward into a smile.

“Hey, angel,” he responded. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Well, my head hurts but otherwise I’m fine? A little sore, though-”

“That’s probably from your fall earlier,” Jin interrupted, pulling your attention back to him. You looked at him, bewildered.

“I fell? When did I fall?”

Yoongi and Jungkook shared a look then, and Jungkook would be lying if he said you not remembering what happened didn’t worry him.

It worried him a lot, actually.

Jin hummed. “We can talk about it later. I need to examine you now though, ok? Make sure you don’t have any signs of a concussion or something else.”

The scared look on your face made Jungkook’s chest tighten.

“O-ok, yeah, sure. Do whatever you need to,” you said as you tried to sit up straight, Jungkook and Jin both helping to steady you as you did.

It didn’t take long for Jin to conduct his examination. While he was checking you over, Yoongi relayed the events from earlier to you and Jungkook observed as the look in your eyes switched from one of confusion to one of horror the more Yoongi went on.

“I-I remember now. Right before you came out there, Kun told me-” you trailed off, speaking to Yoongi but looking over at Jungkook now. His heart started beating painfully when you paused.

“What did he tell you, baby?”

You inhaled unevenly, the sight tearing Jungkook up even more on the inside. “He told me that he wanted to see your reaction when I was nowhere to be found.”

This time, he swore his heart stopped.

So Kun had not only planned to take you away, but he wanted to make sure you couldn’t be found?

Jungkook made a promise to himself then and there that if he ever saw Kun again, he’d-

“Koo?”

Your pleading tone made Jungkook’s eyes snap back up to your face. You were trying to give him a small smile, but he could still see the fear lying behind your eyes.

“It’s going to be ok,” you attempted to reassure him. “Don’t worry.”

Jungkook had no idea how you could sit here an expect him not to worry but he didn’t want to fight you on it. You’d both had enough excitement for one night so all he did was nod and hope that would suffice for now.

His mind was starting to race again with the same kind of thoughts he had earlier, plaguing him with questions he didn’t know the answers to.

Frankly, he didn’t even know if he wanted the answers either.

Jin stood up from where he was seated on the floor, straightening himself up and stretching his long limbs. “She’s going to be fine. Just keep an eye on her for the next few days, but I don’t see anything to be alarmed about. If anything changes, you can call me but also if you’re more comfortable going to a hospital, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended.”

Jungkook smiled at his eldest friend. “Thank you, Jin. Seriously, thank you.”

Jin nodded, offering a warm smile to you before exiting the room.

Yoongi walked over to the couch and ruffled your hair. Jungkook watched the exchange with fondness, seeing two of the people he cared about most in the world also caring for each other.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Yoongi said, sounding utterly tired. You thanked him again for what he had done, and Jungkook left the two of you alone momentarily so he could check on Jimin and Hoseok at the bar. They entertained him for all of maybe 5 seconds before shooing him away, assuring him that they could handle things and that he should just take you home and be with you right now.

Jungkook thought nothing sounded better.

When he made it back to Yoongi’s office, he saw that you were now sitting on the armrest of the couch. Yoongi must have helped you get up from the couch, seeing as he was standing beside you, and Jungkook strode over to take his place now with an arm around your waist. Yoongi didn’t say anything about him leaving other than to wish you both a goodnight and that he would talk to Jungkook later.

Jungkook helped you walk to the car, not letting you go for even a fraction of a second, despite your teasing him about being able to walk on your own. Be that as it may, he still wouldn’t let go, because the truth of the matter was he was just too scared to.

It wasn’t until you were both in the car riding home that Jungkook let those negative thoughts devour him once more.

And this time, they were almost impossible to shake away.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

When both of you finally arrived home, Jungkook opened the door and surveyed the room before letting you go inside. You knew his paranoia was at an all-time high right now and frankly you couldn’t blame him; you were still really unsettled, too.

But you were more of the mindset that it’s in the past now and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. You never liked to dwell too long on things and Jungkook was becoming better about that as well.

You weren’t sure if it’d be that easy this time, though.

He’d barely said a word to you the whole ride home, and even now as you were both standing by the front door while he locked it, he was still eerily quiet. Once it was sufficiently locked enough by Jungkook’s standards, he gave you one last look before he started walking down the hallway. You frowned and followed him.

“Koo?”

No response.

“Baby? Talk to me.” It looked like he was trying to go to the kitchen, but it was still dark in the house since he’d barely turned on any of the lights, so you weren’t sure. Still no answer.

“Jungkook.” You called out sternly this time and just barely spotted him as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he heard you walk in, he finally spoke.

“You should eat something, what do you want?”

His voice broke your heart.

“I’m not hungry-”

“You can go lay down, Jin said you didn’t have a concussion so it should be fine. I can bring some food up for you.” He was leaning against the counter in front of the sink, his back turned to you and his head hanging somewhat.

He sounded not at all like himself, and it scared you. Not in the way that you were scared of him, but you were scared because you didn’t know what to do.

Talking was obviously getting you nowhere, so you instead walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him from behind, placing your cheek against his back. He flinched.

“Baby, please,” his voice sounded like it was breaking so you just held him tighter, hoping he could feel your love from the way you embraced him as if you never wanted to let him go.

“Koo, I need you to talk to me. I need to know what’s wrong-”

“What’s wrong is me,” he gritted out, tone louder than before and it made you jump. He then released himself from your arms and tried to walk away.

“Jungkook, wait,” you scrambled to go after him, catching him before he could disappear into another room, this time turning him around to face you. He was leaning against the wall and didn’t try to move past you anymore, but he avoided your gaze.

“Koo, look at me,” you stressed, ducking down to peek up at him. He finally raised his head so you could look into his eyes at a normal level. You noticed the tears in the corner of his eyes, and it nearly made you start crying yourself.

Jungkook never hid his vulnerability from you, he never hid anything from you. But even so, it was still a rare sight to see him cry.

“Why do you want to be around me right now,” he questioned, voice wavering and you recognized the sound. He was trying to hold himself back from crying.

“Koo, what do you mean, why wouldn’t I want to be around you? I love you-”

“I couldn’t protect you,” his voice rose in pitch, not to talk over you but because he was just so upset. “I couldn’t save you, I wasn’t around to help you- God, baby, you got fucking attacked and I wasn’t there.”

He was trembling and you tried to steady him by placing your hands on his shoulders. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks now, and they were bound to start pooling in your own eyes any second.

“None of that is your fault,” you emphasized your words by squeezing his shoulders. “Ok? No one could have predicted what that psycho was gonna do, not you, not me, not Yoongi, nobody.”

“For fuck’s sake, he almost kidnapped you-”

“But he didn’t and I’m here.” You brushed his cheek to wipe some of the tears away and he choked back a sob. “I’m here, with you, and that’s what matters.”

“I could have lost you,” he said it just above a whisper as you moved to brush the tears away from his other cheek.

You blinked back your own tears. “You didn’t lose me.”

“But I could have. We have no idea what the fuck he’s capable of and just- every time I think about what might have happened if no one got to you in time, I start to lose my mind.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and reached up on your tip-toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips, heart lurching when he actually kissed you back and his hands found purchase on your waist as they usually did.

“You didn’t lose me. You have me. All of me. I’m right here,” you kissed him once more. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook let out a sob as he pulled you closer, nearly crushing you with his embrace. You ran your hand through his hair to try and soothe him when he leaned his forehead on your shoulder.

“I was so fucking scared,” he said against your skin. “So terrified. I love you so much,” a tender kiss was placed on the side of your neck now, and you could feel his lips still trembling.

“I love you,” your response prompted another small sob from him, “I love you more than anyone or anything else in this world and I’ll show you that everyday for the rest of my life, as long as you let me.”

“Baby-” Jungkook’s voice cracked with so much raw emotion and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You were determined to show him your conviction behind your statement, so with your hand still buried in his hair, you pulled him down to your level once more as you crashed your lips together.

You’d never felt anything quite like the emotions that coursed through you every single time you kissed Jungkook. It didn’t matter if it was the cute good morning kisses upon waking up, the silly, laughter-filled ones that happened in the midst of playing around, or the intense ones bursting with passion that always led to something more. Each one was different and better than the last, and it was like a language between you both filled with unspoken words that demonstrated exactly what you felt.

This was one of the many ways the two of your expressed your devotion to one another, through an action as simple as kissing yet the feelings it always evoked inside of you were anything but. And even during times like tonight when you’d both endured something extremely emotional, you could still find comfort in each other through these gestures.

When you finally broke apart, you were both panting breathlessly, and Jungkook rested his forehead against yours.

“Sorry, baby,” Jungkook breathed, voice somewhat raspy. His fingers had started gripping your waist harder during the exchange, but you felt them start to loosen.

That was most definitely something you didn’t want, so you placed your hands on the sides of his face and looked him in the eyes.

“Koo,” you spoke softly, cautiously, as if you were testing the waters. “Can I give you all of me?”

His eyes sparkled with the realization of what you were implying, and for a moment you wondered if he would reject you. And if he did, that would be completely fine with you because his comfort mattered most of all to you right now, as it always did. Tonight had been a lot to deal with and you weren’t sure what mindset he would be in about this sort of thing-

That thought remained unfinished in your mind as Jungkook captured your lips again and all other rational thought went out the window. All you could focus on now was how Jungkook’s body felt melded up against yours, how his mouth was exploring yours like he’d done so many times before, how his fingers dug into your skin like he was afraid to let you go.

You jumped up and Jungkook wrapped your legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss while he turned you around so that your back was against the wall. You heard a low groan come from him as you intensified the kiss before he pulled away.

“Angel, are you sure about this?” He was holding you up with help from the wall, hands placed on your thighs just underneath your ass. Your hand was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck since you knew how much he loved that. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you-”

“Koo, I’m fine. I feel fine and I’m not in pain. I promise. I want this. I want you,” you gave him another searing kiss that you felt yourself melting into. “But only if you want it too.”

Jungkook’s next kiss knocked the breath out of you and he swallowed the surprised whimper you let out. “Of course, baby. I always want you.”

His words never failed to make you feel warm all over, with love and adoration as well as arousal. Right now, you were feeling all of these things as he situated your legs around his waist in a more comfortable position.

“Do you want to do this here,” he panted as his eyes met yours again. You could tell he was getting worked up just having you like this here against the wall, so you wasted no time answering him.

“Yes Koo, please,” you urged him to continue. “Wanna feel you close. Don’t wanna wait.”

“Fuck, I mean, I could take us upstairs-” his words ended with a grunt as you drew him closer by wrapping your legs tighter around him, making him grind against you. His head dipped down to rest against your shoulder as he let out shallow breaths, his fingers threatening to make indentations in your skin.

In a somewhat frenzied manner, Jungkook put you back down on your feet so the both of you could remove your clothes, too impatient to take everything off and only getting rid of what was necessary. When both of your lower halves were bare, he secured you around his waist once more, his length rapidly hardening against your now naked thigh.

You reached in between the two of you to wrap your hand around him, and the feeling was enough to have him inhaling sharply before he kissed you with a newfound urgency. You could tell by the way he was moaning against your mouth that your teasing caresses were working and within no time he was ready. You let out a stuttered moan when Jungkook’s long fingers disappeared inside of you so he could make sure you were stretched enough.

When he deemed you prepped enough – and when you started rocking against his fingers with impatient whimpers – he withdrew so he could line himself up with you. Your already soaked folds were threatening to pull him in, and it was almost too much for him to handle in his heightened emotional state.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, as he always did. The stretch made you lean your head back against the wall, his soft curses only spurring you on even more. On other nights you might would try to coax him to be a little rougher because you knew you could take it, but tonight you weren’t in a rush for anything, and neither was he. Tonight was about you two being together as one, relishing the way you shared this connection with each other and conveying it through this intimate act.

Both of you sighed in pleasure when Jungkook bottomed out, finally experiencing that complete closeness the two of you craved more than anything else right now. His hands gripped your ass firmly to start moving you up and down his length in slow, steady strokes. He didn’t want to take things fast or go hard tonight – he just wanted to enjoy this feeling, having you so close and yet still wanting to pull you impossibly closer.

The feeling of your warmth around him mixed with the tousling of your hands in his hair was driving him crazy. Every touch from you, no matter how small, always ignited something within him that he couldn’t explain. He was so unapologetically, wholeheartedly in love with you.

And he’d just come so close to losing you.

Pain twisted his heart as he stared at you, watching your face scrunch up in the most beautiful way. Your head was tilted back with your eyes crinkled shut while his name was falling from your lips in hushed whispers. Each thrust was pushing you further up the wall before he would bring you back down again, and your arms wound themselves around his neck to help anchor yourself further.

You looked ethereal, and Jungkook was trying so hard to focus on you and not the negative thoughts that were once again settling uncomfortably in his mind. His body was fighting itself on whether he should succumb to the pleasure he was feeling or if he should submit to the dark cloud blanketing his mind.

His change in demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Jungkook continued to move inside of you, keeping a consistent pace, but something wasn’t right. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t looking at you. He had a pained expression on his face, and that’s what kicked your own worry into gear.

“Koo, baby, hey what’s wrong?” You held his face in both of your hands and watched as he crumbled underneath your touch. He had slid his hands up to rest against your back now in an attempt to embrace you further, hands trapped in between you and the wall.

You almost started panicking when you saw the tears start to brim in his eyes again.

“I just-” he choked on a cry and your heart wrenched at the sound, “I can’t stop thinking about it.” He was still moving but his pace had slowed down to a near stop.

“Thinking about what?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know but you needed him to talk to you.

“Thinking about losing you, I can’t-”

His hands reached up higher to grasp onto your shirt you were still wearing, clenching the fabric in his fists as he dragged it down. You could feel the collar of the front of your shirt tightening around you while he hid his head in the crook of your neck and started to shake. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could and ran a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him.

“Please stay,” he whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. “Please stay with me.”

“Koo-”

“I love you so much, I don’t want to lose you,” more sobs wracked through his body. He had otherwise stilled inside of you but made no effort to move away. “I can’t lose you, I-”

“Baby, look at me.”

Jungkook slowly brought his head up to face you, the sight making you want to break down yourself. He looked so defeated, so broken, and his eyes were shining with tears he didn’t bother hiding anymore.

You cradled his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs across his cheekbones before they travelled to trace along the curves of his jawline.

You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, listening as he tried to control his erratic breathing. “I won’t leave you.”

A soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll never leave you.”

You brushed his hair back from his face, and his eyes captivated you as they swirled with so much intense emotion.

“I promised you forever, and I intend to keep it. Nothing, and no one, is going to keep me from you. I love you too much to let that happen,” you granted him a sweet smile and brushed your thumb across his lower lip that had started to quiver. He sniffled as you continued.

“Do you remember our wedding vows?”

Jungkook swallowed as he nodded, seeming a little calmer now.

Your smile widened, and your own set of fresh tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes, ready to spill. “Remember how I told I would give you all of me? That I would give you the best of me?”

He nodded again, and your heart soared at the tiny smile he presented you with.

“I promised you those things. So, no matter what happens, I’ll never leave you. And with everything life throws as us from here on out, we’ll make it through together.”

His smile was widening into the familiar, bunny-like grin you knew and loved dearly. Your Jungkook was coming back to you, and it was almost like you could see the dark fog that had surrounded him evaporating before your very eyes.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook.” You leaned up to tenderly press your lips to his once more, smiling into the kiss as he let out a content sigh. “You’re my person. My forever. Please always remember that.”

You had swept a long lock of hair back from his face as you finished your words, and while you were distracted with that, Jungkook stared at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

Your declarations of love stirred something inside of him and it dawned on him then that he was still inside of you. This was made more evident when you shifted in his embrace, probably to make yourself more comfortable since you were still against the wall, but it caused your walls to clench around him.

He closed his eyes and groaned, the sound causing arousal to radiate throughout your body. The two of you clearly must have forgotten the position you were in but that was no longer the case when you felt him twitch inside of you.

“Fuck,” he moaned at the sight of you when he opened his eyes again, his hands letting go of your shirt in favor of settling on your waist. Your cheeks were still flushed, with drying tear stains running down them. You were panting softly and Jungkook’s heart felt like it might burst with all the love he had for you.

“I love you,” he declared while he brushed his nose with yours. “And I honestly cannot believe I forgot I was fucking you, like how does that even happen.”

You giggled, kissing the tip of his nose before you drew back to rest contentedly against the wall. “I’m not sure, but do you perhaps want to finish what we started?”

You moved your hips as best you could at your current angle, and it pushed his cock further inside you, making you both moan at the action. He captured one of your hands in his and brought it up to place a kiss on your knuckles.

“Will you still let me give you all of me,” you reiterated your phrase from earlier in the night before all of this started. Jungkook’s eyes had darkened now with lust and he gave you a sly smile.

“Always, baby,” was his response. “Question now though,” he leaned down to let his lips ghost along your neck, making you shiver, “is can you take all of me?”

You tugged on his hair for him to look up at you, making him hiss in the process. You gave him your best challenging stare, and hoped it was convincing.

“Always,” you copied him, “I can easily take anything you give me.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow and you felt his length twitch at your words. “Is that so?

You barely had time to nod before he was pinning your hand that he was holding on the wall beside your head, his other one gripping your waist hard enough now you knew it would leave a mark.

He pulled out almost all the way before he thrusted back into you hard, making you whine embarrassingly loud. He chuckled dark and low then, squeezing your hand as he intertwined your fingers.

“Too much for you, angel?” Jungkook knew he couldn’t keep this up forever and that he’d eventually crack himself, but he never missed an opportunity to tease you like this. “Thought you said you could take everything I give you.”

You nodded vigorously, not an easy feat with your head leaning against the wall. “I can, I can take it,” you breathed out, clenching around him to try and persuade him to move again. He stuttered out a low moan, determined to not lose his composure just yet.

“Yeah? You sure? Does that mean you want more?” He was shallowly moving inside of you at a torturously slow pace, the drag of his cock against your walls pulling a loud noise of desperation from your throat.

“Please,” you begged, not even caring how desperate you sounded. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, and your core throbbed at the thought of him finally relenting and fucking you how you wanted. “Please give it to me. Please give me more.”

“Fuck, baby, I love hearing you beg for me,” Jungkook moaned, readjusting his grip on your hip. “Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He hungrily kissed you for a few moments, sinking further into you before he pulled back, panting as he placed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Angel?” His voice was low and just the tone alone made you clench.

“Y-yes?”

He opened his eyes and smiled. “You might wanna hold on tight.”

You just had enough time to wrap your unoccupied arm around his back before he started pounding into you like his life depended on it. He slammed into you repeatedly, making you scream out his name over and over again whenever he’d hit that bundle of nerves inside of you. You gripped his shirt to have something to ground yourself with, and your eyes rolled back as he increased his pace.

Jungkook was grunting into your skin, teeth grazing against your neck. “You feel so fucking good, always so tight and perfect for me, my perfect angel.” He squeezed your hand hard enough that his knuckles were taut, but it didn’t hurt you. If anything, it turned you on more because he was finally letting go, caring more about just being in the moment with you than potentially hurting you.

And you knew he still did care about that, he always would; he was Jungkook, after all. But time and time again you had pleaded with him to stop handling you like you would break under the slightest amount of pressure. This was the first time he did without hesitation or working himself up to it.

And you fucking loved it.

In fact, it was overwhelming enough to the point where you knew you weren’t going to last long at all with the way he was drilling into you. All the emotions the two of you had endured tonight mixed with the passionate entanglement you found yourself wrapped up in now, it was no surprise that you were hurtling toward your undoing at a very fast pace.

“Koo, baby, oh my God-” you finally found your voice again, running your nails down his back, hard enough that if he hadn’t been still wearing his shirt, you’re sure it would have left scratch marks.

“Fuck, angel, can feel you around me, always so good for me,” his tongue darted out past his lips before he captured your bottom one between his teeth and tugged on it gently. “Always my good girl.”

His words made you spasm around him, and he moaned loudly at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut. His damp hair was falling into his face so you brushed it back, gasping at the sight of him.

You’d seen Jungkook like this many times before, but this time? This time was different.

A few curls were still framing his face but he had his head tilted back and his lips parted as the most amazing sounds escaped from them. His brows were furrowed and he looked almost pained, but in a completely different way than he had earlier that night.

Your heart ached at the memory, but you didn’t have long to think about it before he pulled you more flush against his chest, now opting to grab your ass with both hands so he could move you up and down his cock with his strength alone.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, “I love you so much, angel, just wanna stay with you like this forever.” He was speeding up again and with the new angle, your body felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t even make a noise as the stimulation kept hitting you in wave after wave.

“You said earlier,” Jungkook continued, a little breathless now but never letting up on his powerful thrusts, “that I was – fuck – that I was your person.”

You nodded, still not really able to say anything or make any sound because your orgasm was approaching fast and you didn’t want it to happen so soon. Not until you knew he was there with you.

“Did you mean it,” he asked, hooded eyes trying to search yours. You kissed him with all the strength you could muster, swallowing down his moans as your walls clenched around him.

“Of course I did. I meant everything I said earlier.” A high-pitched moan tore itself from your throat when his hips snapped into you harder at your words.

“Fuck, it always does something to me when you say things like that,” he was losing his composure now, you could tell it by the way he sounded.

His admission made you chuckle fondly. “You know, you said something similar the first time we were together.”

Jungkook opened his eyes to stare at you and grinned at the memory. “Yeah, I did. Meant it then and I mean it now too.”

“I’m glad I still have that kind of effect on you,” you responded, breaking off to moan loudly at a harsher thrust. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened, and he increased his pace, finally pulling you over the edge.

“You do, holy shit, you really do. I hope I can say the same- fuck,” Jungkook knew you were close with the way your walls kept spasming around him every few seconds. “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

You nodded and whined, holding onto his shirt for dear life while he rocked you through the first stages of your euphoric bliss. He was panting right by your ear now, the sounds making your eyes roll back.

“Go on, cum for me then. Fucking love when you cum all over my cock,” Jungkook’s filthy words had you moaning out his name. “My beautiful angel,” he continued, pulling down the collar of your shirt slightly so he could place a kiss on your collarbone. “Always so pretty for me.”

“Fuck, I’m close, Koo, want you there with me,” you opened your eyes in time to see him pulling his lip between his teeth.

“I’m right there, baby, let go for me,” he reached in between the two of you and barely brushed your clit before your sudden orgasm made you clench so hard around him that he had to throw his head back and let out a guttural moan.

“Angel, fuuuuck, I’m right there, I’m-” you crashed your lips against his and swallowed down every loud noise he made, feeling his lips tremble against yours as his hips stuttered when he filled you up with his release.

He broke apart from you with a gasp, leaning his head back and letting out a strained “holy fuck” before he looked at you again. He slowed down now, thrusting a few more times before he stilled completely, breathing hard.

He moved you away from the wall, and you thought he might put you down but instead he tightened your legs more securely around him and walked the two of you over to the nearest bathroom to shower, his lips never leaving yours the whole way there.

Thank fuck Jungkook had such great muscle memory and knew where he was going because you definitely couldn’t have pulled that off.

He stayed inside you until he was able to put you in the shower, helping you discard the rest of your clothes before he did the same and joined you. It was your usual ritual and preferred form of aftercare since the water from the shower soothed any sore muscles and it helped you get clean in the process. Not to mention it was another way for you to be close to Jungkook, him only reiterating that truth now and he pulled your back against his chest so he could massage shampoo into your hair.

“Love you,” he whispered softly, placing a kiss on your temple since you leaned your head back at the feeling of his touch. He treated you so delicately now, the complete opposite of how he was just fucking you up against the wall. You loved moments like this just as much, always receptive to everything Jungkook did, every touch that flittered across your skin.

“I love you,” was your response as you turned around to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him into a chaste kiss. He smiled into it, his fingertips brushing against the skin right above your waist.

After your shower, Jungkook carried you upstairs, ignoring your attempts at getting him to put you down because as you told him repeatedly your legs worked just fine and you could walk by yourself. His response?

“Don’t care, still wanna carry you.”

All you could do then was huff, pulling a laugh from the man you loved so much, the sound always beautiful and able to make your heart skip a beat.

When you were both snuggled into bed, you found it hard to sleep. There were still things you two needed to discuss, but you didn’t have the energy – and not really the want – right now to bring them up.

However, Jungkook did.

“Hey,” he was running his hand through your hair as you were laying your head on his shoulder. You hummed in response.

“I’m sorry,” he started, and before you could interrupt he quickly went on. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, but I’m also sorry about how I acted earlier.”

“Koo, it’s fine-”

“Please don’t,” his eyes were pleading and you let him continue.

“It’s not fine, it’s- I get in my head sometimes and it can be hard to come back from that. You’re always able to bring me back, but tonight…fuck, it was bad.” There was a frown on his face now and you tried to make it disappear by placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I kept thinking about how maybe I’m not the best for you-”

You couldn’t help interrupting this time. “Jungkook, you are the best for me.”

“We don’t know that though-”

“I don’t have to, because I know in my heart that you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we have the best life together, the same as I’ll do for you.” You brushed a curl out of his face before you continued, “Only for you.”

He cracked a smile. “That’s my line.”

You shrugged, giggling when Jungkook began trying to poke your sides. “Regardless though, I don’t want you feeling that way. You’re enough, Jungkook, you’re more than enough.”

His smile widened. “Really?”

“Really.” You thought about it for a second. “What can I do to convince you?”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes full of mischief. “Well, I can think of a way…” he said in a suggestive tone, making you roll your eyes before you turned away from him. His laughter fell on your ears and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face.

“Hey, c’mon, you know I’m just kidding,” he turned you to face him again, running his hand up and down your side now.

“No you’re not,” you snorted.

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “Ok, you’re right- but I know you’re too tired so I’m half kidding? Sorta?”

It was your turn to laugh then, huddling closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his throat.

His hands found their way into your hair again, and he continued to run them through the strands long enough that you almost fell asleep until he spoke up again.

“We need to do something about him, though.”

The way he said ‘him’ let you know exactly who he was talking about.

You nodded, sliding your head up to lay in the crook of his neck. “We will. But that’s a problem for another day. Right now,” you yawned, “we need sleep.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll stay up a little bit to make sure you’re ok. Jin said it was a good idea for tonight, anyway.”

You were already nuzzling deeper into his embrace, barely registering his words. “Mm-hmm,” came your sluggish response. “Goodnight, Koo.”

“Night, baby,” was his last response you heard before slumber took over, the feeling of his strong arms around you more comforting than anything else you’d ever known.

Jungkook stayed awake for a few hours, listening to your soft snoring and observing you as you slept peacefully. There was a gentle ache tugging at his heart as he remembered everything that you’d been through that night, but when you unconsciously snuggled closer, he felt the ache dissipate.

He made a promise to himself that whatever happened in the future, he would be there for you. He would keep you as safe as he could, and love you with everything he had.

After all, you were his person, just as he was yours, and he hoped that’s how it would stay.

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #ofy drabble

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