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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 3 years

Note

So, you get got writers block eh? How about Toshi being absolutely smitten with the new teacher at UA and has been in love with her stern, hardcore attitude? And then he forces her into dancing with him while he serenades her (or them whatever is fine w/you) and then they date. This lives quite rent free in my head and I'm bad at writing sooo.... Here, it's your problem now.

Coming riggghtttt up!

Violet Enigma

Toshinori Yagi x F! Teacher! Reader

Warnings: mentions of chronic illness (very very subtle), and that’s really it

Not many things have absolutely stopped All Might in his tracks. No, he's well used to seeing the usual gore and violence, the high stakes, the horrific circumstances. None of them have ever made him pause, not even for a moment.

But when she walked into the office, her heels clicking against the tile, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

She didn't notice, of course. She was much too busy staring straight ahead, cooly.

That was until her eyes caught his. In that moment, time stood totally still. It was almost as if, no, it couldn't be.

Her eyes seemed to flash purple.

But no, he assured himself, it was surely a trick of the light.

He could scarcely blink before her gaze was back to her target and she seemingly forgot all about him.

...

"Hey, uh... Who's that lady?" Toshinori whispered, cradling a cup of tea. Aizawa lazily pressed some buttons on the microwave, heating up last night's pizza.

"What lady? How can I possibly know who you're talking about?" He yawned.

Toshinori flushed at the realization that, in fact, not everyone had her image permanently implanted in their minds.

"You know...the one with the... hair? And the, uh...the new one?"

Aizawa sighed, thinking for a moment.

" I think that's y/n," he replied, plopping himself down next to his coworker.

"Thanks," muttered Toshinori. Just as he took a sip of his tea, an unfamiliar voice filled his ears.

"What's got you so curious about me, sir?" The woman asked. She was carrying a clipboard, scribbling something.

The blond had nothing to say. He was so shocked by her presence that he could just stare for a moment.

She sighed, biting the tip of her pen.

"Do you know where room number 512 is?" She asked, not even looking up from her work. Toshinori sighed in relief of her changing the subject.

"Its upstairs and to the right."

"Thank you, Mister...?"

"Toshinori. Or Yagi. Or...um...well, nevermind. Aren't you going to eat something?"

"I will. Just not right now. I've got a lot to get done, Mr. 'Nevermind.' "

And like that, she was gone.

...

The following day, Ms. Y/N entered the office once again, her pristine outfit looking as fresh as a pressed uniform.

She paused for a moment upon seeing All Might in his muscular form, however.

"I don't believe we've met," she mumbled, "You may refer to me as Ms. Y/N. And yourself?"

He subconsciously looked down.

"I'm All Might. Haven't you... seen me before?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I can't say I have. I don't watch television. What's your real name?" She asked skeptically. For a moment, it almost looked like her eyes flashed again.

"Well, uh, you see-".

"It's fine. Do you know when the next meeting is being held, Mr... Sir?"

.....

At lunch, she was no where to be seen, as always.

Usually, Yagi would make himself comfortable in the staff room with a cup of tea and a book.

Today, though, he'd decided to find her.

He aimlessly wandered the now empty halls, passing rooms where classes were being held, the ever noisy lunchroom, peeking into each open door in an attempt to spot her.

Miss Enigma. That's what she goes by as a pro hero. But, she's not the type of hero you'd see get the credit. She'd much rather work alongside a group, blending into the background, and staying subtle.

He found that name quite fitting for her, though.

Especially because he didn't even know what her damn quirk was. No one did.

Finally, he reached the computer lab all the way at the end of the hall. The lights were off, which would usually signal that no one was in there, but based off of the rapid clicking of keys, someone had definitely snuck in there.

Probably a student. Kids like Shinsou and Deku would usually hide themselves here during lunch, getting their homework done in leiu of eating.

Upon opening the door though, he quickly realized that he was wrong.

It was her.

She jumped, startled terribly by the unwanted interupption. She quickly regained her composure as she turned around.

"What are you doing here, mister?" She asked, her eyebrow raised.

"I can ask you the same," he retorted with a small, semi confident smirk.

She sighed.

"Why does it concern you?"

Toshinori's face grew pink, embarassment growing in his chest, suffocating him.

"Uh, I...um, I j-just-"

"I'm busy. You may speak to me later," she stated, spinning around to face the screen once again. Yagi stood there for a moment in shock before closing the door and doing as she wished: leaving her alone.

He did not look for her, though. Her merciless tone was enough to slice him to the bone. He didn't want to hear any more.

It was right after classes ended when he was on his way to his dorm. He passed room 512, Ms. Y/N's class, and as he passed the room, he paused, hearing her scolding a student.

"There was absolutely no reason for you to earn this grade in my class, young man. None. You can do so much better than this."

"B-but, it was a 96," whimpered the boy. He couldn't see exactly who it was, but he could tell by his warbled tone it was Young Midorya.

Isn't a 96 good though?

She sighed.

"It was a silly mistake you made. It could have been 100. Listen, I know the kind of student you are. You're smart. You should be competing with students like Iida, who earned a 102."

She continued to speak, but Toshi had heard enough. He was exhausted as it is, but hearing something so silly as that just exacerbated it.

...

The next morning, a stiff hand squeezed his shoulder as he sipped his coffee.

He looked up, wide eyed, meeting Y/N's steely gaze.

"I didn't see you yesterday. Didn't you wish to speak with me?" She asked.

"Oh, uh...it was nothing, really," he stammered out, looking down. She squinted her eyes.

"That feels like it's not entirely true. Either way, I will be available for a...chat... If that's what you were hoping for, this lunch period. If you'd like," she offered, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Really?" He squeaked, his shyness peaking through. She nodded silently before delicately seating herself at her desk.

It took centuries, but finally, lunch period arrived.

And so did she.

Before Toshinori even had the chance to get up to find her, she was standing at his desk.

"Are you ready?" She asked, holding a lunch bag in each hand.

He nodded. In response, y/n handed him one of the bags.

"You never eat anything. It's not healthy, you know."

He chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, I've survived a lot worse."

"...Like?"

"Well, I'd rather not say. Not...now, at least," he scratched the back of his head, praying that she'd change the subject.

She didn't. Instead, she simply stared blankly at him.

"Where are you taking me, anyways?" He asked. He internally screamed as he waited for her to use that to spark a conversation.

"I don't like being around people. We could go to the library, or my dorm, or your dorm, or anywhere where it can just be you and I."

He nodded.

"L-lets just go to your dorm," he mumbled, realizing his was quite in a state of dissarray at the moment.

She nodded.

The walk was pleasent enough. As pleasent as a near silent walk could be.

One thing about Ms. Enigma is that everything she does, no matter how seemingly miniscule, is done with a sense of urgent purpose. Her eyes are always fixed upon some sort of goal, and each with each breath, she is calculating her next move carefully.

It helped her be an efficient, yet stern teacher, but a hard person to chat with.

Finally, the pair reached her dorm. Number 111.

The door opened to reveal an utterly spotless bed and kitchenette, surrounded by piles and piles of books, scribbled notes, calculators, and empty soda cans. She stepped over the piles gracefully, scarcely looking down, while Toshinori carefully tip toed around every discarded item in order to avoid damaging a single item.

Frankly, he feared what a scolding from her would comprise of for him.

She sat herself onto her bed, cris crossing her legs. He, on the other hand, took his place at the kitchenette.

The silence was unbearable.

“So, um...what did you wanna chat about, Enigma?” he muttered.

Pushing up her glasses with one finger, she replied plainly, “You tell me, Yagi.”

He shrugged.

“Eat,” she ordered.

Captured by her spell, he obeyed her, eating the food she’d prepared. It was a humble little meal, one that she’d surely planned out, and was in a word, delicious.

Thankfully, the silence changed from an uncomfortable one to one that he would be content with curling up and living in for quite a while.

...

After that day, Y/N would always be somewhere near Toshinori during lunch period. Whether it be in the same room, or right next to him, she was there.

She usually was hard at work or silently eating. That didn’t mean, though, that she wouldn’t urge him to eat something. He’d find small lunches made up for him at his desk on days where she wasn’t there, and on days she was, she’d silently pause every once in awhile to glare at him if he hadn’t eaten.

Despite that seemingly caring action, though, she didn’t seem at all interested in the blond. He didn’t attempt to flirt, or anything that could possibly elicit a raised eyebrow, but that was simply because he felt as if he couldn’t.

What if she rejected him?

I mean, she works right across from him. They see eachother every single day.

It’d be hell.

But...

What if she didn’t?

...

“Alright, we need a couple chaperones for the spring semester dance. Who’s up for it?” Aizawa asked boredly. Miss Midnight and Present Mic raised their hands excitedly.

“Alright, I’ve got you both down. I need two more.”

“I’ll do it,” offered Y/N. The entire conference room grew quiet for a moment.

“You do realize that you can’t give out detention slips at a dance, right?” Hizashi scoffed.

“I am aware of that, sir. Are you aware of the existance of an ‘inside voice’?” she gritted with condecention seeping through her teeth.

He put his hands up, indicating that she’d won that particular battle.

“I’m free on that night, too,” Toshinori added. His comment broke through the thick silence that had fell onto the room.

“Thank you, A- ahem, Toshinori,” Aizawa nodded, penning the final name down.

After the meeting, Y/N was the final one to leave, alongside Toshinori.

“You know, there’s gonna be a lot of people there on that dance,” he whispered.

“I know. Maybe I’d like that. You seem like you do,” she replied, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of her lips. No one else would’ve noticed it, but after spending so many monotone days with her, he recognized the new expression instantly.

“I don’t, particularly. But...”

“But?”

“Nothing. It’s...nothing.”

“If you say so, Mister. I’ll see you then,” she allowed herself to smile as she once again, left him in silence.

...

That week passed by without much issue. There was the usual ruckus coming from class 1-A, but nothing too serious.

The night had arrived. Just outside his dorm, he could hear the clamour of excited chatter coming from students on their way to the gymnasium.

He sighed, tying a red tye around his neck, a nice contrast against his suit.

He hadn't exactly planned on dressing like this, but upon realizing that he didn't have anything less fancy than this and more fancy than what he usually wore to work, he settled on being a little extraordinary.

As soon as he exited the dorm and was greeted with the wave of students pushing past each other in the halls, he knew he'd made a mistake.

"Oof! Oh, hey, um...?" Midoriya squeaked, pressed against the wall and cramped. He’d caught himself before he called him by his hero name, but his real name slipped his mind at that exact moment.

"Toshinori. What is it, my boy?" He smiled, ruffling the boy's messy hair.

"Uh, I dunno, I don't usually do stuff like this. Are... Why are you wearing that? Isn't it a little fancy?"

Toshinori blushed instantly.

"Oh my God. Who is it?" Izuku squealed excitedly, cursing himself for forgetting a pen to take some notes.

"Geez, kid, keep it down a little, won'tcha? It-she-"

"She?!"

"Single file line or none of you will be attending tonight's dance," stated a voice that ascended effortlessly above the crowd's noisiness.

Instantly, everyone calmed down and began to form a line, neatly making their way to the gym.

Toshinori closed his door as he whisked the boy away, urging him to go have a good time, and to 'enjoy being young while you can.'

It was merely seconds after he was standing alone, against the wall, waiting for the crowd to die down as he noticed her.

Y/N had been standing there for quite a few minutes, in the same position as he, and just about 4 feet away.

It was hard for him to believe that he'd missed her. The dress she'd worn was absolutely more extravagant than any gown he'd seen in an event like this. It was sparkly and red, reflecting every ounce of light that hit it from all directions. It accentuated her body beautifully and perfectly fit.

In short, she was stunning.

"My, my. You sure do look nice today," she grinned.

He nodded dumbly. He was just about as red as the dress she was wearing.

Finally, it was time for them to make their ways to the dance.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked.

"I hope so," he replied, toying with his tie.

...

Music boomed in Y/N's and Toshinori's ears, accompanied by dealing with the antics of goofball teenagers and breaking up silly fights.

Once things began to calm down quite a bit, Y/N approached Toshinori, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaning in close to his ear.

"Meet me on the rooftop," she whispered before dissapearing into the crowd.

So, he did.

She sat near the edge, staring into the inky violet sky.

Toshinori took his place next to her, handing her a much needed bottle of water.

She thanked him before turning to him with a deep sigh.

"There's something I'd like to tell you," she mumbled. For the first time, she actually looked nervous.

Taking a sip of the water, she continued, "You know, I never really do things like this. You've probably gathered that by...my nature. But, I must admit, you are one person I can't seem to get off of my mind. And, well, frankly...I like you, Toshinori. To quite a degree."

He blinked, slack jawed, shaking his head.

“How could someone like you like someone like me?

“Good question. I like you because you're...well, I suppose I don't really know. You're just you, and that's what I like about you. Plus, I know you’ve done so much for so many people. Why dont you like you?”

He paused, his heart absolutely seizing at that for more than one reason.

"Oh! I suppose I should tell you about my quirk. But...I expect full confidentiality from you. Essentially, I can find out one's secrets by looking at them. Surely, you've seen me activate it before."

He nodded, covering his mouth.

"W-what do you...know?"

"Don't worry, not much. I respect you too much to dig that deep. All I know is that, in some point of your life, you were probably some type of hero. All I know, is that in your life time, you've saved many lives, and touched countless others. As to why you'd want that to be a secret, I have no idea. But, I do find it interesting," she explained.

"What do you do with the secrets you know, then?" He asked, his voice still pinched with fear that his secret could be compromised.

"With yours? Nothing. I have no friends to share it with, and not enough details or desire to post about it online. Frankly, I don't give a damn about who you used to be. I care about who you are. Your secret will always be safe with me."

He sighed deeply. It wasn’t as if no one was aware of his secret; plenty of people knew. But the more people who did, the higher at risk the school, as well as the students and staff, were placed at.

Plenty of people,too, wanted him dead. Even being retired, he is still considered a threat to villians across the globe, thanks to his notorious acts of heroism throughout the decades. With him in his sickly, weakened state, he’d be easy to assasinate, and the people who would go that far wouldn’t be opposed to taking others down with him.

He...couldn’t have that.

So, before Y/N was scheduled to begin work, it was decided that she’d be left in the dark about his identity, as well as any newcoming staff from thenon out. It’d be safer that way.

Her eyes dreamily stared off into the infinate stars as she silently pondered on what to say next.

“Would you like to know the rest?” he asked. His voice shook a little, causing her to look at him.

She nodded.

“I’m All Might.” “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!” giggles y/n, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m pathetic,” he sighes. He rubbed his forehead, looking away ashamedly.

“No, no! I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier! I mean, you guys do look pretty similar.”

He shrugs.

“I’m serious! Plus, I mean, it’s kind of obvious now that you mention it. I mean, I guess you guys do wear the same clohtes to work everyday, and I haven’t seen you two in the same room before, so yeah, I can definiately see it,” she paused, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks bright red.

“God, I’ve probably said ‘Good morning’ to you and...er...you, twice every day. Why’d you let me do that like a fool?!” she teased, play punching him in the arm.

He laughed, absolutely relieved that she didn’t ridicule him for how he’d taken care of his body for the past few years. It seemed that her attitude had completely changed from the one he’d known for so long, but in a good way.

In a happy way.

She stood up, still smiling, “We need to go back to the dance, Mister. We have a duty, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m well aware. You can almost hear the music all the way up here, can’t you?”

She nodded, walking towards the door to the stairs. He grabbed her by the arm before she could escape, though, and leave him alone with his thoughts and hopes and dreams like she had so many times.

“You... you didn’t get my answer,” he breathed, pulling her in. She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“What exactly- oh!”

The music from downstairs was slow, romantic, and jovial. Perfect for this moment.

He gently took her other hand, guiding her into a dance.

“I-I can’t...I don’t know how to dance, Mr. Yagi,” she mumbled, looking up at him.

“I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead,” he smiled back.

And just like that, the Enigma was gone, leaving just Y/N in her place. She was no longer an Enigma, but rather a glimmer of what he’d never gotten a chance to be: in love.

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Secrets of Midnight: Babes in the Woods

In which our love interests meet for the first time and their fates become irrevocably entangled...

---

Geralt smelled him and heard him long before the clumsy, foppish boy came into view. He was trembling in the chill of early autumn and his eyes were as panic-stricken and tearful as a lost fawn’s. The cursed Count softened for an instant but only for an instant. Only until he smelled the boy on the wind, strongly this time, and he recognized the de Lettenhove blood pumping underneath his pale skin.

The boy, for he was barely a man if he was still attending the nearby university, was limping; he favored his non-dominant foot strongly and he hissed through his teeth whenever his foot snagged on a root or fallen branch.

You could use this, some small part of his mind suggested. It was a dark thought, something truly evil in a way that Geralt had never considered being evil before, and the ex-Count grimaced. You could pay that sorry Redanian traitor back for his treatment of you. This is the opportunity of a lifetime; you could ruin the Viscount’s son, ruin his family’s reputation, and still be none the worse off for your efforts. What does it matter, Geralt? You’re already banished from court.

So, with the Angel on his shoulder mysteriously absent and his conscience sufficiently tamped down into silence, Geralt stepped into view of the young man.

“Who goes there?” the ex-Count asked, glaring down his nose at the wounded student.

“J-Julian, Milord,” the boy answered. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue Geralt had ever seen. His heart skipped a beat in his chest and he lost his breath for a single, heart-rending second; the Count had never been so caught up in the glory of one solitary color before. Is this what God had felt like when he held his finished work in his hands for the first time? Had he been as lost to Julian as Geralt currently was? The boy cocked his head to the side and his blue fawn-eyes pierced the Count in a new and terrifying way.

“What brings you here?” he managed to ask.

“My friends have - ah!” he’d tried to gesture in the direction of his friends but he’d lost his balance and his weight had shifted atop his ankle again. He hissed through his teeth and dropped to a crouch, stabilizing the limb with both hands while he breathed through the pain.

So Julian had experienced pain before and he’d learned to cope with it. Curious.

“Let’s get you laid down,” Geralt suggested, “And then you can tell me how you came to be lost on the lands of my estate.”

Geralt carried the young man all the way back to his crumbling manor house and marveled at how light Julian felt in his arms. Was he really so slight or was it another side effect of his monstrous curse? The enhanced senses he had adjusted to already, but improved strength? That was decidedly new. When the odd pair finally reached the house and pushed their way through the front door, Geralt made his guest comfortable. He laid Julian down on a chaise lounge before the sitting room fire and placed a bolster cushion beneath his injured ankle. “May I feel you for a sprain, Julian?”

“Are you a doctor?” the smiling boy inquired, reclining back to rest his head against the gold silk pillows. Sitting there in front of the fire, the apples of his cheeks glowing pink from exertion and nervous excitement, his brown hair mussed and shining in the low light, his sparkling blue eyes boring into Geralt’s...the boy might have truly been a portrait of Cupid brought to life. “Can you diagnose what ails me?”

Geralt eased into a more romantic mode of conversation, grateful for the easy opportunity to flirt; he hadn’t been well-known for his way with women at court. He prodded and poked and felt across the bones and tendons of Julian’s ankle, recognizing a sprain when he felt one. It was an easy fix, just bed rest and elevation for a few days until the muscles healed up. “You’ve sprained your ankle, Julian. I wouldn’t suggest taking a walk in the woods at twilight anytime soon.”

The young man startled and his eyelashes fluttered sweetly. “But Milord, I must return to my dorm! My friends will wonder what’s become of me.”

“Where were your friends when I came upon you?” the Count questioned, laying a thick woolen blanket across Julian’s lap. The boy blushed brightly yet again and Geralt marked it as another success.

“They spun me around a few times and all ran off in different directions. I was dizzy, of course, and I tried to follow Paul, but he was long gone by then. When Stephan called for me I went to follow his voice and tripped, twisting my ankle terribly. After that there was no keeping up; the sun was starting to set and I was beginning to grow worried for my safety when you rescued me. Thank you, by the way. You have a lovely home.”

“No need to lie to me, little fawn,” Geralt chuckled darkly. He stood from his place beside the settee and paced before the fire, gesturing around as he spoke. “I know exactly how rundown this place looks, Julian, I was a great Count once. The curtains here are moldy, the tapestries are moth-eaten and holey, and the mattresses have rotten all to Hell. This is the only hearth in the manor that I’ve gotten fully cleaned so far; I apologize for the mess. I was moved here rather suddenly, you see, and haven’t had the time to fix everything up yet.”

“Moved? As in, you did not choose to move but were translocated nonetheless?”

“To be blunt, little fawn, I was banished,” the Count drawled. He shot a quick glare in Julian’s direction and the young man withered beneath it. What had he done to anger his host in such a way? Was he safe here any longer? Should he try to run? If he did run, would he make it any farther than the doorway? The edge of the dirty elf-made carpet? Then the glare dropped away for a split second, revealing a flash of genuine pain and confusion, “Someone else at court wanted my job. They cursed me and hid me away from the world in order to take my place. They coveted power so much that they threw my entire life away without a second thought.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Julian cried, holding his arms out towards his host. The confused Count stopped his pacing and turned to face the teary-eyed young noble. “Come here, Your Grace, and let me give you a hug.”

“That...wouldn’t be appropriate,” Geralt frowned. Julian deflated and let his arms drop back to his sides. His hands moved to fidget in his lap and he flushed yet again, embarrassed.

“My apologies, Your Grace.”

The older man steeled himself for what he had to do. Julian seemed like a nice boy, a perfectly pleasant nobleman all things considered, but this wasn’t just about Julian. This was about a corrupt family with incredible and unchecked power, running around at court and pulling the King’s strings, uncaring of the consequences beyond their own fortunes. Geralt had to teach them a lesson.

He slid back to a kneeling position beside the couch and took one of Julian’s busy hands into his own. He brushed his lips against the back of the young man’s knuckles and whispered softly, the way blue-blooded men had been speaking to empty-headed young women for hundreds of years, letting the skin of his lips tickle against the back of Julian’s hand with every syllable, “Take your rest here for the night, little fawn. I wouldn’t dream of letting any further harm come to you.”

And the boy did exactly as Geralt had intended: he fainted dead away.

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

The Eye of the Sky

Ch. 1

Pairing: Namjoon x oc

Genre: heist au, action

word count: 1,285

warnings: action, violence, gun violence, car chases, car crashes, swearing, blood probably

notes: heist au, action, adventure, crime, enemies to lovers, ooc namjoon, because he has his license lol

Summary: Ten years ago, Namjoon's father was killed by his best friend and partner in crime, A man who now goes by the name Hawthorne. Now, Namjoon wants to get into the family business in order to avenge his father's death. After finding the man who killed his father, Namjoon builds a team and creates an elaborate plan to finally take the man down.

But will they be able to get through Hawthorne's state-of-the-art security system? And will they succeed with a mysterious assassin chasing them? Let's just say, it's a good thing Namjoon's team members keep surprising him with useful skills.

@mozy-j @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @daechwitad-2

It should have been the perfect job. It was airtight, they thought of everything.

And in fact, it did work perfectly. The Sky’s Eye was in their safe and someone else was getting arrested for its theft. Junghoon didn’t know who it was getting framed, his partner took care of that. It didn’t matter, since it wasn’t them.

Junghoon and Montgomery celebrated in their office. The necklace was finally theirs.

With the first sip of champagne, Junghoon knew immediately what was happening, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn’t believe it; his best friend and partner in hundreds of jobs…

Montgomery knelt down in front of Junghoon, who’s flute fell from his hand and shattered on the ground. Montgomery took a slow sip from his own glass and said the words that made Junghoon’s blood run cold before finally slipping away.

“Do you think your wife can pay your son and daughter’s way through college from prison?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten Years Later

Namjoon looked at himself in the mirror and straightened his tie. He was looking sharp in his fitted grey suit, but he figured today was worth it. His younger sister was graduating college, something he was immensely proud of her for. He himself was a recent graduate, receiving his PhD as the youngest of his class. He knew how much work it was. He knew how much work it was without their parents.

Namjoon and Geongmin supported each other throughout their middle school and college years; ever since their father was killed and their mother was arrested, they only had each other.

Namjoon adjusted his left cufflink one last time, making sure it wouldn’t fall apart again; he already had to fix it that morning once.

Down in the parking garage, Namjoon unlocked his black Audi SUV and hopped in. His cufflink caught on the door and pulled off. He cursed under his breath as he shoved it in his pocket and drove off.

The graduation ceremony was outdoors. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining and the temperature was mild. The graduates were seated in the front section of seats. He tried to pick out his sister among them, but he couldn’t recognize her within the sea of blue hats.

Once he was seated and the speeches began, Namjoon pulled the cufflink from his pocket and tried to fix it one last time. The tiny latch was broken, and Namjoon only made it worse by detaching the little screw and dropping it into the grass. He supposed he didn’t like this pair very much anyway.

The keynote speaker stepped up to the podium and began his speech. The audience cheered when they saw him. Namjoon saw several women throughout the audience swoon and giggle. He smiled and rolled his eyes. Jin just had that effect on people.

Jin’s speech was long and didn’t make any sense, but Namjoon figured the audience wouldn’t care. He was a celebrity and a handsome face, people were just happy to see him in person.

Finally, the graduates were announced and their degrees were given. Namjoon cheered loudly when his sister walked across the stage. After the hats were thrown into the air, Namjoon stood up to find his sister.

Families were mingling and taking pictures all around him, but he found her easily enough.

“Congratulations,” he said, hugging her tight.

“Thank you,” said Geongmin. “If only graduation was tomorrow instead of today.”

“I know,” said Namjoon, pulling away from her and grimacing. It really was a shame that their mother would miss Geongmin’s graduation by only a day.

“Are you going to find Jin?” she asked. Namjoon nodded. He had been friends with Jin since they were children, at least until Jin started getting famous.

“You better hurry, before his security team whisks him away,” Geongmin said with a giggle.

“You’ll let me take you out for dinner, right?” Namjoon asked.

Geongmin grimaced and said, “Well, I was supposed to go out with some friends…”

Namjoon held up his hands and laughed, “I figured. Another time then. Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, waving before bounding away to find her friends. Then she turned around and shouted, “Maybe tomorrow, when mom gets home!”

Namjoon chuckled and made his way behind the stage, where his friend was waiting for him. Jin greeted him with open arms and a charming smile.

“Namjoon!” Jin shouted, hugging him tightly. “Is your sister joining us for dinner?”

“No, she’s with friends tonight,” said Namjoon.

“Right, of course,” said Jin. “Well, let’s get to it.”

The restaurant was way fancier than anything Namjoon’s ever stepped into, but Jin seemed right at home. The hostess knew him and sat them immediately.

Once they were seated, Namjoon said, “I was going to wait to bring this up with you, but now that we’re alone-“

“Oh my god, are you about to ask me out or something?” Jin asked. “We agreed we wouldn’t work out as a couple.”

“What? No, Jin…” Namjoon stared at him. “No.”

“Okay, please continue then,” said Jin.

“I have a job for us,” said Namjoon. Now it was Jin’s turn to stare, lowering his voice once his shock wore off.

“Joon-ah, are you sure about this?” asked Jin. “I thought you said you would never get into this business.”

“Jin, do you know a man named Cliff Hawthorne?” Namjoon asked.

“Of course,” said Jin. “He produced half my movies.”

“He has something I want,” said Namjoon. “I have a plan to get it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jin said, holding up his hands. They paused in their conversation as the waitress set down their drinks and appetizer. As soon as she left, Jin continued. “Why are you doing this? Why Hawthorne? I though you said you would never get into the family business. I said I wouldn’t get into the family business.”

Namjoon eyed his friend.

“Are you in or not?” he asked.

“Well, you haven’t even told me what your plan is, so I guess I haven’t decided yet,” Jin said with a wave of his hand. He crossed his arms and leaned back.

“I was watching the news yesterday and there was a story about a party Hawthorne is throwing,” said Namjoon. “Have you heard anything about his party?”

“I may have heard about it,” Jin said.

“Anyway, they showed his face and I immediately recognized him,” said Namjoon. “He’s famous, but he’s hardly ever on TV. Do you know why I recognized him?”

“Namjoon, you’re driving me crazy here, just tell me,” said Jin.

“I recognized him because he was my father’s best friend when I was growing up,” said Namjoon. Jin went silent and knitted his eyebrows. “I recognized him because he’s the man that killed my father.”

Jin’s eyes went wide. “But… I thought…”

“Hawthorne is Montgomery,” said Namjoon.

Jin closed his mouth and stared for a few moments. He slowly took a sip from his wine and then said, “So this is revenge. Namjoon, I don’t know…”

“I won’t kill him,” said Namjoon. “Everyone gets out of this job safe, but we’ll have the one thing he’s been keeping for himself all this time.”

“You’re not thinking about stealing the-“

“That’s right,” said Namjoon. “The Sky’s Eye.”

“Were you going to talk about this with your sister here if she had come?” Jin asked with a chuckle.

“No, definitely not,” said Namjoon. “She’d never let me go through with this.”

“Alright, well you have my attention,” said Jin. The waitress came back to set down their entrées, and as soon as she left, Jin spoke again. “I assume you have a plan?”

Namjoon nodded. “I do. But we’ll need a team.”

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dewitty1 · 3 years

Link

Muggle Technology and Heroism

TommyLane

Chapters: 16/16 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Roommates, Pining, Squirt Gun Fights, James Bond Fanboy!Draco Malfoy, Sharing a Bed, Explicit Sexual Content, Drinking and Dancing, A Five Step Plan of Seduction, A Mysterious Absence Of Plot Outside Of Their Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Angst and Humor Summary:

Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly the best roommate Harry’s ever had. The man tended to watch way too much James Bond and his obsession with muggle technology not only rivaled Arthur Weasley’s but more often than not ended with Harry trying to assure him that the appliances weren’t out to get him. Then there was the little fact that Harry was hopelessly in love with him while Draco remained completely unaware, bringing nameless men home night after night.

But Harry loved his life and was somewhat (as long as he doesn’t actually think about it) content enough in the way things were going. That is until Draco’s old boyfriend comes sweeping back into town – making Draco breakfast and fixing the remote control before Harry can and forcing him to realize that if he doesn’t do something soon, that he might lose the man he loves before he even gets a chance to ever actually have him.

Excerpt:

It was odd to think that maybe he had learned the most about the other man by watching him watch James Bond. Learned the most by the things he purchased and how he used them to relate to Harry… “Draco, the thing is…you’re a bit difficult to understand, you know. You always have been, you were always good at keeping me guessing. Even when we were young, but I think it’s worse now. Harder…to really know what you’re thinking.” Draco frowned at his drink, a deep line carved into his forehead. “It’s called having decorum Potter.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you just don’t know how to say what you’re thinking…what your feeling.” The blonde shifted before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Is this about me fucking around again? Your odd roundabout way of telling me I’m a slut with some sort of emotional complex?” “No.” “Good. I don’t much care for that word.” “Slut?” “Complex, makes me think of fucking shrinks and their idiot views on the way my mind turns.” Draco flicked the cap he had been rolling absentmindedly between his fingers into the grass, a sneer on his lips that hinted that maybe there had been psychiatrists in his past - making him lay on leather couches and trying to analyze him as he glared and told them to fuck off in a number of different languages. The mental image lurched both painful and humorous in his stomach, a small smile contending on his lips as he pictured a younger Draco with his snarky mouth and petulant air. He never would have put himself in therapy, it had to have been a part of his parole after the war. God, Harry almost felt sorry for the men and women who had been assigned to his case. But he was getting sidetracked with his hands sweating against his leg, his heart pounding in his chest, and he needed to stop mentally stalling and gather his courage and do what he should have done days ago. Weeks ago. Months ago. Years ago… He fidgeted as he fingered the bottle and cleared his throat. “Well in any case I’m not talking about all the men. Or about Ethan. I’m talking about you and…and me.” Draco silently shifted his gaze to meet Harry’s, his lips wet from the beer and his eyes heavy, his jaw sliding forward like he was physically blocking his mouth from forming any audible words. He looked determined and lost, confused and uncertain all at the same time. Harry smiled softly, his fingers reaching to lightly touch Draco’s jaw, his courage pumping stronger, pulling him deeper when the other man didn’t pull away - didn’t even look away, not for a second, his gray eyes darkening and drowning out the sound of nature around them. “Harry -” His voice quivered with uncertainly, his eyes darting down as Harry brushed his thumb along the outer swell of the other man’s bottom lip. “I still remember where we were when things changed for me. We were at Pansy’s, I think it was her birthday and you were wearing those navy robes -” “I don’t wear navy.” Draco interjected and Harry grinned as he felt his body tip nearer, his blood pumping hot through his veins and in his ears and he wondered if Draco could hear it. If he could hear the beat of his heart, the thrum in his blood. He wondered if Draco felt it rushing through his own body in a matching rush of nerves and excited anticipation. They were a match in so many things, opposites in everything else, aligning perfectly, complementing wonderfully. Where Harry lacked Draco stood strong and the same was true for the other way around….and in this, Merlin, Harry could only pray they matched. “You did. They were new, you kept tugging at the sleeve when you thought no one was looking and you unbuttoned the top collar as we were talking. You were complaining about the increased price of Chinese chomping cabbage.” The sun had been shining hot, Draco’s face had been flushed a lovely pink, his tone an exasperated huff as he batted at invisible insects and tried to not pull on the collar of his robes that Harry was pretty sure had been a gift from someone. The back garden had been crowded with few people he knew and dozens that Draco did but still the blonde sequestered himself against a tree and chose to lament his potion sells because of the damn fucking cabbage to Harry. They had ended up drinking too much and Draco had smiled sloppily over at him as they snuck round the house and into the wine cellar - where Draco preceded to unburden Pansy’s family of various bottles of prestigious vintage. It was the night Draco vowed to turn Harry into a wine aficionado (or at least not such of an uncultured plebeian who thought wine from a box was quite good). The night Harry had tasted his first Merlot that he actually liked and the night he had shown Draco his first film (Dr. No…which in hindsight probably wasn’t the wisest move). The night he finally admitted to himself as he listened to Draco huff and rant and swat at flies that he had fallen for the other man. “Chomping cabbage?” Draco murmured and Harry could have sworn that the other man’s breath was a little shallower, his cheeks just a little pinker. “That…that was years ago.” Harry nodded and lifted his gaze from Draco’s lips to his eyes. “Yes.” Draco sucked in a breath and blinked quickly, the sun sinking beneath the horizon in one last splash of dying color around them. “You’re being rather enigmatic, Potter. It’s highly unnerving.” He whispered. “No, it’s simply really.” Harry leaned closer as he repeated his words from earlier at the tailors, his thumb brushing along the blondes jaw before slipping his hand down to curve possessively around the back of the man’s neck. He tipped his head, bringing them close enough that their breath mingled and warmed the space between them as he visually traced the sharp angles of his cheeks, the slightly parted fullness of his lips, his impossible gray eyes - the flecks of blue and gold bright up close. “Don’t be with Ethan. Because things have changed. For a long time…I’ve wanted…” He trailed off and swallowed, his courage faltering even though there was no turning back - not with his hand holding his face, his gaze full of the words that weren’t coming off his tongue but with the half confession ringing loud and clear between them anyway. Not with their lips nearly brushing and Draco’s eyelashes fluttering like he couldn’t decide if he should close them or stare wide eyed at him until he inevitably went crossed eyed. “What do you want?” Draco breathed and there was nothing hard or needled about his tone - his voice flayed open and making Harry’s heart constrict as something fluttered in his stomach. “You know. You have to know already…” He murmured in a breathy gush that pushed out of him and before he could ruin it with his own fumbling stutters, Harry breathed deep and did what he’d been dying to do for years now - he leaned in and kissed him, slanting his lips over Draco’s whose parted in a breath of surprise that got muffled and lost inside him. He distantly heard and felt Draco’s drink clatter to the ground as his grip slipped and spilled beer over the ground, his pale hand pressing flat against Harry’s chest like he was going to push him away for all but a moment before his fingers curled tight into his shirt - scratching his skin and heightening his senses further. Using his free hand, Harry’s fingers found their way into Draco’s hair, twisting in the silky locks and pulling gently, his mouth opening wider as Draco’s nails sank deeper, his heart soaring with the feel and taste and reality that he wasn’t being shoved away. He pressed closer, savored Draco’s quiet gasp, his tongue sneaking out to press against his as he kissed him harder, deeper, closer - his hands trying to tug him ever nearer as Draco let out a strangled broken sound. “Harry…” He whispered in a dizzy sort of manner, his hand that wasn’t squished between them coming up to rest tentatively against Harry’s cheek - first one finger, then two, the third tapping in an offbeat rhythm. Trembling. “Don’t be with him. Or anyone else.” Harry muttered between kisses with Draco’s eyes squeezed tightly closed, his lashes dusting his cheeks. “Be with me.” There were more words on his tongue, things that needed to be said, that needed to be made clear, but the man’s lips were like a drug and he was instantly addicted - every nerve in his body catching fire as the other man tensed, let out another soft sound that cracked in the middle, and pressed closer on his own accord. Kissing him. Draco Malfoy was kissing him and for once Harry wasn’t dreaming.

♡*(ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡⋆*ೃ:.✧

#Muggle Technology and Heroism #TommyLane #drarry fic rec #fic rec #Drarry fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp fic rec #Draco Malfoy #Harry potter #OMG Thery were roommates #pininig #angst #fluff #drarry fluff #Carey's bookmark fic recs #carey's personal bookmarks #Drarry #Drarry squad

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Jeon Jungkook ~ Fight Or Flight [M]

➳➳➳Word Count: 2,444

➳➳➳Paring: Pilot!Jungkook x Stewardess!Reader

➳➳➳Genre: Smut, AU, Fluffy!!

➳➳➳A/N: It’s becoming increasingly uncomfortable that I suck at names

Your relationship with Jungkook had to be kept private and a huge secret, if anyone higher up in the JK International found out you would both be fired for disobeying the contracted. It strictly prohibited any members of staff from dating but it didn't stop you and Jungkook, you started off as a one night stand thanks to a layover in America and it slowly began to grow into a blossoming relationship. You were both terrified of losing the jobs you loved but at the same time if it came down to choosing him or your job you would give up the job for him without a second thought about it.

"Good morning and welcome to JK International." You said to every passenger that came on board that morning, Jungkook was standing beside you and greeting everyone as they passed him. This was something your company insisted upon, greeting everyone that boarded with the Pilots included.

"Hi, Mr Garrison, new hairstyle?" You questioned one of the customers you saw on a regular basis, he smiled at you and threw his arms around your waist and rubbing the small of your back, something you found creepy at first but adapted to once you saw his Husband travelling with him.

"It is, so nice of you to notice, I'll see you later." He walked away sending you a wink and going to his assigned seat in first class where you would be working that flight.

"Mr Andrews, it's so nice to see you back with JK International." You smiled at the man and he chuckled taking your hands in his and rubbing them, you saw Jungkook tense from the corner of your eye and you ignored it continuing to talk to Mr Andrews who was one of the earliest customers that JK International had.

"I'm glad to be back, is this one of the new pilots?" He eyed Jungkook up and down and you giggled shaking your head,

"No, he's one of the first pilots JK International had, we're very lucky to have him." Mr Andrews smiled at Jungkook and shook his head,

"Thank you for flying us today." Jungkook nodded and Andrews turned back to look at you,

"I'll see you back there young lady." He walked away and Jungkook relaxed a little more only to tense back up the next time a male customer greeted you or complimented you.

"It must be so hard being a stewardess." Mr Andrews said later in the flight, you were pouring him a whiskey when he struck up a conversation with you. Jungkook had come out from the Pilots bay to stretch since his shift was over and caught you smiling at the man.

"Why's that?" You questioned setting down the drink and getting him a napkin,

"You have no time for relationships, and I bet you're frustrated," You laughed off his crude comment and stood up straight seeing Jungkook watching you from the door,

"Good afternoon Captain," You teased walking past him and purposively pushing your ass against his crotch, you knew how wild the uniform you had to wear drove him. It was a red pencil skirt and matching blazer with a white button-up blouse that showed off just the right amount of cleavage and it drove him crazy, whenever he saw you in it he wanted to pin you to the wall and have his way with you but of course, you couldn't do that on a plane full of passengers.

"Good afternoon Miss Y/l/n," He greeted, once he was sure no one was looking he joined you behind the curtain in the small kitchen and pressed his hard-on against you,

"You're killing me here." He whispered in your ear and you smirked pushing back against him and swinging your hips just a little, it was probably the lower amount of oxygen getting into your bloodstream and brain that was making you both more aroused but you didn't care, you needed him more than words could express.

"Four more hours." He whispered to you in your other ear, his hand trailing up your exposed thigh and stopping just where your skirt sat,

"And you're all mine." He bit down on your ear and walked away going to talk to other customers that were sitting in the first-class bay. You went back to serving Mr Andrews and he began making his regular comments at you, so you flirted back playfully like you always did.

Those last four hours dragged as though they didn't want to pass and you only grew more uncomfortable with how Jungkook had left you in the kitchen,

"Thank you for flying with us, please come again soon." You said to a couple who were leaving, Jungkook was standing beside you again and watching as you said goodbye to each of the customers when it came to Mr Andrews he froze in place watching how you interacted with him,

"Thank you so much, I always love coming on board to you." Mr Andrews chuckled handing you a roll of money and walking away, you took it from your hand and walked it over to the kitchen bay, Jungkook followed you in silence watching as you took the money and put it into a jar in the cupboard. Whenever you or the other stewardesses were given money from generous customers you put it into the jar and made plans to deal it out at the end of the year.

"Why did he pay you?" Jungkook asked in an authoritative tone, you turned to look at him with your hand over your chest you hadn't heard him following you.

"It's a tip," You told him and he scoffed,

"I'd like to give that man a tip, stay away from you. You're fucking mine." He grumbled as you walked off the plane together, you were beyond tired and wanted to go home to bed but Jungkook had other ideas in mind when he saw how Mr Andrews was acting towards you. It'd been winding him up all day and he was ready to release some stress using you as his favourite pastime, he gripped your elbow and began to briskly walk you towards the pilot's bathroom in the airport.

"Jungkook what if someone sees?" He pushed you through the door into the small bathroom, he slammed and locked the door turning around to face you as you leant back against the cubicle door.

"You've bee flirting with other people all day." He grunted at you and you giggled at him,

"Are you jealous?" He bit his lip and you walked over to the sink in front of you and leant against the marble counter, fixing your makeup and taking off the stupid small hat they made you wear,

"I don't get jealous." He said through gritted teeth watching you from in front of the door and he wanted you there and then.

"I can't help it if people flirt with me." You teased him knowing exactly what to do to get him riled up, his fists clenched by his sides as he watched you applying another layer of lipstick his favourite colour on you as well.

"Do you like it?" You asked as you put your lips together rubbing the lipstick in and he walked over to you pushing you onto your knees and rushing to unbuckle his trousers,

"Don't tease Y/n," He warned as you pulled down his trousers and boxers taking out his length and squeezing him in your hand, you stared up at him with innocent eyes and he grunted hardening in your hand from just the look.

"I don't know what you're talking about captain, I was just doing my job." You giggled but he didn't find it funny, he went to say something when you placed him into your mouth, making your way slowly down his length while staring up at him through your eyelashes. His hands rested in your hair as he added a slight pressure to make you take more than what you thought you could manage, you held your head in place when you felt him at the back of your throat and he started small thrusts until you tapped his leg and pulled him out. A string of saliva dripped down your chin and he smirked at you wiping it from your face and smirking at you,

"You look so fucking good like this." He grunted as you took him back into your mouth, your hand massaging the rest of his length that wouldn't fit into your mouth,

"F-Fuck." He knew he wasn't going to last long, you'd been on his mind all day and he needed you there and then, he pulled you off him and turned you around to face the floor-length mirror that was against the wall.

"I want you to look at yourself while I fuck the life out of you." He whispered in your ear, bending you down and dropping onto his knees. He shimmed the panties down that you were wearing and ran one finger along your folds sending a shiver down your spine and causing you to let out a shaky moan,

"I've barely touched you and yet you're soaking for me." You bit down on your lip before you spoke,

"Who said it's for you." He slapped you across the ass and stood up straight and lifted the skirt over your ass and bunched it around your stomach, without any kind of warning he slammed into you making you scream out his name and grip onto the mirror in front of you.

"Who's it for then?" He grumbled his hips snapping into you at a torturously fast pace you could barley adjust to his size and how he was hitting just the right spot that made your room spin.

"J-Jungkook please," You pleaded for him to slow down with you but he couldn't, you'd made him mad all day and you'd just made it worse,

"Who do you belong to?" You stayed silent trying not to scream out anymore, anyone could walk past that door hear you, his hand wrapped around the ponytail and he pulled your head back roughly, the new arch in your back sending you wild,

"You. I'm yours. I'm yours Jungkook." You panted, he let go and you fell forward gripping onto the wall for something to hold, his thrusts became slow and guided again, still hitting your spot and making you moan out small moans.

"D-Don't you think you're overreacting?" You whined out and he smirked thrusting into you and holding still making you whine at the sudden lack of movement but you could feel him twitching inside of you.

"Overreaction? Sweetheart, if anything I'm going easy on you." He whispered into your ear pulling all the way out only to thrust back into you making you cry out,

"Maybe if I marked you everyone would know to leave you alone?" He questioned he moved you to the side of the marble countertop, lifting one of your legs to rest on there so he could thrust up into you and so he would have better access to your neck,

"Would you like that? Hmm, I can feel you clenching baby." He chuckled as you clenched around him at the thought of him marking you for everyone to see. It was something you were normally really cautious about since you weren't supposed to date.

"You want me to mark you?" You began nodding frantically and he moved closer to your neck, his lips hovering above the skin so close you could smell the mint from his chewing gum.

"Beg for it." He whispered into your ear and you turned to jelly, your legs were already shaking from the slow yet rough thrusts and now he was whispering in your ear,

"Please, Kookie. I need you to mark me." But he hadn't moved, you whined out.

"Make everyone know I belong to someone, please Kookie." He smirked at you and kissed the bottom of your neck sucking harshly on the skin attacking your neck,

"Mmm Fuck." You pressed your hips back to have him deeper inside of you and his breathing was getting heavy meaning he was close, he laughed at you as you silently begged for him to start fucking you faster,

"Use your words." Just as you were about to beg for him to continue someone tried to walk into the room, Jungkook slapped his hand over your mouth and stared at you in the mirror with a look of evil across his face.

"Sorry, won't be a minute." Your eyes widened when you realised what he was doing, he smirked at you in the mirror his thrusts became more calculated and fast his hips slapping against you at a rigorous pace that had your eyes rolling and you biting on his hands to stop the moans from escaping your lips.

"Hmm you're already close aren't you?" He whispered to you as you clenched around him your eyes tightened shut and he shook your head to make you open them again,

"I want you to look at me when you cum around my cock." He grunted glad you were close because he was fast approaching his finish it always shocked you how quickly he could get you to cum but you clenched around him again and locked eyes.

"Cum whenever you need baby." He whispered into your ear as he continued his thrusts you were sure whoever was on the outside of the door could hear the sound of your skin hitting but you didn't care, your stomach was tightening with each deep hit,

"K-Kookie." You managed to moan through his hands as you came undone around him, gripping him tightly and sending him over the edge, he continued to thrust into you to ride out both of your highs and he stayed still once he was finished making you clench around him.

"Fuck." You giggled as he pulled out rushing into the stall to get you some toilet roll to clean up with and then you straightened your uniform.

"You okay?" He asked and you nodded your legs were a little shakey from the angle and orgasm but you were good. He unlocked the door and you walked out first earning some dirty looks from another pilot standing there.

"She ruined her uniform, was helping her clean it." Jungkook said as he watched the man enter the stall, he chuckled and pulled you out to where his car was parked.

"I love you." You giggled at him as you walked into the parking lot, he smiled back at you,

"I love you too."

Tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @yourguessisasgoodasminemate @kpopfanfictionhoes @btsiguess-kpop @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii

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mochiyoonfi · 3 years

Text

Our Utopia

Synopsis: Y/n is an Idol Trainee under the same company as her big brother- Kim Namjoon. But there’s more to her than her angelic voice.

Universe: idol!bts, idol!reader, reader is Namjoon's sister.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, abuse, sexual assault, violence.

A/N: This is a request! Requested by @deereadeer Sorry this took so long!

~ (reader discretion is recommended) ~

Betraying the darkest parts of your heart to strangers was definitely something you wouldn’t recommend. Heart in your throat, you looked across at the judges. The founder of the company had his eyebrow raised, as if asking if you were going to do anything.

Taking a deep breath, you summoned every ounce of your courage and opened your mouth.

As you begin to sing, you feel everyone’s eyes fixed on you. You don’t pay attention to that, only to the thumping feeling of your racing heart.

You close your eyes, putting all the emotion you can manage without breaking down, into your voice.

Suddenly the room around you faded, you saw your darkest fears, the ones you could never talk to someone about. Your worst memories.

Walking through the lush park that you could no longer stomach to see, the gentle air playing with locks of your hair. The three men, strangers to you, who now haunted your nightmares regardless, had come out of nowhere, the darkness around them betraying the darkness of their hearts. And when it was over, they slunk back to nowhere.

You had only been two blocks away from your house.

You were almost home.

But you weren’t.

The frightful attack was just the start of your mentally declining slope. Drugs, alcohol. They became your only comforts. The only thing helping you cope. The shame surrounding your use of them was apparent to only you. No one else knew of your pain. Not even your best friends.

The real saving light to your turmoil came, maybe not when you desperately wanted it to, but it came nonetheless.

Your parents.

Of course you knew that your trusting, caring parents would have never imagined the spiral you had fallen into.

But they tried their best to comfort you regardless. You saw the shame in their eyes though, they couldn’t hide that. Their shame didn’t change the fact they loved you.

You knew that they loved you.

So when they told you to go to rehab, you went willingly. They had to know what was best for you. Because you sure as hell didn’t.

Your eyes slowly trailed up to the judges, resisting the urge to wipe your eyes, unsure of if there were even tears in them.

The judges all had straight faces. For a second your heart sunk.

Maybe you just weren’t good enough.

Was your best not good enough?

The female judge was the first to crack. She turned away and her shoulders began shaking, her hands shooting up to her face. Sobs were torn from her mouth, none too quietly.

The CEO, Bang Shi Hyuk or better known as PD Nim, wasn’t crying or staring almost blankly at you. He was smiling.

“Thank you for auditioning, we’ll get back to you if you’ve made it through.” He stated, voice a little quieter than normal. “You remind me of someone.”

You blinked.

He sighed, realising that you wanted to know who he meant. “You remind me of RM, from BTS. You both speak well and have heartfelt lyrics.”

It was your turn to smile, a sense of pride washing over you. “He’s my brother.”

The judges gasped quietly, the crying woman’s eyes widening. “Why didn’t you tell us beforehand? We would’ve marked you better!”

You shuffled on your feet, fingers playing with each other. “Well…I guess… I..”

“I think Kim Y/n means that she didn’t want to use her brother to make it through the auditions.” Bang Shi Hyuk said, smiling kindly at you.

You nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I want to do it for myself. Not cheat my way through…”

The woman stood up, face contorted somewhere between disbelief and anger. “What if you don’t make it through? Wouldn’t that be worse on your reputation? It wouldn’t even be cheating, it would just be an advantage!”

“I want to do this myself. I’m sure I can.”

Bang Shi Hyuk nodded. “We have your details and contact information. The period of call backs is one to two weeks. Thank you. Goodbye.”

-✥-

“Namjoon’s really good at rapping.”

You were lying on the floor of the practice room at Big Hit Entertainment with five other girls. Not just any girls. These girls were insanely talented— and also the only female idol trainees signed under the same company as the Kpop sensation, BTS, the band your brother was in. You six girls were kind of special in that sense.

“Yeah I know.” You replied, not trying to hide the pride in your voice.

“How come you aren’t good at rapping then?” Aiko asked, her dark eyes fixated on the tv mounted on the wall. You rolled your eyes when you saw that her eyes were solely on your brother. You still weren’t used to the whole ‘worldwide famous brother’ thing.

“Just because my brother is a good rapper doesn’t mean I am too.”

Heeyoung laughed. “Yeah but how can you not even drop a beat?”

Heeyoung was the main rapper in the group, so you weren’t surprised to hear this from her.

“I’m a singer, not a rapper.” You replied.

Ji-Eun smiled softly. Her smile was a welcoming thing to you. She normally was quiet, didn’t smile much and wasn’t very opinionated— a real peacekeeper. When she spoke, she spoke with pure honesty. You had never seen her lie before, at least, not successfully.

“You’re the best singer I’ve ever heard. Better than all those professional singers out there.”

You went red. “J-Ji! You can’t say that!”

Aiko shook her head. “No, she’s right. You’re a real natural talent. Probably even better than Jungkook.”

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook? He’s a senior to us! You can’t insult him like that!”

“Y/n, it’s a compliment to you.” Aiko scoffed, no malice in her voice.

“B-but-!”

A tinkling laugh filled the room and you turned to the source. The lead dancer of your group was grinning up from her phone. “Y/n, you really can’t accept compliments can you?”

“I can accept compliments just fine Luna.” You pouted.

Luna shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe just not in front of us.”

“Baram has no problem accepting compliments. I guess she should do our acceptance speeches.” Aiko stated.

Baram looked up from her phones. Baram smirked instantly. “No, that won’t work. Our modest leader shall accept everything.”

“Accept what?” Luna laughed. “We haven’t even debuted yet!”

Aiko jumped up, thrusting her fist into the air. “Yeah, but I know we’ll do well! Just like BTS! Just like TXT!”

“Yeah but BTS is mainly vocalists. We have two vocals.”

Everyone’s eyes drifted to Baram. She was a known overthinker. Ji-Eun quickly came to the rescue though. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got some of the best dancers I’ve ever known! We’ll rock the industry to their core.”

You grinned. If anyone could energise your group, it was definitely Ji-Eun. “On three! UT-Opia!”

“UT-Opia!”

-✥-

You sat down in your dormitory, ignoring the fact that Aiko was sleeping, quite loudly, in your own bed. You rolled your eyes, throwing a blanket over her and turning on your camera.

You smiled warmly into the camera. “Welcome back, Blisses! I’m Y/n, the leader and main singer of UT-Opia! Today I’ll be talking about the song writing process! First I think of what the song will be about. Normally two themes: Love or sadness. I’m feeling pretty happy right now, so I’ll write about love.”

You talked for maybe five minutes before signing off and turning off the camera. You sighed in relief. Now all you had to do was your afternoon workout, and you would be done for the day.

Aiko stirred from under the blanket. “Oh. Hey Y/n.”

Walking over to her, you smiled lovingly. As much as you loved all the girls equally, you had a soft spot for the maknae, Aiko.

“Hey Aiko.”

She looked over at where your camera was set up, sheets of music and note paper discarded messily. Her brow creased. “Were you filming a daily vlog?”

You nodded.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” She warned.

You laughed unintentionally at this. Here she was, so exhausted from her daily life that she had collapsed into your bed, and slept for who knows how long. And she was telling you to take a break.

“I’m fine Aiko. You, however, look tired. Please sleep well. I’ll wake you when we need to practice.”

Her head immediately fell into the blanket again. “Thanks Y/n.”

You shared a room with Ji-Eun, which you never used. Really, it was more a gesture than anything useful.

You carefully pried open the front door to your actual dorm, being as silent as possible.

“Y/n! You’re back!”

Your brother greeted you with a hug and you couldn’t help but fall into his warm embrace. He smiled at you.

“Where were you? I hope you weren’t practicing all day..”

You grinned and pulled him into another quick hug. “No more than I need to.”

Namjoon sighed. He rustled his short blue hair and eyed your own dyed hair. “Honestly, at this point do we even look like siblings?”

“The price of fame.” You quipped. He laughed slightly.

“The price of keeping your fans happy.”

You turned to him, setting down the cup of coffee you had just begun to make. You studied him with care, studying him for any of his normal nervous habits. But no, he was standing calm and still.

“Don’t you enjoy making your fans happy anymore?”

He looked up from his own cup. He shook his head. “I do. I love making them happy. In fact, they make me happy.”

“I wonder if I’ll be as happy.”

The words came out without any intention to. Your thoughts had somehow managed to scramble themselves and now your older brother was looking at you, bright eyes unable to mask their sympathy.

“I’m sure you’ll be just as successful—if not more. And I’ll always make sure you’re happy.”

You sucked in a breath. “Always?”

“When have I ever not been here for you?”

You didn’t answer his question, knowing if you lied he may be able to tell, somehow. Instead you just nodded, smiled slightly awkwardly.

A gush of breeze raced past you, so fast you couldn’t even see what it was. Well, not really. As sneaky as Taehyung thought himself, the young man from your brother's group was actually not very good at unnoticed movements. In fact it had only taken two days of living with him to know his lying habits, exactly how fake his smile was, and what he did when he was tired. A lot of the time, it was the latter. He never seemed to get a full night's sleep. Often he would knock on your door and you would get out of bed and follow him out onto the deck. Together you would sit in silence, just gazing at the stars.

“Y/n! You hard worker! I’m glad you’re back!”

You smiled at the younger man and brought him in to you for a brief hug. “Ah, I should be saying that to you guys. Promoting a new album is making your schedules busy, eh?”

Namjoon sighed loudly. “It’s hard.” He saw your slightly disappointed face and hurried to correct himself. “It’s always worth it though.”

“Mm. I’ll wait until I see the worth.”

You breath hitched. Min Yoongi, the second oldest in your brothers group, had entered the room. He scratched his neck slowly, eyes trailing to each person's present face. He looked away before he got to you though.

“Oh Yoongi give her some hope.” Taehyung complained.

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s true. I’m just tired right now. Where’s the cereal?”

“Grandpa, it’s 10 at night.” Namjoon groaned.

Yoongi’s upper lip curled downwards in something that resembled disgust. “What’s wrong with cereal at night?” His frown deepened. “And don’t call me grandpa.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How’s your practice going anyway?”

Realising this was directed at you, you looked up into your brothers strong eyes. “I think we’re pretty good! Almost as good as you guys!” You teased.

Namjoon laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You girls are very talented. All we have really is years of work and a massive fan base backing our every move.”

Your eyebrows fell. “We haven’t even debuted yet. Of course we aren’t that successful.”

“You guys still do daily vlogs right?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah Y/n did one this morning.”

Turning to Yoongi, your heart caught slightly. “D-did you watch it?”

He nodded. “It was good. I like the way you write your music. It’s very deep.”

Your heart began pounding, not because of the butterflies catching at the fact that he had been watching you, but now because he had seen you so invested in your music. It almost felt as if you were ripping out pages of a diary you had kept for years and giving it to him to read through.

“Too bad you didn’t do any singing though.”

“I haven’t heard you sing— really sing, I’m so long Y/n.” Namjoon jumped in. “Do you think you could sing for me at some point.”

“Me too!” Taehyung jumped in, reminding you that he was still there.

“Maybe later?” You squeaked.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s fine. I think you should go to bed.”

You sighed. Of course Namjoon had noticed the sleep bags under your eyes. He was too perceptible for his own good sometimes.

“I will. I just need to talk with Jungkook first.”

The three boys nodded. It had become a regular thing, you talking to each of the boys in private every few days. They just assumed that it was for some type of mentoring purposes, as the things you asked about were always vague. But your conversations always turned to a more emotional route.

Because you weren’t there only for their tutoring and mentoring.

-✥-

“Jungkook sunbae?”

“Come in.”

You slowly opened his door, walking in quietly. He was slouched on the floor against his wall, phone in hand. He looked up at you and grinned.

“Hey Y/n. Nice to see you. And for the hundredth time, just call me Jungkook. You’re older than me for goodness sake.”

You laughed, sliding down next to him. “But you have so much more experience than me. It doesn’t feel right addressing you so casually.”

“You’ve been living here for two whole years now. I think we’re pretty good friends at this point.”

“You guys have really blown up over two years.”

He turned off his phone, throwing it and landing it perfectly onto his bed. “And you guys have gotten a lot better at dancing— which to be honest, is astounding seeing how good you were to start with.”

“And your mental health has gotten so much better.”

“It’s only thanks to you.”

You smiled. “I’m glad I can do anything to help you. You didn’t need much helping really, just a gentle push in the right direction. You’ve been strong since I’ve known you.”

“You as well.” Jungkook responded earnestly. “You were really reluctant to move in with us at first.”

A laugh filled the room. “Well you should expect that— A 23 year old moving in with a bunch of men.”

Jungkook shrugged. “I moved in with a bunch of teenagers and young men when I was only young. I guess I had very different experiences to other people.” He looked down at the tattoos running all along the skin of his hands. The word ‘ARMY’ spelt out of his group members' names. “I guess some of those experiences were good though.”

A warm smile washed over your face, lighting up your eyes.

Jungkook was right.

Some experiences were different— and they weren’t all enjoyable.

But some of them were good.

“I’m really glad I came here. Even if I didn’t really want to at first. I’ve learnt so much from you guys. I think I’ve grown a lot more too.”

Jungkook chuckled, ready to poke fun at you after your shared emotional moment. “I hope you don’t mean in height, because that certainly isn’t true.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him slightly as you got up.

He looked slightly crestfallen as you began to exit his room. “Wait I didn’t mean to offend you!”

You giggled. “And you didn’t. I just need to go to bed. I’m tired, Kook.”

A bright grin washed over his face, white teeth popping out in a bunny like expression. “You called me Kook!”

You paused in his doorway. “No..”

Bolting towards, and before you could react he had his arms wrapped around you tightly.

This felt sickeningly similar.

The feeling of being deprived of air.

The world turned to pure black.

“Y/n?”

You blinked.

Right. That was just your memories. This was the present.

And there was no reason for you to be afraid.

Grabbing at Jungkook’s back you found your chin resting on his shoulder. He fidgeted, clearly surprised that you had returned his gesture.

“Yeah I called you Kook. Goodnight, Jungkook. Sleep well.”

He pulled back, even though you were his noona, a few years older than him even, he still stood a large majority taller than yourself. He leant down to press a light kiss onto your forehead. A brotherly action.

You pulled him into another hug quickly before running out of his room, trying in vain to hide your beaming face.

-✥-

“They’re coming over here? Them!” Aiko squealed, not even trying to conceal her inner fangirl.

“Yeah. And one of ‘them’ is my older brother.” You eyed up Aiko’s bouncy stage. “Don’t make it weird.”

Aiko huffed, placing her hands onto her hips, staring at you with a sassy pout. “I've never made things weird.”

Luna jumped up, feeding off Aiko’s overexcited energy. “We can introduce ourselves as a group right? That’ll be so cool! Using our stage names too!”

“You don’t even have a stage name.” Heeyoung pointed out.

Luna thrust a hand at herself dramatically. “My name is so beautiful I need no stage name.”

“Girls! Get ready, they’ve just arrived.” Your manager said offhandedly, obviously not grasping the weight of the rest of your group getting to perform in front of the most famous band in the world.

You all jumped up, standing in a line in front of the door, a few metres back so as to not scare the poor boys.

The door clicked open and a bodyguard stepped inside. He looked around, then stepping forwards and aside, he cleared the way for the tall man behind him to enter.

Your brother smiled softly at you as the rest of the group filed inside slowly. You could hear Aiko practically buzzing when Jimin stepped inside.

“2! 3! Bangtan. Hello, we’re BTS!”

“We know.” Ji-Eun muttered and you had to bite your tongue to suppress a laugh.

You stepped forward, taking in a breath. “Hello! We are UT-Opia!”

At the end for UT-Opia, the other girls joined in so it came out as a chorus.

Your manager waved his hand as if this wasn’t necessary at all. It probably wasn’t, but it made you feel professional.

“Introduce yourselves girls. I’m sure the boys don’t need to.”

Ji-Eun raised her hand. “Manager, I’m sure I’ve told you, I don’t know BTS well at all.”

You giggled. Ji-Eun was ever blunt and honest. Your manager didn’t see this as a virtue though, and hung his face in his hands.

“It’s fine. Hi! I’m RM, rapper and leader of BTS.”

The following six members introduced themselves, to which Ji-Eun noticeably didn’t pay much attention to. Realising it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, mustering your fleeting courage.

“I’m Y/n of UT-Opia. I'm the main vocalist and the leader.”

“I’m K.” Ji-Eun tried dismally to put any emotion into saying her stage name. “I'm the lead rapper and the oldest.”

“Hey! I’m Luna, lead dancer!” Luna accentuated the words ‘lead dancer’ with a flip of her dyed blonde hair.

“I’m Gem and I’m a main dancer.” Baram looked almost starstruck to be talking to BTS. She was normally overly confident and self certain, but right now she looked quite awed.

“I’m Cinnamon, it’s a stage name do not worry, and I’m a main dancer but I prefer the title of-”

Manager tapped his watch. Heeyoung smiled sympathetically at him, but regardless continued her speech. “I’m main dancer but I prefer the title of main rapper.” She looked down at her purple button up shirt and dark tracksuits that somehow looked fashionable. “I’m not as good at dancing as I am at styling.”

You could’ve sworn you heard Manager groan at her final wordings.

“I’m Aiko. I’m the youngest and I’m a sub vocal and also a dancer and sub rapper!”

Manager breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness that’s over. Girls do you have a song you could perform, you know, to show what you can do? The boys can give some pointers or something.”

He looked down hurriedly at his watch. “I’m late to a meeting. Thank you BTS for coming. Please take care of them.”

As soon as the uptight man rushed from the room, Yoongi dropped onto the ground along with Jimin, and on the other end of the room, Heeyoung.

“Let’s get rid of the formalities, alright?” Yoongi asked.

You nodded. “Ji-Eun, their names are Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook, alright?”

She frowned. “I would’ve addressed them by their hair colours if I didn’t know.”

“But unnie-” You began.

Hoseok cut you off with a laugh. “Sorry Y/n for interrupting. Just K has such a lack of care. It’s quite honestly refreshing when everyone treats you like kings of some kind.”

“My name isn’t actually K.” Ji-Eun pointed out. “It’s Ji-Eun. Call me Ji.”

“I’m Baram.” Gem added.

You noticed the boy's eyes trail to Heeyoung. She didn’t comply.

“I’m just Cinnamon. It’s my birth name.”

“Her name is Heeyoung.” You said, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes. “And the air of mystery is gone.”

“So what are you guys gonna perform?” Yoongi asked, eager to hear you sing.

You fiddled with your fingers. “We’re a mainly dance focused group, should we dance?”

“I want to hear you sing though.” Yoongi replied, not enforcing, but softly so he sounded as if he were reassuring you.

“Well.. I-” You begun.

Heeyoung leapt to her feet. “Well? Cmon! Let’s do that song!”

“Heeyoung and Aiko dragged you to your feet. “It’s a good song too!”

“I dunno.” You whispered.

Ji-Eun looked deep into your eyes. “There’s no harm in trying.”

And with that, you were in the middle of the room, a microphone in hand and the rest of your group spread around you.

Aiko pressed the player, turning on a quiet piano track you could remember sitting down and playing to record. It had been emotional by yourself, how would it be with people with you?

You took a deep breath.

No harm in trying.

Focusing on your voice instead of their reactions, you closed your eyes. As the words to your song left your lips, your mind wasn’t in the practice room. You were racing through all your bad memories.

And there was a light at the end of the foggy tunnel of pain.

A way out.

The last time Namjoon had heard you sing was before he went to audition for Bighit Entertainment. A long time ago. You had been just goofing around with him, he was rapping to the song and you were singing. He had showered you with compliments over your voice after that.

Would he still like your voice?

Your eyelids fluttered open. Ji-Eun, Heeyoung, Aiko and Baram were all moving rhythmically around you, moving with the music. Luna was dancing beside you in a smooth flowing form of actions. It wasn’t the normal hip hop or pop dancing she normally did. This was a more sorrow filled format. Her movements were lucid. She noticed you watching and made her way over to you. Her palm drew across your face, sliding your eyelids shut.

Only when you felt the moisture on her palm slide across your face did you realise you were crying. So much emotion was being poured into your voice that you hadn’t kept a tight enough lid on how you were acting physically.

You didn’t make the motion to wipe off your tears though.

The tears, the pain— they were part of your song.

Part of your life.

As the song drew to a close, your eyes opened again to see the astounded faces of the members of BTS. Yoongi’s eyes were wide and it seemed as if there was a slight sheen to them, a small amount of moisture. Hoseok, Jimin and Jin all looked amazed, and slightly guilty that you were crying. Jungkook and Taehyung were both blinking back tears. They had needed you a lot more than the others in your years of helping them with their mental health and hated seeing you upset.

The boys all had the same look of adoration and amazement plastered onto their faces. They were blown away by your voice, your emotion. By you.

Your brother was astounded though. A wave of emotions seemed to be rippling through his expressions all at once. It was a relief to hear your sweet voice once again, lifting and filling up the room as you sing your heart out. Pride overwhelmed him.

He was proud of you, of your voice. Of your emotions.

You fetched some drink bottles and took the chance to dry your eyes, handing a bottle to each member of your group.

“That was a really good song.” Yoongi noted. “The piano was superb as well. The lyrics.. they were really deep and heartfelt.

Aiko smiled. “That’s our Y/n writing and playing that song!”

Namjoon blinked slowly. “You wrote that song?”

“Y-yeah.” You gulped. Maybe he didn’t like it after all. “It’s not very good but-“

“Are you kidding me?” Namjoon yelped. “It was so good! The lyrics were so deep as Yoongi said! I can’t believe you’re such a good writer!”

You flushed a shade of crimson. “I-I-I thank you.”

“What is…” Yoongi’s voice trailed off. He peered at the moisture still in your reddened eyes. “Never mind.”

You flashed an okay-then smile at him and turned back to listen to how Hoseok and Jimin were critiquing their dancing— even though they would be the first to admit there was hardly anything to criticize. Jungkook began talking to you about some singing tips and you immersed yourself back into real life again. Pulling your mind out of your over active imagination.

-✥-

A nock came on your door when it was already late at night. In fact, if you stuck to your schedule you would already be in bed. But you found yourself sitting in your room, writing out lyrics to a song that you didn’t even need to write. You slowly opened the door, shutting off your light first so it looked as if you were about to go to bed, and not ignoring your schedule.

“Sorry Y/n. I know it’s a bit late.”

Yoongi stood in the hallway, shifting awkwardly, his eyes in contrast shon with a determination.

You felt your stomach fill with butterflies and you tried to quench the feeling. “No, it’s fine. What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. I just...I wanted to ask a question.”

“Fire away.”

He shook his head slightly. “Well it’s not just a casual question. And I want to make sure I’m not invading your privacy. But it’s about the song you sung earlier.”

You felt your heart drop, blood running cold while simultaneously goosebumps spiked onto your skin.

“You seemed very emotional.. not even seemed. You cried and I really want to know why. I just feel that if I wait any longer to ask you, it’ll be too late. Now feels like the right time.”

Sighing, you knew he was right. You couldn’t hide your demons forever. Even though you had talked to your therapist a bit about the incident, you had never gone into depth about it with your parents. You had never even told Namjoon. Your brother had no idea that it had happened.

And it was time that he knew.

“Can you go get Namjoon? I’m not ready to tell the others yet.”

You were really close to Yoongi, the time that you had spent in their housing really grew you close to him. He had picked up on your main reason for being there almost the third time you had talked to him. He didn't mind that you were partially there just to help their mental health.

When you first moved in he hadn’t been at his best, stressed over the band’s popularity and success. His OCD was worse than ever.

More upset than the others, you were eager to help him get back on his feet. At first however, Yoongi was cold to you. He didn’t think he needed your help. He could fix it himself.

And he thought you were stuck up and arrogant to think that you could help him. After all, you were only 25 years old. Who were you to help him?

But slowly and surely with your help, he managed to get a hand on his health. He accepted that you could help him. It came to a time when he was happy to talk to you, and looked forward to it even.

Telling them was hard, but it felt freeing. Like a weight you had been carrying for the past eight years was lifted. As if you had been chained to your trauma and couldn’t get free, and now the locks were opened.

“You were attacked?” Namjoon almost yelled. You shushed him, nodding. Even though Yoongi had told the other boys not to enter the recording studio, you didn’t want to run any risks of them hearing regardless.

“The place is sound proofed Y/n, don’t worry.” Namjoon looked apologetic, as if by yelling he had upset you somehow. “But you were attacked? When was this?!”

“When I was seventeen…”

He immediately let out a cry. “You never told me? I could’ve helped you! Did the person ever get caught? Held accountable?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t a person… it was three men.”

Namjoon swore loudly. “Multiple people? Attacking a fucking teenager? Who the fuck do they think they are? Who are they Y/n?”

You felt someone’s warm hand slip into yours, giving your own a tight reassuring squeeze. You noticed you were trembling slightly. It wasn’t from Namjoon raising his voice. It was from realising the weight of what had happened to you, that had suddenly come crashing down onto your mind.

You kept your gaze focused on Yoongi’s hand grasping yours, trying not to look at your astonished brother's face.

“I… I don’t know. They.. weren’t found.”

Namjoon let out a loud growl. “So the authorities can’t even do their job and find these degenerates? Fuck them.”

“N-Namjoon they’re trying their best! It’s not their fault…”

A wave of sympathy and guilt washed over his face. “It’s not your fault either Y/n! It’s those stupid bastards fault!”

You held your free hand up to quiet him. “Namjoon, I know it’s not my fault.”

His eyes narrowed, staring deep beyond your skin. “You’re so different Y/n… I shouldn’t have left you. You’ve changed so much from the little girl I left in Ilsan.”

You shook your head. “I changed at first after the attack. When I miscarried my child,”

You heard the boys intake of breath when they heard miscarriage. Namjoon didn’t know that you had been pregnant. YOUR PARENTS DIDN'T KNOW. How could you talk about this without crying? Without breaking down?

It was so hard to think about let alone talk to someone else about. But it was your brother. He had a right to know. And you wanted him to know.

“I-it really changed me. I thought.. maybe I was to blame for my child’s death. After all, I was the mother.. I was meant to take care of my baby. And I didn’t.”

“Y-your child..?” Namjoon whispered.

The present had faded into a fog. It was if you were standing in the dark, pure silence enveloping you. All you could hear was your thoughts, booming louder than you could control.

Your child.

Yoongi softly touched your arm. “Y/n? You were.. pregnant when you were attacked?”

You shook your head slowly. “The attack.. I got pregnant after..”

The words clicked inside Yoongi and Namjoon’s minds, sudden rage boiling through them.

The child you had carried inside you. The innocent victim of ruthless men, who you were just as bad as. It wasn’t the child’s fault. You had decided to keep it after you were found to be pregnant, hoping that you would be able to provide the child a life better than it’s conception.

You found out only months later that due to complications of your physical and mental health sustained after the attack— the poor infant had died before even reaching half term.

You had failed them.

“Y/n.. it’s not your fault.” Yoongi murmured. “You couldn’t stop them from attacking you, you weren’t to know… it’s in no way your fault. It’s so brave that you kept the baby...”

You shook your head, hands coming up to wipe tears from your eyes. “I was the mother! How could I fail my baby? It wasn’t their fault that their father was a c-criminal! It wasn’t their fault that they were conceived from an assault! They were innocent! T-There’s always a way to save someone!”

Namjoon grabbed your hands in his. “Y/n, it isn’t your fault. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, that you still feel guilt. You were so brave to try and give them a life anyway, even if it hurt you. You shouldn’t feel any guilt. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. I love you, Y/n. And I’m here for you.”

You sniffled softly, glad for your brother's presence.

He was right.

You knew that.

You had known that for years. But it took someone else saying that for you to finally realise it was true.

It wasn’t your fault.

“Do you feel alright to continue, Y/n?” Yoongi murmured, an empathetic expression washing over his face. “We can take a break if you want…”

“No.” You smiled slightly, Yoongi’s caring side more than enough to reassure that you were safe. “I’m alright.”

Taking a deep breath, you continued your story. “I-I got addicted to drugs. I was completely off the rails, trying my best to cope with something I couldn’t handle. It was destroying me from the inside out. Eating away at my physical health as well as my mental state. My-... our parents, found out a little while after. I didn’t last that long before they discovered what happened.”

“They knew?” Namjoon cried, his choice cracking. “Why did no one tell me? I should’ve known! I would’ve helped you!”

You shook your head, tears filling your eyes. “You don’t understand Namjoon! If I would’ve told you you would’ve left BTS! You would’ve come back home!”

“Well yes! Of course!” Namjoon replied.

“I couldn't let you give up your dreams for me! I couldn’t be responsible for ruining my brother's life! Not when our parents were already so shocked and upset to hear the news! Mum was always so supportive to both of us! She tried her best to make me happy and comfortable! But it got to the point where they couldn’t handle it anymore.. they sent me to rehab.”

“Rehab?” Yoongi asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded. “It really helped me. The people there were so kind. It took me a while, but I finally recovered.”

Namjoon’s heart had been thumping in his chest for the past ten minutes. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone had dared to hurt his little sister. By all accounts, to him she was perfect. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to hurt her.

“I should’ve been there for you! I’m your older brother and I didn’t even get to support you! I didn’t get the chance.”

You felt your heart shaking within you. “N-Namjoon? I have to tell you something else too.”

Namjoon and Yoongi looked at you, nervous for whatever you were going to say. You took a deep, shaky breath.

“You know the people you were in a rap group with back at Ilsan?”

Namjoon’s heart stopped.

“T-they were the ones who attacked me.”

Anger flared inside Namjoon’s eyes. “My former friends?! Attacked you?”

You nodded reluctantly.

His head fell into his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’ll kill them.”

You both turned to Yoongi, whose jaw was set in determination. “I’ll kill them.” He repeated, his eyes focused solely on you.

Namjoon quickly jumped in. “Me too. Those sick bastards think they can get away with hurting my sister? I-I-”

“No.” You whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Namjoon snapped. “I never knew that you were this hurt! How could you be fine?”

“Rehab really cleared my head.. I finally got a chance to step back and for the first time in possibly years, think about what I wanted.”

“Y/n…”

Yoongi’s soft eyes were focused solely on you, in a way that would normally cause your heart to do somersaults. But not right now. The tension in the room was thick, the atmosphere that of a depressing one.

“You’re a fighter.”

You hadn't expected this response. You had expected some form of criticism, for him to tell you on for subbumcing so easily to the quick way to no pain.

You get your heart squeezing. You had never talked in depth about your feelings to your parents, but right now you would be willing to open your heart to Yoongi.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Sure, when you first got here I thought you were a snob, someone stuck up and ready to have the world handed to them simply for Namjoon’s achievements.”

Namjoon’s brow creased. “Watch how you talk about my sister hyung-”

“It’s alright.” You reassured him. “I trust his words mean no harm.”

Yoongi nodded instantly. “My views on you quickly changed. You cared for each of us, even if initially it was solely as a favour to Hitman Bang. And we began to care deeply for you. Because no matter what you’ve been through, no matter what tears you’ve shed and for what reasons, you always will mean so much to us. So much more than you can imagine.”

Yoongi wiped a tear from forming on the corner of his eye. He smiled sadly at you, regardless of the simplicity of the gesture, a wave of emotions spread through the one smile, rejuvenating and replenishing your drive, your focus.

“You deserve your happiness.”

You turned to the small voice.

He had spoken so much quieter than you had ever heard him speak before, the raw feelings in his voice transparent. “You deserve to be happy. You’ve been working so hard. You can’t just sacrifice your happiness for the benefit of others. I remember when we were growing up, you used to always make sure that I was okay if anything happened. Y/n, I’m your older brother. It’s okay to rely on me for support sometimes. You need me just as much as I need you. And that’s not a bad thing.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You threw yourself against Namjoon’s chest, grabbing his back tightly, clasping him as if you could never let go.

“Y/n…”

You tried in vain to wipe your tears from your eyes, looking up at his strong face.

“It’s okay to cry. You don’t always have to smile. You’re still strong. And I’ll still love you anyway. You’re still my sister.”

You buried your face into his toned chest again. “N-Namjoon..I-I-I love you too.” You sniffled.

He gripped you tightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s not your fault, Namjoon. It’s only their fault. Please don’t feel guilty.”

Pulling away from you, he wiped the tears off your moist cheeks. “Okay Y/n. For you, anything.”

A small cough was interjected into the comfortable silence of the room, reminding you that Yoongi was still there. Both you and your brother turned to him. His eyes were soft and empathetic, as if he didn’t want to spoil the moment, but couldn't wait any longer.

“C-can I please talk to Y/n alone?”

Namjoon considered his hyung. While he didn’t really want to leave his sisters side, he knew that Yoongi wouldn’t ask it he wouldn’t take care of her. Namjoon knew he could trust him.

“Okay.” He relented. “Y/n, I love you. Just say if you need anything.”

On his way out he grabbed Yoongi’s shoulder bringing the older man against him.

“Make sure she’s okay. Don’t you dare hurt her.”

Yoongi nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I was in a dark place once. I wasn’t happy. It felt like the world was against me.”

Now that you were alone with Yoongi, he seemed a lot less cold, and a lot more caring. The off putting gaze he had on accident given you multiple times was replaced with soft eyes that seemed to drip honey.

“I got through it. And I’m heaps weaker than you. I don’t have the mental endurance that you have, nor the fighting spirit. If anyone can overcome this situation— it’s you.”

You wiped your eyes with your hands. It was so reassuring to have someone believe in you. To have someone who was backing you up.

“You know, I can’t believe how strong you are. To be able to recover from that in just years? And with only really your own strength? I really admire it. It’s amazing.”

You blushed slightly. “I didn’t really have much choice.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the door as if someone might burst in any second.

“Y/n… I shouldn’t be saying this. But I can’t hold onto my feelings any longer. I really like you.”

Your heart began racing and you could feel your skin begin to heat up.

Could Yoongi see how nervous you were?

You hoped he couldn’t.

“I-I-”

He grabbed your hand tightly, making your face flush.

“Y/n, you don’t have to answer me right now. I can wait as long as you need. I would wait forever for you.”

“Y-Yoongi I really like you too. I know I’m not always perfect but I-”

Yoongi’s body fell against yours, his arms wrapping around your frame. He stroked your hair slowly, burying his face in your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be perfect. Your flaws make you humans.” He pulled back slightly, playing with your hair as he looked right through you. “I believe you can overcome your flaws. They don’t make you a bad person. They make you you.”

You giggled slightly. It was weird to hear Yoongi so sweet. Normally he stayed away, his face in a resting serious face. You were so happy to see him smile.

“I’m so glad you like me back. I was so worried.”

“Me too…”

He pulled away one last time, his face weighted with a burden that hadn’t been obvious before. Or had you just not noticed.

“Y/n.. I know your past. So I think it’s time you found out mine.”

Your mouth opened slightly, eyes widening.

“Really? You trust me that much?”

He nodded, grinning. Then he frowned again. “Not all of it will be pretty. I-it might shock you a bit.”

You squeezed his hand that was still in yours. He blushed.

“I’m ready.”

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years

Text

Kick Butt While Falling In Love

Pairing: Surgeon!Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is Dr. Ackles’ patient. They meet during her chemo sessions and become close friends and eventually more.

Requested by a lovely anon (I hope you enjoy this and found the plot alright!): Can you write more doctor Jensen Ackles? I can't think of any plot but Jensen as doctor is very attractive!❤️🙈

Warning: Sick reader, slightly angsty. pretty much it I guess.

A/N: I tried not to make any mistakes. I hope this is alright. If I made any please do let me know. I apologise for that in advance!

Word Count: 1925

Masterlist

❅ ❅ ❅

If anybody told Y/N a year ago that the hospital would practically be her second home, she’d have sent them packing with a swift kick up their butt. She hated hospitals with a steady passion and she hated doctors even more. The very thought of going to a doctor for something as small as the flu was repulsive to her. So you can imagine her horror when she was forced to go weekly for her chemotherapy sessions. But things didn’t end there. It would seem that life had a way of messing with Y/N. Not only was she forced to go to the dreaded location once a week, but she was slowly looking forward to it. And the cherry on top came in the form of a certain green eyed surgeon.

When Y/N first found out that she had a cancerous tumour growing in her, she was, like anyone else, in great shock and pain. She didn’t have anyone in her life. She became an orphan at the age of 16 and foster care didn’t last long. She began to fend for herself as soon as she hit 18. She wasn’t in one place long enough to make friends either. So the thought of cancer did freak her out. She spent years learning to love her life and she didn’t want to lose that. But as the weeks went by she got used to the idea that this was her reality. And things got better when she met the man in charge of her life.

Dr. Jensen Ackles was a gem in the world of stones and that’s putting it lightly. Anyone who interacted with him loved him and those who didn’t, well, let’s just say that they sucked as human beings. He was the most beautiful and considerate man she had ever known. And as time went on, he became her best friend. She didn’t really know how that happened considering that she didn’t have any decent ones. She had colleagues who were cordial to her and that was it. She couldn’t for the life of her fathom what possessed him to become her friend. He was her doctor and the relationship should’ve ended at that. But yet here they were best friends and at the brink of something more.

Y/N remembered the first time Jensen was there for her in ways no one else had. She had just started chemotherapy and it was royally kicking her ass. She already had a minor heart condition so there were risks of heart attacks and the like due to chemo. The drugs given to her took a toll on her big time and she often found herself with her head in the toilet, leading her to lose so much weight as well as her appetite. One particular day Y/N was suffering worse than usual and her chest was aching. She remembered that Jensen had given his personal phone number in case she needed a friend. She was light headed and in pain and she decided to just take a leap of faith and call him.

-Flashback-

“Hi Y/N, is everything okay?” His deep voice came through the phone, immediately calming her a bit.

“J-Jensen I-“ She started breathing heavily.

“Y/N!! Where are you?” He asked frantically.

“H-home.” She managed to get out. She sounded breathless and weak.

“I’ll be there in 15.” He said and cut the call.

True to words, 15mins later Jensen showed up. She struggled to get to the door but managed to open it, but only to fall into his arms. He quickly picked her up and took her to the ambulance waiting outside. Y/N chuckled lightly at that. “S-so dramatic.” She said.

“You scared me, sweetheart. You didn’t sound good and I was clearly right to be scared.” He said trying to stay calm as he put her on the gurney and letting the paramedics fix her to the IV tubes. He rode with her back to the hospital and got her into the emergency room.

-Flashback End-

After everything had calmed down and her condition was brought under control, Jensen stayed beside her the entire time. He did everything to keep her fever down, brought her decent food that was easy on her stomach. He replaced the IV when the drugs were getting low. He even spent the night with her. Since then there was always something developing between them. They became close and Jensen from then on was her best friend and the love of her life (only he didn’t know it yet). He even took on an active role in making sure her chemotherapy went smoothly. He rearranged his schedule around hers. He spent time with her figuring out which medicine worked best, and stayed up with her the nights she spent in the hospital.

That’s where Y/N found herself once more. She had just finished her session for the day. Jensen was in surgery so he couldn’t keep her company like he usually did. So she got through it by listening to music and flipping through a magazine. Just as she was about to leave she got light headed and collapsed.

The nurses rushed to her and put her on a gurney trying to help her. She could barely make out what they were saying. She was in and out of consciousness.

“She’s going into a cardiac arrest. She needs surgery now!” Said one of the doctors.

“We need to page Dr. Ackles!”

“He’s in surgery!”

“Fuck! Let’s take her into the OR and get her prepped. If he isn’t there yet, we need someone else immediately.”

That was the last thing she heard before everything turned black.

__________

Y/N woke up to an insistent beeping noise. She felt something heavy on her hand and she couldn’t move. She slowly blinked her eyes and saw someone resting their head on her bed. Jensen was still in his scrubs and his hair sticking out. He looked exhausted. She gently nudged his hand that was holding hers and he jerked awake.

“Y/N!” He whispered. He quickly got up to check her vitals and began fussing over her. He brought her a cup of water and she gently took a few sips. She then finally looked at him properly and saw that his eyes were red. It looked like he had been crying.

“Jay..” She whispered softly, her throat still sore. “What happened?”

“You had a heart attack, sweetheart.”

“Oh… was it because of all the chemo?”

He nodded at that. “There was a blockage near the heart stopping the blood flow. We managed to get it out. You’re fine now, baby.” He caressed her cheek.

“The last thing I heard was that you were in surgery.”

“Yeah I was, but I was almost done. He was fine and I only needed to close him up. The interns could manage that so I rushed to you. I don’t trust anyone else with your life, baby girl.” He said closing his eyes tight.

“I’m fine Jay. You came in time and I’m fine.” Y/N comforted him.

“Y-yeah” He whispered.

“Jay, what about the tumor?”

“The drugs are working. Chemo’s doing its job and the tumor has shrunk. But we couldn’t remove it just yet. You need another course of chemo before we go in and finish the job.”

Y/N started crying “I don’t want to, It’s too much! Please don’t make me!”

Jensen’s heart broke at that and his face fell. “Y/N...please do this. I know it’s painful and exhausting, honey. But I need you to do this. I need you to get better.”

“Why?! Why does it matter so much to you?” She cried.

“Because I fucking love you!” He said

Y/N was shocked at that admission. She knew there was something there but she never in a billion years thought that he loved her like she loved him.

“I love you so much, and I need you to get better so that we can make this work and maybe live happily ever after like those books you love!” He added.

She just stared dumbly at him. She didn’t know what to say. She was afraid that she'd break his heart. She was at risk and didn’t know if she'd make it.

Her silence broke his heart further. She could see he was regretting his words. So she quickly added, “I’m only going to hurt you, Jay. We don’t know if I’ll make it.”

“You will make it, Y/N.”

“You can’t know that! You deserve someone normal. You deserve someone who is not on death’s bed. Someone who won’t remind you of work all the time. Caz that’s what I am, Jensen! I’m your patient and-” She was interrupted with his lips.

“I know you feel the same, sweetheart. You’re not just my patient. You’re the love of my life. I don’t stay up for any of my patients but you. I don’t do house calls and I sure as hell don’t give them my personal number.” He said with determination in his eyes.

Y/N looked at him wide eyed. She dared hoped that things would work out. She wanted it so badly. She reached out, despite the pain she was in and pulled him down for a fierce kiss.

“I love you too, so damn much” She said looking into his eyes.

He grinned at her and kissed her one last time before tucking her into the blankets. “Rest some, baby. We’ll figure this out ok?”

“Stay.. don’t go.”

“I have to check on the other guy, Y/N.” He said looking sadly at her. To which she nodded in understanding. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise. I’m taking some time off to be with you.”

“You don’t have to..”

“Shh. I want to” he said which made her smile so cutely at him.

But she became serious again, scrunching her eyebrows. “Jay...are you sure it’s going to be okay? I don’t want to die.” Y/N said with a small voice. Jensen felt his heart clench at that. He held her face in his large palms.

“Baby, you’re not going to die ok? Not if I have anything to say about it. You’re going to kick this tumour’s butt and then we’ll run off into the sunset together like a cheesy couple.”

She laughed a little at that. “Okay, I like that plan.”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s very early but move in with me. Please?”

“Yes.”

Jensen kissed her hard and then said, “WHEN you survive this, I’m going to marry you. Don’t want to waste any time.”

“I’d like nothing more, baby” grinned Y/N with tears in her eyes.

Jensen kissed her on the forehead and turned to leave to check on the other patient.

Y/N fell asleep with a huge smile on her face. For the first time in forever she felt like everything was going to be okay. For the first time in her life she felt like she had a family even if it was just Jensen for now. Maybe they’ll make their own family. A big one too. Did she wish she had met him in better circumstances? No. This entire journey made her who she is. She’d go through it all again because the person she is today is the person who Dr. Jensen Ackles fell in love with. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

❅ ❅ ❅

TAGS BELOW

@hobby27 @akshi8278

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x sick!reader #jensen ackles one shot #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #reader insert #female reader #jensen x reader #surgeon!jensen #spn rpf #jensen x you

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 3/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Read on AO3.

January 15th –

He opened his eyes!

He opened his eyes and looked at me!

After hours of waiting in the dark and in the cold, despairing every second and wishing I was dead myself, he opened his eyes.

But it came close to being all for naught because I almost died myself right then and there.

It was good to see him with his eyes wide open, but the golden eyes I loved so much are gone.

These new eyes are white on white, the pupils infinitely dark, the irises torn. They stare without blinking. They look into me, into my soul, it seems. They connect to the love that runs deep within me, to every touch he has ever left on my skin, to every promise we both made.

But they do not recognize me.

Am I, at all, familiar to him?

I don’t want to reject him, whether he knows me or not. But those eyes unnerve me.

There’s so much about them that’s innocent and frightened.

So much about them that’s desolate and dead.

We literally spent the morning just looking at one another.

I would give anything to know what’s going on in his mind.

What does he see when he looks at me?

I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m afraid. I know it won’t be the same. He won’t be warm, won't be comforting. What could be worse than a dead copy of a once alive and loving creature? I don’t know.

But whatever this is, it might be.

He won’t smell like Crowley. He won’t have his cheek, won't have his soothing voice. It’s almost as if I adopted some wild animal and decided to make it my husband.

What have I done?

***

January 16th –

All day long, he tried to move, grunting with the effort of struggling to stand up and get out of bed. He didn’t speak words; he just groaned. I wanted to help him. I wanted to pretend that he was simply convalescing after a horrible illness. I wanted to bathe him and dress him. I wanted to sit him down in front of the television, prop up his feet, and feed him brandy and ice-cream. I wanted to put this chapter behind us and get on with our lives.

I wanted to make believe him dying had never happened.

But I’m not that good an actor.

He behaves exactly the way the old woman warned me he would. He reminds me of a child.

I never wanted children.

This is the ‘in sickness and in health’ part of the marriage package, which I agreed to without hesitation.

Never mind the ‘till death do us part’ portion.

This comes with my vows, and I will honor them.

My love will help him. I know it will.

…

Can I really do this, or am I fooling myself?

***

January 17th –

I’m trying my best to take the bad with the good.

I managed to get him to the living room sofa. His legs were stiff, and he couldn’t seem to bend his knees.

He had been declared dead-on-arrival because of the injury to his neck. But I wonder if anything else is broken. I wasn’t really paying attention to the doctor when he went over the extent of Crowley’s injuries. After I heard the word dead, I tuned out.

I should get a copy of Crowley’s hospital records.

But if his legs are broken, how will I deal with that? Will the potion magically fix everything? It brought him back to life. Could fixing broken legs be more difficult than reanimating a corpse? What is the extent of the potion's effects? Do I need a secondary potion of some kind to repair internal injuries?

Maybe I should call the shopkeeper back and ask.

We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

He stumbled numerous times and fell on me. I did my best not to cringe at his touch or accidentally drop him. But those eyes, so close to mine, were like looking into a nightmare. I could see through them to the veins and arteries behind, the blood inside them black and unhealthy.

The fourth time he stumbled, though, I got the feeling that maybe he was falling on purpose so that I would be forced to catch him.

I even thought I saw the shadow of a smile cross his lips.

I watched him as he sat in front of the TV and renewed his passion for The Golden Girls. That show had been one of his favorites since he was a small boy.

He sat so still.

He didn’t swallow.

He didn’t appear to breathe.

The only time he moved was when he looked over to where I sat, I think, to make sure I was still there.

He sat for hours and watched TV.

There was nothing else for him to do.

I fed him salad for dinner, let him stay in front of the television instead of making him go to the dining room table. I didn’t see any reason to move him. He leaned down and sniffed the cold lettuce leaves, but he did not eat.

Neither did I.

***

January 19th –

After a full day of limping him around the house, Crowley is surprisingly steady on his feet. He can make it from the bedroom to the living room sofa by himself. It takes him a while, but he can do it.

His body is still in rigor, but he seems to be getting more comfortable with it.

I should be jumping for joy at his progress. The more mobile he becomes, the less dependent he will be on me. Every day that he improves, even a little, he is closer to becoming the man he was.

But I don’t know how comfortable I am with that anymore.

***

January 21st -

He doesn’t sleep. And now that he doesn’t rely on me to get around the house, neither do I. I know he sees me as a parent-figure, so he won’t hurt me. But he’s such an alien creature. Not like the old Crowley at all.

It’s strange having this version of him around the house.

When Crowley was

Before the accident, Crowley was so independent. He didn’t need me, didn’t need my help with anything.

But now, he needs to be near me all the time.

I understood there would be a change in our dynamic, but it’s such a striking change that it’s difficult to get used to.

I took a shower for the first time in days. I left him in the living room watching TV, but when I finished and opened the curtain, there he was, standing there … staring.

I fell asleep for about an hour afterward, and when I woke up, he was kneeling beside me, again staring at me.

He’s always staring.

What does he think about doing when he stares at me?

***

January 22nd –

I finally broke down and gave Crowley a shower. He didn’t stink, but there was something about him, something that smelled … well, I can't seem to find the words to describe it.

I just wanted it gone.

I’ve seen the injuries to his chest numerous times, but I haven't paid much attention to his back.

When I saw them, I almost threw up.

And he noticed.

He heard me gag.

I gasped, held in my urge to be sick.

He turned to face me, and for the first time, he had an expression on his face different from his blank one … but also different from that smile I thought I saw when I was helping him walk around the house.

He looked hurt.

***

January 27th -

Each day that he improves, I debate telling our friends that he's here. I know they miss us terribly. But in the end, it would be too cruel. He’s not himself anymore. He never will be. Most days, I curse myself for doing this to him. My motives were selfish. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself when I made the decision to bring him back.

I wasn’t even thinking of him.

Our lives are unrecognizable. We’ll never travel the world like we'd planned. Who knows if I’ll make it back to my bookshop? Should probably shut it down and have my books transported here. The way things look, the rest of our days will be spent in this cottage.

I have to be okay with that.

But what about Crowley?

If you asked rational me if I think he wants to live this half-life, with no potential to be anything other than a human puppet, who only barely resembles the man that was Anthony J Crowley, I would have to say no. Absolutely not.

But I can’t turn back now.

What am I expected to do? Poison his tea? Smother him in his sleep?

Would attempting to kill him even work?

And what about his soul?

If there is a Heaven, I surely pulled him out of it with my cock-eyed plan. What if there is no going back for him?

I can only hope that my love for him is enough to keep him from hating me when he’s able to comprehend what I’ve done to him.

***

February 1st –

I’ve finally gotten him to eat – bits and pieces mostly, bites of vegetables and corners of bread. It doesn’t seem like he likes it, but he eats it, and that’s good. He eats because I tell him to. It shows that he trusts me.

He’s more self-sufficient now.

He showers and brushes his teeth on his own. He picks out his pajamas and dresses himself. Sometimes he tries his hand at making the bed. He is attempting to be more vocal, but he has yet to say a single thing that isn’t a grunt or a moan.

I’ve been looking up the subject of speech delay on the Internet, trying to find ways to help him learn. I came across one website in particular with fun, creative ideas. I started making flashcards of consonant blends and one-syllable words. I felt so accomplished, so hopeful, like I was actually doing something positive toward the goal of moving us forward. I felt confident that after a little work with them, everything would be all right. I was so excited to show them to him, but then I realized …

… I have no idea if he can read.

***

February 3rd –

I tried calling the old woman at the antique shop in Soho to ask about the effects of the potion, but the phone has been disconnected.

I guess they went out of business after all.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing appears to be broken. Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t feel pain.

I was teaching him how to cook, hoping it would bring a bit of the old Crowley back. We used to cook together all the time. Honestly, we weren't all that good at it, but that didn't stop us from trying. We had just gotten the hang of a decent souffle before ...

Anyway ...

I started him small.

I had him grating cheese.

Seemed simple enough. The grater stands on its own, so not much to juggle. But he pressed too hard, ran the grater over the backs of his fingers, scraped off skin. He didn’t so much as flinch. I think it bothered me more than it bothered him. I bandaged it up and, without thinking, I kissed the wound. I looked at him in utter shock …

… and he smiled.

My heart leapt.

It’s so nice to see him smile again.

I never thought I would.

***

February 4th –

I took off Crowley’s bandage, and his wound from the cheese grater is gone! There’s not a trace of it left!

I guess that answers that question.

I should be relieved, but it bothers me, and I don’t know why.

***

February 21st –

Today was the most unexpectedly intense, depressing, and wonderful day all at once.

It started when Crowley woke this morning. He got up before me and tried to make me crepes. I had no idea why. He hadn't tried to cook by himself before, didn't even show an interest in cooking without me. He burned them, himself, and the stove all in one go. The fire alarm woke me, blaring in my ears. I managed to get to the extinguisher in time, but poor Crowley looked heartbroken over his ruined pan of blackened food.

Then, before lunch, he wanted to go outside. I think he was trying to sneak out, but I caught him jiggling the front doorknob (he has yet to master the bolt - thank God). When I caught him, he slammed his hand on the door in frustration and sprinted for the back one. I followed him, knowing it was locked and that he wouldn’t be able to open it. When I reached him, he was trying to wedge his way out of the old cat flap. (Note to self - board up the cat flaps! I don’t know why we kept them. We’ve never owned a cat.)

I patted him gently on the shoulder and asked him what he needed. He stood up and groaned, moving his mouth and wiggling his tongue, making nonsensical sounds. When he couldn’t say what he needed to, he pointed out the window to the garden. I assumed he wanted to check on his dahlias. I’m a disaster with flowers, and, unfortunately, I haven’t been able to keep them up the way he could.

Of course, it's one degree outside. The poor things are frozen solid. They're not even flowers any longer, I don't think, but the frigid remains of what they once were.

But he’d had yet to show any interest in them, either, before today.

I shrugged, repeated that I didn’t understand. He pointed more forcefully, jabbing at the window with his index finger.

“I don’t know what you're trying to tell me, my dear,” I said. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

I've taken him walking around Soho a few times. I've been trying to tie up loose ends, decide if selling the bookshop is the road to take. I wrapped him up in a full-length coat and scarf with just his eyes peeking out. I guess he enjoyed it, but he’d never asked to go outside. He shook his head and pointed again, this time at the dying rose bushes that I hadn’t had time to deadhead. I didn’t get it. I shook my head, and he stormed off to the bedroom.

I followed him there, but he blocked the door.

I could hear him inside, moaning. It was horrible. It sounded like pain and embarrassment and frustration, all rolled together. And I couldn’t help him.

He wouldn’t let me.

I tried to lure him out several times, but he didn’t come out till dinner time.

And when he did, he was dressed in a black Bergdorf suit.

Crowley has dozens of expensive black suits, and he looks stunning in all of them.

But this suit.

This suit in particular.

This suit had been hanging front and center in his closet.

Because it was the suit I had planned on burying him in.

It threw me for a loop, dragging me kicking and screaming back to that day I found out he had died, before I’d decided to try bringing him back, before I knew that I could. I took out the suit to air it. I guess I hadn’t put it back with the others because there it was, standing before me with the living corpse of my husband inside.

The sight took all the air out of my lungs.

“Take it off,” I said quietly, trying not to alarm him, but how was I supposed to explain to my somewhat dead husband that I didn’t want to see him dressed in the suit I had planned on putting him in the ground in?

He looked confused and shook his head, opening his mouth and groaning.

“Please, Crowley,” I begged, hoping he would hear my anguish and understand, “take it off.”

He stomped his foot and shook his head, the way a petulant child would. It should have been cute, but I couldn’t handle it. I've had issues getting used to his looks lo these many weeks, but for the first time since he came back to me, he looked dead.

“Take it off!” I screamed. I ran at him, grabbed the lapels, trying to tear it off his body. He held me, pinned my arms, and I could feel his renewed strength. I hadn’t really let him touch me before, but now I knew that if he wanted to, he could probably hurt me.

I stared up at him, realizing that he was hovering above me, and I was lying on my back on the floor. My heart stopped. He had never looked menacing before. Even in death, he seemed so innocent. But now, he looked like a monster. He had a piece of paper balled in his grasp, and he tried to make me look at it, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from his face – pale and cold and lifeless, regardless of the fact that he was my Crowley.

He stared at me, trying to speak.

It hit me like a pile of bricks.

Speak.

That’s exactly what he was doing.

His lips were moving in exaggerated, grotesque ways that shouldn’t be able to turn sound into words, but they were.

“A … Az … Azi …”

Crowley blinked and shook his head.

“Azir …”

“Aziraphale?” I asked in awe that he was trying to say my name.

Crowley laughed. It was a glorious, hollow, frankly frightening sound, but I couldn’t help smiling when I heard it. He put his fingers to my lips.

I guess he didn’t want me to steal his thunder.

“Azzzir-uh-phale,” he said, smacking his lips. “I … lo … I lov …” Crowley swallowed again, closing his eyes, trying to make the words in his head match the movement of his lips. “I … love … you … Azzzir-uh-phale.”

Crowley tapped again at the paper on the floor. This time I did what he wanted and looked. He had torn off the current page from the calendar and was poking at a box circled shakily in red. I peered down at it.

I could have cried.

“Our ... our anniversary?” I asked, looking into his broken eyes. He sighed, nodding.

It was our anniversary.

He’d wanted to make me breakfast in bed … for our anniversary.

He’d wanted to get me roses … for our anniversary.

My husband had wanted to do something nice for me … for our anniversary.

My husband had spent all day teaching himself how to say, “I love you, Aziraphale,” because there was nothing else he could do for me.

My husband remembered our anniversary ...

... even when I had not.

***

June 4th -

Five months-ish later…

I can’t believe it!

I cannot believe it!

Five months later and we’ve made it! Despite the odds. Despite the difficulties and the heartaches. Despite every time I thought about giving up, here we are.

Happy.

Together.

We spend our days wrapped in each other’s arms. We watch TV. I read books out loud - he sits and listens. Crowley is re-learning how to drive, and I’m on the hunt for a new Bentley. Our lives might not be what they were before, but they’re perfect for us.

We’ve managed to go to the city more, spent a few glorious nights at our flat in Mayfair. We've even interacted with one or two of our old friends. It's a wonder what some foundation and blusher can accomplish! I told them it was a medical miracle, and they believed me.

Because that's what Crowley is.

A miracle!

Okay, maybe I am tempting fate. But maybe fate needs to be tempted from time to time!

His vocabulary has expanded immensely, and a hint of his old suave confidence has come back, along with the muddy accent I so often teased him about.

I am finally at a point where I am optimistic about the future.

Because I’m beginning to think that there might actually be one for us.

***

August 13th –

I woke this morning to a strange squealing noise. At first, I thought it might be the smoke alarm again - odd since we got the cooking situation sorted, I thought. The longer I listened to it, the more I realized it wasn’t the smoke alarm. It didn’t sound familiar at all, so I didn’t worry too much about it. As long as an errant sheep didn’t get hit by a car, there was really no reason to jump out of bed and investigate. After a few minutes of listening to the goings-on outside, I determined that wasn’t the case, so I considered going back to sleep.

But then I noticed that Crowley wasn’t laying beside me in bed.

That isn’t too unusual. He’s normally the first one up on any given day. I just curl back into a ball holding his pillow to my chest until he returns.

He always returns.

The squealing wasn’t really that weird. I’ve thought for the last few months that we might have rats. Or squirrels. Or possums. I’ve heard that same squealing a few times before. But seeing as I can’t find any evidence of rodent-caused destruction anywhere in the house, I haven’t been too aggressive about hunting it down.

My stomach began to growl. I guessed I had been asleep for longer than I thought. Instead of returning to bed, I decided to make some waffles for breakfast. So I got up and went out into the kitchen.

That’s where I found Crowley.

He was crouching on the floor …

… covered in blood …

… biting into the spine of what used to be a raggedy old Maine coon …

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

He grinned his old, sly grin, licked his bloody lips, and said, "Hello, Aziraphale. Can I get you a cuppa tea? I know just how you like it."

He winked at me, and my heart stuttered.

…

I may have a problem.

***

Those are the last words on the page.

A page where the ink is smeared from tears, and the edges crusted in blood.

I haven’t seen Aziraphale or Crowley in decades. They used to send the occasional letter, but those stopped a while ago, and they never call. But something tells me neither of them ever left this house alive.

I’m afraid my time, too, has run out. I came to this house alone. But huddled in the darkest corner of the attic, I hear footsteps coming closer, a sour voice on the wind calling my name …

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

KA-THUNK!!

***

“Warlock Dowling!” Crowley calls, barging into the attic, footsteps heavy on the worn floorboards. “Are you recording another one of those Clip-Clop thingies again?”

“It’s TikTok, Nanny,” Warlock replies, rolling his eyes, “and no. I’m reading a story for my YouTube channel.”

“Well … you done getting a costume together or wot?” Crowley asks, changing the subject, saving face that he actually understands anything Warlock just said. “Adam and his hooligans are gonna be here in a minute. Aziraphale is gonna have kittens if you’re not ready to go Tricks or Treats!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Warlock says, gathering up his camera. He loves Halloween with a passion, but he’d been eyeing this one journal in Aziraphale’s bookshop for some time now. This video he’s been putting together promises to be epic - the crowning achievement of his burgeoning story channel. Most horror story channels get their material from the Creepypasta Reddit, but he has a unique source of original material … when he can get out to Soho, that is. “I’m coming.” He pulls the lapels of the leather jacket he’s borrowing for the evening together in front to tighten it up.

It’s slim fit as it used to be Crowley’s from back in the day, but thirteen-year-old Warlock still swims in it.

Warlock marches to the door under Crowley’s watchful eye. Before he can make his way through, Crowley stops him, slipping a hand underneath the jacket and rescuing an extraneous prop - an antique journal.

“Have you been snoopin’ through Angel’s old manuscripts again?” Crowley asks, wiping the cover clean. “You know how he feels bout that.”

“I know,” Warlock admits sheepishly, “but my audience loves them! I get thousands of hits off his stories! Besides, I put my own twist on them, freshen them up a bit.”

“Do you now?” Crowley asks with an unamused eyebrow notched.

“Why didn't he get them published?” Warlock shifts gears before the lecturing can start. “He’s an amazing writer!”

“He had his reasons,” Crowley mumbles, flipping through the pages. After skimming a passage or two, he puts it down on a pile of similar journals, a shiver sliding down his snakey spine. “Oof! Those things’ll give you nightmares.”

“They should terrify you. He’s murdered you in every single one!”

“Ah, but he does it with love.” Crowley grins wide enough to swallow his whole face. “It’s an honor.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #tricketyboo2020 #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord : Sigil

(Early COV)

"Oh Seifa come on, come onnnn, it's not like that!"

She wasn't listening. Of course she wasn’t listening. If there was one thing Troy had realised in the last 18 months since they landed on Pandora, it was that no one who mattered ever fucking listened to him.

Or maybe it was just women. Tyreen and Sei would rip his balls off for ever daring to raise it, but hell did the pair of them have more in common than anyone would be stupid enough to admit within earshot. They were both stubborn, blockheaded assholes at times, and right now was one of them.

Man, he was so glad they were alone in her office wing. The last thing he'd want to add to the pile of shit he already had to deal with would be for some of her engineers to have been watching on as God King Calypso shuffled awkwardly behind one of his department heads, whining for attention like some giant Skag pup while she completely ignored him. She always did when she got like this, when she was moments away from working herself into a frenzy he knew was coming because you could feel her foul temper like static in the air.

She'd throw all logic to the wind and then lash out at him, herself, the COV, everything, unless he got her to listen now before she blew... and each second that ticked by without her calming was another step further away from this ending amicably. Troy hated this. Every time it happened was needless stress for both of them, just another problem he needed to shoulder and try to find a resolution for, and it wasn't even his fucking fault this time.

He ran a hand down his face with a groan, rapidly losing hope as Sei continued to storm across the workshop ahead of him, rage hunching the curve of her shoulders while she muttered insults Troy hadn’t been able to quite make out.

"Janked up skinny little shit." Ah... He heard that one fine, and if he didn't know her as well as he did, he'd take the hitch in her voice as weakness rather than a warning.

"Arrogant, two-faced prick." Made that muttered one out too, almost as crystal clearly as his head would have made out the wrench she’d just flung viciously backwards from her workbench if he hadn’t retained his reflexes from years of hunting on Necrotafeyo. This wasn't his fault!

"Sei.." he comforted tentatively, warily eying the other tools within her reaching distance as he took a step closer to where she stood shaking in front of the bench. "Please. Trust me, ok.. It really ain't like that."

"Like what, Troy?" she growled over her shoulder, slamming a crowbar against the solid wood table as he winced behind her. "Like you're not telling me I need to get your fucking copyright brand engraved into my skin? Are you HEARING yourself?". He was, actually, and if she would for one goddamn second instead of getting this defensive, then they might finally get somewhere and not waste the rest of their night at each other's throats.

He was close enough to hear her deep breaths, fighting to get her emotions under control enough to continue without unwanted tears making him think she was anything but furious.

"...you want to mark me like I'm.. like I'm property?" the crack in her voice at the end hit hard, he felt that one like a gut punch. It didn't matter that he knew she was wrong, or that she was blowing it massively out of proportion, this wasn’t the reaction he had expected. Seifa was logical, generally. She pushed emotion out of the way of hard numbers, facts, she’d swallow her feelings to make way for profits... He'd thought she’d understand the same way he had when Tyreen had discussed her worries about the Saints, he’d thought she’d take it well. He'd been an idiot. Look at him now: standing behind his closest friend as she held back tears, both of them tired, frustrated, hurt, and Troy was unsure of how the hell this had even happened yet alone how to fix it.

Her head bowed with a sniffle she hadn’t manage to hold back, and he dropped his eyes to the workrooms gritty floor with a scowl. Easier to stare at the dirt and pretend he couldn't see how much this was hurting her than watch her shoulders tremble. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to see the path out of this mess. Maybe he could still pull things back, reassure her and salvage things.

The iron fist at his side flexed involuntarily, nerves firing on reflex as he sighed. "No Sei, and it's not about you, ok? It's not some grand attack aimed to undermine you specifically. Pleeeeaase, just listen. Hear me out for once. You know damn well I'm not in the habit of agreeing with Tyreen if she's in the wrong, she's right about this Seifa, an-"

She spun whip fast to face him, pointing accusingly up towards his jaw with far more threat than someone her height should rightfully be able to wield, and he jerked backwards, snapping out of his lethargy as he staring down his nose at the finger shaking below him in fury. He’d never seen her this upset before, indignant as she hissed breath through clenched teeth.

“I won't be fucking owned by you, boy." Seifa spat... and the clever bite in that insult wasn't missed.

He fought back a snarl, lip twitching as he met her glare. Here it was, he should have fucking known, here was the attack.She always did this, acted like there was nothing between them once she’d decided he’d riled her up, regardless of what had actually happened. Any affront on her pride was met with the same focused rage towards whoever she saw as the aggressor, and the chain of command ceased to exist instantly. Size, age, power, always treated him like he was some sick, stupid little kid, like she was always right and he never was... She never fucking listened to him.

Troy shifted on his feet, standing straighter as he stared down at her, pale and shivering below him. He gently pushed her finger away with a hand that dwarfed hers, and leaned forward, still towering above her even as he hunched to come closer to her eye level.

"Seifa." he hissed, jaw tight and frosty eyes narrowed to daggers. "YOU won't be owned by anyone. This has to happen, for all the Saints. This is how it needs to go. Ty’s right. I wasn't sure she was either but I checked in with our new advisor and he completely backed it up, not doing this would end in a waste of lives I'm not willing to lose even if you're apparently happy enough to risk the one I'm trying to save right now."

She laughed, a snorting wheeze with a smirk far too fake to remotely touch her eyes, and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, cocking a hip in haughty challenge. "Ahhhh, I get it...” she tapped a finger to the center of his bare chest and smirked as she felt him flinch subtly beneath it. Troy sucked in a breath, but she cut him off before he’d even managed to get his next word out.

“So your new space wizard I've never so much as met, Ven was it? This Magic 8-ball lookin fucker gets to decide I'm marked as owned by you, Calypso? Funny... here I was thinking you were the big boy of this organisation, that it was you in charge... not that you were some weedling little shitbag bending to his big scary sister's demands while using a fucking scam artist he's been stupid enough to be taken for a ride by as his justificati-"

"STOP"

He immediately regretted the outburst as it echoed through the empty workshop, bouncing off the skeletons of technicals suspended from the ceilings and scrap metal pilled against walls. It was far louder than he’d intended at all, but the hurt little choking sound she made in response? That was even worse.

Troy whistled in a lungfull and held it, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he counted down from three, tightening the steel fist by his side till the metal creaked in distress and interrupted the heavy silence.

The tension between them was palpable in the dark heat of the hangar, nothing to break the the uneasy quiet bar the murmuring hum of the machinery outside her sealed quarters. He slid his eyes open and lowered them to her at the end of his count.. but the tears she was struggling to hold back winded him, and he no longer felt the justification he needed when he realised how much she was hurting.

She looked away, lip trembling as her arms wrapped around herself, more for comfort now than to force an air of confidence. God, he wanted to fix this. He didn’t want to see Seifa small. She was meant to be unbreakable, not something that could be hurt at all. Troy lifted his hand to touch her shoulder but stopped, catching himself before his fingers brushed against her skin, reconsidering. It didn't feel right... he shouldn't. It wasn't what she needed, she needed...

"Sei.." he whispered, slowly lowering himself to his knees, waiting for her to shudder in some wracking breaths before gently placing mismatched hands on her hips and tugging her lightly, pulling her step by step closer to where he knelt In front of her. "L-look at me." he rumbled, voice soft and stutter unhidden.

Her red rimmed eyes shifted down to his from where he looked up at her, and he risked a lopsided smirk. She mirrored it shakily, breathing out a hitching laugh as she clumsily wiped a sleeve across her eyes, black liner smeared along her cheeks and ego dropped alongside the gesture, Just DeLeon and A'Rosk again, like before all this cult bullshit. God’s and titles be damned.

His thumb brushed across the ridge of her hip as she sniffed, waiting for him to continue. "Please Sei, j-just trust me on this, please, for once.”

“If some scumbag slaver got their hands on a transport vessel with a woman insisting she was a fuckin' Saint of the COV, it wouldn't mean shit. They wouldn’t believe it for a second. We're growing so fast Sei. So fast. In a month's time how many fakes you think there's gonna be, huh? How many people risking their necks for fame or favors by saying they're one of our Saints, huh? You know how supply and demand works b-better than I do..."

She nodded quietly, avoiding the concern in his eyes by staring at the curve of his jaw instead. He figured she was embarrassed, or still hurt maybe, but she was listening, and her hands slid from around her waist to lay on top of his.

That bloomed something warm in his stomach, flickering and deep. It was working, Troy was fixing this. She was listening and he wasn’t needing to pretend to be someone else to be heard for once, hadn’t needed to sneer and intimidate like he was playing a part that didn’t suit. She didn’t need threat to care, she cared too much if anything, he knew that, even if she hid it under layers of false hardness.

"Sei, telling people you’re a Saint won’t do anything if you’re in danger. OK? It won’t, it’s like.. zero protection. You know that, you’re cleverer than me and I know that, so stop b-bullshitting ok? Words aren't going to mean fuck all, but a symbol? A symbol can't be a lie. A symbol will keep you safe. Keep all of you safe as we keep getting bigger. No one would risk wearing our sigils without our blessing considerin' what we'll do to them. People will know it’s not a lie being made up on the spot cause right then the fear of them is greater than the fear of us."

He was right and she knew it. He’d won even if she hadn’t agreed yet. That was her too, a woman so stubborn that silent surrender didn’t cut her as deep as admitting defeat. Just like Tyreen. Just like Mom.

He squeezed slightly, shaking her gently and snorting out a chuckle at the wobble that ran up her torso as she shifted back and forth with his movements, failing miserably at pretending she didn't want to laugh. “Are you... are you negotiating with me and winning, Troy?” he could hear the playful challenge in that without needing to read it on her lips.

“Ohhhh you got me...” he cooed, pouting up at her from under dark eyelashes “I learned from the best though, nightmare to fuckin work with, she should get all the blame.”

That was it. That’s what he wanted. That ugly snotty laugh she choked out, the smeared makeup and terrible hair piled haphazardly on top of her head as her nose scrunched with the width of her smile. That was Seifa, not the cold shell she tried to hide behind when she encountered a threat to the control she’d built a lifetime of survival on.

He moved closer, a subtle shift that pressed his forehead against her stomach as he carefully leaned against her, voice dropping to a whisper as her hands moved to rest on either side of his collarbone. "Seifa, the danger out there is real. It's so r-real Sei and it's goin' to get more vicious and more aggressive every goddamn day as who you are and who you’re close to becomes so valuable, people will kill for a touch. It's not a brand. I promise, it’s not ownership. It's protection. It's to keep you safe. You aren’t property, you’re not. I mean, God. Like you could be owned, like I could ever have y-"

The words caught in his throat as she dropped to her knees on the dirt floor, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug so tight that he could feel her shuddering sobs echo through her chest and into his ribs.

Good timing, he realised with a wave of confused emotion.

Really good timing.

Asks are Open!

#Borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #lldrabbles #my writing #my hcs

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

I'll Be There For You

Summary - It's just a fic of j2 and their remarkable friendship.

Pairing - Jensen x Jared (platonic)

Warning - Swearing, angst-ish, self doubt, talks of depression, panic attack, some hateful comments (I spent fifteen minutes to come up with hateful comments against this amazing human being)

A/N - This is written for @devil-in-my-boots's request.

Jensen groaned as the alarm on his phone went off.

"I'm getting too old for this", Jensen murmured while thinking back to the events of the previous night. He didn't remember much. His memory being fuzzy indicated it was a wild night. He checked his phone, their panel started exactly in one hour. He reluctantly left his bed. He went into the bathroom to get freshened up. After getting dressed for the day, he left his room and trudged his way towards the green room hoping that a freshly brewed cup of coffee would be waiting for him.

He reached the room and his eyes scanned the area for the coffee and a particular person. His eyes lit up when he saw a creation con worker approaching him with a cup of coffee.

"Have you seen Jared?" Jensen asked the girl after he exchanged morning greetings and told a heartfelt thank you for the coffee.

"No. Maybe he is late. If I see him, I'll let him know that you were looking for him", Jensen nodded his head in agreement while taking the first sip of his energy drink.

"Hey Ackles!" Jensen heard his name being called.

"Remind me next time to never go out to get a drink with you guys", Jensen rolled his eyes.

"You weren't complaining last night", Richard smirked, "Where's your other half?"

"Jared? I don't know and I've been asking the same question", Jensen frowned.

"Your panel is in twenty. He is never this late", Richard copied Jensen's expression. "You are right, I'm gonna go and check on that dumbass. After last night, he probably missed his alarm", Jensen rolled his eyes but as he turned to go towards Jared's room, he saw the latter making his way towards them.

"Morning. What took you so long?" Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I'm not feeling great today", Jared frowned.

"I told you to not drink so much. It's probably the hangover".

"Yeah, I guess so". "Jared your coffee", a con worker interrupted their conversation and handed Jared his cup.

"Thanks", Jared gave the girl a little smile.

It was a quiet morning. Most of the cast members were suffering from severe hangover. None of them talked much and Jared mostly kept to himself before the panel started.

"You both are up in five". They both nodded and made their way towards the stage entry.

"You okay man?" Jensen eyed his best friend suspiciously. They have had nights like that before but Jared speaking not a single word the morning after was highly unlikely of him.

"Yeah. I'm fine", Jared tried to assure the green eyed actor but the latter was not convinced at all. Before Jensen could ask Jared more questions, they got their cue to go up on the stage.

On stage, Jensen noticed that Jared was trying to joke and make everyone laugh but Jensen could tell the actor had put on a fake smile for the fans. He kept a close eye on Jared hroughout the entire panel. The panel came to an end without any problems.

"Jared, what's up with you today?" Jensen asked.

"I don't know. Maybe today is not my day", Jared shrugged. Jensen knew that moment, his best friend was not okay. He was having an off day.

"Talk to me, Jare. What's troubling ya?"

"I said it's nothing. I need some space", Jared said and went to sit down in a secluded corner of the green room.

"Hey Ackles, Padalecki", Misha called out getting no reply from Jared.

"Hey", Jensen gave Misha a little smile while his eyes were fixed on Jared.

"What's up with him? He seemed fine yesterday," Misha pointed at the tall man.

"I don't know. He won't tell", Jensen frowned.

The rest of the day went on without a hitch. Jared didn't speak to anyone unless it was necessary. Jared's behaviour not only concerned Jensen but it started to worry the other actors too.

Jensen tried to remain as close as possible to Jared throughout the day in case he needed him unti he was pulled into his solo photo ops.

"Jare?" Jensen called out when he saw his friend sitting at the table in a secluded corner of an almost empty green room.

Jared didn't reply back. Jensen came closer to him and saw him sitting with his head down, his phone displaying the twitter app was lying in front of him on the table.

"Hey, hey, hey. What is it? Talk to me", Jared looked up at his best friend and Jensen noticed Jared's eyes were red indicating he had been crying.

"I-I can't. It's too much-...I don't know.....I tried", Jared answered in broken sentences.

"Hey buddy, have you been on twitter? You know you can tell me everything", Jensen nudged his friend.

"There is nothing to tell. I don't know, I just don't feel myself today and-" Jensen sat down on the chair beside him and looked at his phone. There were pictures from the previous nights along with some really hateful comments.

"Jared Padalecki is a messed up human being"

"He just wants Jensen's attention"

"Jared is selfish and arrogant. He doesn't care what his friends want. Especially Jensen"

"#jaredpadaleckiiscancelled"

Jensen swallowed thickly.

"Why did you go on twitter? You know that is-it's a very hateful place".

"It's not. They are right. Look at me Jensen. I just need your attention. I'm a fucking mess", Jared scoff.

"No you are not. This is just a bad day and those comments made it worse. Those are not true and we all know that", Jensen said sternly.

"They are right. I'm not worth all this Jay. Y-you could've gone back to your room but instead you are stuck with me. I'm not uh-worth the trouble", that one sentence made Jensen's heart beat faster. It felt like a déjà vu. "I'm so tired of this. T-The voices in my head just won't stop and-I-they are worse today.....They say fake it till you make it. I-I-I tried Jay, I t-tried to uh-f-fake it. But"- the words got stuck in Jared's throat and Jensen could see he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Hey, hey shh. Match your breathing with mine. Okay?.......Take a deep breath now. Come on. That's it buddy.....You are fine. You will be fine. Always keep fighting, right?" Jensen kept assuring Jared.

"It's just-I create problems for everyone. They are right. T-Those people are right about one thing. I am trouble and....I am not important to anyone. You are worried about me too, j-just because I can't keep my shit together", Jared said in a strained voice.

Jensen pulled his best friend into a hug.

"Stop it Jare, you are a fucking human being. Those people who are hiding behind computer screens, they don't know you. You know why am I here today? Because you are important to us. You are important to your family....To me. Fuck those people! You can have good days and bad days. And then there are days which are absolutely shitty. Buddy, you have me, you have Gen, you have the other guys. We will always have your back, brother", Jensen tightened his embrace around Jared. Jared nodded. He knew Jared needed that comforting touch. He had to let Jared know that he was not a burden. He knew he had to let Jared know that he was not alone. Jensen's blood started to boil when he thought about those petty fans on twitter. His best friend didn't deserve those hateful comments.

"Jay?" Jared let go of Jensen's hug.

"Hm? What?" He looked at Jared.

"Don't kill anyone tonight", a tiny smile appeared on Jared's face.

"Smartass", Jensen rolled his eyes, a tiny smile playing on his lips too.

Forever taglist - @donnaintx @devil-in-my-boots @amandamdiehl

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blurrypetals · 3 years

Text

Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas - blurrypetals review

originally posted oct. 25, 2018 - ★☆☆☆☆

I have suffered through 160 and a half hours of this series. I have read all 4,800 pages of the books that tell this story. I've seen it all, I suffered through this whole damn series and all I got in the end was the sort of angry passivity only those who have fought in wars experience. I am so endlessly frustrated by Sarah J. Maas and Throne of Glass as a whole that I am just plain exhausted even thinking about the review I'm about to write and I take absolutely zero joy out of the things I'm about to say here tonight. For those of you who are still starry-eyed enough to care, if I write a spoiler in this review, it will not be tagged. I never quite know where to start and stop with spoiler tags, especially when we're talking about the seventh book in a series, where I could also be spoiling the first six books. Plus, I'm way beyond caring about much of anything in regards to Throne of Glass and have been for a very long time, so I honestly don't care if I spoil someone's experience with these books because Sarah J. Maas already does enough of that herself. Something Maas has struggled with ever since Heir of Fire is sufficiently raising the stakes and making the things that happen feel like they have weight to them. Aelin is literally ripped to pieces and healed back to brand new at the very start of this book and while this event isn't completely devoid of weight, it's glossed over and fixed so quickly that I don't even have the chance to blink before the possible ramifications have a chance to settle in. That's how I've felt about pretty much every big reveal, close call, or any other looming peril about this series since the end of Heir of Fire, where Aelin goes from kickass protagonist, Celaena Sardothien, who's very skilled in a lot of ways, but still feels vulnerable in a lot of ways, both emotional and physical, and turns into Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, god-tier queen who literally can do no wrong, has skin made out of plot armor, and, most detrimentally, stops being vulnerable in all the interesting ways. She stops being a character and becomes a caricature of herself, like she's an AU fanfiction version of herself...because she is. Not only did Aelin become, for all intents and purposes, invincible at a certain point, but then we got a whole new cast of characters, which means the pre-existing cast of characters, all of whom were mid-arc just got hardcore sidelined for the rest of the series, with the exception of Chaol, who got his own book all to himself and it was painful because it was clearly written in an effort to correct past mistakes, like someone who has gotten all the wrong information out of a complaint. Sarah J. Maas heard us all complaining that the old cast got sidelined and thought Tower of Dawn would correct that mistake. It didn't because Tower of Dawn was a big dumb stupid terrible waste of my time. Speaking of big dumb stupid terrible wastes of my time, fine, okay, I'll finally talk about the book at hand. The whole thing I was just talking about with stakes and Maas's failure to properly raise and enforce them renders nearly everything in this book completely null and void. We already know Aelin and friends are going to win. We all know Sarah J. Maas doesn't have the guts to kill off any major characters. We all know Aelin and Rowan are going to be icky and gross and make me regret ever reading any book ever. We know how this goes, so why are we looking at this big, "grand" almost 1,000 page finale as if it will provide something we aren't already expecting? I know I wasn't expecting anything other than victory for Aelin and co. I knew there was no chance anyone important would die and I was right, they didn't. I knew this book would not surpass my expectations and yet, here we are, I'm at the other end of the book and I feel exactly the same way about the series as I did at the beginning of this criminally long audiobook, which is 33 hours long and feels like it should be 12 at most. My opinion of Sarah J. Maas and the incredibly shitty people that populate this universe did not improve, just like I didn't expect it to. It did decline, because I wanted something out of this experience. Empire of Storms, for all the dumpster fire bullshit it was, at least made me angry, I was upset when I read it. This book, though? I feel so ambivalent and numb about everything I just listened to. The only thing that upset me was that I was tricked yet again into reading another Throne of Glass book and all I got out of it was...well, just another program on my Audible account, an almost 1,000 page book to set on my shelf and look ugly. I got nothing out of this. I often say it's worse to be boring and forgettable than it is to be spectacularly awful because, at the very least, I'm going to remember the spectacularly awful work in 10 years, where the boring one will just fade into the background within weeks. Again, even though Empire of Storms was an absolute train wreck, I'll always remember it because of how poorly it did just about everything. But Kingdom of Ash here? I'll remember the Dorian chapters, because that was always what I stuck around for; I did it for him. He actually had a pretty cool and interesting arc, but it took up maybe 10% of the whole book and he got an ellipsis of an ending, not a period which, for the record, is just fine with me. Don't write Dorian a spinoff, Sarah. Just let it die. Anyway, other than Dorian Havilliard, the one I suffered through all this material for, I'm sure I'm already losing details about many of the things about this book because, at the end of the day, it was nothing. It didn't excite me, it didn't make me angry, it didn't make me feel anything by the end, other than a quiet longing for things to have gone differently ever since Crown of Midnight. It was just empty, this whole time. And that, with 160 and a half hours of audiobook and 4,800 pages of content, just to culminate in this? Well that, that's the real tragedy here. Wasted potential, broken hearts, and empty promises. I got exactly what I expected out of this book and, in my opinion, that's the worst thing to get from a book: exactly what you think you're going to get. No surprises, no intrigue, nothing. Just nothing.

#kingdom of ash #more like kingdom of ass amirite #throne of glass #sarah j. maas #2018 #goodreads mirror #blurrypetals #this is far and away my most popular review on gr and i'm pretty proud of that

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jenoptimist · 4 years

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Moving houses wasn’t considered a tragedy; tsunamis, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions were all tragedies. They were all extremely serious and devastating to be considered one. And yet there you were, staring at your new house with a large box in your hands, practically reeking of misery. Logically, you knew why your parents up and moved your small family from the busy, largely populated city to the quiet suburbs with its tight-knit community–rent was disgustingly high in the city but a mortgage in the suburbs, while not dirt cheap, was certainly worth the money when they did the figures. But still. Your whole life was in the city. It wasn’t like you had many friends or anything, however the few that you did fortunately lived within walking distance.

At least decorating your room would be fun. Your brother wasn’t as artistically talented as his close friend, Ten, but he had better artistic skills and vision than you did. You knew that he wouldn’t disagree when you’d ask him to help. At least you hoped so, anyway, because Taeyong had the tendency to be too absorbed in whatever game he had just recently purchased. His newfound love seemed to be Animal Crossing at the moment as he talked about it non-stop. In the off chance he’d decline, you would probably just resort to searching up a Bob Ross painting tutorial on YouTube. Although you hoped you wouldn’t have to. You wanted to spend some quality time with your brother before he inevitably disappeared in his room to play his games or produce some mixtapes in his makeshift at-home music studio.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” Your mom breathed out enthusiastically as she came up from behind you, a small box in her hands. Not wanting to see her face wrinkle with a frown, you decided to agree.

“Yeah, it looks great.”

If she heard the melancholy in your voice, she chose to ignore it.

It had been a few months since you moved in and you tried adapting to your new life in the suburbs. Not changed that much really–you still just stayed inside your room alternating between reading books and watching movies on Netflix. What did change was that you could no longer just walk up to your friend’s house when you were bored. Facetime was fantastic and everything but could only do so much. You loved your friends. Really, you did, but the commute to the city was almost two hours by bus. What made it even worse was that the bus was infrequent, showing up either a few minutes early or vice verse. In rare occasions the bus wouldn’t make an appearance at all. Your older sister sure was lucky that she had a stable job and could afford to maintain her life in the city.

Deciding that you needed a change of scenery, you abandoned your seat by the window and made your way to the kitchen where you found your mom chopping up some vegetables. When she declined your offer to help her, you beelined towards the fridge to grab a glass of water before sitting down to watch her as she hummed, skillfully cutting the carrots into thin strips.

“Honey,” she said as she dropped the knife on the chopping board, looking up to face you. “Do you ever get bored in the house?”

You shrugged noncommittally. “Sometimes.”

“Well, what if I gave you a task?” You scrunched your nose. The last time your mom had given you something to do because you were ‘lazing around’ it ended up with you almost breaking your arm, and probably your leg, because the ladder wobbled. Fortunately Taeyong was with you at the time and was able to help break your fall. “Please? Our neighbor, Mrs.Na keeps asking me about ‘the child that keeps looking out the window wistfully’ and I think that you could use a bit of fresh air.”

“So you want me to,” you said slowly while practically disappeared into the chair, “make friendly with the neighbors?” She tittered at your reaction. But could she blame you? You weren’t a social butterfly or anything. In fact it was even amazing that you had friends in the first place considering how introverted you were.

“No. Not if you don’t want to. I was thinking more like you could fix up our front garden.”

The garden wasn’t horrendous looking. At least you didn’t think so. Sure, there were some weeds that littered the majority of the grass and there weren’t any flowers, but not everybody could have beautiful front gardens like Mrs.Na! Her sons was super conscious about how their garden looked. It was a regular occurrence to see one of them, usually the one with the bubblegum pink hair, water their plants at least three times a day while you were reading by your window, with a large smile on his face. Although you weren’t sure that plants needed to be watered that often, their garden was super lush and vibrant. Maybe they just had a magic green fingers and that was why none of their plants died of over-watering and always looked spectacular.

You eyed your mother suspiciously. “And it isn’t because you want to have the best front garden in the neighborhood.” Your mom was as competitive as they got; any time a festive season was due she had to outdo the rest on the street with the decorations that she hung up, she never let you or any of your siblings win at Mario Kart and you remember when you were younger, you had to have the prettiest lunchbox in the class. There were more instances you could think of but those remained vivd in your memory.

The smile that she let out was a guilty one. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You snorted, knowing that the opposite was true. “I’ll do it but only if we buy Disney Plus.” You had been bugging your parents to buy the subscription for a while, needing to fulfill your love for Disney movies, but they didn’t budge no matter how hard you pleaded. If you received allowance you would have subscribed the day it became available but you didn’t and Taeyong, sadly, had to decline because of his recent gaming purchases. You waited patiently as she mulled it over.

“Alright kiddo. You got yourself a deal,” you whooped loudly, “but the garden needs to look fabulous.”

You mock saluted her as you hopped off of the seat. You had garden plans to make.

It was disrespectfully hot when you decided to put your plan into motion. The sweat trickled down your back as you tried to remove your first weed. You had been at it for a few minutes but it didn’t shift, not even a little bit, and you were getting more and more impatient as the seconds flew by.

“Can’t you help me?” You whined, gloved hands still gripping tightly onto the annoying little plant, as you turned to look at your brother who was sitting on the steps.

Without raising his eyes from his phone he said, “nope. It’s your job. I’m just here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

You mimicked him silently as you returned your gaze to the weed, hoping that your glare would somehow disintegrate it. The annoying thing was that you had everything you needed except, apparently, a small digging spade. Grumbling to yourself, you exerted what you hoped was enough energy as you pulled harder. Nothing. It didn’t even budge. You folded your arms as you scowled, watching as it danced with the breeze. It definitely seemed to mock your failure with each movement that it made. Wiping your forehead you stood up and marched back inside your house, making sure to lightly kick your brother on the way in, and determinedly searched for something that could help you dig out the little monster.

Deciding that one spoon disappearing mysteriously wouldn’t be noticed by your parents, you grabbed one and stomped back outside. Taeyong slapped your leg as you passed by which made you stick your tongue out at him–not that he noticed, too engrossed in his game. As you began harshly shoveling at the soil surrounding the weed, you reasoned that your mom couldn’t be annoyed at you if she were to find out about the spoon. She was the one that wanted the prettiest garden after all.

It felt like more than an eternity had passed before you successfully managed to rid the garden of its weeds. The sun was setting and while your parents told you to head back inside, something about removing all of the weeds made you more motivated to execute the plan that you had for your garden. As you bagged up the remaining stems, you heard footsteps approach you from behind.

Taeyong squatted beside you, holding out a Caprisun. “You did a great job.” He smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately when you took the juice pouch from him. “Let’s go back inside. You can continue tomorrow.”

“Looking good.” A voice that definitely did not belong to your older brother commented. Whoever the person was had to be lying to you, seeing as your flowers were only cute little sprouts. Standing up and turning from your position near the steps that lead towards the door, you found yourself staring at Mrs.Na’s sons. They stood side by side on the pavement, just a few inches from the grass, surveying your garden.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, growing self conscious at your work the longer they looked at your unblossomed flowers. It had taken a few weeks but the garden was finally starting to take shape; you mowed it to perfection, planted the seeds strategically and planned to convince your parents to add a wooden bench just beside the steps so that you could read while bathing in sunlight. Maybe you could even purchase a bench from IKEA, assemble it with Taeyong and somehow convince him to paint it so that it can have some personality.

The pink haired teen, you weren’t sure but you suspected that they were around your age or maybe even a bit older, smiled brightly. It was the smile you saw when he watered his flowers. You returned his smile, albeit awkwardly, and hoped that that would be the end of the conversation. Your hope was brutally crushed when he strode towards you, stopping just a few meters away from you before thrusting his hand out.

“I’m Jaemin, your neighbor across the street. Nice to meet you!” The smile still sat on his face and you briefly wondered if his facial muscles ever grew tired. “That’s my best friend Jeno.” He continued when you shook hands.

You nodded at his not-brother, geez you were so embarrassed that you assumed that they were related, who remained at their original spot. You held your smile as you met his eyes which earned you one of his own–he had a pretty smile. It was a smile that took over his entire face, his eyes adorably disappearing into little crescents. Jeno apparently deemed the small interaction between the two of you as an okay to head over to stand beside his best friend. You felt a little dazed the longer you looked at his cute smile so you averted your gaze back to Jaemin.

“Your garden is prettier.” You complimented, hands wringing the t-shirt you sneakily took from Taeyong–it was an old one, anyway, so hopefully he wouldn’t notice that it was missing from his closet.

Jaemin visibly preened, his smile somehow growing even wider. “Thanks! Hey, we were on our way to grab some milkshakes or something,” he side-eyed Jeno who nodded slightly. “Want to come with us?”

You blanched at his suggestion. What on earth possessed this guy and his best friend to compliment your garden and invite you to their hang out? Was this a common thing to do in the area? Although you doubted it seeing as they only approached you now and your family had moved in months ago. Unless, maybe, they were waiting until the perfect time to corner you? Whatever the reason, you had to reply because they couldn’t smile and wait patiently forever.

“They’d love to!” You turned immediately and stared at your mom incredulously. “What?” She asked as she smiled serenely. “They look like nice young men. Now go and get changed while I get them something to drink.”

The days that followed the impromptu hang out were fun. It was routine at that point to care and maintain your garden during the morning and then seeking out Jaemin and Jeno for company when it was the afternoon. While you and Jaemin bonded over horticulture, the teen freely offering advice on how to care for your plants and asked for your opinions on pots, you and Jeno preferred to spend your time with each other by talking about various books or him playing his guitar as you tended to your garden. Jaemin regularly teased the two of you for being ‘boring nerds’ but neither of you cared because you both knew that he was aware that his extroverted-like nature could be overwhelming at times for the two of you.

It was the afternoon and, like clockwork, you collected Jaemin from his house so that you could both walk to Jeno’s house down the street. Jaemin chatted animatedly, comfortably filling up the silence like he always did, not stopping even as the two of you approached Jeno’s house where your friend was waiting patiently at the steps on the porch of his house.

“So what are we doing?” The black haired teen asked as he jumped up and made his way towards you. He and Jaemin did their handshake when he was close enough.

When they were finished he smiled radiantly at you, raising his hand. The gentle high-fives he gave you every time he saw you was something that you always looked forward to. There was nothing special about it or anything, you just liked the feeling of his hand against yours–which you knew was absolutely pathetic. Sometimes, though, when you were feeling particularly courageous, you folded your fingers so that your hands would interlock. It was something you did quickly, fold and then immediately let go because you knew he wouldn’t return it anyway, so there was no point in making things weird.

Your brain almost short-circuited when this time it was Jeno who folded his fingers, smile turning shy, but you managed to fold yours as well. You supposed that the two of you looked stupid; two teenagers staring at each other with their hands interlocked in mid-air however you couldn’t find it in you to care. Not when your heart was beating as fast as it was, your hands becoming clammy.

“Oh get a room!” Jaemin exclaimed as he pretended to gag. The two of you jumped apart, avoiding eye contact as your pink haired friend snickered. While Jeno started a play fight with him, you took the time to calm yourself down. When they finished, they looked at you.

“What?” Hopefully there wasn’t a flush evident on your cheeks or something because you would be mortified.

“It’s your turn to choose something for us to do today.” Jeno replied, peeking at you through his lashes.

You tilted your head slightly as you thought. The three of you had already gone to the cinema and ice-cream parlor that week because that was what Jaemin had chosen to do two days ago and yesterday, when it was Jeno’s choice, the three of you went to the small museum before he requested that the two of you model for him so that he could work on his photography skills. There wasn’t much else to do so you were stumped.

“How about we build something from IKEA?” Your parents caved in and bought the bench however Taeyong declined your invitation to assemble it because of work. At his refusal you immediately began to sulk but quickly cheered up when he promised that he would paint it when he had the chance.

“Do you mean the bench that your parents bought the other day?”

Pleased that Jeno remembered the tidbit of random information, you beamed. “Yep! So, what do you guys say?” They chirped their agreement and with that, the three of you spun around and walked back to your house.

“Are we nearly finished?” Jaemin asked from where he was laying down on the grass, resting his face on the palm of his hands.

Jeno clicked his tongue at response. “You mean are me and y/n nearly finished.” He corrected as he continue to twist the screwdriver. Jaemin pouted which made you huff out a laugh. He was the one who eagerly volunteered to read out the instructions as the two of you assembled it, imitating a loud buzzer when either of you did something wrong.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost finished.” You assured him then you turned to face Jeno. “Can I have that screwdriver when you’re done?” He nodded in reply. As you waited, you allowed your eyes roam his figure; from how his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and then all the way down to his bicep and hands. Your eyes averted immediately to the large tree behind him when he moved suddenly. “Thanks.” You said as he held out the tool towards you. The two of you held eye contact for longer than necessary, your hand over his as you swiped the screwdriver from him.

“Your welcome.” Jeno responded quietly, his eyes searching your own.

From your right, you heard Jaemin flop onto his back and release a loud, groan that spoke of long-suffering.

Unable to fall asleep, you scrolled through your phone aimlessly. It was four in the morning and the entire house was asleep. As you were about to click a random YouTube video that was in your recommendations, you received a text from Jeno. You smiled goofily at your screen as you tapped your reply to his question. Just as you were about to start the video, there was a light tap on your window. You waited, hoping it was just in your imagination or a bird that crashed into your window by mistake. Another tap convinced you to slowly get off of your bed and check the winow.

Jeno stood on your lawn in a puffer jacket and sweats, camera strap hanging on his neck. “Come with me.” He said, keeping his voice low.

“Where?” You inquired, already ready to grab your hoodie and your shoes.

“It’s a surprise.”

The surprise ended up being a forty-five minute away. The location he lead you to was on top of a steep hill, where a large cherry tree stood. The hill overlooked the neighborhood and, if you squinted hard enough, you could just about make the outline of your house. The view was very pretty. You made a mental note to read in the shade of the tree some time during the week or maybe even host a picnic there.

“Why’d you take me here?” You questioned, turning to look at Jeno.

“I thought that we could watch the sun rise,” he kicked at the air lightly, fiddling with his camera. “And that maybe I could take some pictures of you?”

“Okay,” you agreed easily, loving how he beamed at you in return. You sat on the grass, patting the spot next to you, and hugged your arms against your chest. Resting your temple on your knees, you caught Jeno looking at you. “What?” He shook his head. “So how’d you find this place?” You asked. You were mesmerized by the way he spoke, calm and gentle as always. Sleep was threatening to possess you but you fought against it, not wanting to miss anything.

When the sun made its slow appearance, Jeno hopped up and held his hands out to you, pulling you up when you grabbed onto them. Him taking pictures was nothing new but you felt a little bit antsy because it would be his first time taking pictures of you without Jaemin. As you contorted your body to create a variety of silly poses, you tried not to think about how intimate the whole situation felt. It was probably all in your head anyway.

“Wait, just two more.” With that, he let his camera go and retrieved his phone from his pocket. He took a photo of you and then he walked up to you, put his arms around your shoulders and snapped a quick picture.

The walk back involved plenty of saccharine smiles, bashful gazes and Jeno handing you his puffer jacket to keep you warm. You didn’t feel brave enough to take his hand on your own or kiss him sweetly like they did in the movies when you were saying goodbyes. But as you stared at your ceiling, smile so wide it hurt your cheeks, you wished that you did.

“What are you guys doing?”

The two teens stopped bickering, Jeno placing something behind his back. You quirked a brow but took a seat in the booth opposite them, anyway. Jaemin wanted to watch a movie again and so to pass the time, the three of you decided to grab a milkshake in the diner before the screening.

“Oh no,” Jaemin gasped dramatically as he patted at the pockets of his denim jacket. “I forgot my wallet at home,” you shrugged, offering to pay for him immediately. “No, it��s alright. I’ll just go and grab it. Ow! Jeno, what the hell!” You glanced at the aforementioned teen, who smiled innocently before wincing. “Well,” Jaemin sighed as he stood up, “I’ll just head out.” Jeno covered his eyes with his hand, avoiding the look that his best friend gave him. As soon as he disappeared, Jeno’s phone buzzed numerous times which made him mutter something you didn’t catch.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the word. “What was that all about?”

“Who knows?” You remained somewhat suspicious. There was something going on, you were sure of it. “I, um, ordered your regular for you if that’s alright?”

You nodded an affirmative and allowed a beat of silence before you spoke again. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

Jeno sputtered. “I– Well, you see–” You giggled at him, causing him to whine out your name as he hid his face in his hands. “There’s something I need to give you.” Then, without further hesitation, he produced a mason jar from behind his back. “It’s a terrarium that I made for you yesterday.”

You took it from his hands and held it with caution as you inspected it. It was very pretty. The plants that he chose were extremely vibrant, the stones different colors and he even placed a cute little cat figurine that was made to appear like it was sleeping.

Removing your gaze from the mason jar, you met his eyes. “Is this why you couldn’t hang out with us yesterday?” You asked softly. When he nodded, you returned your gaze to the mason jar so that you could continue to stare at the terrarium in wonder. “Oh my God,” you breathed out, gently placing the container onto the table. “This is totally a date, isn’t it? That’s why Jaemin abandoned us the minute I got here.”

Jeno fidgeted with his fingers as he met your eyes, clearing his throat before he spoke. “I wanted to ask you before, you know the day we watched the sun rise together?”

“Jeno that was two weeks ago.”

He winced. “Yeah, I know. I chickened out last minute.”

“Oh my God,” you repeated, eyes widening. “If you had told me this was a date I would have dressed nicer. Jeno, how could you do this to me?”

“So you don’t mind that this is a date?”

“Jeno, sweetie, I’ve had a massive crush on you for ages now. I’m surprised you didn’t notice or I didn’t accidentally tell you.”

A goofy smile lit up his face. “Oh.” He looked extremely pleased, like a dream of his came true. You supposed it probably did. “You look great, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. You always look great.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that emerged. “So does this mean we can hold hands on the table as we share the same milkshake and stare adoringly into each others eyes?”

Jeno threw his head back to laugh and you were quick to follow. “If that’s what you want.”

Later that evening after your date was over and the two of you were sitting on the bench, the one that Taeyong successfully gave some personality, you kissed him softly like you wanted to weeks ago. And as you watched him walk away, him repeatedly looking back at you, you startled when you saw Jaemin waving his arms erratically on his porch. When you acknowledged him with a wave of your own, he gave you a huge thumbs up.

“Finally!” He hollered before breaking out into a silly dance.

“Thank you!” You yelled back.

Finally indeed.

#yall i bought a ticket to wayv’s online concert !!!!#I AM SO EXCITED LIKE OMG #I CANT BELIEVE ITS THIS SUNDAY SMDMFKD #i also downloaded the lysn app so that i could apply to be in the video call thingy #well its not a video call but i forgot the word for it because my brain has stopped working #buT Y E A H #i wanted to watch all of it but like ???#i dont have €32 just laying around you know #so i had to pick and choose and it ended up being wayv 😔✌🏻#oh yeah this was supposed to be a pocket sized!jeno fic #but that isnt what happened?????#idk what this is tbh 🥴#but i do hope yall like it !!#also lmk if any of u guys are gonna watch wayv this sunday so we can cry tgt #okay im gonna shut up now dkdkdk bye 🤪#anyway here come the tags:#nct scenarios #nct #nct au #nct writings #nct dream #nct imagines #nct x you #nct x reader #lee jeno #nct jeno #nct dream jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years

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| silence | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader genre: idk actually so maybe fluff?? haha :D a/n: warning incoming bad grammar and not proof read at all omg~ 😂😂 but i dare you to read it anyway~ *winks* enjoy! ~j.

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jaehyun walked to turn a heel at the end of the hallway, entering the classroom with only a few minutes left before his arts professor came. he anxiously looked at the clock, the handle ticking away just like how everything else in his sight faded away. he fixed his bag and placed his books onto the table. sitting back on his chair, sicheng who was behind him, tapped him on the shoulder to ask if he was okay. no response, and sicheng had to let his friend be. the ringing in jaehyun’s ears continued, muffled voices soon brought to complete silence.

just like how he encountered you earlier.

during the lesson switch, to be exact.

he visited you when you got your books from the lockers. something he always did in the morning before you both start your day. if arrived early, he would take you out for a tiny breakfast date. a gentleman indeed. but today of all days, you didn’t talk to him and avoided his calls and messages. more of he thought you didn’t want to see him. not a word came out from your lips whenever he would ask how you were. sure the eye contact was there, but it was just that. conscience led him to think that he might be the reason why you acted this way; cold, hard-to-approach, bothered. it was strange because never in two-year span of dating, had you ever ignored him. he was the jung jaehyun, your boyfriend and lover. there was no way that you-

“jung jaehyun?” mr. park fixed his glasses as he called lad. jaehyun shuffled in his seat, aware that he wasn’t paying any attention when the lesson was already an hour in. “i’ll remove you from the list if you could tell me what van gogh suffered from.” he tilted his head, jaehyun reluctantly shifting his eyes to the board; his name written under the word ‘detention’.

sicheng swallowed his giggles at jaehyun for his unreasonable daydreaming. mr. park could be very annoying at detention, given the fact that he had experienced it thrice.

jaehyun cleared his throat. “he suffered from delusions and episodes-”

“which episodes?” mr. park challenged him.

“psychotic episodes and he had mental instability. because of that it led to a neglect in his physical state-”

“alright, good enough. if i see you daydream in my class again, i think you know the consequences.” he turned around to write points at the blackboard.

another hour of mr. park’s lecture felt like eternity. he didn’t even bother to write down notes because all he wanted was to see you. he had to know the reason of your treatment to him, and once bell rang and the lesson ended on time, he rushed out of the classroom. soon sicheng carried his stuff, not trying to lose sight of his friend.

at the cafeteria, jaehyun spotted you by the counter with your friends. the movements of your shoulders from possibly giggling only meant that you were fine. still he wondered why you ignored him.

minghao and seokmin went to their table to have lunch. they noticed their friend off in a daze, looking at nothing but the concrete wall. he didn’t touch his food nor utter anything upon arriving. “he’s been like that since art history.” sicheng cut the super awkward silence.

“seriously what? he loves art history though.” minghao munched on his salad. “did you ask him why?”

“nah, but i have a hunch it’s got something to do with y/n.” sicheng shrugged.

jaehyun perked up in his seat when he sensed your presence walk pass their table. he thought he saw you smile weakly at him, even if it was just a second long. you looked a little slim from the last time he eyed you from head to toe.

“mhm, yep it’s definitely about her.” seokmin pursed his lips.

clanks of ultensils opposite from seokmin startled him. “i don’t get it” jaehyun hissed, finally munching onto his lunch.

“dude chill you’re angry eating.” seokmin calmed him.

“she’s acting like i’m not her boyfriend. like what the heck did i do?” jaehyun slurped on his drink.

“maybe you did something unconsciously?” sicheng asked with his arms crossed. “i mean you could be a real mess when you drink too many shots.”

jaehyun glared at sicheng, giving him annoyed telepathic eyes that told him you didn��t like it when he drank too much. he knew he didn’t go to the bar this week, and it wasn’t the answer as to why you ignored him.

“you might want to talk to her now.” minghao hesistantly suggested.

“i want to but she’s avoiding me. it’s been three days.” jaehyun slumped on his seat.

“he could turn out worse if it was a week.” seokmin tried to make a joke out of it, only to be responded by a pissed jaehyun.

“jae, what i’m saying is talk to her now?” minghao tilted his head to the side, pointing to your figure by the cafeteria entrance.

“ugh, glad my lessons for today are done.” jaehyun stood up and slung his bag over his shoulders.

you saw how jaehyun hurriedly walk towards to where you were. immediately your legs fuzed with energy like electricity and started to run, afraid of him to come closer. your chest already ached at the fact you’ve been silent treating him for three straight days. the bike you rode on this morning soon came into your view and you ran quickly towards it, pushing it to start peddling.

“y/n! babe! come back here!” you heard jaehyun from behind and as you took a turn at the next street to your apartment. to your surprise, jaehyun too grabbed a random bike to follow you.

the tension was rising. you didn’t care how your hair nearly block your sight. you couldn’t face him now, not today. you peddled as fast as you can, remembering how insisting jaehyun could be whenever there was a minor clash between the two of you. you hear his pants and yells ordering you to stop. “why are you running away?!” he screamed, not giving any attention to his voice crack and the horns of the passing vehicles.

jaehyun noticed how wobbly your ride was, and when you slightly crashed into the apartment’s front yard, his heart skipped a beat, worrying that you might be injured. he wanted to clear things out, maybe apologise for something he knew he didn’t do. it may sound stupid but it was probably the right thing to do so you wouldn’t ignore him this long. “y/n!”

“agh!” your fingers pressing non-stop onto the elevator button. you squealed when you heard his footsteps. the numbers going up were taking too long.

you hurriedly took the keys from your pockets and managed to slip it into the door knob, forcing your way home. the other elevator dinged, and you knew jaehyun was just right behind. “y/n!” he called out. with heavy heart and instinct, your hands found their way to the knob and slammed the door to a close.

but jaehyun was a tad faster. his palms held the edge and without effort, he opened the door, making you stumble backwards. “please talk to me!” he said, seeing your figure run farther into your apartment though you slid slightly at the waxed floor. “babe-”

he had gotten hold of your arm when he entered your room. he chuckled at the sight of you wearing his hoodie. a small you and his huge clothes by the cupboards. he didn’t want to force things onto you, so as you heard his tired legs bringing his body to your bed, you turned around; only to hear jaehyun let out a huge laugh.

“pfft!” you hear him cover his mouth. “why are you like that?” he asked as you held the ends of the strings attached to the hood, your face hidden behind the creases of the knotted fabric.

jaehyun tried to forcibly loosen the creases. “no!” your muffled voice unclear and even if your fingers weren’t pointing at him.

“you can’t hide from me.” he chuckled, his arms snaking by your waist as he pulled you closer. “we haven’t talked in days.”

in utmost apology, you clasped your hands together as if you were saying a prayer.

“i know you’re pouting.” he carried and swung you around. “don’t you miss me?”

you nodded, still holding onto the strings. he gently put you down. “if you love me, you’ll take off the hood.” he patted your head. “let me see my pretty girl.”

like child doing as she was told, you complied to him and removed it. “see?” jaehyun’s smile caused to you to do the same. he planted a kiss on your cheek. “why have you been ignoring me?”

he saw you look at him with slight teary eyes and with your lips pursed, jaehyun knew something was wrong. “babe?” he asked, but you only sighed heavily. “you can tell me anything.”

ignoring him, you played with his hands in response. jaehyun laughed at your actions. you never acted like this. seeing you so stressed in a good way made him discover new sides of you. “y/n why aren’t you speaking?” he pinched your cheeks and you yelped in pain, crouching down as you held your numb body part.

“ow!” you hissed, curling into a ball.

jaehyun’s eyes softened, guilt spread his body. “oh no i’m so sorry. was that painful?” he knelt down to your level to where he could see you.

“of course it does!” you closed your eyes in pain, as if rubbing your cheeks would do any better. after seeing jaehyun’s expression, you sighed in defeat. “i-i j-just had braces..” you hid by your legs and jaehyun scooted in front, wrapping you with his large frame.

“is this the reason why you wouldn’t talk to me?” he bit back a giggle as he asked, caressing your cheeks. “did it hurt?”

“moderate.. my gums still hurt.” you replied. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you and ignored you for three days.”

“it’s alright y/n. i’m not mad, but i missed you so mu-”

your stomach grumbled in a volume you wished you could turn it down. gosh how embarrassing that was. “you haven’t eaten yet?” jaehyun’s eyebrows scrunched narrowly.

“just today.” a grumble came out again and jaehyun clicked his tongue. “okay, maybe i didn’t have dinner last night as well-”

“babe, you should’ve called me! i could’ve come right away!” he stood and soon he pulled you up too.

“i planned to but i didn’t want to.” you pointed at your teeth. “i’m too shy.”

“i’m your boyfriend. you shouldn’t be shy to me.” he sighed. “i’ll make something quick and easy. porridge would do?”

“but i’m not sick though-” you followed him to the kitchen, sliding onto the wooden floor with your new socks.

jaehyun took whatever his eyes landed on at the shelves, grabbing the utensils to prepare. “y/n, i want you to wait at the couch.”

“but i want to hel-”

“y/n.” his stern voice started you. “no but’s. please? let me take care of you.”

“i can make porridge myself.” you pouted as you wriggled his arm. jaehyun sighed, his lips curved and he agreed that you wanted to at least help him. he bent down for a kiss and you returned it.

“mgh. tastes like metal.” he did the smoulder, teasing you like he always does.

“this is why i didn’t want to tell you!” you let out a tantrum. “that’s it. i’m making my own meal!”

jaehyun laughed and carried you again, swinging you like you were a stuffed toy. you hit him continuously, squealing in all kinds of high pitches. “alright alright! give me a kiss.” he puckered his lips.

“ugh you’re so demanding!” you squeezed his cheeks, but kissed him anyway.

“yep, still metal.” he teased.

smack.

“i should’ve ignored you for one more day.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

a/n: shoutout to nctzens/jaehyun biased fans who has braces! :D this is for you~

#nct 127 #jaehyun scenarios #nct #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun scenario

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sweetpxsin · 5 years

Text

Stray Kids When You Cry During an Argument

Member: Strays Kids

Plot:Can you do a stray kids reaction where they start an argument and you start crying so they try to make it up to you?

Genre: angst ft. floof

Note: I’m really trying to write some more recently so LETZGETIT

[ Master list ]

[ C H A N ]

•He was so caught up in his words that when he turned around to really look you in your eyes, he froze

•It didn’t take him long to realize what was going on and for his frustration to subside

•his hands would be on you in seconds, cupping you’re cheeks attempting to wipe your tears before pulling you close to his body

•and for a split second he wouldn’t know what to say before beginning to mumble apologises profusely

•he’d hold you a little tighter while mumbling “baby I’m so sorry” into your shoulder

•he’d stay there for a while before pulling himself away to look at you

•honestly the moment he saw the tears in your eyes he wanted nothing more but to see you smile

•though he wouldn’t have to try so hard because one look at each other and you both couldn’t help but start a fit of giggles

•each looking like a bit of mess but nonetheless looking the cutest to the other

•”yah I was the one who cried why do you look so cute?”

•”because my bbygirl/boy is smiling again.

[ W O O J I N ]

•to be honest neither of you were looking at each as silence loomed over you despite sitting on the same couch

•and you didn’t even know why but the silence took over your emotions and you began to tear up without a reason why

•being able to sense the sudden dip in your emotions, Woojin would be the first to glance in your direction

•and to see your body tremble as you attempted to hold back tears would shock him to death

•he wouldn’t waste any time getting down in front of you, ultimately forcing you to look at him

•your tear stained cheeks would break his heart and immediately he’d hold your hands

•he’d ask you what was wrong while apologizing in between and one of his hands would move up to wipe away your tears

•and the fact you begin to cry more while pushing his hands away saying “I don’t know why.” would break his heart even further

•at that point he would try to be a bit more comforting to get you to calm down and help you understand why you were feeling that way

•and when he figured out why the first thing he could think of doing is hugging you to him real tight allowing you to cry a bit more

•and once you’d calm down he’d reassure you that no matter what he’ll always love and care for you

•he’d softly shower your face in kisses before asking what you’d like to do in order to distract you from what just happened

•”I love you more than anything in this world remember that”

[ M I N H O ]

•Minho was being hard headed in the moment and hadn’t realized how frustrated he had made you till he saw you actually tear up in frustration

•he’d freeze on the spot and watch as you ran your hands thru your hair before beginning to actually cry

•not once had he actually witnessed you cry but knowing he was part of the reason why made his heartache abit

•but that wouldn’t stop him from getting closer to you, to pull your hands away from your face and replace them with his

•he’d keep them there to wipe away your tears and stop you from trying to push him away

•Minho wasn’t really the type to admit his faults right away but right now he’d admit his mistakes and apologize

•it hurt him to know he was the reason why you cried and would do anything to take that back

•and once you’d calm down enough he’d pull you tight to his body, one hand wrapped around your waist the other on your chin as he softly kissed your lips

•it was a small habit of his, to tell you he was sorry through affection but it was enough to make your heart flutter

•and once he pulled back he’d smile softly, admiring how precious your pouty face was before wiping away a stray tear

•”don’t look at me with those puppy eyes or else I might attack you in kisses.”

[ C H A N G B I N ]

•Changbin couldn’t even remember why the argument started besides the fact it escalated quickly

•so quickly that you guys were yelling back and forth till you ended up crying

•and for a moment he could just stare at you still comprehending the situation

•the way you just stood there looking at him, tears streaming down your cheeks waiting for him to say something, tore his heart

•in the moment he wouldn’t know what to say

•he just knew you needed him to console you right there despite what you guys had been arguing about

•he’d slowly approach you till one hand rest on the back of your head the other secured itself around your body

•and the way you hugged his body tight while crying warmed yet sadden him

•so much to the point he’d tear up a bit while trying to comfort and calm you down

•but when you did stop crying he’d tell you how sorry he was and that he never wants to fight with you like this again

•You’re his baby and the last thing he’d ever want to see is you crying because of him

•he’d pull back and kiss you gently before smiling upon seeing the small smile adorned on your lips

•”let’s never fight like this okay, love?”

[ H Y U N J I N ]

•The argument had ended when you walked away from Hyunjin ultimately cutting him off

•He’d stay in place watching till your form disappeared into the kitchen

•and he would follow soon after, not because he wanted to continue the argument but because he was concerned

•it was the first time you guys have ever had a fight to this degree and it was the first time you had ever walked away from him during an argument

•and when he walked into the kitchen he wasn’t expecting to find you facing a wall with a glass of water held in your hands with your head held down

•Hyunjin would approach you slowly and gently place a hand on your shoulder, surprised when you jerked away from him

•he’d try again when you turned away from him but stop himself upon seeing your form tremble

•Hyunjin would pause in the moment before wrapping his arms around you

•he’d never expect you to cry and the fact that you were, tugged at his emotions

•Hyunjin would immediate address the problems of argument with you because he felt like addressing the problems would not only prevent the argument from repeating itself but help the whole situation itself

•and when the whole talk was over he would turn you around in his arms so he could properly hug you

•He’d apologize before kissing the top of your head which would probably lead to him cupping your face and showering you with kisses till you were a giggling mess

•”You’re the cutest when you smile.”

[ J I S U N G ]

•He didn’t even remember how the whole argument happened but one thing led to another and words he didn’t mean slipped pass his lips before he could stop them

•His eyes would hardern for second before he realized what had said

•but he realized a second too late because by the time his lips parted to apologize the door to your bedroom would already be slammed shut

•It’d take him a minute before he’d finally decided to enter the room, feeling guilty for what he had just done

•the moment he stepped into the room and heard you’re muffle cries he wouldn’t know what to do with himself but he would know he wanted nothing more than to comfort you

•so without much thought he would make his way in front of you and take a seat on the floor

•he’d call your name gently hoping you would respond, yet not feeling surprised when you turned away from him

•with a soft sigh he’d allow you to calm down before calling your name softly again and wouldn’t say anything more till you turned to look at him

•He’d apologize for what he said, explaining how he was just upset and didn’t mean to say it

•and just staring at your tear stained eyes would make his voice crack and somewhere in the midst of his apology he’d interrupt himself and ask you if he could hold you

•and upon your slight nod he wouldn’t hesitate to lay next to you and hold you close before continuing to apologize

•even after his apology he would want to continue to hold you, allowing small conversation to pass between the both of you till you’d fallen asleep

•he’d smile to himself before kissing the top of your head, happy he was able to fix things between the two of you before falling asleep himself

[ F E L I X ]

•it was rare that Felix would come visit you at night in a bad mood but when he did he would usually ease up over time

•but today was different it was almost as if he was asking for an argument because that’s exactly what he got

•his emotions had gotten the best of him and had yelled at you for something catching you completely off guard

•which would spark an immediate fight between you two

•and not once in your life of knowing Felix have you felt so annoyed with him

•it was his decision to visit YOUR apartment at night and he had no right to come in and start taking his frustration out on you

•and once the tears of frustration pricked your eyes and threatened to fall you’d walk into your room making it a point to slam the door

•Felix would stare at your door for a few seconds before stubbornly walking in

•he didn’t want to continue the fight but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel even more frustrated with himself

•he’d call your name before sitting you in front of him

•his eyes would soften seeing you teary eyed and red, and he’d cup your face to wipe away your tears

•almost immediately after he’d explain his tiny tantrum to you adding his apology along the way

•and even though he didn’t show it he felt bad for taking out his frustration on you and even worse for make you cry and he’d make it up to you through his actions

•After he had wiped away your tears he’d shower your face in kisses before hugging you tight

•and whisper sweet nothings to you till you were pushing him away from cringing

•”You’re so cringy”

•”You love it”

•”No, I just love you.”

[ S E U N G M I N ]

•Arguments with Seungmin were little to none and when they did happen they were nothing big and typically something a little joking around could fix

•But it was a particular day for the both of you, in a sense you both were having your own off day, your anger feeding off each others

•which ultimately led into to a petty fight about who had it worse

•and somewhere along the lines Seungmin’s words began to sting and suddenly you became insecure with your problems, knowing Seungmin probably had bigger ones being an idol

•and the fact he didn’t even seem to care about yours would cause the mix emotions of tears to finally cascade down your face

•It would be at that moment where Seungmin would snap out of his anger and backtrack on his own words

•He knew he didn’t and would never mean any of the words he had said and seeing you cry would make him regret saying them even more

•Seungmin wouldn’t hesitate in approaching you to wipe away your tears and hold you close

•He’d apologize profusely and reassure you that you’re problems are never less than his and that you are entitled to your emotions

•It would be a lesson for the both of you but nonetheless bring you both closer together

•and to make it up to you Seungmin would shower you in affection and make the rest of the week all about you

[ J E O N G I N ]

•Jeongin wasn’t really one to start arguments but in a swirl of emotions and stress along with this small disagreement he couldn’t stop himself from being a complete brat

•the argument didn’t even have to go as far as either of you took it but it did and next thing you know you’re yelling at each other

•to the point you start crying not because of what he said but because you were frustrated

•and not wanting him to see resulted in you locking yourself in your room

•and in his own tantrum of emotions Jeongin would cry too, not because he felt like it was unfair but because he realized what he had just done

•being the youngest he wouldn’t know what to do besides to let the both of you calm down before attempting to fix the whole situation

•and when he did calm down his ears would perk at the sound of your door unlocking and he’d shly make his way to your door, sniffling along the way

•He’d knock before entering and take a seat at the edge of your bed

•It was obvious that even though you were crying you were more willing to straighten things out

•and after some apologise Jeongin would apologize further for not being able to apologize first and just tell you what was wrong

•and afterwards he’d shly beckon you to come closer to him to hug you before you both would begin to laugh at your own immaturity, sharing an innocent kiss in between

•”We’re so dumb.”

•”I know.”

•”I love you.”

•”I love you more.”

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