#down to the keyboard as i smash the keys with much much emotions

[khickuwa]

My thoughts on “A Dream of Benji” - Luke’s Fluffy Fuzzy Time Card

so I had the privilege (or the misfortune, depends on how you’d view it lmao /lh) of getting and reading Luke’s new FFT card. I haven't seen anyone talking about it yet, and I have many thoughts about it so.... To anyone who hasn’t read it yet, beware I’ll be discussing spoilers (come back when you’ve read it please I promise you you won’t regret it) and as everyone else probably mention it’s probably best to read this after the FFT event (or at least after completing Benji’s route) 

BUT I MUST SAY, this card has surprisingly became one of my favorite Luke cards (in  terms of the art as well I mean look at THEM(tm) LAYING DOWN IN A MEADOW OF FLOWER... MISS ROSA LOOKS SO ESPECIALLY PRETTY HERE LIKE) right up there with Luke’s 1st anniversary card “Under the Milky Way” and Luke’s “Shape of You” card. I know everyone is probably saving up for the second anniversary (I really need to save up to I haven’t been playing as much last month) but if you do have the s-chips to get the card like... *grabs you in a chokehold* it’s so good. I promise you it’s really worth it.

Though disclaimer!  These are just my thoughts (I’ve been up all night thinking about a virtual dog... Please I Am Not Okay) feel free to disagree! I’ll be discussing about character death and Luke’s illness, so if you ain’t good with that feel free to skip this!

Okay, moving on.

Hoyoverse. What the actual fuck. (YOU THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE A CUTE CARD? CUTE EVENT? TAKING CARE OF VIRTUAL ANIMALS?  A FLUFFY FUZZY FUN TIME!?!? WRONG. ABSOLUTELY WRONG.) This whole card was so incredibly devastating and yet it’s so hopeful at the same time. They really hammered in the idea of “inevitability” and “hopeful anticipation”  irt actualbird's journal of NXX Investigation Team Behavioral Studies. To me at least, this card is like everything that makes Luke... Luke... condensed into a card.

About Benji  (you sweet sweet boy):

Immediately right in the first story, Benji is admitted into hospital and it’s very much obvious that... Benji, a retired 9-year old military dog, doesn’t have much time left.

Benji, obviously, is very much a parallel to Luke Pearce... As I was reading the card, Benji’s situation almost feels like a peek into of what could be Luke’s Future... what could become of Luke. Once great and majestic dog plowing through a vast field of snow, saving hostages along side other agent... now so frail, the wear and tear of old injuries, old age and illness is finally getting to Benji. 

...and in Luke’s own words: “Is he still the same Benji from my memories.”

Luke and Rosa decides to take Benji into a dog park, where they hope to give Benji some sort of “freedom”... for Benji to finally some semblance of living life as a normal dog. It still had to be catered in a way that was familiar to Benji... and this is sort of scattered around through out between the event stories and the card. eg. making custom training dumbbells, planning training regiments, recreating a hostage situation. Even when Benji is retired, he's still yearning to go back... eg looking back to the direction of military base. Because in the end of the day, that’s all Benji Knows. His Whole Life has Always Been a Mission to Benji.

Then Mr. Henderson, a man in the dog park who's also grieving about his late dog, who's also a retired military dog. And while Luke was able to open up to this man, as both have/are going through the same grief. But MAN did that interaction cause Luke to spiral downwards.

Even in what I would say Benji’s last moments with Luke and Rosa, the way that Luke had to dismiss Benji of his “duty” this way. (I’m not okay, I’m not okay, THIS DIALOGUE WRECKED ME)

About Luke (ah here we go again):

After being subsequently punched multiple times in the face by “LOOK BENJI/LUKE PARALLELS, LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT IT!!!”

As I’m going “NO BENJI UWAH QAQ” every second through this card... I also can’t help but fear for Luke. It really made me think that... let’s say even if NSB drops Luke the moment he was diagnosed with the illness and three years left to live, I really do wonder if he would’ve been able to cope with it... or otherwise live with himself? 

Luke as we know it, has this whole self deprecating deal of avoiding and hesitating happiness. The way I see it, he often times try to make himself seem "small" in a way, that he prioritizes other people's needs first before his own. And I would imagine the last thing he'd want for himself is to become a burden/useless. If one day Luke does retire from NSB, one would think that he'd be free... but not really either. I can imagine him being sort of like "what now?" (i can sort imagine luke entering this phase of adjusting back to normal life when he's back in Stellis. this brings me to the headcanon of luke's... questionable lifestyle is a product of Luke having to readjust to normal life /i’m sorry i made fun of your kitchen and my boy, you probably had to make do what with what you had.)

If think about Luke lying in a hospital bed, nearing the end of his life. I'm Going To Lose It (tm). But looking at Benji all old and sickly... I really can’t help imagine that IF it were to happen, it would probably go down the same way it did for Benji. (I Am Going To Cry)

Anyways, after the conversation with Mr. Henderson, Luke spirals down into thoughts of "if I didn't left you, would things have been different?", “we could’ve been happier, if only I had made the “right” choice. (and I wanna grab him by the shoulders and then scream at him “LUKE STOP BAD >:C”)

About Rosa (YOU GO GIRL SLAY):

NOW, HONESTLY. ROSA REALLY DO SHINE IN THIS CARD. HER RESPONSE TO BENJI. HER RESPONSE TO HER SAD LITTLE BOYFRIEND GRIEFING AN SPIRALING DOWN. THIS IS WHY SHE IS THE MC(TM) AAA

but more than that, this card somehow not only showcase her strengths but also how this somehow becomes a weakness as well (at least to me). 

Rosa to me, comes off someone who really looks on straight ahead and her focus on what she can do in the present, in contrast to Luke’s tendency to focus on past regrets and uncertain tomorrows. I would argue that she also has this like- perseverance/stubbornness against adversities and I would say that her solutions also come off as very head on?. (could you imagine having to argue with your lawyer girlfriend, like nah... you ain’t winning for sure.)

(”But that’s for dogs” I’m laughing through TEARS OMG - Luke is Dog-Coded FR) But Rosa in here is really ain’t letting Luke go, forcing Luke to Actually Look into her Eyes and tell her What’s Wrong. (LukeRosa nose booping omg...this is how they comfort each other in my head from now on) Which yes, sometimes I think Luke does need someone who can hold him back before he retreats, but also at the same time... after this exchange, Rosa realizes that it’s not really quite enough to erase his worries. And I think this is also the exact moment Rosa realizes that not all problems could be solved immediately... sometimes you have to let time do its thing and just.. sit with it. 

(Rosa calling in an animal psychologist... like did she just searched on up in the internet for consultation like pls Rosa) In Story 5 (I’d put in every screenshot from this part if I could), we go on the Benji’s “rescue mission”, I kinda enjoyed how Rosa does fumble a bit here and there... though with good intentions, perhaps the overly familiar environment was over-stimulating to Benji? which caused him to attack Luke somehow... But anyways... It seems that Benji still thinks that he’s on service and it’s not when Luke “dismissed” him of his “duties does Benji stop and Luke, just so full of grief, wondering why Benji couldn’t just forget the past. And Rosa really isn’t holding back with her words when she says:

“Why does Benji have to forget the past?” “

Have you ever thought that perhaps Benji is proud of himself for being a military dog?” 

“You said before if Benji wasn’t a military dog, he could probably lead a happier life.”

“But Luke, you and I are not Benji, We can never understand Benji’s true feelings.”

“And we can’t just make wild guesses about whether Benji would have ended in a better situation if he had made a different choice...

“Because it will never happen”

Because it will never happen....

MISS ROSA I-

“But how are you sure a “perfect and flawless” choice exists in this world”

“Luke, are you sure that if one makes a different choice, one’s ending will be better?”

I just really love Rosa for this because she just so... incredibly focused in the present and taking one’s autonomy. And this is probably so reassuring to Luke (and to me) cause she’s basically saying “regardless of what happens, we will be fine.” 

And I don’t think Rosa has ever blamed Luke for leaving, for having a dangerous job, nor for getting diagnosed with only 3-years left to live. SHE JUST LOVES HIM SO MUCH OUEUEUEUEUOOO!!! Even. EVEN. if Luke’s condition does turn for the worse, I really do think that Luke is in very VERY capable hands. AND THAT’S SO REASSURING TO ME? As much as I Really Don’t Want Luke to Die (Please Find A Cure For Him), but just the thought that Rosa is going to be there for him (just as he will be there for her) regardless of whatever happens to the both of them, it will always be the “best ending”.

I’m just so happy that Rosa’s answer to Benji’s case is really just to ensure that Benji lives the last few days of his life... happy. and IT’S SUCH A ROSA ANSWER PLS... Even with Luke as well, even with knowing all the risks of staying with Luke, she’d rather make the most out of the remaining time they have. But even so, she’s still so full of hope! “As long as we’re not at the end of the path, there’ll be boundless possibilities” 

Luke is the Definition of Devotion, BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT ROSA? It’s so subtle, but I really can’t deny that Rosa does really really really love Luke too, in a way that she’s going to be there for him... for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. (HOLDS THEM BOTH IN THE PALM OF MY HANDS UUUUUOEOEOOEOE)

When Benji finally passes away peacefully in a quiet afternoon, with Luke and Rosa at his side, I really do think that this is the best ending for him. RIP Benji, you were the goodest boy. 

#tot spoilers #chika rambles #Luke Pearce #lukerosa #tearsofthemis #on another note: luke's voice acting here. HEART WRENCHING. #i'm using korean dub #cause luke sounds the most gentle in korean to me at least #also reliving mystic messenger vibes... #but whenever his voice breaks i just wanna cry with him #anyways have I told you guys that I love them so much? #I love them so much #this almost sounds like a sponsored ad for Luke's FFT card but #omg it's so painful but so good #forgive me for any grammar mistakes/typos cause i really didn't structure this in anyways it's really just everything in my head plonked #down to the keyboard as i smash the keys with much much emotions

[rainroses45]

HELLO!!! its me🌝 could you write a ff on miguel o’hara where reader gets hurt during a mission and doesn’t report in and miguel just goes crazy cause even though they’re not dating he still cares? LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST POR FAVOR🫶

All I wanted was you

description: You don’t report back after a mission, and it’s sparking something deep inside Miguel (Miguel O’hara c fem. reader)

a/n: OMG THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST THANK YOU SO MUCH i hope you enjoy this as much as i have enjoyed writing it 🩷 (NOT EDITED)

song inspiration: All I wanted was you by Paramore

Warnings: LOTS AND LOTS ANGST, mentions of blood and injuries

The beating of his heart transformed into a horror of ticking sounds. The faster it went the more anxious thoughts he got. Why haven’t you reported back yet?

It was suppose to be a simple mission. He wouldn’t have sent you alone if it wasn’t. He wouldn’t have even sent you out at all.

“Maybe you should take some deep breaths and page her again?” Lyla recommended, once again appearing on Miguel’s shoulder for the forty time this hour.

“I’ve tried that already,” he sighed, “it just cuts to static.”

“Are you sure you are doing it right?” Lyla peered over to see, only to shunned off by a furious Miguel.

“You think I don’t know how to work THE FUCKING WATCH?!?” He yelled out as he threw the device across the room, not bothering if or if it didn’t shattered into millions of pieces.

“Not when you’re blinded by your emotions, isn’t that why you made me in the first place you furry face troglodyte?!” She contradicted him, “to help you when you are in this kind of state.”

Miguel rolled his eyes groaning at the AI, not bothering to respond back. He continued his intense search for you, looking at all of your locations last notified in before the signal went out.

————————

You laid back against the wall clutching your stomach as you took deep breathes. Even as you applied pressure to the wound, heavy amounts of red covered your hands and suit leaving you bare to the crisp air.

The mission was suppose to be easy, a simple get in and get out type of formation. You hadn’t realized something was wrong when entering the danger zone, and that was the first warning sign. Your spidy senses were blocked out in this universe, leaving you too vulnerable to serval attacks.

“No! No! No!” You whispered yelled as the sound of innocent civilians screams echoing through the alleyway. You tried to push yourself off the wall, balancing the weight of your body on your wobbly feet.

“Y/n- Y/n are- Y/n are you- are you there?!” A muffled voice asked - you knew it was his, and you so desperately wanted to answer back with a screaming “YES” but it was no use. If you answered now you would lead more danger onto the others. You had to do this by yourself.

You shot a web on your wound, using it as a makeshift band-aid before grabbing a rock and smashing the watch into pieces.

“Sorry Miguel, but I can’t afford another loss.”

——————-

“PINCHE BASURA DE MIERDA!” The keyboard was crushed under his firm grasp. The little letter keys scattered to the floor as Miguel’s knuckles turned white. You had destroyed it.

He was so close - so close to finding your location and you crushed it like a piece of glass.

“Lyla,” he grunted out as he retracted his claws from the destroyed technology. The clock taunting him back with a flick of the hand.

“Lyla!” He bellowed seeing as the AI didn’t appear to his answers. “Lyla I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING GOOD IF YOU DON’T SHOW UP I WILL DISCONNECT YOU!” He let out a shaky breath. The situation reminded him too much of Gabriella, and he just couldn’t let it go down like that again. He just couldn’t.

“What do you want?” She appeared on his shoulder, face turned away from his trembling gaze.

“I need you to call for back up.” His mask already covered his face, yet she could still see the way his eyes turned bloody under the pressure of you not reporting back.

He never admitted out loud that he loved you. He didn’t need to. Everywhere you went, he followed behind you like a lost puppy. Every thing you wanted, he made sure to give it to you in a matter of seconds. It was the love sick stares when you weren’t watching that attracted the attention of other’s curiosity. The only thing holding him back from expressing his love out loud, was the fear of uncertainty, and it was eating him from the inside right now.

“Why don’t you assemble a team right now?” She questioned, hoping she wasn’t thinking what he was thinking. It would be a suicide mission if he went alone without back up.

“I don’t have time for that.” He typed in the coordinates of your last location. “She doesn’t have time for that.” He whispered before running through the portal.

———————————

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there. Bodies laid on the floor like flowers swaying in a forgotten meadow. The adrenaline once keeping you standing now left you on the ground with nothing.

You tried your best. You gave everything you had, yet it wasn’t good enough. Hundreds of lives were taken under a matter of seconds. You couldn’t tell where your blood trail started nor who it stained.

“Y/n!” Goosebumps erupted from your body, covering the skin that wasn’t pouring out your blood. He shouldn’t have come.

“Y/n!” He called out once more swinging to reach you; his mask disappearing. His shaking hands grabbed your shoulders, ignoring the corpses around him, and only focusing on the tears pouring out of your puffy eyes.

“Gracias a Dios que estás bien,” he pulled you into his chest letting you hear his fast beating heart.

“Are y okay? What hap- happened? Did you-“ His voice came in and out, leaving you with a confused face and a pounding headache.

“Lyla!” He called out to her, asking when was back up coming. His eyes never left your face. It wasn’t until a sticky wet feeling tainted his skin that he noticed the wound.

“Fuck! Okay, okay Y/n, sweetheart I need you to keep your eyes open.” He laid you down on the ground gently, pulling apart your suit to see the gash. You let out a painful scream as he applied pressure onto your injury.

“I’m sorry.” His hands began to tremble, making him yell out in frustration. Now was not the time to start panicking.

“Miguel,” you whispered out, placing a hand on his when he didn’t turn your way. “Miguel it’s okay.” You stated, he shook his head scrunching his eyes trying to clear his blurry eyes.

“No it’s not Y/n, you aren’t going to die on me. You can’t.” He cried out as you looked at him sadly. “You can’t give up that easily y/n! YOU CANT DO THAT TO ME!” He screamed applying more pressure, causing you even more pain.

“Miguel you need to let go!” You mumbled out, your conscious fading in and out of the conversation.

“I can’t Y/n! I fucking can’t!” The sound of sirens filled the air. Even as you laid splattered in blood, your hair tangled up and face filled with bruises, he still thought you looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your grasp on his hand loosened as your eyes closed for the very last time.

“NO!” Quickly, he began to do chest compressions, the crushing sounds of your ribs gave him no indication of stopping. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He did not care. He needed you. He couldn’t live without you. All he ever wanted, all he ever needed was dead and he couldn’t cope with that.

Maybe if he had revealed he loved you before it wouldn’t have hurt this much, maybe if he never had fallen for you he wouldn’t have felt anything.

But in the end, all he was always going to loose you.

#angst tag #anon <3 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #spider man 2099 #spider man across the spider verse #major character death #sad ending #i’m crying #request #miguel spiderverse #i tried #anon request

[longlivefeedback]

Commenting 101

Lesson 2: Describe the Indescribable

How are we all doing after the first week of finding our catchphrases?

Ok! So here's step 2 to help you comment more:

Describe the indescribable

Expressing yourself if hard. Many of you indicated in the notes on the original poll that you felt overwhelmed after reading and eventually just walked away without saying anything in a comment in the fic. As a writer, I get it. Writing is hard. Expressing the chaos of thoughts and emotions in your head is hard. If you want a tip on how to handle this and how to communicate even a little bit to the human being who wrote that thing you just read and who caused all those feels, do this:

Accept that you can't describe everything.

Pick one thing to describe.

Use words if necessary.

If you use your catchphrase at the beginning or end of the comment, you got the start of a real nice comment ;)

1. Accept that you can't describe everything

Just sit with your emotions for a while. Let your thoughts be chaotic. Take a breath. It's ok to feel and think a lot of things. And much as the author would love to know all your thoughts and feelings, they understand that it's hard to write it all down on a blank space. (Trust me, they went through the exact same thing to get that fic you just read out into the world and posted.)

So what do? If you cannot pick apart and describe those thoughts and emotions, it's ok to tell the author so! You can write things like:

"I'm sorry, I have so many thoughts and emotions about this story I don't even know where to begin! Just know that I loved your fic!"

"There's so much I want to say but I can't word properly right now this was amazing!"

"Putting a placeholder here for when I have the energy to comment properly!"

For the last one, you can come back and edit your comment as long as no one has replied to it yet. If they have and you can't, just explain in the thread or write a new comment! :)

2. Pick one thing to describe

So much to say, so little time and energy. Remember our first lesson? Something is better than nothing. So. Pick the first thing you remember. Pick the last thing that set you off. Pick the thing that you've been hung up on since the middle of the chapter.

Talk about it. Try:

"There's so much about this fic, but I want to mention this one thing..."

"Person A doing that thing made me cry!"

"I loved the moment when A and B kissed!"

"That part where that thing happened made me laugh aloud!"

"I'm just a mess of emotions at the end of this fic I can't even"

Check out @dawnfelagund's 101 Comment Starters for more examples.

The LLF Comment Builder was also designed to help users learn to comment using instructional scaffolding, as well as to remove other barriers to leaving feedback such as dysexecutive syndrome, anxiety, mobility issues that make typing long reviews difficult (particularly on mobile), language fluency, and mobile commenting functionality in general. Check it out to see if it helps for when you just aren’t sure what to say.

The key is to pick one thing, and know that that is perfectly okay. Don't let not being able to say everything paralyze you and prevent you from saying anything.

3. Use words if necessary

A picture is worth a thousand words they say...😏 So go wild.

Use emojis, add gifs, and (my personal favourite) the keyboard smash.

"This fic was just asldkfjas;dlkfjsdofwekl 😭🙏💗💞💖❤️‍🔥💕"

Enough said, yeah? :)

Remember:

When in doubt, comment your catchphrase.

Saying something is enough, and it is better than saying nothing.

If you really can't word, just spam hearts 💕💗💕💗💕💞💖❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

See you next week!

Lessons masterpost.

#commenting 101 #llf commenting 101 #101 comment starters #llf comment builder #commenting and culture #comment culture

[littleredwing89]

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

Warnings – Language. Kidnapping. Stalking. Mild Violence. Angst. Hurt.

Word Count: 4,870

A/N: This is the final chapter everyone, sorry for the little delay, I was working on a few of the actions scenes to ensure they were good. I really hope you all like this xoxo

~~~

It had been almost a month. Every lead turned into a dead end. Nothing. Much like the Joker himself, no one knew a thing. The whole thing was tearing Jason apart. He’d barely slept. He’d maybe had 3 hours per night. If that, and he was convinced the only reason he got sleep was because Bruce had slipped him something in his coffee.

The fourth cassette tape came with a dead yellow rose and a rotten apple. He pushed play on the recorder and swallowed thickly as the grainy camera zoomed in on your face. You looked pale. Your cheeks looked hollow and your once colourful eyes looked gaunt. Haunted.

“Well Jason, I’m a man of my word...I’ve been looking after her so good”, Joker laughed hysterically and smoothed his hand down your cheek, smacking it lightly. The slap caused you to jolt in the chair. A sharp gasp flew out of your chapped lips.

Jason felt Bruce’s hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. The notion sent a brief wave of calm through Jason. Maybe this was how Bruce felt all those years ago...when he received similar tape of ..of himself. Jason turned back to the screen and focused his eyes. Searching for a clue. Anything. Something to bring you back to him.

“She’s been such a good little princess bird boy...she’s done everything I asked...and more”, Joker whistled happily as he tapped your nose with a wicked smile. Jason felt his heart stop and looked directly into your eyes through the screen. Good he wanted to hold you in his arms and never let you go. 

The tape skipped and replayed the same thing back, “...and more”. It skipped again, “...and more”. Jason growled and the tape paused before going completely black.

His fist smashed into the computer keyboard, pieces of black plastic scattering across the desk. Jason released a loud sobbing noise and sank to the cold stone floor of the bat cave. His eyes scrunched shut tightly, imagining you were in front of him. Giving him that silly smile you always did when you first woke up. It was one of his favourite smiles. You had hundreds of different types of smiles. The one you gave him when he hugged you randomly. The one you’d give him when he told you a stupid joke. The one you’d show him when you were both standing down one of the grocery aisles for no reason at all.

“Jason...son - we will find her - I promise you”, Bruce’s deep voice shattered Jason’s illusion of you in his mind.

“It’s been so long...what if-”, Jason ran a hand over his face. The stubble was longer, causing him to itch.

“Don’t”, Bruce warned, “don’t think like that. We will find her”.

~~~

The last cassette tape Jason received was covered in a dark, red sticky substance. Jason knew what it was but he didn’t know if it was yours. Before Jason could even think about playing it, Bruce had prized it from his fingers.

“Jason we need to analyse the blood, it might give us a clue”, his voice was stable and deep. He attempted to reassure Jason with a firm grip to the shoulder but it did nothing. Jason felt empty without you.

“We need to watch-”, Jason started but was interrupted by Bruce.

“No, I’ll watch it. You need to get some sleep, let me do this Jason. Please”, Bruce pleaded desperately, “You haven’t slept in over 48 hours”.

Jason laughed but it was hollow and sharp, “You really think I can sleep knowing she’s stuck with that fucking psycho?!”.

Bruce sighed and ran a hand over his face, “Jason I know you want to get Y/N back”, he placed the cassette onto a high tech scanning machine, it bleeped repeatedly as it scanned over the material, “But we all need to be working together and that means recharging our batteries”.

Jason scoffed and pushed past Bruce looking over the computer scanner typing something into the system, “So you’re telling me you went and had an eight hour sleep when Joker caught me?”.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “Jason”.

“JUST STOP!!”, Jason's voice cracked as he shouted and for a moment, he sounded like the broken man in the abandoned shopping mall that long Halloween night many years ago.

“I-I need to do this Bruce. I-I have to, for Y/N”, his voice was scratchy and raw. 

Bruce simply nodded and turned around. He extracted the cassette from the blood stained cloth and pushed it into the player to the right. Bruce took a secondary glance to Jason, giving him one last option but Jason just stared at the screen, waiting to see what the tape would show.

The second the tape played, the batcave was filled with your screams. They sounded broken and dry. Jason’s heart shattered. The shards stabbing him painfully. As you came into view on the camera, your long h/c hair was matted and stuck to your face. Blood staining it a deep red.

The Joker came into the view of the camera and smiled wide, his teeth showing.

“Jason, I see why you’re so attached to this woman, she’s very fiery...her spirit is impenetrable”.

A flicker of evil flew through his eyes at that word and a sick smile slid onto his lips, “but that’s fine. I’m sure I can find more penetrable spots”.

You tug harshly at your binds as he turned and came closer to you, a small blade held in his gloves hand.

“Hold still princess or I might accidentally cut an important part of you...or slit something”.

The blade cut the straps of your top, and the material fluttered down uselessly to the floor, exposing your padded black bra. The Joker whistled appreciatively and winked back at the camera.

“I say Jason...maybe I’m missing out not having a significant other...especially when they’re as beautiful as this”.

Jason had edged so close to the screen Bruce had to pull him back. Tears were running hotly down his cheeks and he swore he tasted blood from biting down on his bottom lip.

Your voice echoed through the empty warehouse room and through the camera speakers, “GO FUCK YOURSELF”.

The Joker smirked down at you and the blade was pressed against the skin of your neck.

“You should watch your manners, princesses don’t speak like that”.

You gulped and looked into his soulless eyes and laughed. It almost sounded as maniacal as his.

“I’m not your fucking princess”.

You spat at his face. Your spit mingled with blood from the earlier smack around the face.

“He’ll come for me...I know he will. And when he does, it’ll be all over for you”.

Something snapped and you saw his eyes darken. His face twisted and the scowl was demonic.

“You filthy fucking bitch!”, he roared and dropped the knife to wipe his face.

Joker turned to the camera and glowered, “I hope you’re watching Jason whilst I teach this rotten little whore some manners!”.

The first blow caused you to cry out in agony. It was harsh and fast. The sound to Jason was ear splitting. The second hit was drawn out and heavy. Designed to bruise. The third was sharp and felt like hundreds of tiny needles piercing your skin. The Joker was laughing wildly all the way through it. Never ceasing his treatment. As he swung his arm back for the fourth hit, the camera jarred and caught a window. Streams of light shone through. Jason could just about make out a sign. It was blurry.

“REWIND AND PAUSE IT BRUCE! There!!!”, he called and waited for Bruce to zoom in.

“Can you clear up that image...that looks like a road sign...”.

Bruce skipped the tape back several seconds, muting the sounds on the screen. The sounds of you getting smacked in the face shaking him to his core. 

“THERE!!! LOOK!! Can you see?!”, Jason pressed his face as close as possible to the screen as Bruce paused it, the image flickered but the road sign was obvious. 

ACE CHEMICALS.

Before Bruce could even react, Jason had launched himself across the cave, guns strapped to his thighs.

“Jason!”.

Jason ignored Bruce and grabbed his helmet, securing it into place whilst dropping extra magazine clips into his inner jacket pockets.

“Jason, we can’t just go in there all guns blazing. That’s what he’ll want! We have to think about this”, Bruce reasoned and moved into his path.

Huffing in annoyance, Jason’s modulator covered it easily, “I’m going to get her whether you come with me or not”.

Bruce looked stunned for a split second before softening his voice, “You’re letting your emotions get the better of you - they’re clouding your judgment Jason”.

He knew he was right, deep down. But the pressure. The torture you must have endured. Everything. It weighed down on Jason and began to suffocate him slowly. The more time he wasted, the worse it was going to be. He couldn’t do it.

“Let me get into my suit and we’ll tackle this together”.

Nodding briefly, Jason watched Bruce make his way across to the darkened corner of the cave where his suit was behind a glass panel. As Bruce pressed his palm into the wall, the biometric scanner bleeped. The case slid open slowly and Bruce began to take out the suit piece by piece. The batarangs refracted the light they caught from the computer screens.

Fuck. It was taking too long, these precious seconds. He could be half way there by now. His bike was too far away, in the garage at the front of the manor. He side eyed the batmobile and swallowed thickly.

“Fuck it”.

Taking the keys from the secret sliding panel on the desk, Jason leapt into the batmobile before starting the engine and speeding out of the cave. He swore he heard Bruce shouting, he was certain he heard several curse words too. Unlike Bruce. But it was taking too long. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t leave you. You needed him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

~~~

Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

“Come on...come on!!”, Jason cursed to himself, hitting the steering wheel in fury. All the money Bruce had and it wouldn’t go any faster? He took a sharp turn heading towards the abandoned warehouse behind ACE Chemicals. He was so close. So much closer to reaching you. He’d deal with Bruce later. He couldn’t have waited any longer. Bruce would just have to get over him ‘borrowing’ the batmobile.

Swerving another corner and narrowly dodging the underpass columns, he pulled up in front of the derelict building. Almost all of the windows were smashed and hued green with mould. Maybe some of the toxins spewed from the factory had helped taint the glass further.

Grabbing both of his pistols, Jason left the car and headed towards the building fire escape. He could hear voices chattering.

“Joker said to keep an eye out for Batman”.

A goon; Jason noted peering around the brick wall spotting two of them. He noticed the metal railings above them creaking slightly in the strong winds.

“It’s been over a month now and there’s been no sign of any of the Bat freaks, it’s fine, let’s go grab a beer. He won’t even notice”, a second one encouraged the other smirking.

“You really want to cross him? He’s fucking nuts. I’m surprised the girl has even lasted this long with him, you know what he’s like”.

Jason’s fist tightened around one of his guns at the mention of you. It had to be you. Silently firing his grapple gun, he flew up the side of the building and made his way towards the goons.

“Trust me”, the first one spoke again, “He won’t even realise we’re gone, plus we might find some chicks to-”.

Perching on the railings above them, Jason leapt down cracking the base of his pistols onto one of their heads.

“Pleasure to meet you both”, Jason kicked out at the second goon hearing the sick crack of his ankle snapping.

Spinning on his heel, Jason grabbed the other goon and threw him face first into the brick wall knocking him unconscious immediately before turning back to the other man on the floor whimpering in pain.

“Where is she?”, Jason’s voice was strained even with the modulator protecting him.

The man refused to answer, dragging himself away from Jason with his hands, mud covering his palms.

Taking a large step, Jason reached the man on the floor and purposely stood onto his swollen ankle before aiming the cocked pistol towards his skull.

“I won’t ask again, where is she?”.

The screech from the man was deafening as Jason applied a hefty amount of pressure to his fractured bone.

“Basement!! She’s in the basement!! Please!!”, he begged as his eyes flickered nervously to the gun.

Jason rolled his shoulders before smashing the hilt of his pistol into his skull knocking him out cold. He turned back towards the fire escape and grappled back up to the roof. He’d have to make his way through the building to get to the basement. To you. And if he knew Joker, he wouldn’t have made it that easy. The two idiots on the front door were a sick joke. Tormenting Jason. Getting you back wouldn’t be an easy task.

~~~

Silently dropping through the window on top of the building, Jason landed onto one of the rusty steel girders. It was dark but his helmet adjusted the night vision so he could see clearly. Several goons patrolling an old foreman’s office in the centre. You had to be in there. He needed to take these idiots out quietly before getting to you.

Swinging across to the next rafter, Jason looked down at the first unsuspecting moron. With the stealth of a panther, he landed silently behind the goon before wrapping his arm around his meaty neck. He struggled against the iron grip of Jason’s forearm but the pressure only intensified the more he thrashed. Eventually the squirming stopped and the goon fell limp in his arms. Jason dragged him across to a darkened corner and dumped him behind some barrels.

As he grappled back up to roof beams, he looked down across at the two henchmen digging out a packet of cigarettes. The idiots had left their guns resting against the far wall. Jason had to chuckle to himself, Joker really was hiring morons. Weren’t these guys supposed to be protection? 

Jason creeped across the rafters towards the two men and grabbed both of his pistols. He had to be silent. He couldn’t alert Joker to his presence.

“This is my last smoke”, one complained bitterly as the cigarette perched between his thin lips.

“I’ll get the next packet, quit your whining”, the second growled and patted his jacket for a lighter, “Fuck, where did I put my lighter?”.

“You’re a fucking moron. You asked to come for a smoke and you don’t even have a light!!”.

Now was his chance. Jason landed between them both, his boots thudding as he hit the concrete floor, “You know, smoking is bad for your health”. Before either of the goons could react, Jason lifted his elbow into the larger man's throat before smashing his pistol into the other man's temple, causing him to drop onto his knees. He slipped his guns back into his holsters quickly before turning to the other goon. He dodged the larger man’s grapple before twisting with ease and kicking out his kneecap. The man gasped but the elbow to his throat had killed off his voice.

Jason threw a heavy right hook into the larger man's nose and watched the blood trickle down his face. This seemed to only infuriate him more and he launched himself towards Jason viciously. Gripping both of his arms, Jason flipped the man over his body and slammed him into the floor hard before hammering punch after punch to his face, knocking him unconscious.

He turned quickly to the other man who was scrambling on his knees for the gun resting against the far wall.

“Sorry bud, but that can’t happen”, Jason grunted and landed a heavy kick to the goons stomach. The man yelped but it was quickly cut off by Jason as he slammed his boot into his face. He dropped onto the floor instantly.

Jason panted heavily and looked around the room, his helmet advising him of one more goon loitering around the door of the office. Looking down at the floor he noticed the floor grates wrapped around the room and more importantly under the henchmen’s feet. Perfect.

He lifted one of the grate coverings quietly and slipped under the flooring. He crouched down and edged around the room. The last goon was much larger and bulkier, with a machine gun strapped around his wide chest.

This goon seemed smarter than the others. Looking around and even checking up in the rafters. He grunted and pressed a button on his jacket, “No boss, still no sign of them...nothing Sir”.

The voice that patched through sent a chill down Jason’s spine. It was a tone that would be forever cemented in his mind, a reminder of his own torment.

“If you get ANY inclination the bat or any of his costumed freaks are in the building, you tell me immediately”.

“Yes boss”.

The static of the radio crackled before cutting off completely. Jason cursed mentally. This had to be precise. Perfection. He had to disable the henchman’s radio unit. Padding over his jacket he searched for the disrupter shooter he had. It wasn’t there. Fuck. He’d fucked up in his rush and left it behind. Fuck. Bruce was right. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then he heard it. A soft ping from above him. He knew that sound. Jason looked up from the grate and spotted Nightwing hidden in the shadows with his own disrupter. Pointed directly at the goon’s radio system.

“Thought you might need a hand”, Dick patched into Jason’s com line.

Jason growled under his breath, “Thanks”.

“Shall we take this moron out together?”.

“Yes”, Jason muttered before switching his com off and inched closer to the goon.

The second Nightwing flew down from the roof beams, Jason jumped out of the floor grate and kicked out the back of the goons knees. He cursed loudly before Nightwing’s foot landed in his face.

Jason swore he saw a tooth fly out of his mouth along with a glob of blood. He aimed several hard punches to the side of the henchman’s head whilst Nightwing disabled his gun and radio with a graceful poise.

“All this for the girl? She’s nothing but a shell”, the goon smirked across at Jason before choking at the next punch.

“Joker’s hollowed her out...she’s nothing”, he spat out.

His temper flared and his hand subconsciously reached for his pistol. Dick realised and before anything could happen, he landed an electrical ecrisma blow to the goons head, knocking him out cold. His body crashed onto the floor with a loud thump.

“Jason-”.

“Don’t”, Jason cut him off, “I’m fine”.

He took several steps towards the office door and swallowed thickly. You. You’d be in there. You’d told Joker with the last ounce of confidence left that he’d come for you. He’d never leave you. You were right. Jason would never have stopped looking. Ever.

His hand rested on the door handle, trembling only slightly. What if he was too late. What if this was just another trick?

Drawing his hand back almost as though the door had burnt him. He frowned. He couldn’t think like this. No. He had to be strong. Just like you had been in all those videos. You’d been fierce. Your spirit still pouring through to him.

Jason glared angrily at the door and took a step back before kicking it open furiously with his combat boot. The door flew open wildly and as the dust settled. He saw Joker stood in the middle of the room, a sick, satisfied smirk sat proudly on his demented face.

~~~

“Jason my boy! It’s a pleasure to see you again”, his chuckle was deep and sinister, “I see you're still hiding your face though...is that because of what I did?”. The Joker’s eyes danced with delirious joy at the memories.

“I’d have thought you’d have embraced all your scars by now Jason...”, The Joker edged forward leaving you tied up behind him.

Jason rounded The Joker, clicking a button to the side of his mask, revealing his face, his eyes hidden with the domino mask, “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, clown”.

Jason let his eyes run over you for a second. You were bruised and bloodied. Clothes torn and tattered from mistreatment. Your eyes. God. Your beautiful E/C eyes. Red raw from countless tears. Somehow you still managed to give him a smile from behind The Joker. His heart fluttered. God he’d missed your smile.

Tearing his eyes from you he looked back towards The Joker and held his pistols out at him, finger hovering over the trigger. Jason felt the burn mark on his cheek stinging all over again. Pain ever present.

“You don’t have the guts”, The Joker laughed again and walked forward pressing his forehead into the barrel of the gun.

“You wouldn’t dare pull that trigger. I’m your Ace card Jason. You can’t kill me. You want to but you can’t...something will always stop you”.

Jason felt his hand shaking slightly. Everything was throbbing in his mind.

“Even after everything I’ve done to your girl, you still can’t pull that trigger”, The Joker taunted further and grinned sadistically.

“If only you knew where I’d touched...what I’ve done...”, he pushed further into the cold metal of the gun and winked at Jason, “Go on, do it, I dare you...if you don’t- I’m just going to keep coming back and who knows what I’ll do to our little princess next-”.

BANG.

A gun shot blasted through the air. Smoke drifted slowly from the barrel, dancing into the darkness around them.

“JASON!”.

Nightwing had thrown one of his ecrisma sticks to Jason’s gun, knocking it off target. The bullet shattered the brickwork behind them, dust erupting.

Crashing down through one of the broken windows on top of the office roof, Nightwing flew towards The Joker tackling him down onto the damp, concrete floor before he could launch himself at Jason.

Still startled, Jason watched Dick wrestling with The Joker on the floor, punches flying back and forth.

Dick turned to Jason, “Y/N-Jason!! Go get Y/N!! I’ll handle this!”.

The Joker was shrieking with laughter underneath Dick, blood pouring down his lip and from his nose.

“Ahhhh another boy blunder!! I must be lucky!! Two for the price of one!”.

Dick threw another punch and reached for the second ecrisma stick on his back, “I can’t wait to cart you back to the Asylum. I hope you’re looking forward to your 5 star stay in a windowless cesspit!”.

Jason could hear Joker continually laughing at Dick, until the sharp sound of electrical buzzing cut him off with a loud scream.

He almost fell over his own feet as he raced towards you. Jason quickly untied your hands and the second they were free you flung them around his neck, sobbing into his neck. Your tears dropping onto his brown leather jacket.

“Oh baby”, Jason stroked your hair and held you tightly to him. He was worried he was crushing you but you seemed to be squeezing him back just as hard.

You didn’t stop sobbing. The overwhelming emotion of being wrapped in his safe, strong arms make your knees buckle. Jason caught you with ease and lifted you up, “It’s ok baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”.

Jason was one step away from breaking down himself but he needed to be strong for you right now.

You pressed your skin against his, the scratch of his stubble a welcome sting against your cheek. His scent overwhelmed you. Leather. Gunpowder. Smoke. And something distinct you’d never been able to place.

“Jason”.

“Shhh, it’s ok - nothing is going to hurt you, I’m here now - I’m a bit late but I’m here”.

~~~

It had been one week since you’d been back home. Two weeks if you counted the first week you and Jason spent holed up in the manor. Bruce had insisted. You sat in the bathtub, knees pressed up against your bare chest. Silence. All you could hear was the faint crackle of the bubbles every now and again. The clinical white tiles of the bathroom made you feel a little cleaner.

However,  no matter how many baths you took, showers you stood in, you still couldn’t wipe the feel of the slick purple gloves off your skin. Your skin. Skin that was now marred with yellowish bruising. Almost faded physically but not mentally. Looking over the marks you felt yourself transported back into the desolate warehouse. The dank smell of stagnant water filling your nostrils. You choked and coughed loudly, suddenly feeling the oxygen clam up your throat. Drowning in the memories.

“Y/N??”.

Within a mere second Jason had flung open the bathroom door, red tinting his cheek and a little sweat on his forehead, “Sweetheart are you ok?”.

You noted how he chose to call you sweetheart now and not his usual princess. A stark reminder that this whole ordeal had affected him too, more than he’d admitted. You felt the guilt eat away at you. Shame burning at your feet.

“Y-yeah, I’m ok”, you mumbled quietly and swirled some of the water and bubbles around you, “I just accidentally swallowed some of the bath water, I’m sorry”.

Jason nodded although not quite believing you. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the tub taking a deep breath, “It’s ok to not be ok sweetheart...I know it can be difficult to admit that...I know that more than most”, he wiped a stray bubble from the rim of the tub. He looked at you deeply before continuing, “I’ll be here for you...whenever and whatever you need”.

You sat silently in the water and he moved to get up. Maybe he thought it was best to leave you alone, let you uncover your own emotions. Process what had happened. You gripped his wrist and looked up into the crystal blue of his eyes, “Jason”.

“Yeah babe?”, he turned his wrist in your hand and linked his fingers with yours.

“I love you”.

He smiled and squeezed your hand before whispering back, “I love you too, more than you know”.

He looked over you and moved to sit back on the edge of the bath. His spare hand reached out and cupped your chin lovingly, stroking over your skin.

“We’ll work through this together Y/N, I promise”, Jason murmured and leaned forward kissing your forehead lightly, “I’ll do whatever you need me to do...anything at all”.

The words, the touches, the kiss. It made your heart flutter and you fell even more in love with him. Jason made the impossible possible and you had no idea how he managed it every day. You felt so lucky.

“I - I struggle some d-days”, you admitted and with those words you felt a little lighter, “sometimes all I want is for you to hold me and not let me go...Sometimes I-I f-feel like that for hours...”.

“Well then I’ll hold you for hours”, he said simply.

You scoffed lightly but before you could protest or think of arguing back he was stepping into the bath water fully clothed.

“Jay!! You’re going to flood the bathroom”, you gasped loudly, watching the water splash over the sides like dramatic tidal waves. Water dispersed all over the bathroom floor to make way for his broad frame, “What are you doing?!”.

Jason sunk down into the water behind you and wrapped his arms either side, pulling you back into his clothed chest. He rested his head on your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss there, “Holding you for as long as you need me to”.

You felt yourself melt into his warm embrace. Tears made their way down your cheeks at his endearing show of love, “Jason”.

“Shhh, just let me hold you baby”, he cuddled you tighter into him, his fingers stroking your hips under the water, brushing away the bruises. Marking you with his own special touch.

Relaxing under his soft caresses, you hummed lightly and closed your eyes resting your head back against him. He smelt like leather and spice. You felt at home. He was home.

“Jay”.

“Mmm?”.

“Please call me princess”, you whispered quietly into the air, your eyes still closed.

“Whatever you want...princess”.

~~~

Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises​​ @internalsealpanic​​ @batarella​​ - thank you both for proof reading this and all the help you have given me - mwah mwah. xoxo

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~~~

#jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader insert #jason todd x reader series #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood smut #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight x you #arkham knight x reader series #arkham knight imagine

[utterlyinevitable]

I want Ode and Ethan to slow dance, but I also want her to be playing the piano, but obvi it don't work like that 😂 fix this for me, beautiful Dom!

Lento

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Odette Hall) Rating: General Summary: Ethan hears Odette composing and knows exactly how to calm her frustrations.  Trope: Domestic, Musical, Ethan POV.

Word Count: 450

A/N: thanks so much for the request, apologies it took forever to get to! everything i wrote just... didn’t work. or wasn’t emotional enough. hopefully this is better ��

__________________

Music travels through the grand house finding Ethan in his study. Melodious chords in key - earnest and beautiful and emotional. She’s playing. Has been coaxing thoughts out of the white Grand Piano in their living room all morning. 

The song sounds bewitching and familiar (if he remembered how to compose he’d be able to write the whole verse by now with how many times she’s been working on this piece). Ethan can’t help but wonder the inspiration behind it - what’s inspired her to write something so emotive today. He’s come to learn that art and creativity are subjective - that these feelings spurring from the keys may not be fully hers. That an idea can spark a fire until it’s blazing real. 

Ethan smiles to himself at how amazing Odette is. A renowned medical professional by day, a beguiling songstress on the weekends. It’s the weather, he decides - that and their home - her space - bringing her every design to life. 

He can think all he wants. He’ll never ask. He’ll know just by the look in her eye where her mind is - if it’s with him, her work, or the world inside her head. Ever since her business took off a few years ago, she’s had more time to enjoy. More attention she didn’t necessarily want. Enough courage to pick and choose. And there’s one individual who’s kept in touch all this time - who brought her words and emotions that needed sewing. Needed a home. When Odette has time she writes at their piano and sends it off to her cousin. From there… anything could happen. And it has. The humble gold statues on the self say so.

Louder now. Blasting the melody on a loop. And then a frustrated shriek completely out of key. 

That’s his signal. He’s on his feet and down the corridor in time to hear her undignified keyboard smash.

“Gahh!” 

Ethan finds her with her head in her hands. Her fingers twisted in her hair. She’s resigned. Breathing heavily through her imperfection.

He crosses the Great Room in few long, steady steps quiet and tasked as can be. Without a word he takes her hand in his, pulling her off the bench in the same fluid motion he pauses the loop.

“I can’t get it right,” she whines and rests her head against his shoulder. Naturally his arms wrap around her, cradling her close. He can feel the doubts clogging her mind and hear the destructive whispers of an imposter worming its way through the quiet.  

A few swift clicks of the remote still in hand, another song begins. His hands on her, the tune brings them to a sway.

They’re dancing to her music.

___________________

> ode and ethan masterlist <

> complete masterlist <

Perma:

@lucy-268  @thegreentwin  @queencarb  @danijimenezv  @starrystarrytrouble   @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07  @mercury84choices  @schnitzelbutterfingers  @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15  @mvalentine  @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine   @withbeautyandrage  @forallthatitsworth   @stateofgracious  @missmiimiie  @uneravine   @iemcpbchoices  @sophxwithers  @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii @jerzwriter  @kachrisberry  @aishwarya26

Ethan:

@udishaman  @binny1985  @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices  @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy  @stygianflood   @openheartthot @senseofduties  @tsrookie  @kalogh @aworldoffandoms  @takemyopenheart  @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111   @anntoldst0ries  @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

#open heart #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

[mochii0park]

meraki; 02 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, i had fun writing this chapter tbh

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

<  chapter 01 | next chapter >

You absentmindedly twirl in your chair, chewing on the pencil in your hand. The ticking of the clock was inaudible from the loud sound of keys smashing against the keyboard. Your mind raced in different directions and to say you were anxious was an understatement. A black polished oxford shoe lands harshly on the surface of your chair halting your twirl. The stain is starkly visible, inhabiting your mind and annoying you endlessly.

Min Yoongi pulls his foot back; the action makes your chair stroll backwards the back hitting your desk. “I am not paying you to slack off during work hours.”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll your eyes. He exhales, leans forward, and takes the sheet of paper from your lap. You could feel the level of disappointment rise with each sigh as he reads the lines of the text.

“I understand inspiration has to come to you, but it’s been months.” He scraps the paper throwing it into the bin, the action itself telling you what he thought of your work.

To be honest your thoughts on it didn’t differ much.

“I am sorry. It hasn’t been my month.” Or your year. You cower further into the chair. It was embarrassing enough to fall behind because of your private issues but having your higher up pity you was by far worse.

Yoongi shakes his head taking a seat on the sofa. He unbuttons his sleeve pulling them until they reached his elbows. Working for him for over two years made you know that whatever matter he was about to discuss was serious.

“The single didn’t do well,” you nod as you recall seeing it flop dramatically,” We need to produce an album that will reach the top ten charts. That won’t happen if you sit here twirling for hours with nothing to show me.”

“I understand.” He clicks his tongue, a ding from his phone gaining his attention as he signals for you to hold your thought.

You mumble hypocrite under your breath relieved when he gives no reaction to the word as he locks his phone looking straight at you. He crosses his legs, hands intervened on his knee as he rocks back and forward.

He glances up at the ceiling whistling an unfamiliar tune. After a few seconds, he stops rocking, taps his knees enthusiastically and walks towards the guitar. He whistles the tune over and over until he manages to perfectly string it through guitar chords. You stare at him watching closely as he scribbles a few notes and tosses the paper to you.

“Try to write something that would go well with this tune.” -was the last thing he said before he put the guitar back in its stand and left the room.

You let the frustration out through a scream, the soundproof plates securing it between the four walls. Ignoring the papers laying in front of you, you dig through the content of your purse. You extract pack of cigarettes. The clock on the desk flashes 10 pm and you know a long night was ahead of you.

The lobby was empty, the patter of your shoes cutting the silence. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the lift to take you to the rooftop. Smoking was forbidden in the KT entertainment building so your only options either the roof or the yard in front of the company.

“Graveyard shift?” A voice to your right says.

You scoff placing a cigarette in the mouth. “Yeah, you too?”

Baekhyun nods following you inside the lift. “I wish trouble wouldn’t follow Jungkook everywhere he went.”

“He got into a scandal?” Baekhyun catches the doubt in your voice and smiles.

He closes his eyes, resting his head against the mirror. You watch with pity as he breathes out in defeat. “It wasn’t him per se. A friend of his caused ruckus in a karaoke bar in Busan. Somebody sent an image of him leaving the bar. He was drunk and accompanied by a girl.”

You whistle at the last part. Idols getting caught with a female was almost like a death sentence for their career, no matter if the female was just a friend. Jungkook was the star of KT Entertainment, the one who brought the revenue. The idol has had a clean image so far. He did drink and lit a cigarette with his friends but, who didn’t? Although he wasn’t problematic, he had a knacker for attracting trouble.

The lift stops at your designated floor and Baekhyun jumps already halfway through the door. You follow behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself for some warmth. The cold night leaves traces over your cheeks, reddening them. You inhale the air, the scent reminding you of last year’s autumn. The image of Seokjin smiling at you as he crunches leaves is shattered by Baekhyun. He stops in front of you a spark flashing from his lighter casting different shades over his face.

You lean in, inhaling the nicotine as the tip of the cigarette burns. You observe him as he inhales a smoke before exhaling it and making a circle out of it. You often forgot he was six years your senior. His youthful face and the lively person often misled people believing he was far younger.

He leans against the rail, a hand in the pocket of his jeans. The scenery in front of you looked like a young adult novel. The light of the city flashed behind Baekhyun, his figure coming out as a blur because of the smoke. His newly dyed red hair catching your attention.

The silence between you wasn’t an awkward one, on the contrary, it was comforting. Finding a smoke-buddy like him was a blessing. He wasn’t very talkative despite his upbeat personality; he somehow distinguished your emotions well and knew when to speak and when to be silent.

“Did Yoongi punish you again?” He breaks your train of thoughts, choosing the spot closest to you to stand.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it punishment,” you throw the bud on the floor stepping over it lightly before you throw it in the bin, “but I do have to write some lyrics to a beat of his choosing.”

“Sounds like a punishment to me.” He chuckles as he lits another cigarette.

You shrug your shoulders. Working with Yoongi hadn’t been at all difficult as how people told you it would be. When you applied for the position, you read various posts on forums about Yoongi’s wrath and the difficulty of the tasks he gave. Many people criticised him for his mentorship, but you had found it refreshing. He never sugar-coated his opinion; he was straight to the point kind of a guy, and you liked it. Well, not every single time but you can’t have the best of both worlds in this industry.

“I can handle it. He’s right, I am behind deadlines, and I should focus on work instead of my personal life.”

Baekhyun looks like he wants to say something but quickly changes his mind. Throwing the bud over the rail he presses the down button. You punch him on his shoulder, hating the way he never cared much about the environment and the disposal of his trash.

“I’ll see you around. Maybe for a coffee next time?” Baekhyun smiles as you exit the lift, and you hum a quiet yes before going in the direction of your studio.

A part of you always felt bad for turning down Baekhyun’s invites for a coffee. You knew his motives were nothing but friendly seeing as you’ve met his long-term girlfriend Dayhun. The two were a match made in heaven having the same humour and playful personality. Sometimes it came to the point where they morphed into one person which gave you the creeps.

You laid on the couch, legs looking at the ceiling, back twisted and the head narrowed to the floor. It was half-past midnight, and inspiration was lacking in every sense. You scrunched the papers with words you thought were bad and aimed for the bin in the corner. You have yet to hit the bin, the papers lying next to it.

You were about to throw the next paper when your phone buzzed. Deeming the notification oh so important you fish it out of your back pocket staring at the screen. Yoongi’s name appears under the official e-mail inviting all the employers of the KT Entertainment tomorrow for a celebration of Jeon Jungkook winning an award for the Male Musician of the Year Netizen Vote and his single Still with You winning the Best Pop Song.

You sit up straight preparing yourself to decline the invite when a message pops up.

Min the Boss Yoongi

The invitation isn’t optional for you. You are required to come.

Y/N

You didn’t even ask if I was busy tomorrow night?

Min the BOSS Yoongi

Are you busy tomorrow night?

Y/N

No, but that’s beside the po-

Min the BOSS Yoongi

Great, see you at 8 pm tomorrow.

You massage your temples trying not to sink further into the frustration you felt for this man.

Y/N

Fine.

Min the BOSS Yoongi

I wrote that everyone could bring a plus one if they desire, seeing as the two of us and Jeon’s manager will be working tomorrow night, I highly advise you not to bring a plus one. I won’t mind if you do, but they might since you will be by my side most of the time.

You type a quick reply and toss the phone into your bag. Sehun wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a plus one knowing he wanted to infiltrate himself into the upper society. Meeting people of such status equalled cases with greater stakes and greater stakes meant higher pay. You were gathering your belonging when a soft knock on the door caught your attention.

Baekhyun’s head pops behind the doors. “I was about to leave do you need a ride?”

You smile at him and nod. Baekhyun gives you a thumbs up, happy knowing he won’t be driving home alone at this hour. Luckily for you, he lived nearby and had given you plenty of times a ride. You get up from the couch and throw your purse over your shoulder, locking the studio.

As you walk to the car you discuss tomorrow’s party in Jungkook’s honour. You chuckle as Baekhyun grabs his head already imagining scandalous scenes pernicious for Jungkook’s career.

                                                      ______

At the sight of the guests’ attire, you felt severely underdressed. The sleeveless v cut dress tightened by a small knot on each side of your shoulders fell a little bit above your knees. Combat boots were your go-to footwear on such occasions, unlike the rest of the women at the party you needed to feel comfortable in order to finish tasks. You had to run around from one place to the other, obeying each order your boss gave. Sometimes you felt more like a secretary than a songwriter. Under such circumstances, high heels weren’t an option unless you wanted blisters.  

The metal rings on your fingers clanged against the glass deconcentrating you. The room swarm of people of different ages and statuses. You fell back blending well with the rest of the staff you tolerated. Baekhyun stood next to Jungkook, the younger if closely examined looked exhausted. Yoongi stood a few feet away talking to a group of men, some that you recognized.

A hand taps your shoulder, a familiar lavender scented perfume reaches your nose. Momo lays her head on your shoulder. “I thought this was a party. It feels more like a business gathering.”

Momo had been the main choreographer at the KT Entertainment. She was the type of person whom you couldn’t hate even if you wanted to. Kind natured and a bit naïve, she was the heart of the company always ready to help you or brighten your day.

You chuckle as you pat her head while she twists the straw in her cocktail. “Well, Min Yoongi organized it. He wouldn’t know what fun was even if it hit him straight in the face.”

Momo chuckles. “But he sure knew what handsome meant. Look at those men at his side.”

Something you noticed while working for him was the pallet of handsome men he knew which he called close friends. The first you met was Park Jimin, a highly respected dancer that occasionally stepped in to fill for Momo when she was absent. He was very charming and well equipped with words that bared red shade to the cheeks of female employers.

After Jimin, you’ve met Kim Namjoon, a literary professor who frequently reviewed your work. He was shy which often came off as reserved but overall, he was a pleasant company to have when going through your lyrics. He gave them the spark that was much needed to make the song into a hit.

Next to Namjoon stood Kim Taehyung. You’ve met him on one occasion when you barged into Yoongi’s office after he sent a rather rude message. Out of all Yoongi’s friends, he was the one you knew the least. Unlike Namjoon’s unintentional cold behaviour Taehyung’s was deliberate. He didn’t even introduce himself as he left the office making you feel like shit for interrupting what seemed an important meeting.

Another person who was part of Yoongi's close circle is Kim Seokjin, who recommended you to Yoongi. The two were childhood friends and somehow, you’ve never heard of the name Yoongi until two years ago. As much as you hated Jin now, you were still grateful for his help.

The last person in the circle was unfamiliar to you. He fitted well with the others, his handsome face wearing a smile that never flattened through the conversation as he jumped into Yoongi’s words a few times causing the gang to laugh. He had to be very close to Yoongi for your boss not to bash him for interjecting but rather send him a smile.

Momo lifts her head from your shoulder and stands in front of you. “Did you notice one of Yoongi’s friends absent from parties?”

You swallow a lump at the thought of your best friend before you quickly shake your head. “No, not really.”

“Call me crazy but I’m sure I saw Kim Seokjin at these parties before.”

“Can’t recall. Why do you care about him when Park Jimin is over there?” You try to change the subject hoping Momo would take the bait.

She huffs rolling her eyes. “You know I am not a big fan of him. Sure, his work is splendid but him? His personality? It needs a major rework.”

You chuckle at her disgusted expression as she jabs the olive pretending it was Jimin’s face. “Well, then you have Jeon Jungkook.”

“What am I? The company’s serial dater? Can I be honest with you?”, Momo says you follow her line-of-sight landing on Jungkook.

“Sure.” You say as you watch him push past people before he stands next to Jimin, engulfing the older one in a hug.

“I am sorry I know you work with his team, but I hate his songs. They feel like all the washed pop songs you hear on the radio. The whole night I’ve been lying to people saying his latest one is amazing.” You laugh loudly at her confession partly sympathising with her. It was ironic how much you both loved the songs you wrote for him and hated.

“No need to apologize just because I work for him.” You shrug off her apologetic smile, her lips fall into a straight line after she swallows a big sip of her drink.

“It’s still kind of awkward. We work together Y/N, I make all of his choreographies.”

“So? Just because you work together doesn’t mean you have to be a fan.” She nods soaking up your words. She goes to take a sip of her drink, but she groans in surprise at the empty glass.

“I’m going to get another cocktail. You want some?”

You shake your head, and she shrugs her shoulder starting to walk away. Before she can disappear from your sight you call out for her. She turns around tilting her head slightly. “Who’s the fifth guy in Yoongi’s circle?”

You watch as she searches for Yoongi and the rest of the gang. The man in question seemingly sensing you spoke of him looks up at you offering you a smile. He was by far the most handsome one in the group by your standards. Dressed from head to toe in red he, stood out in the mass, the waisted suit hugging his body showing off his well-built figure.

Doubting the smile was for you, you look around searching for the real receiver not wanting to look like an idiot if you return it. Seeing your action, the man laughs which catches the attention of the group.

When Yoongi turns around motioning for you to join them you flush. As you pass Momo her touch lingers for a while on your elbow. She darts close whispering in your ear.

“That’s Jung Hoseok.”

The information left you out of breath, the e-mails he kept sending replaying themselves in your mind. You stumble a bit when Momo’s light touch disappears. Feelings a set of eyes on you, you regain your footing and walk towards your boss. Each step feeling heavier.

There was no one else to blame for the situation you found yourself in but yourself. You knew who Hoseok was in theory, he published many bestseller books and everyone who was even remotely into writing had some knowledge of him and his famous company. Although in the last couple of months your newsfeed lacked information about Hoseok’s whereabouts, you brushed it off as him working on a new book.

You knew about him all, but what he looked like. Jung Hoseok managed to avoid the press like his life depended on it. You saw articles of his assistant Yuta standing in his place at promotions and any other public event. If you only dug deeper or asked for the guest list, you could’ve avoided this.

Yoongi places the palm of his hand on your lower back guiding you into the circle. Jeon Jungkook waves giving you a soft but tired smile, Kim Namjoon nods in your direction slowly sipping the wine, Park Jimin gives you a polite greeting while Kim Taehyung acts as if you never existed. You saw Jimin elbow him lightly, but the man never wavered.

Your eyes stop at Hoseok who beams at you stretching his hand. Yoongi leans and whispers into your ear, the loud beating of your heart making it hard to differentiate his words. “Y/N this is Jung Hoseok.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? What did he mean by that?

You muster up what you thought was a smile albeit a weak one but there. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Different questions race through your mind. Was he here because he found out it was you behind the username? Was he even Yoongi’s friend? Had this all been a plot to finally meet you?

“He hasn’t shut up about the Jungkook’s single. Something about it speaking out to him. He’s very excited to meet the writer behind it.” Yoongi tells you making your head snap in his direction.

There was a silent argument going on between you. It took you months before you accepted Namjoon into the small circle of people who knew that behind another pseudonym of yours stood your name. The songs you wrote for Jungkook mostly spoke of unrequited love and heartbreaks and it would mortify you if people knew it was you who wrote it. The pity looks you might get sent a shudder through your body.

“I can’t wait to hear the future songs you will write.” He says clapping enthusiastically unlike you who couldn’t even utter a word besides thanks. You felt like you kept were being rude. You tried your best not to let the events get to you, but it was hard with him bombarding your inbox constantly.

To your side, Yoongi smiles as if silently answering your question. Hoseok didn’t know you wrote the other songs, nobody knew except Namjoon and Yoongi. You exhale in relief, but the tension remains as you look up at Hoseok. He seemed like the mood maker of the group his smile permanently resting on his face.

“We’re currently working on a new song,” Yoongi announces, and you feel like you want the floor to swallow you up.

You notice Jungkook now paying attention to the conversation as Hoseok leans in. Yoongi turns to you putting you on the spot probably knowing you hadn’t written anything. Trying to calm your nerves you imagine Momo or Sehun standing in front of you instead.

The tension in your body slowly shimmers down, and you can feel yourself take control of the anxiety that was the result of the shock you felt from seeing Jung Hoseok.

“Something with a happier note I hope,” Taehyung says, and you wince at his stoic voice.

Hoseok tsks at him. “Whatever Y/N and Yoongi write will be a hit no doubt.”

“Whipped.” Jungkook coughs under his breath and Jimin giggles slapping him softly on the back of his head.

“We’ll see.” Yoongi smiles, and you follow his suit ignoring your burning cheeks.

Whenever you glanced at Hoseok he was already looking back at you. The attention he gave you every time you spoke offered you a feeling of importance that contributed to you speaking more freely in their presence.

“Did you manage to find anyone interesting to publish their work?” Namjoon’s sentence tickles your curiosity shifting your gaze to Hoseok whose smile for the first time tonight drops.

He plays with the drink in his hands prolonging his answer. “I did find someone, but I am not sure if we’ll sign a deal.”

You stiffen at his answer, the e-mails in your phone suddenly felling heavy.

Namjoon’s brow quirks up. “Not satisfied with the writing?”

Hoseok shakes his head, a weak smile on his lips. He bites his tongue before plopping it to the corner of his mouth. “On the contrary,” this seemed to confuse Namjoon,” they haven’t been responding to any of my e-mails.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Jimin joins the conversation, your attention changing between them as they speak.

"Did you offer them a bad contract?" Namjoon buts in jokingly once he finishes his drink.

Hoseok puckers his lips, slowly looking at Namjoon. "There was no contract to begin with."

"Your conversation gives me a headache. Can you finish the story in one go?" Taehyung speaks up and you silently agree with him.

Hoseok places the glass on the table in front of them, pushing his wavy hair to the sides. His eyes seemed even more mesmerising as they looked over the edge of his glasses.

"I've seen their work on a site and tried to contact them via e-mail. I’ve tried searching for them on other sites but with no results.”

"Why don't you call them or text them? It's the 21st century most people don't use emails as a form of communication."  Jungkook adds his two cents, and you see the rest of the table roll their eyes.

"Just because you use messenger and kakaotalk as communication doesn't mean others do. This isn't a chat between two friends, it's between possible business partners." Jimin scolds the younger and you stifle a laugh.

Namjoon pats Jungkook's back affectionately. "It's unprofessional to contact people through apps especially if you're someone of Hoseok’s status.”

"Anyway," Hoseok coughs straightening his posture," I don't know their name or number. All I have is the user under which they write and well the e-mail."

"Are you sure they are worth all the fuss?" Yoongi adds and you look at Hoseok who immediately nods.

"You should read their poems, Yoongi. They are magical, raw. You can feel each emotion slowly seeping into you. Just like with Y/N’s and yours song. It's powerful."

You tense up at the mention of your name which goes unnoticed by the rest as they engage in a lyrical discussion. You can see Taehyung backing away from the table with Jungkook following behind. Jimin occasionally nods to Hoseok's interpretation of your poems not interested but not wanting to be rude either. Yoongi and Hoseok go back and forward for a while before Namjoon excuses himself leaving the four of you.

"Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my work," Hoseok finishes the discussion turning towards you, " it was lovely meeting you Y/N. I hope to see you soon."

Highly unlikely you wanted to say. "Likewise."

He disappears in the crowd as Yoongi turns to you. "Jimin and I should talk to the other producers some more before we call it a night."

Soon enough they are out of your reach, and you feel like you could breathe for the first time tonight. Pulling your phone from your purse you head straight for the exit. You tap the familiar number, one you’ve dailed many times.

"Hello?" Sehun's voice cuts through your hectic thoughts.

"You will never know who I just fucking met."

"Seokjin?"

"What? No. It’s Jung Hoseok."

You say as you watch the said man lean into the wall of the lift before he notices you standing not far away. The last thing you see before the doors close was his smile turning into a smirk.

"Jung fucking Hoseok."

Miss/Mister Meraki,

I am writing you this mail in hopes of getting a response from you. Wishing the previous mail had landed in a spam box (rather than you not answering), I am writing you another one filled with more hope. After reading your poems I couldn’t help but notice the sad tone most of them carried.

In the light of the discovery, I am going with my hunch and will say freely that you are probably wary of me. Therefore, I’ve decided to take the time and let you get to know me. I’ll start by writing you little facts about me after I read one of your poems. Hopefully, by the end of the journey, you will choose me.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok.

#jung hoseok x reader #bts x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #hobi x reader #hoseok fanfiction #jhope x reader #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts fanfiction #nct 127 #yuta x reader #idol x reader #hoseok reaction #hoseok fantasty #bts fantasy #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x y/n #red velvet #twice #baekyhun x reader #exo x reader #baekhyun x dahyun #twice x exo #bts x exo #meraki chapter 2 #meraki

[yeochikin]

video games and questions. | p. seonghwa

a/n: thank you anon for requesting this! ngl this was p difficult even if it sounded easier it my head so i’m sorry this is short fdfjf i hope you enjoyed this! ✨💖 also lemme tag @hwanami hehe lov u 

word count: 2.5k.

warning(s): i don’t think there’s any, just some multiple times of a video game character dying!

“hey guys, welcome back to my channel!” you beamed, waving into the camera as soon as you started your stream, then adjusted your gaming headphones. 

you weren’t a popular streamer nor were you unknown as well, just somewhere in the middle of it. honestly, you never really cared about the attention you received. merely, you enjoyed what you did whether it was for a vlog, a reaction video, an occasional mukbang, and more often nowadays, gaming. you aren’t a huge gamer yourself due to work life but somehow, you’ve grown really hooked to this game even if it came out a few years ago. 

“so, today i’m gonna play this roleplaying based game from before, and continue where we left off!” you grinned, excitedly wiggling in your chair as you waited for your computer to load the game. 

while doing so, you read the comments left by the viewers, some were words of encouragement and support, and some were interesting questions that would either make you think deeply to yourself (not at how the viewers would take a screenshot of your confused expressions and use them as a meme). suddenly, as soon as you started the game, fingers quick to control your character in the game, a particular question caught your eye.

“ah, seonghwa? he’s in the other room, saying he needed to practice a cover he’s about to do.” you chuckled, gazing into the camera before cupping your lips as if you were whispering to someone yet purposely making your voice loud.

“we all know he sings well, damn angels must have blessed his voice.” an amused laugh bubbled out of your lips upon hearing the muffled ‘i heard that!’ from the other room by a certain male. 

park seonghwa, your boyfriend, was who everyone adored. just like you, he has his own channel, though he would mostly do singing covers or even dance covers. sometimes, you would even ask yourself how the two of you got together due to having differences when it came to your contents in your channels but if it weren’t for a convention the both of you were invited to a couple of years ago where the two of you first met, maybe the two of you wouldn’t be where you are right now. though it was rather awkward at first, you slowly came to realise you had a pleasant time with the male during the time at the convention, which led to you exchanging numbers and social media. 

“woah, a dragon! i wonder if i could ride i- oh, oh..” your jaw dropped as you watched as how your character laid lifeless on the ground after a minor accident. 

your eyes stared into the camera, eyes wide yet somehow they looked so defeated while your jaw was open, pulling a round of laughing emojis along with keyboard smashes in the comment section of your stream. as your character respawned, you buried your face into your hands as soon as you realised that you forgot to save before deciding to… ‘befriend’ the dragon in the game. 

“hey guys, remind me to save every time BEFORE i do anything dumb in this game.” you laughed frustratedly, starting to go over the quests yet again, mimicking the npc’s voice every time. you were too busy playing the game while occasionally engaging with your audience between loading screens, and telling your character to quickly escape from the enemies, that you failed to notice your boyfriend peeking his head through the door to watch you, an amused smile playing over his plump lips. 

‘y/n, who is that behind you?’

“ha-ha very funny, guys. there’s no one behind me, see?” you deadpanned after reading the comment, turning around to face the door. 

but instead of seeing only the door, your eyes were met with seonghwa’s head. due to half of his body was outside of the door, it looked as if his head was floating, effectively making you scream out of surprise, which made seonghwa yell along with you. once you calmed down, you pressed a hand on your chest, then glared over at your lover. 

“you could have knocked?” 

seonghwa merely sent you a straight, unamused expression with his hand on his own chest, before parting his lips to retort. “if you weren’t too busy yelling at your character to run faster, you would’ve heard me knocking.” 

“no! i would have heard you, yelling or not.” you protested. 

seonghwa merely rolled his eyes then smiled out of defeat, he couldn’t stay mad at you. walking further into the room, he wrapped his arms around your neck from behind and leaned down to press his lips against the top of your head as he whispered a small ‘hi’ to you. grinning from the sudden affection, you reached a hand up, and pulled his face a little closer so you could plant a tiny peck on his lips. turning to look at the camera, you gently nudged seonghwa to properly get into the frame so the viewers could see him a little better, now pulling up his own chair from his desk in the room to sit next to you.

“say hi, babe. i’m sure the viewers would love for you to join us.” you patted his thigh, laughing at how most of the viewers in the comment section were gushing at how good looking seonghwa is. 

with a bow of his head along with a gentle wave of his hand, seonghwa introduced himself to your audience. “hello everyone, i’m park seonghwa. y/n’s unexpected guest.” 

he laughed towards the end of his introduction after seeing you roll your eyes in a playful manner at him, knowing full well at this point he’s an expected guest from the amount of times he spent peeking in your livestreams or purposely creating a random reason just so he could join you in your videos. and in return, you would sometimes even appear in his videos to sing a duet with him.

the introduction managed to pull another round of gushing from your viewers while some even gave a casual ‘hi!’. you only gave him a small nudge with your elbow, your boyfriend feigning a pained expression as if you punched him in the guts. deadpanning, you turned towards the camera.

“somebody come and pick up this dork, he’s acting up today.” you said, earning a laugh from the male who then ruffled your hair.

despite being annoyed at his teasings, you can’t help but smile to yourself at how seonghwa was finally warming and opening up the more he joined your streaming while he interacted with some questions left by the viewers, whether you invited him or the latter merely inviting himself in occasionally. 

believe it or not, he was rather shy in front of the camera when you first collaborated with seonghwa for a mukbang video despite him having his own singing and dancing channel. though you finally understood why after he explained how he was.. in his own world whenever he did covers. it was no wonder seonghwa has  a lot of fans due to how well he expressed his emotions through them.

“babe, you’re not gonna make it in that jump!” you exclaimed as seonghwa took control of the game now.

“what are you saying? there’s a river underneath, your character will survive!” seonghwa protested before pressing the key, much to your protests.

“seonghwa wait!”

silence filled the both of you as you watched your character who is now laying motionlessly in the waters due to the miscalculation of the jump, courtesy to your boyfriend. the both of you stared into the screen.

then at each other.

then at the camera, both wearing a poker face on your features before groaning at the same time. you grabbed onto his arm so you could shake him while scolding him at how he should have known better, seonghwa letting you do as you please with a guilty smile played over his lips. standing up from his chair, he bowed his head.

“i’m sorry, i should have known before jumping straight into things. or in this case, off of random cliffs in the game.” 

his last sentence made you burst out laughing, yet again making your viewers cut the certain scene as a highlight for the day’s livestream. feigning annoyance, you gave out a sigh as you took over the controls once again while seonghwa read through the comments being left. 

“ooh, this is an interesting question, babe! what are your sleeping habits?” seonghwa said, eyes still glued to the comment section with the corners of his lips quirking up due to some comments that were hilarious to him.

“sleeping habits?” you hummed, leaning your back against your chair with lips pursed in thought. crossing your arms, you looked over at seonghwa and hummed, turning to the camera afterwards.

“i don’t think it’s that serious but sometimes he talks in his sleep.” you said, snickering underneath your breath when seonghwa lightly swatted at your thigh.

“hey, i don’t do that!”

“oh? then tell me why you think that i was san or wooyoung to stop teasing you, huh?” you raised an eyebrow, a huge grin threatening to curl itself over your brims from the flustered expression of your boyfriend.

“at least i didn’t almost fall out of bed from the amount of times i toss and turn.” he pouted.

“that was one time!” you whined, a red tint covering your cheeks as you remembered the said moment, promptly giving your boyfriend’s chest a light slap in retaliation as he teased you more and more. cooing, seonghwa pulled you into his arms and pressed a couple of kisses on the top of your head.

‘omg the two of you will be the death of me!’

‘you two should do more livestreams togetherrrr’ 

‘still can’t get over how seonghwa just pouted lmao’

the both of you giggled at the amount of comments as you shook your head, then went back to your game. the room was now filled with the sounds of fingers rapidly clicking onto the keys of your keyboard, your occasional groans and laughs from the various moments you encountered throughout the game, and seonghwa’s praise whenever you defeated an enemy, along with the occasional questions being answered by either you, seonghwa, or both. 

you’ve been playing the game for quite a while now and soon enough, you’ve finally grown tired of the game. totally not because of the fact that you kept dying in the game. with the remaining few minutes you had to spend, you decided to interact more with the fans this time now that you are more focused. 

‘y/n think fast, forehead kisses or hand kisses?’ one person asked. without a heartbeat, you immediately answered with a huge grin. 

“forehead kisses, definitely! something about them seems more… intimate in a way? as if someone is making you forget the things around you momentarily even without the need to say anything. just one forehead kiss is enough to erase the bad thoughts away, i guess?” 

next to you, seonghwa couldn’t help but to smile at how awed you looked answering the question as he listened intently and arms crossed in front of his chest, the certain dazed look in your eyes never fails to make him want to gather your frame in his arms and just give you all the forehead kisses you needed. suddenly, your laughter rang in his ears, making the male look at what you were laughing at, eyes widening slightly in the process.

‘in that case, let me be the one kissing your forehead lmao’

scoffing underneath his breath, seonghwa wrapped his arms around your waist and playfully glared at the screen, making a gesture with his hand as if saying that he had his eyes on the commenter.

“no, no, only i can kiss the little bun’s forehead.” seonghwa mused, a playful jealousy tone in his voice, wagging a finger in front of him as he hugged you close against him. 

“that’s a no-no, okay?” he spoke, causing you to coo softly underneath your breath from how the tone of his voice was slightly high pitched as he spoke out the sentence, somehow going a tad higher from the ‘okay’ he did. 

“sorry, guys. i guess seonghwa can only give me forehead kisses.” you laughed, shutting your eyes briefly upon feeling a pair of plump lips pressing against your forehead.

wondering how long you have spent playing the game, you opened your eyes and looked at the time. you had noticed that you spent almost two hours of just playing video games that you finally noticed that you felt hungry. before you could even say anything, a low rumble that came from your stomach made the words you were about to utter suddenly disappear. seonghwa, who also heard the low grumbling noise, laughed at you with a hand over his lips.

“i think that’s our cue to finally get lunch, huh little bun?” he grinned down at your flushed cheeks, dainty hands over your stomach. 

“oh yeah, definitely. so i’m gonna have to stop the streaming right here guys. see you in my next video, bye guys!” 

“byeee!” 

the both of you waved into the camera for a few seconds, then you reached out to end the stream. you then proceeded to stand up from your chair and stretched your arms out, the little dinosaur-like noise leaving your lips upon feeling your tense muscles relax, seonghwa doing the same. 

“thank you for being in my livestream today, i had fun. even though you made my character die after that jump from the cliff.” you laughed once seonghwa deadpanned at you.

however, the unamused expression slowly melted away into a look of fondness. he then placed his hand against the back of your head as an attempt to pull you closer so that he could press his lips against your forehead. 

“i had fun too, maybe next time you should collab with me again the next time i film.” he suggested.

“we can talk about that later but for now..” you trailed off, patting your stomach.

“we need to find something to eat.” you continued, seonghwa playfully giving a light poke against your stomach, then made his way to your small kitchen with you happily trailing from behind, your hand clinging onto the back of his shirt as you do so.

“ramen sounds good to you, little bun?” he inquired, checking the cabinets for said food. 

hopping on the counter top, you nodded your head in agreement. your stomach suddenly growled once again at the mention of food that it made you hug your arms close to your stomach in surprise, seonghwa laughing at the noise and prepared the utensils. while waiting for the water to boil, your lover leaned in to steal a little kiss on your lips. smiling sheepishly, you hopped off of the counter and helped him in cutting up the vegetables.

needless to say, the both of you spent most of the time in the kitchen just enjoying each other’s company along with playful hip bumps every time the two of you stood next to each other as you waited for the food to finish cooking. you couldn’t ask for anything more than this.

#ateez #ateez writing #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #park seonghwa scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

[bat-losers-inc]

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 1

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

                              _____________________________________

“To select a victim, to adorn it, and to drive it towards the enemies to be killed by them in time of crisis - such is the ancient rite of substitution.” — The War That Killed Achilles by Caroline Alexander

The bone-saw pinwheeled through the air and smashed into the stone facade beside them. The event wouldn’t have been nearly so noteworthy if Dick hadn’t just yanked Damian out of its path only a second ago.

“Hey, Robin,” Jason called, “get your head in the game before you lose it completely!”

In front of them, Red Hood had swapped out his dual guns for a set of brass knuckles. All around him the Dollotrons and their improvised weapons fell to the ground.

Not helping, Jason.

Robin’s domino mask hid multitudes behind its whiteout lenses. Dick read what he could from the pinched lines of Damian’s mouth and the taut muscles in his neck which trembled through each unsteady swallow. He could feel the effort it was taking him to reign it in.

“Robin, you good?” He placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder and tried to draw his attention back from wherever his mind had just drifted off to. It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked that question tonight and he doubted that it would be the last.

“Fine,” Damian replied but jerked free of his grip with a suddenness that could only mean his pride had been bruised.

Damian snatched the fallen bone-saw up off the pavement and hurled it back into the mass of flailing limbs where it sliced deep into a Dollotron’s shoulder and sent the man staggering.

“Incapacitate only, Robin!” Batman’s voice boomed over the noise of the brawl unfolding before them.

The hope was that they could save at least a few of Professor Pyg’s failed creations if they got them prompt medical attention. Robin, however, had been one-step behind the entire evening—breaking with their predetermined strategies and acting on reflex more than anything. Dick could only chalk so much up to rustiness from being out of the field.

As Robin ducked back into the fray, he had no choice but to follow him in the hopes of preventing further bloodshed. It was going to be a long night.

Back in the cave, he watched Damian unbuckle the utility belt from his waist, his uniform glowing brightly in the cave’s dim interior. His movements were calm, but the distracted look in his eyes betrayed him outright. It was much too soon for him to be back in the field after his death at the hands of the Heretic and subsequent resurrection and it showed on patrol this evening.

Dare he say it, but tonight Robin was... sloppy. And didn’t that just make it worse, he thought to himself, remembering Jason’s muttered comment earlier that night, you can’t blame Damian, the last thing he wants to do is disappoint his father.

Well, what the hell was a kid supposed to do when Batman was your father?  

Dick’s gaze cut to Bruce at the Batcomputer, oblivious to everything except finishing up his report of the night’s mission. He wanted to chuck an escrima stick at his stupid pointy head. But no matter how satisfying that would feel in the moment, it wouldn’t be productive. So instead Dick did the adult thing and waited impatiently for Damian and Tim to change out of their gear and head to their respective beds to sleep away the rest of the dark hours.

When they were alone with nothing but the clicking of keyboard keys to fill the silence, Dick cast a final confirmative glance Jason’s way. Jason raised his arm and tapped at the imaginary watch on his wrist.  

It was now or never. “Bruce, can we talk for a sec?”

Bruce turned in his chair and faced him. “About what?”

He took a breath and forced the words out before his confidence failed him. “I don’t think Damian should be back in the field.”

Bruce held up his hands, his expression transforming from mild to exhausted in a fraction of a second.  “Dick, no. We’ve discussed this. I’m not having this conversation again.”

Again, he said, like he’d ever really taken the time to listen to him the first time around.

“You agreed to give him time! We only just got him back and already you’re putting him back in the line of fire?”

He’d thought that would have been the last thing that Bruce would have done. They’d all witnessed how Damian’s death had driven Bruce to the edge, Jason especially. It had taken hours of persistence to get Jason to even agree to come here, let alone stand with him on this, after the stunt Bruce had pulled in Ethiopia.

Bruce sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose tightly. “I’m not putting him anywhere. I put the decision up to Damian and he told me he felt ready to put the uniform back on.”

Those walls that Damian had started to lower during their time working together were back up now that his father was around, but not before the damage had already been done. Dick had glimpsed the vulnerable side of Damian that just wanted to prove his worth. He couldn’t stand by and watch the kid get hurt, even if he had to step on Bruce’s toes to do it.

Jason pushed off the clothing lockers that he’d been leaning against for the past ten minutes and walked up behind Dick’s shoulder. “You sure he really meant that? Or was he just saying what he thought you wanted to hear?”

Bruce’s face was quickly losing its composure. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, he was raised knowing he was the son of Talia al Ghul and Batman. Not Bruce Wayne— Batman. He might not think he has a choice in putting on the cape unless someone tells him otherwise.”

“And you think I didn’t?” snapped Bruce. As quick as that anger appeared, it was snuffed out just as fast and replaced with a measured response. “Robin is the one thing that gives Damian purpose. I won’t take that away from him.”

“Can you honestly say that his actions tonight didn’t worry you?” asked Jason. “He can take down Dollotrons with his eyes closed, but tonight he was distracted almost to the point of defenselessness. If we didn’t tag along and babysit him the entire patrol he might have ended up in the med bay or worse.”

“I think it’s understandable that he’s having some trouble adjusting.”

Adjusting, Dick wanted to scream. Did you see the look on your kid’s face out there? He’s not adjusting to anything.

Jason sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “C’mon, B. You know I don’t stick my nose in things unless they’re serious. This is serious. We’re worried about him.”

Bruce glanced between them, eyeing them both critically. “Think back to when you both were Robin. Would you have appreciated someone coming in and telling me to bench you because they thought you weren’t ready for the role? Without even taking into consideration how you might feel about the matter.”

“We aren’t saying that—” said Dick.

“Are you sure? Because it seems like you only just made this mistake with Tim.

The comment hit Dick like a slap to the face. “That was an entirely different situation—”

“You took Robin away from Tim when you thought he wasn’t in a position to handle the job anymore and gave it to Damian. Now you’re trying to take it away from Damian.”

“Robin was my mantle,” Dick said slowly, an anger months in the making rising in him. “I created it and I’m so sick of you telling me what bearing that name means or who that uniform gets passed down to like I don’t have any say in it! Especially with Damian. When you ‘died’ you left him with nothing. He was your blood son but you never bothered to give him a place in this family beyond that. So you want to talk about Damian’s place and his purpose ? Well, I gave those to him, not you.”

He thought you were going to be the one to take Robin away from him. He was so scared that his place in your legacy would be erased the moment you returned, despite all the work he had put in to change his nature.

Bruce was in his chair one second and standing over Dick in the next. “Despite what you might still believe, you’re no longer his guardian nor are you his mentor. You gave up the right to parent my child when I came back from the dead. I’m Batman and it’s time for you to go back to being Nightwing. Understood?”

Go back to not having a say, you mean, Dick thought to himself, remembering a time when all he wanted to do was go back to being Nightwing—to not have to make the hard choices. But not anymore. He’d been Batman and had a Robin of his own and those protective instincts don’t just magically turn off with a snap of the fingers.  

Sometimes I feel the need to protect him, even from you.

“I said is that clear?” Over four years since he’d worn the uniform and taken orders from Batman, but Dick’s body still jumped to attention like it did when he was Robin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that even Jason wasn’t immune to that tone of voice.

He absolutely hated it.

“Crystal.”

Bruce’s cape whipped him in the legs on his way out.

“C’mon, get changed,” Jason placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded his head towards the exit, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

It would take more than a year for him to realize he should have tried harder.

                              _____________________________________

By the time Jason shoved into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind him, it was two hours short of daybreak. He jerked to a halt when he caught sight of him sitting in his living room, and clutched his apartment keys in one limp fist.

“Hey,” he said, voice a rough croak.

Dick stood up to greet him. “Sorry. I didn’t think to text you and I had a key—”

He paused when he caught sight of Jason’s face illuminated under the overhead lights. “What happened to you? I thought you went to talk to Steph.”

“I did,” Jason dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door. “Or at least I tried to. She was more interested in hitting something than having a heart to heart.”

It was too soon after Tim’s funeral for Stephanie to be back in the field. Even, Kate had suggested that Bruce intervene before someone got hurt on the job. Dick had wanted to laugh at her choice of phrase. Hurt? Didn’t she realize that the reason they were in this situation in the first place was because the stakes had risen way past that already?

Still, they all knew it was no good to try to force yourself back into the vigilante lifestyle before you were ready. Damian had proven that only a year or so ago and Gotham’s citizens had borne the brunt of his mistake. So Bruce had tried to step in, but it felt like all he’d really succeeded in doing was pouring salt into the gaping wound that Tim’s death had rent into their little family of heroes.

I’m so sick of you pretending like you care. Dick remembered the way Steph had flung those words at Bruce just hours ago. You only care when people can forgive you. Because all you really care about is continuing your stupid fucking mission!  

Dick could already make out the puffy bruised skin that circled his right eye and colored his cheekbone a dark purple. “Right, so the obvious conclusion was to offer up yourself as her human punching bag.”

“Better me than Bruce.”

Just the idea of it made him sad. Jason and his stupid martyr complex. The kicked-puppy of the family. “I disagree.”

There was an image that Dick couldn’t get out of his head. It lurked in the back of his mind, even now. Steph’s features pulled tight from anger and grief, her icy eyes staring holes into Bruce as she spat out, You keep pretending to care about me to what? Absolve you for what happened to Tim? Well, I don’t, Batman. I don’t absolve you!  

No, it should have been Bruce that bore the brunt of her violence. Bruce who sported a fractured cheekbone for the following week, a consistent reminder of his failings. Not his little brother who had warned them all time and time again about Bruce’s bad habits and all of the endless justifications he had to explain them away. Not Jason, who’d said Bruce shouldn’t be allowed to have sidekicks if he couldn’t keep them alive into adulthood—that if he wanted to fight crime so bad, let him, but keep the kids out of it.

Jason winced as he fingered the delicate skin around his eye. “We both know from past experience how unsatisfying it feels to go after him. It’s like punching a brick wall—he doesn’t give anything and it just ends up hurting you more in the long run.”

He knew Jason was right, but that still didn’t make it fair.  

Jason went to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen green beans which he pressed to his face with a relieved sigh. “What are you doing here, Dick?”

Jason never was one for small talk.

Dick stared at the bookshelf in the corner of Jason’s living, the titles on the spines were illegible to him all of a sudden like he was viewing them from a great distance. “Tim’s dead.”

“Yeah, I know. Alfred called me after it happened, same as you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” Dick shook his head. “He was supposed to hang up the cape and go to college with Steph. I thought he was going to make it, but instead, he sacrificed himself on that rooftop for Bruce’s endless goddamn crusade.”

“Careful, Golden Boy. You’re sounding a little blasphemous there.”

“Good,” snapped Dick. “because I’m fucking angry. Angry that Bruce seems content to maintain the status quo while my siblings get blown up and stabbed and tortured.”

“You’re also grieving,” said Jason. “Which might explain why you’re slumming it around my place instead of spending time with Babs. When you work your way up to the bargaining stage I suggest trying Damian because I’m not helping you find a lazarus pit.”

“Fuck you,” he replied, but he couldn’t force any heat into the words. Not when his chest constricted again with that tight pain that stabbed at his lungs. He couldn’t stop the tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes and spilled over.

When he glanced up at Jason, the other boy was nothing but a watery figure standing out against the dark room. “Those missiles incinerated Tim into a pile of ash. There’s no body left for us to try to bring back this time.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut tight like something was paining him. He didn’t go to Tim’s funeral, Dick remembered and wondered which stage of the grieving process he was on: denial or acceptance. Either way, it was clear that even he was having trouble hiding it behind that cock-sure snarky mask of his.

Jason shook his head slightly. “I think you should leave.”

“What?” Dick wiped furiously at his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I can’t tell you what you came over here to hear.”

“And what’s that?”

“That everything’s gonna be alright. That Bruce is gonna change his ways.” Jason shrugged and tossed the bag of beans on the counter. “He might change a bit… adapt like he’s done in the past. But it won’t happen fast enough to stop another Robin from dying on the job.”

“You don’t know that.” Dick wanted to punch him for how cruelly and casually he said it.

“Don’t I?” Jason grabbed his Red Hood helmet up from where it rested on the kitchen counter and flung it at Dick’s chest like it was all the evidence he needed in the world. It was. “Just because you want someone to change, doesn’t mean they will.”

“Go to him with me. If we talk to him together we can make him listen—”

“The same way he listened to us before, with Damian? Like how he listened to Steph tonight? She yelled the harsh truth right in his face, even gave him an ultimatum. And she failed, just like you did, because the truth is that he doesn’t want to hear it.”

“We just have to try harder this time—”  

“Dick… please leave. I can’t do this with you right now and I won’t lie to you just to make you feel better.”

Dick threw Jason’s helmet onto the nearest piece of furniture. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that? I’m standing here trying to tell you that I need your help and you can’t even bring yourself to listen to me.”

“That’s because I’ve already learned this lesson. Just like Steph did tonight. And it’s a really simple one at that … if you love someone, you do what’s best for them even if it’s the hard choice. Damian, Cass, Steph, Duke… they won’t be ‘safe’ until they’re out of the lifestyle entirely. And it’s become increasingly clear that Bruce can’t, or won’t, give up being Batman so what makes you think he’s going to tell them to stop?”

Jason’s words were no different than the ones that occupied his thoughts of late. So why did it feel so much worse to hear them spoken out loud?

“I can’t lose another sibling, Jason. I won’t be able to take it. Please… there’s got to be something we can do.”

Jason hesitated, his eyes dropping to the kitchen counter. The sky was starting to lighten as dawn approached. In the ever-shifting dim of his apartment, it felt like ages before Jason finally spoke again. “I want to show you something. Maybe it will help.”

He walked past Dick to his bookcase and pulled a collection of books off the shelf, revealing a hole in the wall. “I started it about six months back for Steph. Her relationship with Bruce has always been rocky. I knew there might come a time when she went off to do the vigilante thing on her own.”

He reached in and pulled out a saran-wrapped package. “I want her to know that she had money waiting for her—to get a place of her own and new gear if she needs it.”

He tossed the package to Dick. It was a brick of cash, bundled into individual stacks with currency straps. Based on the various conditions of the bills it looks like Jason had swiped them during his many run-ins with Gotham’s criminal underbelly.

“You saved all this for her?” asked Dick.

Jason paused in placing the books back on the shelf and shrugged. “Well, yeah. We know how hard it is to go it alone—the way you have to swallow your pride and values at a certain point because you need Bruce’s help, or money, or his connections. Steph deserves better than that. If she made the decision to leave the fold, I want her to go and not look back.”

Jason leaned against the edge of the bookshelf. “It’s not much when you’re coming from Bruce Wayne’s trust fund, but maybe we could start doing the same for the others; Damian, Cass, Harper, Duke... What do you think?”

“There’s certainly enough dirty operations in Gotham to fund it, but we’d need a better place to store it than a hole in your wall.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Dick’s mind was already racing with the possibilities. “And we don’t have to stop at cash. I’m sure we both have old safehouses that we don’t use and contacts with other superheroes and scientists that we can share—”

“Whoa, whoa! Dick…” Jason rubbed at his face. “What you’re talking about is building Batman’s resources from the ground up and not even that, doing it all in secret.”

“Are you saying we can’t do it?” asked Dick.

“Not necessarily—”

“Well if we have all the resources then why are we hesitating?” asked Dick.

He held out his hand. “So are we doing this?”

Jason took his hand. “I guess I officially have to stop calling you Golden Boy now.”

#song of cassandra #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Stephanie Brown #Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #hurt comfort #bruce wayne a+ parenting #emotional abuse #emotional whump #nightwing #red hood #robin #spoiler #Red Robin #DC comics #batman #My writing #LittleDarlingXOX

[cupofteaguk]

what you want

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: post breakup au | fluff

warnings: depictions of alcohol consumption 

word count: 5k

a/n: taken from “things you said while we were driving” on my old blog

.

In a way, Jungkook knows you’re on the other side of the line even before he answers the phone. One could argue that it’s because he remembers your strange and cute and endearing habit of always calling him at ungodly hours of the evening for absolutely no reason at all, or how its been a few months since things ended between the two of you and he still jumps at the notification of text messages and still catches glimpses of you on the street. 

While all those things are true, he probably knows it’s you because he has yet to change the ringtone on his phone that corresponds to your calls. That way, his action of leaping off the couch and making a dive for his phone is slightly more justified as he slides the answer button and presses the device to his ear. “Hello?” He exclaims breathlessly, cursing himself out just a moment later because he didn’t even think to cover up the eager quality in his tone and probably sounds like he had been waiting around for your call—which he has but you didn’t need to know that. 

“Hey! Jungkook!” You exclaim from the other end, a concerning amount of time between his question and your response that he can already feel his eyes narrowing and can already feel a little voice in the back of his head telling him that it doesn’t matter how he reacts to your call. 

You’re likely way too drunk at this point to notice. 

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, bringing a finger up to tap at the crease as not just a means to calm himself but also a means to give himself a better handle on the situation. You were never the heavy drinker, especially when the pair of you were dating, so he doesn’t have any sort of default speech or words of caution to throw at you during this kind of specific predicament. From that, the only thing he can properly manage to say back to you is: “Are you drunk?” 

A pause. “No of course not!” You shout back over the line and Jungkook sighs because the pieces are just beginning to connect in his mind. You only ever shouted when you were drunk, when your mind and vocal chords couldn’t process the depth or volume of your tone. “Why would I do that?!” 

“Y/N, you’re shouting,” He points out, looking down and despite everything, despite the fact that he should really be pissed at you for disrupting his evening, despite the fact that your wellbeing shouldn’t be a priority in his life anymore—he can’t help but allow the corner of his lips to quirk up in the smallest smile. A smile of relief that you’re here and well and talking, a smile of relief that stops the flood of questions from escaping his lips. 

Another pause, and he imagines you tilting your head to the side, imagines the drunk gears turning like a wheel over and over again in your mind as you comprehend his words and attempt to adjust your own lifestyle accordingly. “I am?” You return, but your voice has lowered significantly from grand yelling to soft whispering. 

Jungkook can’t help it. A noise of laughter escapes from the back of his throat. “You’re insane,” He speaks without an ounce of remorse in his tone as he straightens up and off the floor, continuing to unconsciously cradle the phone against his ear, pressing it closer as if pulled by a desire to hear every curve of your voice. “Though I didn’t know you were the type to drunk dial…” 

“M’not drunk dialing,” You point out, your voice still retaining that hushed quality but there’s something different about it, something sensual and vulnerable and it only captures Jungkook’s attention more. “Jungkook, I need you.” 

The statement forces Jungkook into an immediate frenzy as he allows himself one second of completely disregard for the situation, for the fact that you were drunk and likely just spewing nonsense, the fact that the pair of you weren’t dating anymore, the fact that it has been months since your last conversation—all thoughts seems to fling itself out of the window. This leaves Jungkook alone in the living room, choking on his words. He swallows thickly because drunk words were sober thoughts, were they not? “Y-You need me,” He repeats back slowly. 

You whine at that, a vulnerable noise Jungkook hasn’t heard in so long that it makes his heart tighten slightly in his chest. It’s not a reaction that comes out of need or physical desire, but more so as a deep unconditional sort of longing. He misses you, misses you definitely a lot more than he should be missing an ex-partner but he can’t help it. 

“I need you for a ride,” You reply back, the addition of those last three words to that sentence doing little to diminish Jungkook’s attention on your voice. It doesn’t matter that you seem to have only called him for your own personal reason. “Karly dragged’m to this party and I don’t trust anyone else to pick me up.” 

“So you need me… to pick you up from a party?” Jungkook echoes, gradually lowering himself onto the couch. He doesn’t know the protocol of open lines of communication between someone who use to (and still does, but people didn’t need to know that) mean the world to him. He doesn’t know if he should be more watchful, more careful, more aware of its hidden implications or if he should take situations like these with a grain of salt. 

His genuine cluelessness about relationship norms has come to bite him back in the ass, yet he’s not too sure if it’s a bad thing or a good thing. 

However, his restating of your request seems to click something in your mind because you let out a groan. “Oh god,” You say, letting out a big sigh. “I can’t ask you to pick me up.” It’s hard to tell if you’re talking to Jungkook or convincing yourself otherwise. 

So Jungkook just leans against the couch, continuing to press the phone against his ear, closing his eyes just enough to the sound of you breathing lightly on the other side because holy shit it feels like lifetimes. “Well, why not?” He asks, lowering his gaze to stare down at his leg, the texture of his jeans. His finger comes out to trace at the denim mindlessly, desperate to keep you on the phone partially because he’s long since forgotten the lapsed sound of your breathing but also because that part of himself that’s always been protective over you longs to ensure your safety. 

“You must be busy, right?” You grumble, voice slightly muffled and he imagines you leaning heavily against a wall to maintain your balance. “I don’t want to bother you… I just need to figure out how to get home.” 

“N-No, it’s okay,” Jungkook reassures, pushing himself off the couch and already starting to rummage around for the important belongings such as his wallet and his keys. “Do you think you could drop a pin for me? I need to know where you are so I can come get you.” 

You hum. “R-Really?” You manage. “You would do that?” 

He swallows down the part of himself that almost admits he would do anything for you, not because he fears you retaining that statement but because he knows that speaking the words out loud would mean facing the truth he’s spent months trying to bury away. 

So he reaches over to lightly scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean…” He starts, biting his lip, trying to find the right words that don’t give away too much of his feelings yet can still convey his desire to look after you. “I still care about you.” 

He closes his eyes after the words escape, a wave of curses and frenzy and something akin to smashed keyboard lettering piling up in his mind. Fuck, fuck, that was definitely not what he was trying to go for. 

Yet on the other side of the phone, you laugh softly and quietly and it sounds more tired than anything else which only gives Jungkook a greater incentive to go out and find you. “You’re too good for me Jungkook. I don’t know how I can return the favor.” 

He feels himself practically melting at your words, at your ability to say the right thing without even having to try and it makes him wonder. His mind wanders to where it all went wrong, what happened between the two of you, why he’s here on the other side of the phone line in an apartment that feels much too empty and lonely rather than at that party with you and hearing your voice directly in his ear and not through some hazy reception. Or even better, just spending the time alone within each other’s company—playing video games or watching movies or cooking meals or just anything in general that involved being within each other’s company. Those things, once so common and mundane to the average day-by-day playback of his life, have quickly become his favorite things to reflect upon in his spare time. At least, until the realization of his lingering feelings for you and the fact that a breakup didn’t equate to breaking apart the remnants of his emotional connection. 

He simply smiles. “Text me where you are. At least drop a pin.” 

“Okay,” You manage and he can practically hear you nodding your head furiously to showcase the depth of how hard you were going to work to ensure that would happen. “I will. I really will.” 

The pair of you hang up shortly after, and Jungkook finds himself letting out a breath. He hadn’t realized how nervous he would be at getting to converse with you after so many long months of silence; just a proof of testament to how you still had the full capability of continuously inching yourself underneath his skin. 

His phone buzzes, capturing his attention as he reaches the device to his line of sight and sees the text message from you. 

from you: [PINNED LOCATION]

from you: did tiowork 

from you: jgnkook plaes tell me oyou got htaht 

from Jungkook: I got it, just stay where you are okay? 

from you: holy sih t did i use tehncaoloy coreectly im ga fucking genius 

from you: jungkok guhryy up im tured i mgith 

from you: fall sasleep 

from Jungkook: DON’T  

from you: jungkook ure too godoo for me 

from you: what did ideo to derserve you

He pockets his phone after that, because although your messages are more than enough to send him into another burst of uncontrollable emotions, he knows immediately that his absolute first priority is to get to the party before you dropped your guard even more. He can’t even begin to imagine what would happen—his thoughts getting the best of him given that Jungkook doesn’t trust a little more than half of the overall human population and those fragments of alternative realities is what forces his feet to slam on the gas pedal and his eyes to frantically scan back and forth on the street to ensure that he would most definitely not miss the house. 

He doesn’t. He gets the house right, and luckily doesn’t need to be double checking his work because not only are there long rows of cars parked along the sidewalk, but also a handful of people are littered outside along the porch. Given the quiet neighbor, their hushed voices make sense, but they’re all holding bottles and cups that leaves little to the imagination. Jungkook parks, steps out of his car, shuffles towards the house and his approaching figure is barely spared a glance as he makes his way up the steps and into the house. 

Inside, the conversations are a little louder, a little more rowdy—the laughter is freer, a mixture of different voices are heard ringing down the hallway and the rooms that individuals have gathered in. But none of those things matter to Jungkook. He doesn’t care about the prospect of drinking with strangers, the typically alluring temptation of free alcohol. The only thing he cares about it—! 

“Jungkook?” A voice sounds from one of the couches in the empty living room, the familiarity of the tone forcing him to stop completely in his tracks as he whirls around towards the source of the noise. His heart does that painful stuttering thing it always does when he sees you and he can practically feel the desperation and overwhelming swell of emotions erupting throughout his body—like that time you stepped out his bathroom for the first time in his clothes or the first time he woke up next you and saw the golden rays of morning light hitting all the curves and angles of your face. Or one instance post-coitus tangled with one another atop the mattress, deep breath matched into the evening, his fingers and eyes developing an intense fixation on your lips; that was the moment he realized he was in love with you. 

And now those emotions seem to be hitting him like a wave the longer he stands there staring at you, taking you in because even though you are curled up on the couch half asleep, you’ve never looked more beautiful and months apart definitely does not change that. 

“H-Hey,” Jungkook manages, taking the few steps towards you, quickening his pace slightly when he notices you struggling to sit yourself up on the couch. “Wait, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” He instructs lightly, kneeling before you yet you still attempt to pull yourself up. You are somehow able to get your arm underneath yourself, using your strength to push your body. Your head almost falls to the side but Jungkook starts forward to hold the side. 

Your eyes slowly find his, flickering upwards until they land upon his face and the corner of your lips quirk up in a tired yet gorgeous smile. “Hi Jungkook,” You whisper, your voice that low huskiness that always takes form when you’ve drank too much and yelled too much. He remembers bits and pieces of your drunken facade and knows this particular one to be your tired and exhausted shell. “It’s been awhile.” 

You sound significantly less drunk than you had been over the phone, which he takes to be a good sign and that you’ve spent the few minutes it has taken Jungkook to drive from his house to this to sober up and start the process of trying to make yourself as well as you possibly could be in this state. 

“I know,” He returns back. 

You laugh, a mere exhale through your nose, eyes drifting close for a second before they open again. “This is’not how I wanted you to see me after all this time.” 

He smiles softly. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you through worse.” And it’s true. He definitely has. “C’mon, my car is right outside.” 

For a second, Jungkook is not entirely sure what to do with his hands. Under normal circumstances he would have no doubts about gathering you in his arms and leading you to his car himself, but these are not normal circumstances so he just settles with bringing a hand down to the curve of your waist. 

“Can you stand up for me?” 

Keeping both hands on his shoulders, it helps propel you upwards and although you aren’t completely uncoordinated, you still cling to him and Jungkook allows you to lean on him heavily as he holds you close in order to guide you out of the house and down the lawn. 

You hum quietly under your breath, eyes fixated downwards to watch your footing. “Do you remember…” You start slowly, the exhaustion from the alcohol starts to eat away at your system. “Do you remember my house… like, where it is?” 

“Yeah, yeah I remember where it is,” He answers, slowly open the passenger door and leaning over to help you sit down. You practically slump against on the seat, providing the further fluidity of your bones and muscles, still doing enough in dragging out the sheepish laugh from Jungkook. As if by instinct, he reaches over to tug the seat belt over your frame, crossing over your body to lock the buckle in place. This forces himself closer to you, forces him within such a close proximity to your frame that he can smell the lingering after effects of alcohol fill up his nose. But underneath that, he can still smell your perfume and the lavender scent of your shampoo. He clears his throat. “Uh, you good?” 

You nod slowly, gaze unwavering from his face as he pulls away far enough to meet your eyes. You are unwavering, orbs flickering back and forth with a scary intensity that he momentarily questions the level of intoxication you are under. The only way he can know for sure is through the glassy complexion of your eyes. 

“What?” He speaks, feeling too self-conscious to ignore the look across your features. 

You inhale slowly. “You smell the same.” There is a sense of longing in your voice that Jungkook is almost sure is just the alcohol talking. 

Almost. 

He takes in a breath. “Y/N, you’re drunk,” He says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or you more. “Just try to get some rest, okay?” You look like you’re about to open your mouth to further explain your situation—because a tired you equates to a rambling you—but he pulls back and slams the car door shut without a word. 

Not for long though, because he reappears on the driver’s side, sliding into place and sliding the key into the ignition to start the car up. 

“Being drunk has nothing to do with how you smell the same,” You note quietly, shifting to stare longingly out of the window. 

“Being drunk means everything,” He returns, making sure to keep his grip tight on the steering wheel keep himself focused on the road rather than you. “It means you’ll say something you’ll probably regret in the morning.” 

“I highly doubt that,” You say, but he doesn’t believe you. Even when you readjust yourself once more to stare at his side profile. “Jungkook, I missed you,” You start. “So, so, so much.” 

Despite his increasing heart rate, he manages a weak laugh. “You’re just saying that because I’m picking you up from a party.” 

“No, no, no,” You protest, shaking your head. “Not true. I mean it. I missed you so much.” 

That statement forces his mind into a complete 180 rotation as Jungkook is so startled at your confession that his foot accidentally slams down on the gas, forcing the pair of you to dart forward at such a speed that both heads slam against the back of the seats. Jungkook curses loudly, managing a right turn just before the overhead light turns red. 

Jungkook’s breathing picks up as he tightens his grip on on the wheel. “Fucking hell—Y/N don’t say things like that!” 

“Why not?” You protest, leaning back against the headrest of the seat. Your eyes slide shut and stay closed for a few seconds. “It’s true…” You let out a gentle sigh from between your lips, grumbling something that he can’t make out and Jungkook decides to take advantage of your incoherent nature to just fix the rest of his attention back on the road. Seriously, if you could keep your mouth shut for the next five minutes, he could actually maintain some semblance of his sanity to prevent any further potential accidents. 

Luckily, aside from the occasional hum that leaves your lips, you are quiet which allows Jungkook to carefully navigate the streets before finally pulling up to the curbside in front of your apartment complex. The sight definitely brings back memories, but he swallows them down long enough to take himself out of the driver side and make his way back around to your side of the vehicle. 

You’re still hunched against the seat when Jungkook opens the door, eyes closed and lips parted and bombarding him with memories of good times, better times, that he almost doesn’t reach him to shake you awake. 

Key word: almost. 

He leans in to gently grip your shoulder. “Y/N, we’re here.”

You open your eyes just as he’s reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Jungkook doesn’t get far because just as he’s about to pull back, your hands dart out to grasp at the hem of his jacket. Despite your sleepy facade, your grip is surprisingly strong and it keeps Jungkook within a close distance to your face. 

He swallows down his heart threatening to crawl its way out of his throat. 

“I’m not… fucking around Jungkook,” You insist. “The months when you’re not with me suck. They really fucking suck and…” You aren’t drunk but you definitely still are battling with the remnants of alcohol clouding your mind and judgment and Jungkook wants you to stop, wants you to put a halt to something you will surely regret in the morning, but he also knows that you would chew him out for continuously trying to interrupt you. Even if it’s for your own personal benefit. You’re funny and stubborn and adorable and endearing in this sense. 

Back to reality. He blinks, biting his lip, hoping you cannot hear his rapidly increasing pulse drumming underneath the skin. Rather than put a stop to it, he can’t help himself this time around. He encourages your drunken mind. “What are you trying to say?” 

Your gaze dances across his face, eyes still glazed and shimmering underneath the light of the car and the lights from the building behind the pair of you. 

Then, without a warning, you lean forward and dust your lips against his. 

For a moment, everything seems to leave Jungkook. Everything: from his sanity to his state of mind to the ground behind his feet to his sense of balance and belonging, leaving him alone with his raw and infinite love for you and a desire for more more more. He barely processes the way your hands move up from the hem of his shirt to the collar until you’re luring him in again for another kiss, one a little bit more firm and a little bit more intoxicating. 

Jungkook practically whimpers at the kiss, a little noise of desire escaping from the back of his throat, because holy fucking shit, it may just be because he hasn’t kissed anyone over the past few months or maybe just because he hasn’t kissed you that’s making him feel this way, making him realize just how much he really fucking misses you and how perhaps breaking up wasn’t the best idea. For a split second, he longs to forget that you’re drunk, that you’re definitely not in your right state of mind, that you broke up for a valid (unfortunate) reason, that this is wrong. So very absolutely wrong. 

Although it hurts every bone in his body, Jungkook has to force himself to turn away and pull back from you. “W-Wait,” He manages, processing the fact that his voice is low from the events that have just happened. His cheeks feel warm and he feels lightheaded, but he forces himself to stay focused on what is the right thing to do and definitely not trying to notice the way you look: from the flushed cheeks to the darkened lips to the distracted eyes. “We shouldn’t do this. It’s not right.” 

The light once flickering so hopefully in your gaze dies down at his firm words, as you cast your head downwards in a mixture of utter shame and embarrassment. He can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind, can feel the way your hands pull away from his frame to settle tightly on your lap, can see the way you press your lips together as if you’re trying to keep yourself from saying anything further. 

But his eyes widen as you inhale sharply before a heart-wrenching sob tears itself from your throat. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, but it does little to stop the hiccups and Jungkook can only watch helplessly as you crumble apart right before his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” You admit quietly, such a soft whisper that he almost doesn’t hear you but he does and you are so broken that Jungkook’s own heart cannot be protected as he kneels down with eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. Questions swarm around his mind, desperately trying to figure out what to say because he should have known this would happen. He should have remembered that at the end of the day, after the laughter and the exhaustion have taken their phase in your identity like passage of the moon—it all ends with this. It all ends with the emotional part of you, when the alcohol gets to your head and leaves nothing but a sobbing mess behind over anything and everything. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You start to ramble, each word broken up by a sharp inhale for air like your tears are drowning you. “I’m so sorry Jungkook, I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry…” 

“Hey,” Jungkook starts. “Hey, stop apologizing. Why are you apologizing? Why are you crying?” 

The questions do little but prompt further crying as another strangled sob escapes your throat and you turn your head with a refusal to even look in his general direction. Your jaw is clenched together, your hand is still at your mouth as if attempting to muffle your whimpers to little success. 

“B-Because,” You stammer, your whole body shaking with the effort to contain the wave of your sufferings. Jungkook’s heart stutters painfully in his chest, sinking down to his stomach, as the words of how this was all his fault ring like a bell in his mind. “Because you probably hate me. You hate me, d-don’t you?” 

He scoots a little closer. “No, no, of course I don’t. Y/N, where did you get that idea?” 

You shake your head, eyes slamming shut. “H-How could you not hate me? I just kissed you and we’re not even together anymore, we haven’t been together for months and it just hurts so so much because I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…” 

“Y/N, take a breath, you have to calm down,” Jungkook speaks gently, bravely reaching over to rest his hand on your knee, attempting to draw soothing patterns over the denim and hoping more than anything that you can feel the warmth and reassurance of his touch against your skin. “You aren’t making any sense. Why would you call yourself stupid?” 

You pull your hand away from your mouth and you glare at him through your tears. Your face is bright red and wet with tears, but still so beautiful it really hurts. “Because I’m still in love with you,” You speak, swallowing down your uneven breathes and forcing yourself to make the statement as clearly as possible. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I’ve been trying to get over you this entire time to no luck. A-And I thought going to that dumb party would help me, but I-I guess not because I’m here being an asshole and trying to kiss you even though you hate me…” Your face crumbles and you look like you’re on the verge of tears all over again. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook speaks up, leaning forward. “Y/N, please, stop beating yourself up for this. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you—you were the most important person in my life. I mean… you still are.” 

You sniff, reaching up to wipe at your nose. “What are you trying to say?” 

“I miss you too,” He replies quietly, gazing down for a moment to study the rest of your body. “I miss you so much all the time it hurts. If I had to give up a penny for every time I wanted to call you or text you… well, I’d probably be broke.” 

You blink away the layer of tears clouding your vision. “D-Do you mean that?” 

“I would never lie to you,” He admits, looking down and gently reaching over to grasp your hand. He runs his thumb over your skin, momentarily basking in the skin-on-skin contact with you. 

Your body jolts with the occasional hiccup as you quietly try to let the previous wave of sobbing pass over you. “I’m sorry,” You whisper again. “I probably made a mess of your evening.” 

He shakes his head before he even realizes what he’s doing. “No, it’s okay, I’m just glad to see you home safely.” 

You look down at your joined hands. “S-Since you miss me, and I miss you,” You start, biting on your lip. “Can we start over?” 

He gazes up at you. Every nerve in his body screams YES, because goddamn, it has been too long and he’s sure that if the universe was willing to give the pair of you another chance, you both would do anything and everything to make it work and not fall into those same traps that broke you apart last time. He has wanted a lot of things, but never has badly as this and he wants to hold you tightly and crush you to his chest and inhale your lavender—and yet. 

The sinking sensation seems to hit him in that moment that you’re still drunk and under the influence and thus, not in your right state of mind. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t think he can handle that. 

He lets out a sigh. “If you remember this tomorrow,” He says. “Then we can.” 

You start fading again as he takes you out of his car and helps you up the stairs to the correct floor of your apartment, helps your roommate in guiding you into your bedroom, and leaves with a prompt ‘just… take care of her, please…’ with such a sad edge to his voice that Karly gives him a sympathetic pat on the back and a request to drive home safely. 

He does, but there is a longing in his chest, a doubt, a warning not to expect too much from this situation. 

He loves you too much for the disappointment. 

. 

The next morning, he wakes up to surprisingly sunny skies, golden rays, and a text. 

from you [7,18am]: Since you miss me and I miss you, can we start over? 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get use to your unpredictability, your determination—and for the first time in months, his smile is brighter than the outside. 

#bangtan bookclub #bts writing cafe #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes

[uwua3]

still with you (dandelion wishes).

🌸📝🌻🎨 minagi tsuzuru x miyoshi kazunari

summary: kazunari wishes on a dandelion for a wish that would never come true

warnings: break–ups, fake relationships, heartbreak, loneliness, unrequited love

author’s note: here’s some tsuzukazu angst! listened to this song and was reminded of [redacted] & had to take it out some way or another :) not a happy ending, forewarning (btw removed a verse)

your self worth is not based on if someone romantically loves you!!! it’s okay to be single, you don’t have to be in love 24/7 to be worth it to someone ♡ i hope you love yourself as much as you love others!

word count: 3,657

music: still with you – jungkook (bts) (please listen to this ♡ i’ve had this on repeat for almost 9 hours now TT)

YOUR THIN VOICE THAT GRAZES JUST PAST ME,

WOULD YOU CALL MY NAME JUST ONCE MORE?

THOUGH I’M STILL STANDING HERE, BENEATH THE FROZEN SUNSET

STEP BY STEP, I WANT TO WALK TOWARDS YOU

STILL WITH YOU

“Say my name.”

Kazunari begged, forcing Tsuzuru to look at him. Whatever they had, had been going on for too long, he knew that, but Kazunari wasn’t ready for it to end. Not now, not when this relationship they faked had become so real.

Tsuzuru shook his head, about to shake him off with force but Kazunari held onto his face, hands cupped around his cheeks like a lover would do. Tsuzuru stared in horror as Kazunari’s teary, red eyes peered back at him, his hands shaking against his skin, the uneven breathing pattern between Kazunari’s hidden sobs, it was too much to bear. How could he have let this happen? Why didn’t he say no?

“I–If you mean it, say it. Say my name.” Kazunari pleaded, smiling sadly when he gently wiped away a tear that had escaped Tsuzuru’s rapidly blinking eyes. Even though there was supposed to be no feelings between them, it broke their hearts to even be seeing each other like this. How could this have gone too far? Could he even speak right now?

Tsuzuru reached his hand up, placing it against Kazunari’s as if about to hold it for old time’s sake. But, before Tsuzuru could let himself embrace Kazunari selfishly, he pushed Kazunari’s hand down to his side with a firm ‘no’. Kazunari retracted his touch, stumbling back as if he had been physically pushed. He knew he was about to hear it, to witness the end of everything they had been through—

“Kazunari,” Tsuzuru started but stopped. Kazunari admired the way he glowed in the golden hour one last time, letting the tears stream freely down his face as he attempted a smile, but it was flawed and broken, just like their relationship. Tsuzuru wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to console him, take him home like none of this ever happened, but they could never go back to how things were before. It was impossible, it was too late to take it all back.

“I love you, Tsuzu—”

“I don’t love you, Kazunari.”

Silence.

“Did you ever?”

Then, Kazunari took a step forward, his arm reaching out, wishing for Tsuzuru to stay. But, nothing could have changed what just happened.

Tsuzuru ran off, leaving Kazunari to stand by himself with a mess he couldn’t fix at the pier that summer sunset afternoon.

IN THIS DARK ROOM, WITHOUT A SINGLE LIGHT

I SHOULDN’T GET USED TO THIS, BUT IT BECOMES FAMILIAR ONCE MORE

Kazunari could never handle being alone for too long, perhaps this was punishment for starting this in the first place. The light flickered above his head before shutting off completely, subjecting Kazunari to the tidal waves of the night as nothing but moonlight illuminated his surfaces. By the time he had arrived, Tsuzuru was no where to be seen. Gone, never the same ever again.

By now, they were supposed to be getting ready for bed, about to turn in early because Kazunari knew he was the only person who could make Tsuzuru close his eyes. They’d be tangled in their sheets, wanting nothing more than to be in each other’s embrace, whispering about anything with muffled laughter echoing between their four walls. They’d wake up together, and end the day together as always. Now, the truth was out. There was nothing to lie about anymore, nothing to pretend everything was alright for.

Kazunari laid alone that night, listening for a sound that Tsuzuru was still alive. Something just to prove to him he was real, wasn’t a figment of his crazy imagination, someone he truly did ruin everything with. Restless, Kazunari listened to the beat of the rain against his window pane as he left Tsuzuru’s side of the bed open, just in case he decided to come back.

Kazunari’s eyes fluttered closed, despite his best efforts to stay awake as the clock ticked onward, on and on without stop. It was true—Tsuzuru hadn’t come back for him.

I CAN HEAR THE SOFT HUMMING, THE SOUND OF THE AIR CONDITIONER

IF I DON’T EVEN HAVE THIS RHYTHM, I TRULY FEEL LIKE I MAY FALL APART

Kazunari woke up to the sound of endless typing, the rapid smashing of keys that only his ex–boyfriend could produce at an alarming rate. It was louder than the rain at this hour, and this was the scene where Kazunari would persuade him to come back to bed, the blankets warm and distance between them non–existent. But, Tsuzuru was a floor below, typing as if his life depended on it. He would stay up again, again and again every night without sleep until he finished whatever he was working on.

Kazunari pushed himself out of bed, blinking the tiredness away as he stumbled out of his room, not bothering to hide his exhaustion as Kazunari carried his pillow to Room 102. He leaned his ear against the door quietly, sinking to the floor once he heard Tsuzuru’s small remarks to himself when fixing grammatical errors. It was so... like him, that Kazunari just hugged his pillow closer and shut his eyes.

Kazunari wondered if Tsuzuru was writing about him, and what he could’ve been saying if that was the case. Kazunari knew what he’d already write, he already said it.

‘I’m in love with my best friend who could never love me back,’ Kazunari thought, feeling the cold dusk air brush past him as his back faced the courtyard, placing his pale hand against the door. The typing didn’t stop, even hours later as Kazunari finally stood up, shuffling back to his room. He looked over his shoulder, as if praying Tsuzuru would step outside so they could talk it over.

But, what was there to talk about except Kazunari caught feelings for someone who didn’t? That was rejection, plain and simple. Wrong feelings, wrong time, that’s all. Was that all there was, though?

About to walk away, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Kazunari squatted down, picking at a weed growing at the corner of the pavement as it rustled in the wind. Plucking it from its roots, Kazunari tried to maintain a smile as he recognized the puffiness of the flower, a flower that just had to be growing outside of Tsuzuru’s door: a dandelion.

Making a wish, Kazunari blew on the dandelion and watched his wish fly into the sky as the night carried it far, far away.

Kazunari left the stem in front of Tsuzuru’s door.

LAUGHING TOGETHER, AND IN TEARS TOGETHER

IT MIGHT BE THAT THESE SIMPLE EMOTIONS, WERE EVERYTHING TO ME

Kazunari remembered the beginning of the end, how an innocent request had ended their years of friendship together. It was so late, where Kazunari was finishing up an university project as Tsuzuru was revising the final script for the upcoming Mankai production. He remembered looking up from his screen behind him, about to say something to disturb the peace but Kazunari couldn’t bring himself to.

Tsuzuru was already looking down at him, his fingers hovering above the keyboard mid–air. He seemed honest this time, his face bared with such fondness that his teal eyes were unintentionally staring. How long had Tsuzuru been looking at him like that? It must have been the tiredness, the lack of sleep for countless days as Tsuzuru’s half–open eyes were drooping lazily, a blissful, dreamy smile across his usual uptight expression.

“Date me.” Kazunari blurted out, shocking Tsuzuru awake as he stumbled to sit up straight, about to protest with the utmost confusion and denial. Before Tsuzuru could begin ranting about the situation at hand, Kazunari laughed as he stretched, yawning slightly with a humurous glance at Tsuzuru’s flustered expression.

“Don’t be so surprised, Tsuzuroon~ You know how I’ve been talking about wanting a boyfriend forever now.” Kazunari teased, pushing back to nudge Tsuzuru’s leg like friends would. He had been sitting besides Tsuzuru’s chair, leaning his head against the man’s thighs as he propped his laptop up on his own knees. Kazunari missed the way Tsuzuru spluttered, about to defend himself before Kazunari stood up, moving to stand behind his chair with his hands on Tsuzuru’s tense shoulders. Upon contact, Tsuzuru relaxed slightly as Kazunari leaned his lips besides Tsuzuru’s ear, smiling tiredly.

“We’re two college students who don’t have anything going on, right? I’m in need of romance, and you won’t have to worry about catching feelings for me, it can even be fake if you want.” Kazunari whispered, whether it was to avoid waking up the whole dorm or send a shiver running down Tsuzuru’s spine, who knows. Tsuzuru just gulped, trying his best to focus on the blinking cursor on his digital screen as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. The offer to be close with one another without the official commitment was so strange, it completely short–circuited his thinking process.

After a momentary lack of response, Kazunari just let out a small laugh without any sign of embarrassment. Just how often had he thought about this? “Think about it, okay?” Kazunari hummed, pulling back to go sit back down before a hand grabbed his wrist, yanking him towards Tsuzuru’s bewildered face, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

The distance between them was next to nothing, and Kazunari waited as Tsuzuru found the right words, holding onto Kazunari as if he had to say it. Kazunari leaned over him, his wrist between them as Tsuzuru’s grip loosened like he had become aware of how, friendly this contact was.

“O–Okay.” Tsuzuru finally said, nodding as if to convince himself this wasn’t a weird scenario at all. Kazunari lifted his eyebrows in surprise, about to question Tsuzuru’s indecisiveness before Tsuzuru let go, letting Kazunari stand up to his full height. Tsuzuru cleared his throat awkwardly, as if their dynmamic had changed in an instant.

“Okay?” Kazunari asked, tilting his head slightly to gaze upon Tsuzuru’s flushed cheeks and stubborn pout upon his lips. It was so innocent of him, Kazunari could have imagined themselves not as their current university selves, but back then in elementary when they first met. Tsuzuru just nodded again, about to go back to typing before he held his fist out, his pinky lifted in the air.

“No feelings, right?” Tsuzuru confirmed, and Kazunari made the biggest mistake of his life that night, immediately looping his pinky finger with Tsuzuru’s as a promise.

“No feelings. Just two friends having the benefits of a super not official, non–commital relationship!” Kazunari joked, making Tsuzuru slightly huff out a laugh as they let go, perhaps holding onto each other’s pinkies for a bit too long. Kazunari sat on the floor again and resumed his work, Tsuzuru doing the same as the two shared each other’s company for the first time as “boyfriends”.

That pinky promise was the first to be broken in their newfound, fake relationship. Kazunari had fallen in love with his best friend who he knew would never feel anything back, and the rest was history.

I WONDER WHEN IT MAY BE, WERE I TO MEET YOU ONCE MORE

I’D WANT TO LOOK INTO YOUR EYES AND TELL YOU, I MISSED YOU

How could you move on from someone you weren’t even dating, to begin with?

Kazunari hadn’t even interacted with Tsuzuru in weeks. No looks were exchanged, no intimate touches only they’d do to each other, no more late nights together. How had this fake relationship idea Kazunari started backfire on him in the most catastrophic way possible? That was the number one rule they discussed, to tell the other person immediately if they felt anything.

Kazunari remembered the first time he told Tsuzuru he liked him much more than this convenient set–up allowed him to. It was at night again, after becoming familiar with the boundaries (or lack of) they had set up during a round of drinks, as Kazunari mindlessly played with Tsuzuru’s fingers. He had resorted to typing with one hand, letting Kazunari get his skin–on–skin fix as he just played with his hand like some cat. Tsuzuru was about to say something, turning his head but stopping to stare into Kazunari’s half–lidded eyes and lazy grin.

“Hi, Tsuzuroon.��� Kazunari slurred together, placing a gentle kiss upon Tsuzuru’s knuckles casually, missing the way Tsuzuru flinched from the intimate contact. He guessed he did agree to this, just to appease Kazunari’s intense need to be clingy 24/7. But, Tsuzuru wasn’t aware it would feel so real, the kisses, the hugs, the hand–holding, it was all different now.

“Hello?” Tsuzuru said in a questioning tone before Kazunari moved in closer, barely a millimeter away as he seemed drunk under this light. Flushed face with unfocusing eyes, but with the same smile he reserved only for Tsuzuru.

“Tsuzu, why haven’t we kissed yet?” Kazunari rasped, his breath smelling like the fruity sojus he liked so much. Tsuzuru tensed, unable to answer. A moment passed, and Kazunari just kept smiling with no care in the world, moving to sit on his lap and blocking Tsuzuru’s view of the computer. It was like Kazunari purposely planned to take away all his attention tonight, not caring about the consequences.

“I want to kiss you, but,” Kazunari mumbled, wrapping his arms around Tsuzuru’s neck without restraint. Tsuzuru felt Kazunari brush his hair down, his nimble artist fingers threading through his messy bedhead carefully, like he could stop any time with just a single word. Kazunari’s breath on his neck made Tsuzuru want to pull him closer, but stopped himself, instead gripping the base of his chair with a frown.

“But?” Tsuzuru continued, watching Kazunari blink, gazing through his eyelashes with no shame, no filter whatsoever.

“But, I might fall in love with you.”

Tsuzuru let Kazunari lean in, Kazunari’s fear apparent through the way he ran his hands through Tsuzuru’s hair, keeping a safe distance between them regardless of the precarious situation. Right before he pressed his lips against Tsuzuru’s, Kazunari let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

“Stop me.”

Tsuzuru didn’t, and they both made a mistake that night. They never talked about it even though it violated their first rule. They would keep making every mistake until it caught up to them.

Kazunari picked his head up at the sound of someone at the kitchen entrance, escaping his memory as he turned his head towards Tsuzuru, who was sleepily staring at him. As if he couldn’t believe Kazunari was real, like he was just a dream hidden away at 3 A.M. The two boys looked back at one another, Kazunari sitting on a stool by the island as Tsuzuru gripped the door frame. Nothing but the moon was there to witness it all.

Kazunari was the first to leave, passing by to push a cup of fresh coffee in Tsuzuru’s hands, just the way he liked it. They didn’t say a word, there was nothing to say.

Except, Kazunari thought, I miss you.

WITHIN THE MEMORIES THAT ONCE SHINED

THOUGH I DANCE ALONE, THE RAIN STILL FALLS

WHEN THIS FOG CLEARS, I’LL RUN TOWARDS YOU WITH MY FEET WET

PLEASE HUG ME THEN

It was raining. Kazunari was soaking wet, his clothes he didn’t change out of clinging to his skin as it weighed him down, his hand hovering above the door. It was much too late to be outside, the rain slapping against the courtyard ground repetitively, his senses going into overdrive at the sounds surrounding the usually quiet night.

Kazunari was staring at Room 102’s door, unable to pick up the sound of Tsuzuru typing over the weather. Was he finally sleeping? Did he drink coffee earlier that night like he always did? Kazunari doubted he was taking care of himself, Tsuzuru never could sleep well at any time of the day, and he just wanted to come inside already. But, Kazunari knew he couldn’t, not after everything.

Kazunari selfishly wanted to re–enter Tsuzuru’s life again, be happy with his role as the best boyfriend ever with no strings attached. But, Kazunari’s heart beat faster when Tsuzuru simply looked at him, his attention was only focused on Tsuzuru even if he couldn’t have him, and his feet automatically led him to Tsuzuru’s dorm room late at night until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Kazunari was so in love with his best friend, someone who could never love him back, and his heart refused to accept it.

So, here he was, shivering from the cold and trying to muster all the courage in the world to just knock. To smooth over the situation, to fix the mess they had created from Kazunari’s unrequited feelings, just to be friends again. But, could they really go back to normal? After all those sleepless hours together, just wishing it could never end even though the whole thing was a set–up. Would it be better off to not hurt their delicate predicament even more, and just leave it be?

Kazunari was about to leave, turn around, and go back to his room like he did every night. Except, a yellow sliver of light escaped from the door cracked open, with Tsuzuru’s sleepy eyes readjusting to the brightness that was Kazunari. They both froze, unexpectedly finding themselves staring at each other with no motivation to move.

As the rain fell, Kazunari watched as Tsuzuru hesitated, his hand holding the door knob with uncertainity as if to let him in or not.

When Tsuzuru decided to shake his head and close the door, Kazunari’s tears felt like the rain.

IF I JUST KNEW,

THAT THIS WOULD COME TO HAPPEN

I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT TO KEEP IN MY HEART

MORE FROM THOSE DAYS, MORE FROM THOSE MOMENTS

Kazunari believed, foolishly believed for a second, maybe Tsuzuru loved him back. It was all the times they were caught exchanging moments like Cupid had struck them with the same arrow. Where Tsuzuru didn’t question if Kazunari faked being sick for the attention (he wasn’t), just gave him a piggy back ride even if he admitted Kazunari wasn’t exactly light. Tsuzuru let him hold on, like he was Kazunari’s actual boyfriend who really did care. Kazunari’s face was flushed for a different reason by the time they arrived back at camp.

Tsuzuru liked planning impromptu dates, blindfolding Kazunari and leading him to a perfectly arranged picnic at the park they frequented so much. Tsuzuru let Kazunari take care of his four little brothers, the younger ones convinced they were going to get married, even going trick & treating together. Tsuzuru began posing for pictures before Kazunari even had time to whip out his smartphone, already warming up to the idea of his boyfriend being social media obsessed and posted all the couple pictures in the world. Tsuzuru even liked reciting lines with him, practicing until the early hours of dawn with the newest script tight in his hand, emoting the character he wrote flawlessly. Kazunari would just watch, wondering how he got so lucky, and how long his luck would last.

Tsuzuru always claimed it was for the ‘script experience’, to further understand romance and write even better plays. But sometimes, Kazunari thought the character monologue about being in love sounded so familiar, so real, that it hurt him. Hearing it from another actor, but knowing his boyfriend was the one who wrote them, but not for him, was painful. Perhaps, Kazunari should have realized it, that Tsuzuru was just following the rules: being romantic so he’d improve as a playwright. But instead, Kazunari was blinded by his own emotions. He was too in love with someone who never could.

Kazunari wondered if he had fallen in love with a person who he imagined, not the true essence of who Tsuzuru was. But, he remembered all their time together, the memories, the experiences both old and new, and every little thing that made up Kazunari’s love. It couldn’t be, he couldn’t keep lying to himself anymore, Kazunari was in love.

In love, in love, in love; how unlucky.

But, was it all acting, then? Kazunari was walking somewhere, with urgency in his steps as he kept on going. He remembered every time where he looked up from his work, seeing Tsuzuru admire his rare solemn expression and later penning a description of beauty within silence. Closed his eyes and could see every moment where Tsuzuru leaned in too close and held his hand for far too long in any situation, initiating contact that was almost too personal, borderline breaking the rules. Was all of that, throughout their entire contract, as fake as their relationship?

Kazunari stopped at the pier, the pier where he soberly confessed he was in love with his best friend. Kazunari took in the sunset once again, seeing how it truly never went away. About to move on, Kazunari caught sight of someone standing in the same spot he got rejected from. As Kazunari took a step closer, Tsuzuru didn’t run away this time.

“I loved you.” Tsuzuru admitted without wasting his breath. Kazunari halted, finding himself in the same position all those months ago.

BEHIND THE FAINT SMILE YOU GAVE ME,

WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME, I WANT TO PAINT A BEAUTIFUL PURPLE LIGHT

THOUGH THE PACE OF OUR FOOTSTEPS MAY NOT ALWAYS BE THE SAME

I WANT TO WALK ALONG THIS PATH, TOGETHER WITH YOU

STILL WITH YOU

“You love me?”

“I... I, once did. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather be your friend forever, than your boyfriend just for a moment.”

“Tsuzuru?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Say it back.”

“I can’t, not anymore.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kazunari wish his dandelion wish came true.

#minagi tsuzuru #tsuzuru minagi #miyoshi kazunari #kazunari miyoshi #tsuzuru x kazunari #tsuzukazu #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! #act! addict! actors! #a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3! #mankai company #a3! tsuzuru #a3 tsuzuru #a3! kazunari #a3 kazunari

[moonprincemulti]

You Are Always Mine - Chapter 1

- 14 Aug 2020

- first chapter of a serie (YAAM)

- catboy/shapeshifter hyunjin & music producer chan

- top chan x bottom hyunjin

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

A few days passed, and the little cat healed up very well. Chan had bought the right kind of food and supplies, his small studio apartment now decked out in cat gear. He hadn't even thought about getting a cat before, but he felt too attached to the little creature to bring it away now. He hadn't given it a name yet, not really knowing what would fit the pretty and playful cat. Chan always felt bad when he had to leave to his studio, even to the point of doing some of his work at home. It wasn't the most pleasant thing, as he didn't have all the equipment he had in his studio, but it was a way to keep an eye on the cat while still being productive.

Chan was busy working, humming a melody as he wrote down the chords on paper. He played them on his keyboard, which he had set up in the middle of the room, as it was the only free space he had. He played the chords, trying to get the melody to match up. The cat was sitting on Chan's bed, watching him playfully, its tail swishing around happily. Chan moved his fingers across the keys, searching for the right notes. The cat watched Chan's hand intently, until he began to get ready to jump. It prepared itself, its pupils enlarging, its whole body doing a preparing wiggle. 

Chan was too focused to notice this and was therefore surprised as the cat suddenly landed right on top his hand on the keyboard. The loud sound of multiple keys being smashed down resounded through the apartment, and the cat jumped off without second thoughts. It immediately hid under Chan's nightstand, having scared itself. Chan blinked and turned to look at his nightstand, letting out a chuckle as he realized what happened. "Oh buddy, you wanted to play too?" Chan smiled and shook his head, looking back at the keyboard. "I really have to come up with a name. I can't keep calling you buddy forever."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Chan sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard, grabbing his phone. He texted a few of his friends, who wanted to meet up soon. He sighed and glanced at the cat, who jumped up on the bed, walking towards Chan with a meow. Chan smiled and reached out to pet it, the soft purrs already starting. "I haven't even told my friends about you yet. I'm afraid to let them come over, but I'm also scared to leave you alone for too long." Chan took a deep breath, pulling the cat closer to let it lie on Chan's lap. "A name. A name for a pretty kitty." 

Chan studied the cat, who made itself comfortable on Chan's lap, purring loudly. "Mr. Whiskers? No.. Fluffy? Nah.." Chan pursed his lips, petting the cat as he thought. "You know, maybe I can name you after someone I knew." Chan took a deep breath, looking down "I haven't seen him for so long.. I miss him." Chan said softly, getting emotional as the memories came back to his mind. "I had a friend when I was little. But he died in a car crash.." Chan looked at the cat, who was still very satisfied in this position, purring with its eyes closed. "Hyunnie. Hyun." Chan nodded, slightly determined. The cat opened his eyes and looked at Chan, responding to the name. Chan smiled and took a deep breath. "Hyun. That's your name. You're Hyun."

That night, Chan was once again bothered by bad memories as he slept. He made small sounds of distress, wriggling around a bit. The memories flashed through his mind like a nightmare, his whole body reacting to the emotions that came with them. Chan suddenly shot awake as he had heard something fall in his apartment. He panted slightly, looking around in the dark. He couldn't see much, only the contours of the walls and some furniture were visible to him. 

He sighed and lied back down, trying to calm himself. "It's just a dream. It was long ago.." Chan then felt two arms wrap around him again, a body being pressed against his own. Chan yawned, his eyes falling shut as he registered the embrace as something from his dream. Chan hummed and nuzzled into his pillow, the warm and comforting feeling of someone hugging him staying with him for the rest of the night.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Chan was awoken by his alarm again, groaning as he snoozed it for the first time. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, turning around in his bed. He opened his eyes, his sight still blurry. He tried to focus on what he was seeing. A...human? Was there someone in his bed? Chan blinked a few times, trying to focus. How could there be someone- Chan gasped and sat up, rubbing in his eyes again. As he opened them again, now with fully focused sight, he saw Hyun lying next to him, peacefully sleeping. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, looking around his room. "What the-" Chan looked at Hyun, softly petting the sleeping cat, shaking his head. "I must've still been dreaming.. that was weird. It felt so real." Chan sighed and got up, stretching himself as he walked to the bathroom. "Maybe I'm going crazy."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Over the course of the next few days, Chan kept having the same dream-like experiences. Seeing blurry human figures when he woke up, being embraced in his sleep and hearing things fall over in the middle of the night. Chan started to suspect it was paranormal activity, as it didn't seem like anything a cat would've done. As he walked to his kitchen one morning, he stopped as he spotted the peanut butter on the counter, a spoon sticking out of the jar. 

"What?" Chan walked closer, inspecting the jar. It had clearly been eaten out of with the spoon, but he couldn't recall ever having eaten his peanut butter like that the day before. "This is getting way too weird." Chan glanced at Hyun, who was playing with one of his toys. "You didn't do this, right? You can't open a jar and eat with a spoon.." Chan sighed and just took the spoon out, placing it in the sink. He closed the jar and put it back in the pantry. "I swear to god, maybe I have amnesia or something.." 

Chan heard Hyun meow, looking at him "What? Are you trying to tell me something?" Chan walked to the kitty, kneeling down next to him. He scratched behind Hyun's ear, earning a few happy purrs. "It can't be you. You're just a small kitty. Although, it would be crazy if you could turn into an actual human." Chan smiled. "But that's impossible. You can't do that." Chan chuckled as he thought about it. No, shapeshifters didn't exist. They were something from a movie, not from real life.

Right?

#straykids #straykidsfanfic #bangchan #hyunjin #bangchristopherchan #hwanghyunjin #catboy #shapeshifter #topchanbottomhyunjin #yaam #youarealwaysmine #fanfic #kpop #hyunchan #hyunchanfanfic

[yourmomswallet]

Imagine...

Meeting Fugo while he’s playing the piano. ***Part 5 Spoilers***

Why were you at this bar at midday? What compelled you to walk 4 blocks from work, just to sit and watch this lonely looking man play the piano? His fingers move with such passion, it seems he’s been perfecting his abilities for years. After you sat down at a table, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. His eyes scan the keyboard, solemn and reflective like the haunting melodies he plays.

You can’t handle the glum attitude he plays with. Whether or not he’s the bar’s employee, you have to make amends to the aura he emits. Grabbing something out of your briefcase, you walk over towards him with purpose.

“Excuse me, sir? Could you play something a little more... upbeat?” you ask him, trying to be as polite as possible.

He doesn’t look up, only ignoring you and playing more intensely, to the point where you think he’ll break the ivory off.

You frown at his intentional disregard. Money appears in the blonde’s face, which makes him glare at your hand. Couldn’t you see he’s pouring out his anger and grief and guilt? He wants to stab that hand with a fork. A fork. Stabbing. He can only think of Narancia. Every little thing he tries to forget keeps coming back to haunt him.

You shake the bills a bit to get his attention. His playing stops.

“So, Mr. Piano Man? You up to the task?” Your eyebrow raises.

The money is smacked out of your hand. Unbelief floods your face and emotions. How dare he?

You bend down and pick the money off the floor. Now angry with the man, you slam your fist on the keyboard, hard enough to get his attention. The sudden smash makes him look up at you. Oh, shit. He’s crying.

“A-Are you okay, sir? Did I scare you o-or something? Sir?”

You can’t seem to get him to calm down, his own hands banging the keys in frustration. Why can’t he seem to get them out of his mind? Was this a curse from not being loyal to his friends? He did what he needed to do, so it was justified.

The small piano stool was long enough for you to scoot yourself on to comfort the thin man. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, waiting for him to push your arms off. He never makes a move, only his shoulders that prove he’s crying. Looking around, you see the customers are looking at your situation. Scowling at them, their stares disperse. You pat the skin and bones of a man. He feels like he could break, like he’s eaten nothing for the past months.

“Is this okay? D-Do you- Am I overstepping? I know we just met, but I can’t leave without making sure you’re okay.” Concern is all he can hear from you.

“I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your money. And I especially don’t need your HUG!” He pushes your arms away, making you jump off the stool.

“Hey! This isn’t pity, this is empathy. I know how it feels to breakdown, to hurt. We all need someone to lean on in times like this. Do you believe me?” Your anger is dispersed by the real worry. “I’m not telling you to let me in on your top secrets or anything. Just let me be a shoulder to cry on for now.”

“Why do you think I’m deserving of this treatment? I’ve done nothing but wrong.” His fingers fly across the keys, making a terrible sound. His fist pounds into the ivory again. At this rate, he’ll be paying for another piano again.

“H-Hey, let’s take our hands off the expensive instrument. Don’t need the owner getting involved, now do we?” You’re trying your hardest to keep him invested in the conversation, but it’s not working too well.

His warm hands are gathered up by your cool, smooth ones. He hasn’t had this kind of physical contact in ages. His body soaks it up, wanting more gentle caresses and hugs. But his brain, his brain tells him he’s only deserving of pain and suffering after all he’s done. Or hadn’t done.

“Tell me, Mr. Piano Man, what’s your name?” you ask him while stroking his hands with yours.

“I can’t say. I’d put you in danger. I can’t have another person being hurt because of me.”

“You act as if I can’t handle myself. Geez. Well, if you don’t want to say, I’ll just have to read your mind. Is that okay with you?”

“There’s no way you have psychic abilities of any kind. It’s not humanly possible,” he states, looking at you skeptically. “Go ahead, if you actually can.”

“All right then. This won’t hurt at all.”

“What do you mea- Hey! That’s my ear!” he shouts. He cups his left in after your finger leaves the canal.

“This is the way I can read your mind, sort of. Just give me a second.”

His visible disgust is shown when you stick the wax in your mouth. You’re insane. What kind of person sticks the bodily products of a stranger in their mouth and claims it makes them read minds? Maybe you’re the one with more problems than him.

“Let’s begin. A child prodigy, sort of college dropout, gangster, and all-around angry son of a bitch. Any of that right, Fugo?” You raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to correct you.

“E-Everything you just said was technically… correct. I might have some anger issues, but who doesn’t!” He glares at you. Too caught up in the moment, he realizes that the ability to taste earwax and learn about someone’s past isn’t exactly normal. He lowers his voice. “Are you perhaps a Stand user?”

The confusion in your voice is evident as you tell him you haven’t a clue of what he’s talking about.

“The ability manifested when I visited the desert in the United States. All of a sudden I had this magical gift. I’m not telling how I figured out how it works though. That’s personal.”

“It’s most likely a Stand of some kind. Since you know all about me, you must know about my Stand, Purple Haze. Don’t worry, no one can see Stands unless they’re a Stand user themselves.”

Some weird, rabid looking creature and man hybrid appears behind him. If that’s what a “Stand” looks like, you definitely don’t have one.

“S-So this is… a Stand?” You reach out to touch it, but all you get is drool. Your face scrunches up in disgust.

“Why do you look so appalled? You just ate my earwax,” Fugo says. 

“There’s a difference between wanting to touch someone’s bodily fluids and getting them without consent.” You wipe your hand off on your pants. You must look like an idiot trying to touch something no one else can theoretically see.

“So, now that we’ve been introduced, can I try to help you? I’ve got about…” You look down at your watch. “10 minutes before I have to be back at work. I have a feeling you need a real hug.”

“I said I don’t need hugs. I don’t need anything, all right?”

“The least I can do is give you money for some food. I don’t want my new friend starving to death.” You place the money onto the piano.

“Who says we’re friends?”

“Me, of course.”

“Not to call you a liar, but I highly doubt that you want to be my friend.” He looks away, fingers playing another sad melody.

“Will you stop it with the self-loathing at the moment? I want to be friends because I want to. No other false intentions.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Fine. Prove what you say is true. I can’t blindly trust someone with information on me.” He stares you down with an intensity that has you wondering why you’re shaking inside. “Be here at the same time tomorrow. Maybe I’ll trust you then.”

“Okay, doubting Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Promise.”

You walk away to grab your briefcase. So much for getting those papers filled out. As you leave the bar, you can hear the faint sound of a more pleasant sounding tune coming from the piano. You grin, happy that you’ve given him something to dwell on other than the deaths of his friends.

The bar door opens and closes constantly as Fugo looks behind him, obviously searching for you. It’s not like he wants to be your friend, but he doesn’t need anyone with his personal information walking around the streets of Italy. By the time your lunch break should be finished, he sees the exact briefcase as yesterday. Your bright smile and wave make him feel a little happier for some reason.

“Told you I’d be here! Sorry that I’m late. I had to talk to my boss about getting the rest of the day off.”

“N-No problem. Might I ask, why did you request for the day off?” Fugo is genuinely curious about your actions and intentions. There’s no way you would want to spend the rest of your busy day with a lousy nobody like him.

“I wanted full, uninterrupted time to keep you company. Did you eat anything with the money I gave you yesterday?” You seem awfully interested in his well-being, from what he can gather.

“Y-Yeah, I got a small margarita pizza. I’ll pay you back for it.” He goes to pull his wallet out of his pocket, but your hand stops him.

“Don’t bother with that. It’s useless.” You sound like Giorno. The new recruit. Now the Boss himself. He feels like crying again but holds back, not wanting to cause a scene like yesterday.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t leave a debt unpaid.”

“Teach me to play, Mr. Piano Man,” you tell him, a smile on your face.

“I have the tendency to get angry when I’m frustrated. I’m warning you now.”

“Oh, scoot over. Friends can’t hurt friends.” You put your briefcase down and push him to the right side of the stool.

Friend. Fugo finds himself liking the idea, oddly enough.

#fugo x reader #Jojo Part 5 #jojos bizarre adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #pannacotta fugo #jojo headcanons #JJBA #jjba golden wind #Golden Wind #Vento Aureo #spoilers #angst #AO3 fanfic

[1-1snailxd-art]

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - A tale of the Lost

Warnings: negative thoughts, homophobia, death mentioned

Summary: Logan and Virgil share a pleasant meal before their pasts bring it to a tear-filled end.

Word count: 4419

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

This chapter includes art by @the-pastel-peach​. Respect the artist and myself and please do not repost. Share this post or the artists original links only.

 ____________________

  Logan held the door open and gestured for Virgil to enter; pizza boxes securely in his hands. The apartment was rather deceiving; though it had appeared narrow from the outside, the inner layout made it feel spacious and welcoming. Stepping past the kitchen to the small dining table, Virgil set the boxes down and eagerly flipped them open to reveal the greasy pizza, garlic knots and chocolate brownie. It was a meal fit for a king in his mind and he eagerly grabbed a slice to start eating before Logan appeared with napkins; humming as the treat warmed his very soul.

   “I take it you don’t get pizza very often?” Logan inquired, raising an eyebrow at the others euphoric face.

Instinctively shaking his head, Virgil swallowed and sheepishly took a napkin to wipe his face.

“Sorry. I was in such a hurry this morning I skipped breakfast.”

“That isn’t a frequent habit of yours, is it?” Virgil shrugged and chewed on the pizza crust; causing Logan to sigh and reach for his own slice. “Though some research suggests skipping meals, such as breakfast, is good for weight loss, the more prominent effect is reduced energy levels. If you want to be able to function at your best, you should have regular healthy meals.”

“Thanks, Google.” Virgil grinned, licking the oil from his fingers. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future. How’s this pizza look in terms of health factor?”

“Well, it does cover most of the major food groups; so, I think you will be okay.”

 The pair laughed and continued eating; Virgil once again impressed that Logan could be both serious and easy going. It was a comforting balance and with each exchange, he felt himself relaxing more and more in their presence. They bantered back and forth overeating habits and better food options until Logan excused himself to collect the hard drive he needed looked at.

Virgil moved the remains of their lunch to the kitchen and took a cloth to wipe the table clean of any oily residue. Satisfied, he set up his laptop before pulling his phone out, almost thankful to see Ben hadn’t replied; though he did wonder what it meant in the long run. Anxiety melted away when Logan returned, and he eagerly took the drive from his hands to dive into work. Pulling up screens with strings of file names and codes, Virgil clicked and scrolled through windows with the confidence of a child turning the pages of a book. Logan was lost watching him; same as the last time he watched him work.

   “Your intelligence certainly exceeds my own, Virgil.”

“What are you talking about?” He scoffed in reply, not looking away from the screen. “Who’s the science major with, I’m guessing, a full academic scholarship in this room?”

“I actually had offers for my academic and athletic abilities from various higher education institutes; but that’s beside the point.”

“Humbling remark there, Lo.”

“Yes; but, you certainly best me when it comes to computers. I honestly have no idea what it is you are doing right now. It just looks like keyboard smashing to me.”

The laugh that shook Virgil’s thin body was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was weightless, uplifting and pure; and he could feel that it brought fresh colour to his cheeks.

“Just know,” he gasped through stifled giggles, “I will only see this as a keyboard smash from now on, and I love the fact that you compared it to that.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you please explain what you are doing?”

“Oh, I’m cleaning the files. You haven’t been ejecting the disc properly and there was a lot of rough data. You gotta take care of your files man, it’s a delicate system.”

“Right,” Logan nodded but looked even more confused. “Would you show me how to - um - eject this… disc properly, at a later date?”

“Sure, Logan.” Virgil beamed, shaking his head slightly at the man’s uncertain tone.

   Clicking a file, an image loaded on the screen and Virgil grinned at Logan in triumph. A small smile sat on his face as he inspected the picture from his and Patton’s high school graduation.

“Looking good there, Lo.” He mused, pointing at the obviously fake smile plastered on their face. “That is a brilliant smile if I do say so myself.”

“I didn’t particularly enjoy the public display, nor the outfit. Have you saved all the images?” As Virgil nodded, Logan shuffled closer and reached towards the arrow keys. “Would you mind if I have a quick look?”

“The laptop is metaphorically yours.” He replied, angling the device closer for Logan to reach.

   Shuffling through the images, Virgil watched Logan’s face light up as each image loaded on the screen. Familiar faces of Roman and Katie flashed up, as well as many selfies with Patton. It wasn’t until Logan must have shuffled into another folder that the tone of the moment shifted; nostalgic joys replaced with sadness as Jason’s face began appearing in each photo. Selfies, photos taken from a bystander of the two close together, and shots from track races slid across the screen. 

*art by @the-pastel-peach​*

A new emotion snaked into Virgil’s gut that he hadn’t felt in a while. Jealousy. The happiness that emanated from every photo of Jason and Logan made Virgil’s stomach churn. It was different to the smile he saw in the photos with Patton; a clear indication of how different Logan’s relationships with both were.

Logan paused on an image of Roman holding Patton bridal style with Jason hugging Logan to their left; the biggest smile Virgil had ever seen spread across Logan’s face.

“You look really happy there.” He noted, half smiling at the sad man beside him.

“We were… but it wasn’t enough for Jason.”

“What do you mean?” Leaning back in his chair, Virgil knitted his brow in confusion. “Everything I’ve seen, and from what you’ve told me, it seemed you were both very happy. He loved you.”

A breathy laugh left Logan’s lips and he pressed the arrow key again, causing a video to begin playing. “Not enough.”

   Virgil watched the recording in silence; Logan leaning back and staring at the screen sadly. Jason held the camera on himself in dim flickering light, the muffled thump of music in the background as he spoke.

   “Hey, Lo, you left your phone behind, so I thought I’d leave a little message for you. I don’t know when you’re going to watch this or if I’m going to be with you, but whatever.”

He took a breath to steady himself and looked straight into the camera with soft determined features.

“Logan, we met in the best way possible; beating up a homophobic asshole and getting locked in a cell together. You were the first person from school I came out too and, by default, I was the first person you came out to. We went from strangers on the track, to friendly competitors, and I relished every opportunity to take you on. I held your hand when you came out to your parents. You were there when my Dad passed away. You supported my move to help Katie and Roman. I watched you beat my school track record and handed over that title with pride and an embrace they’re still talking about.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled to himself.

“And shit, you’re a good hugger, Logan. I mean, 10 out of 10 better than Patton.”

      Logan let out a small laugh and swiped a tear that escaped his eye; ignoring the voice screaming for him to stop the video before it ended.

      “Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is, we’ve been through a lot together… and, I want to go through more. So, Logan Mars…will you marry me?”

Jason broke into a laugh and swiped his eyes, before steadying the camera again.

“Let me know at your earliest convenience. And if not convenient, let me know all the same. I love you, Logan. But I know that’s no mystery to you.”

       The video ended on Jason’s half smiling face and Virgil sniffed, not even registering that he had even started crying. He had no reason to cry, really. He didn’t even know Jason, and yet he was crying. Jason had proposed. Logan had been engaged to marry the man he’d lost. It made it even more jarring when Logan spoke next.

   “He didn’t love me though.”

“Are you insane?” Virgil gasped, gesturing to the screen. “He proposed. Isn’t that the very definition of love, Logan? I didn’t know him, but Jason clearly loved you a lot.”

“That’s just it, Virgil.” The man turned and met his eye, “it looked that way to everyone, but I wasn’t enough.”

“Wha- How?”

“Do you know what happened after he recorded that message?” Logan paused but he wasn’t expecting an answer; merely allowing himself the chance to take a breath. “E’s sister had thrown a party at her house for the science majors. I’d just left because Patton wasn’t feeling well and accidentally left my phone behind in my rush. After recording that message, a fire broke out in the house and Jason went in to help get everyone out.”

Silent tears slipped from Logan’s eyes as he spoke, but his voice didn’t waver as he continued; Virgil remaining transfixed by every word.

“He pulled E out of the flames because she passed out in the lounge room; dropping my phone as he left to go back inside. He went back into a burning building, Virgil. The man who just proposed and was safely outside, went back in because he couldn’t leave it alone. His need to save everyone outweighed his love for me.”

Now Logan’s voice broke; no longer holding back his emotions.

“I wasn’t enough. My love wasn’t enough. Why wasn’t I enough for him, Virgil? Why didn’t he love me enough?”

   The room froze and Virgil’s lungs stopped working as he was hit with déjà vu. His own voice asking similar questions.

Why wasn’t I good enough for him?

Why doesn’t she love me?

Am I not good enough anymore?

   “You are enough.” Virgil demanded, initiating a hug he never thought he would ever willingly engage in. “We both are. Regardless of what others say.”

The words weren’t his own; parroted from a voice of his past that Virgil struggled to believe most days, but today he needed to believe it for Logan’s sake. They both needed to believe it.

Hands gently rubbed each other’s backs, a soothing support for each as their breaths calmed. Silence filled the air the longer they remained pulled close; neither wanting to move while they were raw with emotion.

“You are the first person I’ve shown that video,” Logan whispered; breaking the silence. “I kept his proposal to myself this whole time.”

“Why me now?” Virgil said in confusion, shifting slightly as his muscles ached from being still so long.

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you regret showing me?”

Logan shook his head against Virgil’s shoulder and breathed deeply. Despite his response, part of him posed the same sort of questions - why did he show Virgil? Why was he so eager to share everything with someone who was still an acquaintance? As his mind wondered, the silence stretched on again until a sigh cut through the still air.

“I’m no stranger to loss, Logan.” Virgil whispered; all fear washed away with his tears from earlier. “My only family is an aunt that I’m paying back for bailing me out, so I know what it’s like to feel alone…but you are far from alone.”

As each word was comprehended, Logan found his mind clearing; accepting the words of the man that felt far from a stranger to him.

“You have Patton, and Roman, and Katie, and E and…”

“You?”

Virgil chuckled and gave him a squeeze, “Yeah. I guess you can have me too.”

   They stayed together for a moment longer before slowly separating so Logan could grab something softer than the napkins they had on hand to clean up. Virgil picked up his phone and saw his dishevelled face in the reflection, before setting it down on the table and requesting directions to the bathroom.

“Upstairs. It’s pretty easy to spot.”

“Thanks. I’ll, um, be right back.”

   Logan sat back down at the computer and continued clicking through photos. He still didn’t understand why he allowed himself to get caught up in the images and reveal so much to Virgil. He was suddenly very aware of how impolite it was to meet someone and show them videos of your deceased partner so you could cry on their shoulder. Confusion aside, he felt a lot better in doing so and Virgil had even opened up slightly. The younger man had obviously lost his family in a way Logan could only assume was outside of the norm, and he was thankful they opened up slightly.

Watching the images flick by, he jumped as Virgil’s phone vibrated on the table. On impulse alone, Logan tilted the phone up to look at the illuminated screen before realising it wasn’t his own. Quickly setting it back down he moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge just as Virgil made his way down the stairs. He hadn’t meant to read the message, but he couldn’t take it back now and Logan knew he couldn’t broach the subject with Virgil. It left him silently shuffling through the kitchen in silence as he mulled over the message’s meaning while Virgil tapped away at the laptop keys.

   “Um, I’ve cleaned the drive and it should work fine for you now.” Virgil proclaimed, packing up the materials on the table.

“Thanks…for everything.” Cheeks heating with embarrassment, Logan took the drive from Virgil’s outstretched hand. “I got a little caught up in the moment and wen-”

“It’s fine, Lo.” As Virgil looked up from his bag, a genuine smile spread across his face. “Really. It was…nice and - um - I-I have a question.”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

Pulling his bag up and over his shoulder, Virgil fiddled with his bag strap nervously and forced his mouth to cooperate.

“I know you’ve got a busy few days ahead, but…would you like to hang out again? At some point.”

“I’d like that.”

   Looking at Logan had Virgil’s heart racing and suddenly the voices were back. The woman’s voice disgusted at the idea of a man loving a man. The young men joking and teasing. The woman’s screams of anger. But then there was another.

I will still love him regardless of who he loves. He’s my son. Nothing will change that.

   "Logan?" Virgil's voice was suddenly small and quiet, and Logan peered over his glasses in confusion by his sudden change in demeanour. "Can I... Can I hug you? Again."

Though initially taken aback, Logan nodded and closed the gap between them; Virgil dropping his bag strap as he wrapped his arms around Logan’s torso. Their heights weren’t close, so Logan lowered himself slightly to allow Virgil’s head to rest comfortably on his shoulder. The hug was different from what Logan had previously experienced. Not awkward and full of sadness like before. Not dainty like his past girlfriends. It was hardly snuggly like with Patton and nothing like Jason. Jason had been a rock. Firm and supportive. Virgil was... Sturdy and soft. Like he would hold him up but could also crumble at any moment.

   The instant Logan’s arms embraced Virgil, he felt safer. The negative voices were silenced and all he heard was the voice of his grandparents. Supportive, accepting and kind. It felt right and for that time, he felt truly safe.

The sound of Logan's phone broke the peace of the moment and Virgil quickly drew back; not wanting to keep the man from checking it. With a sigh, Logan looked at the message on his phone and then back to Virgil.

"I need to go into work for a bit; Maggie isn’t well. I'm sorry, Virgil. This was meant to just be a nice lunch and I-"

"Thank you, Logan."

"What?"

"I think. I think I really needed today."

"Oh. Well, you’re welcome, Virgil."

Lifting his bag back over his shoulder, Virgil smiled up at Logan. "I should get back to the library and do some work befo-"

He was cut off by his phone ringing; Logan noticed Ben's name lighting the screen and the way Virgil’s hands immediately began to tremble. "I've got to go."

"I just have to grab my uniform and I'll drive-"

"It's fine, Lo. I'll walk, I really need to go."

There was a significant shift in Virgil’s tone and demeanour that had Logan very concerned about the message he’d seen earlier.

"Virgil? What’s wrong?"

“Nothing. I’ll catch you later, Lo.”

The door accidentally slammed shut as Virgil rushed out, swiping the screen to answer Ben’s incoming call; leaving Logan alone with seeds of worry taking root in his stomach.

   *************************

    "Bless you." Patton maintained a smile as he offered the tissue box to the student that had just covered their worksheet in a spray of saliva. "Cover your mouth next time, please."

"Yes, Mr Smiles."

Ignoring spit and snot was all part of the job in Patton's eyes as he continued to read the questions on the slightly soggy sheet. Working with children was something Patton had known he wanted to do since he was in middle school. It was one part wanting to encourage creativity and another part wanting to be better than some of the teachers he had had. The volunteering he did at the moment did nothing for his bank account, but Patton found he was learning a lot more in those few hours he could manage in a classroom compared to the hours spent on campus.

   As the final bell rang, the small group farewelled Patton with hugs before racing out the door and, after bidding the supervising teacher farewell, he soon followed behind. Despite being eager to leave, Patton did make the effort to stop by the staff bathroom and smother his hands in disinfectant; knowing how crippling a cold was for Roman in more ways than one. Leaving the bathroom, the school echoed with the students' yelling and laughter as they flooded the sidewalks to begin their journey home. When Patton finally exited the building, he found himself quickly dodging the kids to reach the man leaning against a tree to the side. Pocketing his phone, Roman looked up just as Patton wrapped their arms around his neck; teasing him with a kiss.

"I come to pick you up and all I get is a lousy kiss on the cheek." Roman pouted.

"There are children present, Ro, and I don't see your valiant steed anywhere to take me away." There was a wicked gleam in Roman's eyes at Patton's words that made him giggle in anticipation. "Unless you've got your car hidden nearby?"

"My car wasn't coming anywhere near these little door bangers." The comment got an eye roll in response, but Roman stepped back and grinned regardless. "However, I will still be picking you up." "Oh no, no, no." Red bloomed on Patton's cheeks as he realised his partners plans. "I can't do that here, Ro." "Why not? It's just a piggyback, Pat. No one will even notice if you don't screech like a banshee. Now hop on."

Patton glanced around nervously as Roman turned and braced himself for him to jump on. Part of him knew it wasn’t professional to behave in such a manner; however, his inner child could not be denied for long and Patton was soon on Roman’s back. Ignoring the few looks of distaste, Roman strode down the path as Patton recalled his day happily in his ear.

  It wasn’t long before Patton noticed the change in Roman’s pace; tiring from early morning rehearsals and a shift at work. Knowing he would never admit to his aching muscles, Patton turned his head to whisper towards Roman’s ear.

“Time to put me down, dear prince.”

“What are you talking about?” Roman huffed, shifting his arms to rebalance the weight on his back. “I could do this all the way home.”

“I know you think you can, but you shouldn’t.” Patton said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Now, put me down, please.”

It took a bit of wriggling on Patton’s part, but eventually Roman admitted defeat and let the man down. Standing beneath a tree, Patton shook his head as he watched his partner run through a series of stretches.

“Maybe it isn’t a good idea to do stuff like that anymore, Ro. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Are you implying that I am too old to give piggyback rides?”

“No,” Patton fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he spoke; feeling guilty as Roman continued to stretch. “But I am. And I know I haven’t kept as fit as Logan sinc-“

“Don’t you dare go there, Patton.”

  The use of his name in such a serious tone, had Patton gluing his gaze to the ground. Roman was no stranger to his partners train of thought, and they were about to jump onto a negative track he didn’t want them travelling down.

“Age is but a number and you know how I feel about body image.” Straightening, Roman reached out to lift Patton’s chin and make them meet his soft brown eyes. “I want to carry you around until we’re old and grey.”

“And even then, you will probably still try.”

“You bet I will, because I just love the way it makes you smile.”

Dropping his eyes, Patton smiled as he pictured an elderly Roman trying to lift him from a wheelchair. His thoughts were pulled back as warm lips connected with his own. Lifting his arms to wrap them around Roman’s neck, Patton lent into the kiss and allowed himself to get lost as they automatically responded to each other’s movements.

  The serenity of chirping birds was broken by rolling wheels clacking on concrete and children’s laughter was carried through the air. As the noise came closer, a smile pulled Patton’s lips away and he pressed his forehead on Roman’s; breathing deeply as he watched his partners eyes shift behind closed lids.

“I can feel you staring.” A wicked smile spread across Roman’s face and one eye slid open slightly. “You like what you see?”

“Not really,” eyes snapped open as Patton lent back with his own mischievous look, “I’d prefer to see it with a hint of powdered sugar.”

With a wink, Roman knew exactly what Patton was insinuating; they had baking to do.

“What are we waiting for? We have some sugar to acquire!”

Grabbing his partners hand, Roman practically dragged him down the path in excitement; quickly overtaking the group of children that had just past them.

    ****************

    As the afternoon began its shift into evening, the meeting members each prepared themselves for the emotional catch up ahead. Ethan finished boxing up mixed sliders for the group just as Roman messaged that he was parked around the side of the diner. The couple had changed clothes following a messy baking session at Roman’s house; kitchen quickly wiped clean to hide their shenanigans from Katie. The sugar scent from the cookies filled Roman’s car and was soon mixed with the diner’s aroma as Ethan climbed inside. Keeping their greetings brief, the music was turned up as the group made their way to the library.

    Collecting a cooler bag from the passenger seat, Logan locked his car and headed into the library through the back door. He was surprised to find Katie alone and setting up a picnic rug in the middle of the reading area.

“Hey Katie. Where’s Virgil? I thought he was helping you set up?”

“I was going to ask you about that.” Katie said as she straightened and followed Logan towards the kitchen area. “He called and said he had a friend to visit and he’d do the clean in the morning instead. But, I’m not sure about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something was off.”

Logan placed bottles of drink in the fridge and looked over to Katie’s thoughtfully knotted brow.

“How so?”

“Something in the way he spoke. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something definitely wasn’t right. Did everything go okay with you two today?”

“Well… it didn’t go bad.” Sliding the leftovers he had forgotten to give Virgil into the freezer, Logan turned and shrugged at the woman behind him. “There were some… low points. But, otherwise, it was a rewarding experience.”

It didn’t feel right to disclose all that had occurred, and he didn’t see any reason to share the private message he’d seen. Katie didn’t seem convinced and Logan sighed as he took out his phone.

“If you give me his number, I can send him a message and check in.”

“Thought you would have exchanged numbers by now.” She commented, setting her phone to send Logan the contact information he needed.

“I’m not going to feed your little fantasy and respond to that comment.” Logan smiled and sat on a nearby chair to type out a message. “Why don’t you go finish shutting up the front of the library and I’ll set up back here.”

“Sure, Lo. I’ll give you and your phone some privacy then, shall I?” With a wink, Katie headed towards the libraries front to lock up and shut the main computer down for the evening.

Alone at the back, Logan typed out a brief message and waited patiently for a reply.

  Logan: Hi Virgil, this is Logan. Thank you again for your assistance today. It was very much appreciated. In our rush this afternoon, I forgot to pass on some additional payment for you. Could we possibly meet at the library tomorrow for me to exchange it?

Virgil: let it go Logan. I don’t need anything else from you.

  Logan was unsure of how to interpret the tone of Virgil’s message. There were multiple ways he was able to hear it in his mind. Left to dwell he would have fixated on the negative connotations, but Patton, Roman and Ethan’s entrance pulled him away. Sliding the phone into his pocket, Logan shifted his focus to the friends he had in his company. An overdue meeting was ready to occur.

____________________

End Note

Wow, it has been over a month since I updated. Jeepers that’s a bit of a wait. Sorry about that. It may be a similar thing for the next chapter because my idea of updating fortnightly just hasn’t worked out in the long run. Too much untamed creativity and not enough time.

 I have mixed feelings about this chapter. I love my analogical, but the royality just isn’t flowing for me at the moment. Not quite sure why.

 Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter and the art by @the-pastel-peach. Now you can get a bit of an idea of how I see Jason. The red streaks were my way of connecting him to Roman (red, Roman, fire – it all relates). I think that might do for commissions for this for now though. I haven’t really got any scenes that stick in my brain (even though I would love to see E and Katie). Don’t forget to like and share Peach’s post if you enjoyed their artwork. Please don’t repost the art yourself, only share posts by Peach or myself.

 Thanks again for reading. Happy timezone, friend 💜🐌

Tag List (let me know if you want to be removed)

@notalwaysthebadguy​      @thequeensphinx​    @ollyollyoxinfree​   @celeste-tyrrell​     @pumpkinminette​    

_____________________________

Chapter 11   — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Writing Master Post

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles​

#libraries are for meetings #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #alternate universe #fanfiction #ts fanfiction #ts fanart #sanders sides fanart #fanart #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #analogical #royality #platonic logicality #death mention tw #homophobia tw #negative thoughts #negative thinking tw #self discovery #tsart #my writing #snail writing

[thegoldenavenger]

Character + Trope - Midoriya + trapped in (whoever you want)’s mirror.

Ahhah, okay! I’ve never written for bnha before so forgive me! Also, this goes absolutely no where because all of my writing is stream of thought nonsense. Warnings only for slight/YMMV body horror. Unbeta’d and useless haah

Midoriya Izuku has one breathless moment, that endless second of weightlessness at the pinnacle of an arc, the collection of all potential energy just waiting to be released, in which his mind is blank of all panicking.  His constant muttering, his brain scrambling for connections, his inner self rifling through drawers and drawers of labeled hero and villain notes, all ceasing for once second. 

And then his body moves, the iron soles of his shoes clapping against the cement as he flings himself bodily forward.  Todoroki gasps in surprise as Izuku shoves him out of the way.  Izuku blinks, his brain finally catching up with instinct, the flashy sparkle in the corner of his eye resolving like a frame come into focus. 

They aren’t even on duty, just on the way to a photo shoot. 

Todoroki isn’t one to be out done, he gets over his surprise and brings up a wall of ice in front of Izuku clear enough for them to see through, but thick enough to stop something with less force than, say, Bakugo’s blasts. It took him awhile to master, Izuku knows. Controlling the cluster of ice molecules so the crystalline structure builds itself without cracks or impurities. 

The sparkling ray of light is refracted just enough to hit Izuku’s chest instead of his head. 

It doesn’t hurt so Izuku ignores it for now, pinpoints where the Quirk must have come from--easy enough since there’s only one person running like mad in the opposite direction.  Izuku shouts, pointing, and Todoroki sends ice underneath the perpetrator’s feet, barely looking. 

After the quirk user slips Todoroki encases him in ice, opaque this time, thought Izuku knows first hand Todoroki didn’t need to make him slip. That was just being petty. 

“I’m fine,” Izuku tries to wave off Todoroki’s concern, his friend’s hands hovering over his shoulders awkwardly. “It didn’t hurt at all,” but Todoroki is still looking at him with a nervous furrow in his brow and Izuku doesn’t really feel fine. 

He feels kind of transparent. Or, empty. Weak. His knees feel like paper and he stumbles, his hand hitting Todoroki’s ice wall, then slipping through it.  

Except not through it exactly. 

His hand doesn’t come out the other side, it bends weird enough Izuku’s brain stutters trying to figure it out. His wrist, then arm up to his elbow as his momentum carries him, slips into Todoroki’s ice like light through a prism. A strong grip on his shoulder keeps the rest of him from following. 

“A light quirk?” Izuku mumbles, staring at his arm, bent unimaginably.  He tries moving it, his fingers twitching in time, but he can’t pull it out of the ice.  

Todoroki’s grip tightens on Izuku’s arm, but he’s already pulled out his phone, dialing for something. The police, or clean up, Izuku doesn’t pay attention because lifting up his other hand only half obscures Todoroki’s red-white hair. 

It’s see-through. 

“Midoriya?” Todoroki’s voice flattens out when he’s feeling an emotion he doesn’t know how to deal with.  Izuku can sympathize. Todoroki tries to catch Izuku’s hand with his own, but they pass through at the fingertips, only stopping at Izuku’s palm where it’s still more visible. 

“You idiots!” Is all the warning they get before Izuku gets kicked square in the back. 

“Hey!” He yells, trying to catch himself. The moment his fading hand touches the ice it comes back into focus. Todoroki snatches his lapel to keep him from falling straight into the ice and Izuku twists his neck around to see Bakugo with his foot still raised. 

“Can you two do anything right?” Ka-chan yells, glaring. 

“What did you call for, Todoroki?” Izuku looks back at his friend and he can hear Bakuogo’s strangled hiss at being ignored. 

“Backup?” 

Bakugo Katsuki, suited up with grenade gauntlets and scowl, is probably not the back up Todoroki wanted, but Izuku has never felt worse for having the other hero around. 

“What are you even waiting for, are you trying to die?” Bakugo shouts, and continues his efforts to kick Izuku’s ass into the glass-sheen of the ice wall. 

“Stop--”

“Wait, Ka-chan!” 

Despite Todoroki and Izuku’s efforts, Bakugo manages to get both of Izuku’s arms and one of his legs stuck in the mirror. 

“Do I always have to point out the obvious to you?” Bakugo shouts, “That guy’s Quirk is Mirror Like! If you don’t get into the stupid ice your body is going to disappear.” Bakugo stops shoving and throws his arms up. “If you want to die so much then do it!” He shouts and starts stomping towards the ice-encased form of the perpetrator. 

Todoroki and Izuku blink at each other before they both try to toss Izuku into the ice wall as quickly as they can. 

It’s weird, Izuku doesn’t feel cold or anything, and he can move fine enough once his whole body is trapped in the ice, but he’s also suddenly not a 3-D object and it’s kind of messing with his head. He feels like a shadow on a wall, or like a flipbook slowed down.  

“This isn’t so bad,” He tries to say, but Todoroki only blinks at him. “I think it’s time based, so it’s probably fine.” He continues.

“You’re light now, asshole, we can’t hear you.” Bakugo huffs as he walks back with an unconscious body on his shoulders. “Keep that from melting Icy Hot.” 

Todoroki shoots out his hand and the ice creaks as the temperature drops. 

They can’t just leave Izuku’s ice block in the middle of the street, and now that he’s in the ice he can’t move to something else like a mirror or window.  He guesses he’s lucky he was walking with Todoroki, because his friend can just extend the ice he’s in so Izuku can walk around.  He walks right into a refrigerator truck.  Todoroki stays behind to melt the mess as some officials set up barriers to funnel the ice water out of the street. Bakugo surprises Izuku by climbing into the truck after him. 

“How’d you know what Quirk it was?” Izuku tries asking, but Bakugo isn’t looking at him and Izuku remembers that he can’t hear him, so he stops trying. 

The truck ride is quiet. 

Izuku tries sitting down, even though his legs aren’t tired.  He tries jumping and moving and turning around.  He can’t move out of the ice but it’s about eight inches thick and he can move from one side to the other. 

“That’s fucking weird, knock it off, Deku.” 

Izuku starts, and looks back at Bakugo who is glaring at him. 

“What is?” He asks and Bakugo rolls his eyes. Izuku makes a face because ‘what is’ isn’t exactly a complicated sentence filled with ambiguous mouth noises. 

Bakugo takes out his phone and lifts it up to the ice, he tilts his head, looking at the screen before sighing. “Turn around.” He commands and Izuku does so, curious. 

When he finishes his spin Bakugo holds his phone up to Izuku’s face and Izuku is treated to the weird sight of him jitterring around but not actually not facing the camera.  Like one of those creepy portraits that have the eyes follow your movement, but it’s Izuku constantly shifting to face the lens. 

Izuku makes a face, and Bakugo seems to accept that it’s agreement enough because he pockets the phone again. 

The refrigerated truck drops him off at a hospital specializing in heroes but there really isn’t anything to be done but stick him somewhere cool and wait for the quirk to wear off.  Bakugo sticks around because the nurses have things better to do than watch Izuku, and he can dead lift the block of ice Izuku is in easily enough to be useful.

The silence is starting to grate on Izuku, and though he doesn’t feel tired he wants to move anyways.  He’s been trying not to, because he doesn’t want Bakugo to leave him alone, but he’s tired of all his thoughts buzzing in his own head. 

“Thanks for sticking around,” he says, knowing Bakugo can’t hear him. 

“Thanks for showing up so quickly.” He watches as Bakugo angrily smashes some keys on his phone. 

“Did you break your other one?” Izuku asks, noticing that the phone isn’t the sleek smart phone he used to have, but an older model with a physical keyboard that slides out. 

Izuku sighs as Bakugo keeps not looking at him, and since Bakugo isn’t looking at him Izuku decides to keep pushing the boundaries of how he can move. 

He figures he kind of projects onto whatever face of the ice block he wants to, so he tries the different faces idly.  It’s weird, if Izuku stops focusing he can get a visual sense of the whole room, 360 degrees.  It doesn’t hurt Izuku’s head, but he feels like it should so he focuses on only the parts he means to look at.  

Right now that’s the ceiling as he tries the top most face of the ice.  

“DEKU?” 

Izuku startles out of his concentration--Bakugo is looking mildly worried and significantly pissed at the ice block. Izuku projects himself to the front face again, and Bakugo steps back. “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Just the top,” Izuku says and points up in illustration. 

Bakugo glares at him and collapses back into the chair. “Just sit still!” He hisses, crossing his legs and returning his gaze back to his phone. “What the fuck is taking that asshole so long?” He mutters as his fingers flit over the phone’s screen. 

“Who?” Izuku asks. “Ka-chan, who’s taking so long? C’mon!” He tries waving his arms, and jumping, but Bakugo firmly ignores him once more. 

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the door to open and Todoroki lets himself in, carrying a thick folder with him.  Following behind him is Uraraka and Iida, pushing each other to get in the room. 

“Oh wow, Deku, you’re totally flat!” Uraraka bursts out. 

“We are glad to see you in comparatively good health, Midoriya!” Iida announces to the room. 

“Hey! Guys you didn’t have to visit!” Izuku smiles, very, very pleased they had. 

“Alright, idiot sitting duty is over. I am clocking out,” Bakugo says, standing abruptly. 

Uraraka and Iida approach Izuku’s ice block and alternatively coo and ask questions Izuku tries his best to pantomime answers to.  Unlike Bakugo, neither of them seem to mind how his movement looks. 

Despite being distracted, he sees Bakugo pause by Todoroki, the two speaking before Bakugo leaves the room. 

Todoroki joins the small party at the ice block and raises the folder up. “It’s all the information the registry has on the Mirror Like quirk,” Todoroki says. “But you should be back to normal in a day or so.”

“What happens then?” Izuku asks, and Todoroki blinks in incomprehension. 

Izuku reminds himself to brush up on lip reading once he’s done being stuck like this. Or cut straight to learning sign language.  He probably should already know that, how short sighted of him. 

“There’s a chance you’ll solidify in the ice, which should just force you out into the open since you can’t exist as a solid in the same place as the ice exists as a solid, but if not I’ll just.” Todoroki waves his hand as if to convey the process of flash melting the ice around Izuku. “Usually people got stuck in windows, so this is new.”

“I’ll be sure to take notes,” Izuku says, smiling as his friends crowd around him. 

Now that he knows he isn’t trapped for ever, and Todoroki is there to refreeze the ice when it gets too warm, and his friends have taken turns visiting him, Izuku isn’t doing so terribly. Kirishima pops in with Bakugo, who stubbornly stays cross armed by the door, to wave a CD excitedly around the room. Mina holds her phone up to Izuku’s face for the forty five minutes it takes the newly released fan made All Might Documentary to play. 

A lot of his friends are away on hero business, so not all of them visit, but enough do to keep him company. Izuku is caught between being pleased and embarrassed. He isn’t sure how different being stuck in ice is to being stuck in bed because of an injury but he feels like it’s different enough to be embarrassed about.  His friends only tease him a little bit, and Todoroki doesn’t tease him at all. 

Todoroki is mostly quiet as everyone trickles in and out, but he’s a constant presence.  Reading through the file he’d brought once, twice, three times over, or eating a cold cup of noodles in the corner, or scooting his chair over when he’s beckoned closer to the group of near constant visitors. 

He refreezes the ice when a thoughtless comment makes Bakugo explode enough to increase the temperature of the room. He asks Izuku if wants any additions to his temporary ice prison, and surprises Izuku by making an elaborate ice jungle gym for him to tumble around and hide in.  They both get scolded and Todoroki undergoes the arduous process of melting all the ice in the small sink the room provides. 

Izuku knows the quirk is about to wear off the same way he knew the quirk hit him in the first place, that is to say there isn’t much warning at all. 

There’s a moment of too much too much and Izuku feels heavy as lead, heavy as seeing Bakugo’s hand disappear through a void. His head feels like he has a cold, pressurized and cloudy, a deep throbbing pain all concentrated on one spot and then--

He’s standing outside of the ice. 

His friends all immediately shout in surprise or joy, and he winces because it’s like someone kicked on a surround sound all the noises are in sharp relief. 

Izuku stumbles and someone grips his shoulder--the hand is too cold to be anyone but Todoroki--and Bakugo’s shout gets everyone to shut up. 

“Are you okay, Midoriya?” Todoroki asks.

“Of course he is,” Bakugo snarls, “Stop fawning over him and do your job, Half-n-Half.” 

Bakugo’s hands are shoved in his pockets as he kicks the door out of his way. Kirishima follows after him yelling, “Don’t scare the nurses, Bakugo!” 

“I’m okay!” Izuku reassures his friends, and Todoroki finally withdraws his hand. Uraraka says she’ll buy lunch as soon as the whatever unlucky doctor Bakugo commandeers releases Izuku from the hospital. 

After what became an early dinner, Izuku says good bye to his friends, but Uraraka keeps bringing up things Izuku wants to reply to, and Iida grabs Izuku’s jacket for him and then holds it hostage, and Kirishima slings his arm over Bakugo’s shoulders, and Todoroki leaves a tip for the waitress and everyone just follows each other out and they all end up at Izuku’s place anyways. 

They pile into the living room and watch reruns of some show they all liked back in school. In the middle of the fifth episode a couple of their Hero Phones ring, interrupting them. Kirishima and Mina try to ro-sham-bo who gets to go but they both end up racing each other to respond to the call. 

Uraraka goads Bakugo into pulling out a dinner wine and tries to challenge him to a drink off. Izuku feels like Uraraka has a fine idea and joins in, but Iida ends up calling the night before they can get too far into their drinking game.  Iida waves goodbye as he tries to avoid Uraraka’s fingertips.  

Todoroki starts gathering the empty wine glasses and Bakugo makes himself at home in the kitchen, banging cabinet doors and slamming pots and pans.  Izuku settles back into the couch as he hears Todoroki turn on the water and start rinsing out the glasses, followed shortly by Bakugo bullying him out of the kitchen. 

Todoroki sits down next to him, and Izuku finds himself lightly dozing as Todoroki uses his phone to cast some video or song or something.  Bakugo’s clanging becomes a distant kind of white noise, just as familiar as Todoroki’s soft breaths. 

Izuku realises he hasn’t slept since the night before he got hit by the Mirror Like quirk, and he wonders why he isn’t more tired than he is.  His friends have been too good at distracting him, he thinks.  He hasn’t even started making a report of his own on the incident. Oh, and he should call his agent to figure out what happened with that photo shoot. 

There’s a part of him that wants to shoot up and do everything right that moment, he’s spent the better part of two days useless after all.  A bigger part of him wants to rest for a bit longer.

Bakugo will step into the living room to ask if they want plates or bowls and then he’ll yell at Izuku for falling asleep while Bakugo was cooking for him, and then he’ll yell at Todoroki for saying he wanted soba instead of whatever Bakugo cooked, and then Bakugo would yell at all of their friends for leaving the living room a mess (they hadn’t) and Izuku will have to move to the dining room and eat, and then he can be useful again. Set up his laptop and send out some emails and start filling out a report. 

But until then, he can just exist in three dimensions again. Re-familiarize himself with having to breath, and only knowing Todorokig is moving because he can feel the shifts in the couch, not because he can see it without looking. 

He figures getting used to the third dimension warrants some slacking off anyways. 

#kamaeteWRITES #bnha #izuku midoriya #Anonymous

[ahgaseda]

the hot tea || chapter 03

⇥ synopsis : your best friend, Jackson, never fails to argue against your apathy toward love and romance, but his plan to confess his true feelings toward you is rudely interrupted when you start a blog chronicling your past relationships...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

It was a cold and dark winter’s night when I decided that love doesn’t exist. Not just the concept of love either. I was convinced that sustainable, healthy relationships were a myth conjured by Disney movies and condom commercials.

I hadn’t come to this decision lightly. In fact, I tried to argue against my own rationale, but when I sat down in the middle of the night and evaluated my choices where romance was concerned, I realized I was the problem. I was incapable of building a life with someone.

Naturally, since sleep was a long gone option, I did some research and I came across an interesting theory. In 1985, psychologist Robert J. Sternberg hypothesized that there are, in fact, seven types of love which he categorized into the Triangular Theory of Love. According to him, there are three key aspects in a relationship and depending on which ones you do or don’t have, defines the type of love experienced in said relationship.

Okay, that was a mouthful. Don’t worry, I will break it down. I’m only mentioning this theory, because it will influence the narrative later on.

It seems I have been lucky - or unfortunate, depending on how you look at it - enough to have experienced all seven types of love over the course of the ten years of frolicking I did before finally swearing off dating. I’ve loved and lost. I’ve almost walked down an aisle. I’ve been taught many lessons by pain and pleasure.

To be honest, I don’t know what I hope to achieve with this saga of my attempts to find a happily ever after. I’m assuming this will be a cathartic process for me. Maybe I can move on and accept my fate as a lonely girl with a string of lovers in her wake. Or perhaps I can convince myself that I’m wrong and happiness is still waiting out there...

You were tempted to smash your face on the keyboard and delete everything. Who in the hell thought this was a good idea? “This intro blows,” you groaned loudly.

“Hey,” Jackson called, sitting across from you at the small table and pushing a cup of tea your way.

“Hey back,” you replied with a smile, taking the drink eagerly. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “Ready to post?”

“I think so,” you told him, chuckling with nerves and hiding your obvious hatred for your opening monologue. “Once I do, it’s out on the internet forever.”

“You’re not using any real names, though,” Jackson reminded with a noncommittal shrug. “Nothing to worry about it.”

You sighed, “I know.”

Jackson pretended to peer over your screen, but you didn’t flinch. With a raised eyebrow, he teased, “I’m included in this fuckery, right?”

You droned, “Considering we’ve been having sex for the past year, yes.”

Jackson snorted.

Lifting your eyes from the laptop, you asked quietly, “Did you tell him we’re sleeping together?”

Jackson gave you a look that the mere thought terrified him to the core. Of the few occasions he had been in physical fights with his best friend, he had lost every single one of them. Jackson chalked that up to him being a lover and not a fighter, generally to soothe his battered dignity.

With a nervous smile, he explained, “I told him that I’m sleeping with someone, but I didn’t drop any names.”

You already assumed that, because you had never received an angry phone call from your ex suggesting otherwise. “Good, because that’s a conversation I never wanna have.”

“You and me both.”

The two of you drank your tea in unison, an air of silence falling over the room. After a pregnant pause, you studied Jackson and asked, “Are you going to read it?”

“I want to,” he answered without hesitation. “But that’s up to you.”

Letting your head rest on your hand, you pressed, “May I ask why?”

Jackson said nothing and you knew he was deciding what to say. He was the type to answer right off the cuff; honest to a fault. When he couldn’t come up with a decent lie, Jackson finally said, “Maybe I like a little insight.”

“You wanna know why I am the way I am,” you replied, not surprised.

He sipped his tea. “More or less.”

“And you think reading a rundown on my exes will explain everything?”

“It’s supposed to be cathartic for you, right?” Jackson barked, trying to shift the focus off of himself. “For others, it will be entertainment. I hope you know that.”

His harshness was out of character and unwarranted, but you took it in stride as best you could, knowing the last thing he intended to do was hurt your feelings. With a nod, you murmured, “I do.”

Jackson shook his head, noticing your voice had softened, and scrambled for words, “I only meant to say...”

“Hello, my beautiful ride or die bitch,” Krystal greeted as she marched inside the shop. When her eyes fell on Jackson, she frowned and grumbled, “You’re still here?”

“I own the building,” Jackson reminded flatly.

After hugging your best friend, you chided, “Krystal, he’s literally the nicest person I know and you manage to get a rise out of him.”

Krystal cut her eyes at Jackson and hissed like a viper, “He irritates me.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Jackson returned, his tone a borderline growl.

You chortled. At this point, you were accustomed to their general disdain for each other.

Krystal landed her attention on your laptop and chirped excitedly, “Ooh, are you posting yet? Can I read it?”

“It’s just an intro,” you told her, again stifling the urge to reveal how much you loathed it. “I won’t get to the meaty bits until later.”

“Speaking of meat, I think you should get some, Krystal,” Jackson spoke up, feigning concern. “There’s that new dildo shop around the corner.”

With a scowl, Krystal retorted, “Is that where you bought the one currently shoved up your ass?”

“Disappointed but not surprised,” you hummed, throwing up your hands. “Can you two ever get along?”

“No,” said Jackson and Krystal simultaneously.

Waving her forward, you crooned, “Krys, as the one who gave me the idea, you should come read the first post.”

Narrowing her eyes at Jackson, she sashayed to your side. “I will do that.”

Jackson pointed and muttered under his breath, “Yeah, you’re the one encouraging this.”

“Since I’ve been with her through all of said relationships, I know first-hand how novel-worthy they are. Now, shoo.”

Jackson took your empty cup, you thanked him, and he disappeared into the back momentarily. A hand sharply swatted your arm.

You shrieked, “Ow, what was that for?”

Krystal was scathing in reproach, “You’re supposed to defend me. I’m your best friend. I don’t care how big his dick is.”

“Girl, last night…,” you started, holding up your hands to demonstrate the size you were dealing with.

Krystal made a swift array of screeching sounds, yelling, “I don’t want to hear it!”

“You know there’s gonna be a lot of sex on this blog, right?”

“I’m prepared for that and very much looking forward to it, obviously. It’s just…,” she trailed, glancing up as she frowned. “Jackson is too nice.”

You gawked at such a pitiful excuse. “What’s wrong with that?”

She folded her arms and leaned back in the chair, musing, “I don’t trust someone who doesn’t have a dark side.”

You mirrored her posture and countered, “Maybe his Mama raised him right.”

“He’s still a man,” she deadpanned.

Jackson returned from the kitchen and announced, “I’m back. You can stop talking about me now.”

Krystal rolled her eyes.

Retaking his seat, Jackson rounded on your friend and said, “I do have a dark side, you know.”

“Is that so?” she asked without missing a beat.

“Yeah, one time when I felt particularly snarky, I microwaved a pop tart inside of its package.”

You snickered, amazed that such a kind-hearted and mischievous boy could turn into such a ruthless animal in the bedroom.

Krystal asked, “And how did that work out for you?”

Shamelessly, Jackson replied, “It exploded.”

“That’s why it says ‘don’t microwave inside the foil,’ dumbass,” your best friend howled.

Jackson leaned against your side and nudged you with his arm, declaring, “No one tells me what to do.”

Giggling slightly, you reached over and tickled his waist.

After a grimace at the affection, Krystal promptly finished reading your entry and said, “Short and sweet, I like it.”

You smarted, “This may come as a shock, but I hate it.”

Krystal seemed genuinely surprised at your admission. “Why? It’s perfect. A little humor, some psychology, and a hint of what’s to come.”

“It’s awkward,” you began.

Jackson chimed in playfully, “You’re awkward.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” you quipped under your breath.

“Ew, stop,” Krystal exclaimed, holding up her hand. “What if you try a different format? Like… diary or journal entries?”

“Sure, I can see it now.” Jackson continued dramatically, as if narrating a book, “Dear diary, I sucked my first dick today.”

There was no fluctuation or amusement in her voice when Krystal said, “Very funny.”

“Dear Diary, I will now be embarking on a journey of self-discovery and bullshit,” you spoke, whimsical but wholly sarcastic. “On this blog I will attempt to regale my audience of two with the emotional - and sexual - highs and lows of my past relationships.”

“And at some point along the way learn to love myself a little more,” Krystal prosed, smiling as she pushed the computer toward you.

Jackson rubbed your shoulder encouragingly, offering his signature smirk.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you clicked the button to publish your first post and quickly closed the laptop. “Alright, no turning back now,” you said, content to be distracted by the company and support of your best friends for the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow you would write about your first love.

chapter 02 ⇤ chapter 03 ⇥ chapter 04

- Katya

{ do not copy or re-post without my permission }

#got7 fanfiction #got7 smut #jackson wang smut #got7 imagines #jackson wang imagines #got7 scenarios #jackson wang scenarios #got7 fanfic #jackson smut #jackson imagines #jackson scenarios #jackson fanfic

[kangaroo-r00]

Keep Your Eyes on the Screen

You used to think that people complaining about their eyes being sore was an exaggeration but now you understood the pain. They stung and felt so dry, the pain only letting up briefly when you blinked sluggishly. The bags under your eyes were dark rings, bruises that pounded constantly. You longed to close your eyes and slip into a deep sleep but you couldn’t. Who knows what would happen if you did?

Loud music blasted from your headphones, drilling into your ears and assaulting your brain. Normally you played it softer though this volume was to keep you from passing out, but now even the loud rock sounded like a lullabye. The screen in front of you flickered faintly as you scrolled, jaw cracking as you yawn loudly. What else could you do? Taking your eyes off the screen for too long doomed one of them. They were relying on you like you had relied on them, and like hell were you going to let them get hurt because of your actions.

The screen went black and it took you a moment to comprehend what had happened, blinking slowly at the new development. What happened...? You tapped the mouse button a few times before picking it up and slamming it down on the mousepad agitatedly. Did this mean you won? Or lost?

Just before you were going to slap the computer and unplug it, a text box appeared, white words popping up inside, letters rolling leisurely across the screen.

Fee͢ļi̵ng ̶ti̛r͏ed?̴ Maybe ҉you̕ şho͏u͏l͠d҉ ͡re̕st ͏yo̕ur̵ ey͝e̷s,̸ ta͡ke a҉ ̢s͏h͠ơrt ̴na͞p͟.

Hitting the right keys was a difficult challenge (you had to backspace a few times and look down at the keyboard) but you were satisfied with your most certainly well-thought out answer. You giggled when you felt bad for the enter key after you smashed it down.

Fuck you, glitch bitch.

For a long minute the screen remained black, no new words popping up. Hopefully the fucker got the message and left—forever preferably. No dice unfortunately.

The screen glitched violently, an array of bright colors in chunks filling the screen. You laughed out loud at the realization that he was throwing a tantrum. It appeared to spasm, tired eyes straining painfully to absorb the flashing neon colors.

W͝ha͠t ҉wa̸s̶ ͠t̀hat, ̸pu͟p̡p͟et?͝ ̛S̶áy ̨t̛ha̛t͡ a͝gain.̕ I f́͟u͟c̴͡k͏̡i͜n̴g͡͏͠ ̧da̧r̛͟e̶̵ ̕͡yo̶u̕҉.

If you weren’t so tired you wouldn’t have made that mistake or (if you had anyway) you would’ve begged for forgiveness and groveled at His feet. But bad ideas were increasingly more appealing in this sleep deprived state and you caved in to your desires easily. With loud clicking of the keyboard you punched a similar answer in.

Piss off and die.

The letters that appeared did so slower than ever before.

O͝h͢,̴ ͠p͏u̧p҉p҉et,.̸ ͟you͘’l҉l ͝re͢g̀r͟èt ̛th͘at̨͠ ì͢͜m̵҉̡m̵̡͠eņs͢e̴̢̨l͞҉̀y҉͘.͢͠

The computer shut off immediately, whirring dying as the monitor went pitch black. After several minutes of expectant staring at a blank screen, you concluded nothing else was going to happen. For the first time in two days you slumped forward in relief, head tilting back and weary eyes falling shut. You pillowed your head in your arms, sighing happily. Your back would murder you when you woke up but that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was blissful unconsciousness. Within seconds you were out like a light.

A beeping noise roused you from your pleasant slumber. Shifting with a noise of discontentment, you raised your head, blinking the crust out of your eyes. You noticed several things. You had fallen asleep, your headphones were still on and turned up very loud, and your computer was back on. And something about the layout was very different.

The background had been changed from colorful fanart to a close up picture of some large, dried dark brown stain on concrete. All your files and icons on your desktop were gone except for one you didn’t recognize. It was a video icon labelled “your fault.”

Guilt immediately flooded you, the crushing sensation squeezing your heart like a stress ball. You couldn’t begin to imagine what had happened. Well, you could but you didn’t like any of them too much.

“No thanks; fuck that.” You really didn’t want to click on it. Turns out it wasn’t your choice to make anyway.

You͢'ŗe̷ n͠ot ̡gett̸in͝g ̷ou̢t̕ o҉f̶ ͘th̶is tha̴t ea̡s҉i͞lỳ.

The video file opened on its own.

The contents made your stomach churn violently, eyes widening in horror. People often talked about how something was so awful that you couldn’t take your eyes off it—like watching a trainwreck—and that’s what you were experiencing now.

You snapped out of your trance, turning your head to the side and cupping a hand to your mouth as the terrified wails made your ears throb. The final straw was the screaming pleads that came from both the beaten and witnesses. You ripped your headphones off and threw them at the monitor, watching as it tipped back and hit the wall. You could still hear the screams from the headphones, so you slammed your hand into the speakers, scrambling to twist the dial all the way down.

Squeezing your eyes shut, hands over your ears, and breathing deeply was all you could do to prevent yourself from spiraling into a panic attack. You could feel your body trembling. Your eyes stung again but for a different reason this time.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck…” you whispered, your mantra only changing to add new words to describe your emotions.

Skin prickling static washed over your hunched over form, the noise unusually light and airy. Instead of burning, it cradled you, petting you softly. The atmosphere shifted and there was a presence looming over you, hands wrapped bruisingly tight around your wrists and nails biting bloody crescent shaped marks into your skin, wrenching them away from your ears.

"͏Yo̴u'̀re ͜n͢ot҉ w̢at̵ching.̷" The voice was uncomfortably soft, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You shook your head minutely.

"A͡ren'́t yo͝u ͏pr̵oud ̸of̵ w̵h̵a̛t̕ ͞yo̡u̢'v̀e͡ ̡d́on͟e̶?̨ Th͠a͘t̨'̛s wh̨y̸ you̡ d҉id͜ ́i̡t͡, isn̴'t ͜i̷t?̵ ̨B͢ecaus͏e ̕you̢ ͝w̶an̷t̀e̶d them̴ ҉to ́s͠u͞f͜f̵er͏?"

Proud was the very opposite of what you were feeling and he knew it. That was the last thing you had wanted. You shook your head again.

"O͡r i͡s͘ it̕ b̶ec͠au̴se̛ ͢y͏ou͝'̕ré ̢a śa̴d̷ìsti̵c̛, ̀att͢en̴ti̕on w͞hore̛? Did you w҉ànt ̷M̨a͏s̕t́e҉r͠'s̕ a̵t̷t̢e̡n͡t̨i͏on? W̶el̷l,̨ y̸o͝u͢ ̧h̷a͠ve i̸t ͏no̸w̛.͜"

This time you couldn’t repress your sob, shoulders shaking and chest tightening. All you could was the guilt, repulsion, and self loathing of what you’d done. Eyes welled up with fat tears, clumping your eyelashes together and running down your cheeks.

He was right: it was all your fault. It was all too much; you just wanted it to stop—the video, the feelings, the static, everything.

The static seemed to sink into your skin and into your bloodstream, infiltrating your brain and snitching your thoughts back to him. Maybe that was what was happening.

"Y͠o̴ú'r̀e̛ ͜ģo͘in͘g ̴to͜ i͠gn̢o͞r̡e͝ th͟e͟ gi̵f͜t͢ I͞ so gr̨ac̕ìơu̴sl͠y̷ ̢gave ̶y̧o͜ù a͠f͠te͟r͟ ̀ýou i͢n̷͟s҉̵͏ư̸̧l͠ţ͡e̵d̸͟͜ me?͘ How̡ in̢co̕ns͘id͠e̷rat̀e̡ of̴ ͘y̛ou."͟

It was hard to breathe by now, gasping and choking between your panicked sobs. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it…

"͡Ẃat̡c̶h̸ it.҉ ̕A҉l̴l͢ ͠o̡f i̧t.̡"

His hands were on your cheeks, smushing them and forcing your head back to the screen. The video glitched back to the beginning and the speakers cranked up to full blast.

"̢K̨e͢e̢p yo͘u͞r ͘e͏yęs͜ ̷o̶n t͟he scr̀e͞e̛n or ͜I'̨l̶l ͜r̶i͏p̡ ͢t̵hem̛ ͝out̡ ̷of their̶ f̡u͢cki̶n͏g̷ sock҉e͏t͡s͏ wit̕h my̛ ̵barè h̵a͢n̶ds.͡"̷  The hand carding through your hair gently and the thumb brushing your tears away conflicted with your fear. "Ún̢de͢r͏śtand?" He growled.

You nodded helplessly.

You just sat there and watched through blurred vision. L̨ik̢e a̴ ǵood,͘ ҉l͜it͢t͟le͏ pu̕p͞p̕e̛t͢.

Tag list: @melasong, @writerwithdepression, @normallyemma, @kitnkas, @iris-the-asparagus, @here-be-becquerel, @maybalator (tell me if you want to be added to the taglist)

(and @shadowstakeall because you were wondering which puppet fucked up)

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye alter egos #jse fanfiction #2nd pov #antisepticeye #tw zalgo text #swearing #threats #insults