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petalsofyouth · 1 year

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ran haitani x reader

no tw i can think of :)

wc: 5223

Ⅰ. Rindou is four. It’s summer and he is hysterically crying sitting on his mother’s lap in the back of their silver Toyota Corolla. The year is 1991 and he doesn’t want to go to his grandparents yet again, because it’s boring there and there’s just too many mosquitoes in their old dusty house and then they have those weird moving lights in the forest every evening. What is Rindou supposed to do about all these?

He is terrified. He wants to stay in Tokyo.

Ran is five. He sits in the front seat near his dad looking at cars passing by on the highway. He thinks Rindou is acting like a little kid and so he tells his dad just this and is rewarded with a pat on the head and a sweet chuckle. Upon hearing it, Rindou cries even more and Ran is almost annoyed, but not really, because despite his brother being so childish now, there’s still this sweet feeling in his chest and a special place that is Rindou’s only.

So Ran audibly sighs and crawls on his seat turning his body to the back of the car. He sees his brother’s puffy crying face and reaches out to wipe salty tears. They are cold, but he lets his fingers linger on the wet skin until Rindou’s attention is on him. Glossy dark purple eyes staring at him attentively. Swallowing every word before anything is said.

“Do you remember that shrine we visited with grandma?”

Rindou nods a firm ‘yes’, but Ran suspects he doesn’t really remember. He was too small. He goes on anyway.

“Grandma told me it’s haunted so we are going to lurk all the ghosts out and kill them.”

“You can’t kill ghosts.” Rindou protests.

There’s a short period of silence where the wait for Ran’s response transforms into something almost tangible. Even the adults are listening. Too curious to interfere and tell that you in fact don’t kill ghosts. You banish them.

“Are you scared, Rin?” Says Ran so quietly, the sound of his voice is drowned out by the noise of the busy highway. “If you are scared then…”

“I am not scared!” Too afraid to disappoint his older brother Rindou shouts and he is on the verge of tears again. Although, this time for an entirely different reason. “I just think you can’t kill ghosts. Aren’t they dead already?”

“Of course they aren’t. Why would they be still here with us if they were?”

The light of the setting sun intertwines with Ran’s shoulder length blonde hair and Rindou understands that there’s nothing his older brother cannot do. The pride that swells up inside of him is greater than he ever felt.

For the rest of the road Rindou doesn’t cry anymore. Nor does he cry in the years that follow.

Ⅱ. Rindou is five and Ran is six when you meet them for the first time. Their grandma brings them to your parents house and you are forced to play together in the garden while adults are preparing dinner in the kitchen and chatting away.

You wish you were with them because those brothers are intimidating and they aren’t friendly and they are so so so different from the boys in the village. You don’t like them and you hope they will go home right after dinner.

They don’t.

And then you are forced to play together again and you ask your mom if you can sit with her instead, but she tells you not to be rude. There’s nothing you can do so you spend your evening watching them whispering to each other with their backs facing you.

Next day they return again and the day after. On the fourth day the younger brother approaches you. He is wearing thin glasses which he adjusts with his pointer fingers before he speaks to you.

“Can you keep secrets?”

The question is bizarre. Yet, you are intrigued and nod lightly. Behind Rindou - and you know that this is his name because his grandma said it when she introduced you four days ago - is his older brother watching you intently. He is tall and has long blonde hair that reminds you of the insides of the white grape. You can’t believe he is six. Nor can you believe that you and Rindou are the same age. There must be something going on in Tokyo that makes them look older.

Maybe one day you understand what it is, but before that you stay still and confusedly blink at them, trying to figure out what it is that they want you to keep secret. Why would they even want to share something so sacred with you?

“Is it yes or no?” Rindou asks this time harsher.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then follow us. We want to show you something.”

Without a second thought you slip out of the garden and follow them to the woods where the shrine is. The place is familiar and you really shouldn’t be scared, but the small light of fear in your chest is there. You don’t tell them that. You don’t want them to be satisfied because you believe that’s why they brought you here. To scare you.

What else for?

That summer evening of 1992, among the mossy rocks and under the last rays of orange sun, they confess to you that they are terrible terrifying boys who kill ghosts every summer so the Wakasugi Primeval Forest are free of them.

For the rest of the summer, every single day, you kill lost souls together.

Ⅲ. The bus sign reads “Nishiawakura-son, Aida District, Okayama Prefecture” and Rindou who is eleven now believes there’s nothing more boring than visiting his grandparents every summer.

You don’t kill ghosts anymore. All of them are probably well dead and long forgotten by now so it’s quite boring there. The contrast between never sleeping, always bright Roppongi and ever so green village of his grandparents strikes him violently. He wants to stay back and spend his vacation here with his friends. Playing Nintendo and going to arcades. Occasionally of course beating those who question him and his brother’s authority.

Rindou takes a high liking in fighting.

But then he is reminded of you and despite him wanting to be indifferent, his heart clenches. The air is suddenly not enough to comfortably breath and a sharp pain strikes him somewhere under his ribcage. He cares about you. He wants to see you.

He hates it.

Beside him Ran is carrying their huge black sport bag where all their clothes and shoes are stored. Rindou eyes his own brother, imagining what you might think of Ran now. Yes, he is only twelve, but he is already so tall and so handsome and he got his ear pierced a few days before so it’s red and swelling. And still Ran looks so cool, Rindou is almost jealous.

Rindou believes he looks like a kid which he supposes he is, but it’s a bit unfair that he is short and on a chubby side. He and Ran might be brothers, but what is common between them?

Ran is cool and Rindou not really so. At least, that is how everyone perceives them, Rindou is sure of that.

Before the bus starts he wishes you might like him a bit more than his brother.

After all it was only fair because it was his idea to tell you about ghosts all those summers ago.

Ⅳ. Rindou’s wish is granted or so he thinks at first.

You do hang out with him more and seemingly enjoy his company. You three are still friends [best friends even], with the only difference that Ran is unusually silent around you and you evidently avoid him as much as you can. Rindou doesn’t dwell on it. Everything is perfect and he is happy. Nishiawakura-son is not as boring as he thought it would be.

On the last day of their vacation you are over at their house. You sit on the wooden floor before the garden that their grandma is still tending to despite her age and eat watermelon. It’s hot even though it’s evening and Rindou’s shirt is sticking to his sweaty body. So much of the mountain's fresh air, he bitterly mutters remembering his mom’s words. Cicadas screeching is too loud, but when it would annoy him, now he melts into this perfect sound of summer. He closes his eyes and does his best to engrave this moment into himself; become one with it.

No cicadas can he be heard in Roppongi and he already knows that if he ever hears them again he would be reminded of you, Ran and sweet smell of the most delicious watermelon he ever had the chance to eat.

“In winter it’s really snowy and cold here.” You say, sitting on your folded right leg, the left swinging in the air, disturbing gravel every now and then. Rindou catches Ran staring at your leg as you speak. He thinks it's odd. He doesn’t say anything and instead watches your face as you speak looking to the lonely winter that soon will find you. “We don’t really do anything fun here. We go to cafes, ramen shops or stay over at each other’s houses and sometimes my dad or my best friend’s mom would drive us to Okayama or to Osaka if we are exceptionally lucky. We’d stay for a couple of days there. Visit shops, hypermarkets, bookshops and then we are back here. Sometimes I think like I am always going to be here. Just like those ghosts in the forest. All alone and wandering in eternity until someone frees me.”

The three of you don’t say anything for a while. You and Rindou decide to take a bite of your pieces of watermelon. The juice spilling over and dripping down your fingers. It makes them sticky and Rindou being Rindou licks them off, shoving all fingers inside his mouth until they are clean. He only notices that Ran hasn’t eaten when their grandma comes over and scolds Ran for neglecting fruits again.

The rest of the day is spent simply. You go for the last walk into the forest promising not to go too deep and be back before sun sets. Then you sit by a small river where you bathed every single day all summer and finally get back to Haitani’s house where you have a delicious dinner. Just before midnight Ran says he is going to bed. Tomorrow is a big day and Rindou shouldn’t stay up for long either. Rindou sulks, but as usual obeys. You wish them goodnight and then they are off to their room on the second floor and you stay in the spacious tatami room that is nowadays only used by guests.

Soon enough, the house is silent. The night here too sounds very different compared to Roppongi. Otherworldly. Like there are no humans and no cities and no planet and you are somewhere far along in the space to feel anything, to feel like anything.

This state however is disturbed just before three in the morning when Ran opens the slide door of their room and on tip toes goes downstairs. His movements aren’t really loud, but Rindou is Rindou and so he hears them anyway.

As well as he knows that Ran isn’t thirsty, hungry or in need of a toilet. As well as he knows that Ran knows that you aren’t asleep either.

So. Rindou rubs his sleepy eyes and reaches out for his glasses. He follows the footsteps of his brother, careful enough to stop before the corner of the tatami room. Rindou slides down the wall sitting on the wooden floor, his legs stretched in front of him and he listens to his brother telling you all about Tokyo and its lights.

By the end of the summer of 1999, Rindou understands that you don’t like him less or more than Ran. You just like Ran very differently than you’d ever be able to like Rindou.

Ⅴ. They don’t visit for three summers in a row. No one would tell you why.

The first summer is hard. The second one is better. By the beginning of the third when they aren’t here it doesn’t really feel like anything and you hate yourself for it.

Memories fade. Ghosts die. You get older. And once more it seems to you that while everyone and everything moves forward you are stagnant in your village with a population of no more than two thousand people.

Despite you claiming to be devoid of feelings, you cry a lot in the summer of 2002.

Ⅵ. When they are back to Nishiawakura-son you aren’t there.

You spend holidays away from the village at your best friend’s grandparents house in Matsuyama. You were planning the trip the whole year and you're excited and grateful they are generous enough to let you stay.

But when you learn that Ran and Rindou are finally home you wish you were there too.

The whole summer of 2003 is filled with thoughts if this deep regret is eating them alive too.

Ⅶ. The knife in your hand slips when you hear Haitani’s grandmother announcing that they have arrived. Blood seeps through the small cut quickly and you inhale deeply calming yourself down. The pain arrives a tad later. You bite your lip and unnoticed by anyone lurk in the bathroom. Leaning down on this sink you tell yourself you aren’t hiding and you aren’t nervous and you are in the safe space of tile and wood only because you need to bandage your hand. You tell yourself you are perfectly okay with meeting them so many years later. You can be friends again. You can start anew. It’s not like you changed much, right? It’s not like they are totally different people.

You stay in the bathroom for some time until your mother is calling your name so loudly and so fast you are embarrassed. With band-aid in your teeth you walk towards the dining room where everyone has already gathered. What you’ve been supposed to help with is done by your mom and your grandma. The scowl your elders send you is humiliating enough you don’t look nor at Ran nor at Rindou.

Eyes to the ground you move to your seat.

Over the food everyone is happily chatting. Your parents and Ran are the one who speak the most. They ask him about what they’ve been up to and how their studies are going. The conversation is easy and light-hearted. For everyone. Except you. You don’t utter the word.

It’s later when you do the dishes that Rindou approaches you. For some unknown reason you know it’s him and not Ran. He stops a few steps away from you and you tense. Your shoulders stiff and fingers gripping the white plate too harsh. You think you can hear it’s cracking.

He sighs and then chuckles. “Hey. Can you keep secrets?”

The plate did shatter that evening in the beginning of summer of 2004.

Ⅷ. “So what you are trying to say is that you killed a person?” You ask.

It’s pitch dark around and if not for the bleak light of the flashlight the only thing you would see would be tree crowns and star kissed sky above them.

“Yes.” Says Ran. He leans on the tall cypress with his arms crossed around his chest and you can’t help, but think that his white loose t-shirt is going to be dirty from the dry bark.

Rindou is fast to intervene and correct his older brother. He doesn’t want you to be afraid of them or think they are something they aren’t so he takes a deep breath and adjusts his glasses - they are still round shaped just as when he was a kid - explaining.. “We didn’t really kill anyone. It’s just that the bastard died cause we beat the shit out of him.”

“Were you okay?”

“Not a scratch. He kicked me a couple of times in the ribs.” Rindou is confused by your question. Still he answers it the best he can. “Oh and Ran’s knuckles were scraped you could almost see bones.”

Slowly you nod, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. So that’s why they weren’t visiting their grandparents for all those years. They were in juvie. Not because they found you and your little village boring.

You bit your lip fidgeting on the cold wooden floor of the old shrine. Rindou sits next to you and you can feel his intent gaze.

“Your hair looks gorgeous, but what with this inverted look?”

“It was Ran’s idea. I do like it though. Oh! And we have a matching tattoo. Wanna see?”

You do and Rindou eagerly strips off his shirt. You can’t see much. It’s too dark to make out the patterns of black lines. However you can see that the tattoo is huge and it covers the right side of his body. It stops abruptly in the middle of his torso and while Rindou twirls to show you his tattooed back, you think you understand why his tattoo is only a half.

It’s because Rindou is himself half of the Haitani brothers.

“It goes down my leg too. I’ll show it to you tomorrow.” Says Rindou picking his t-shirt up and putting it on. “Hurt like a motherfucking bitch, but it looks cool and it gets me girls so I’d do it again. And it also kinda has meaning to it.”

“Good to know you acknowledge our matching tattoo as meaningful.” You don’t know if Ran is joking or mad or if he is just mentioning it to show you that he too does have a tattoo, not aware that you already have figured it out. He catches your gaze on him and the corners of his lips tug upward. “I am not stripping.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.”

“Good.”

Somehow it’s you who gets embarrassed and not him. Which of course makes you mad at Ran and for the rest of the evening you only pay attention to Rindou who’s super happy for that. He too does think his brother can be an unbearable bastard, but he senses there’s something else to your anger towards Ran. Something that smells sweet and sugary; like a burnt caramel.

They walk you to your house and you, remaining in your petty mood, wish goodnight only to Rindou. Barely acknowledging Ran’s presence. And it’s the way his eyes are so calm and thin lips part slightly as he feigns a huge effort not to smile that Rindou understands this summer is going to be a mess.

Ⅸ. One morning you are at their house. Your mom sent you over with plum pickles she promised Haitani’s grandma the other day. You don’t really understand why they couldn’t come and pick them up themselves, but when you mention it your mother gives you a stern look. She mutters something along the lines of lost generation and ungrateful children and your only wish is to disappear so you pick up the carton package with jars and run off to the Haitanis.

They don’t live that far. Their house is only some blocks away. Still when you are at the front step you are out of your breath, hands going numb. You whine and curse hoping no one is in the yard. You doubt their grandma or grandpa would tell on you, you just don’t want to make a bad impression.

It’s Rindou who catches you though. He is in the garden working out and listening to music on his Sony Walkman. It’s loud and you can hear it through his headphones meters away from you.

“Oi! Morning. What’s that?” He jogs over to you and with ease takes the carton box in one hand, opens the lid with his free hand. When he sees what’s inside he smiles a pretty toothy smile. “Should’ve told me to help you.”

“Are you saying it because you genuinely wanted to help me or because it’s plum pickles?” He grins at you and you gasp, theatrically and too loud, wanting to sound offended. “Can’t believe you, Haitani.”

Inside the house it smells like fresh steamed rice, miso soup and sour pickled vegetables. Once you greet Haitani’s grandma who’s busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen, you offer to help her, but she shoo you and Rindou away, promising that she’s almost done anyway. Instead she asks you to prepare the table and begs Rindou to go shower and wake his brother up. “That boy. He does sleep a lot and you start thinking something is wrong with him. He is like a bear our Ran.”

“A bear that is built like a stick. Don’t know where all that food he eats goes to.” It’s Haitani’s grandpa and you turn around to bow at him. “He is quite handsome, our Ran, hm. Right, little bird?”

There’s this awful embarrassment inside your chest that ignites a fire and you look at the ground, hiding your confused torn face from everyone’s peculiar eyes. You furrow your eyebrows and pinch the skin of your arm to focus and come up with some good comeback. Something smart that won’t give you away because oh god of course you think Ran is handsome. You aren’t blind to think he is not.

Just when you raise your head there’s loud footsteps coming from the stairs. It’s Ran. He is shirtless and his long hair is messy and loose, eyes barely open. He is wearing an identical to Rindou’s black sports shorts that look twice bigger than his actual needed size. Maybe they are just wide fit. You don’t really know. It doesn't really matter, does it?

“Why do you have to be so loud? It’s literally what… eight in the morning?” He rasps, yawning.

“It’s well past eight, Ran. Go get yourself ready and look presentable. We have a guest over.”

“Yes, grandma.”

You think he didn’t hear anything and return to your task of placing a hot pot with miso soup on the table. But he did and he makes sure you know that as he brushes past you and whispers. “So?”

“So what?”

“Do I look good or not? You haven’t answered, because I saved your ass from embarrassment.”

“And?”

“And now it’s your payback. Do I or do I not?”

He doesn’t get the answer that morning. Only a scowl and a roll of your pretty eyes.

Hours later however when you are waiting for Rindou who forgot his backpack as you were going to meet up with your school friend at Ogaya Shibazakura Park to have a picnic and enjoy beautiful pink moss, Ran asks you again. He's impatient and if you knew him any less you’d think he is worried what you might answer.

For the first time since you’ve met all those years ago Ran looks boyish and uncertain. It kills you, because it looks like he is in pain. Like he is hurting as he expects you to say something.

In the end you give up. You say that yes, he is handsome, but then…

Whatever else you wanted to say was never heard. Ran finds your hand and intertwining your fingers with his brings you closer. He searches your face for any reason why he shouldn’t, why it’s wrong or why it might hurt you and why you might not want him or anything, anything that would halt him and play as if he never wanted to kiss you. But he doesn’t see any of these, only your nervous eyes and so he leans in and kisses you, slipping his tongue inside your parted mouth.

There’s nothing gentle in your first ever kiss. It’s sloppy and messy and it bleeds the prettiest raw adoration you have for each other.

You drown in Ran and he lets you for a very long time.

When Rindou comes running you both sit on the pavement and he notices how unusually calm it is around here. As if the whole world was separated by the thin invisible glass while he wasn’t there.

He isn’t sure where he stands. With you on the other side or with the rest of the world.

Ⅹ. After that day Ran kisses you every chance he gets.

He is shameless about it and he doesn’t care if someone walks in on you. He kisses you in his house when no one is in sight and he kisses you in your house when he slips inside your bedroom while everyone else is busy preparing dinner or talking.

He kisses you on your walks when Rindou says he needs to use the toilet or when Rindou is swimming in the river chatting up your friends so he isn’t paying any attention to you two. He kisses you late at night when you hike the mountain and you two not so accidentally get separated from your other friends and Rindou.

He kisses you when he sneaks out of his house to come see you because that particular day he hasn't kissed you yet and he desperately needs to feel your soft lips on his, unless he wants to deal with the dull pain in his bones.

He kisses you and kisses you and one day he is unable to stop. You sit in the tatami room where many summers ago he comforted you as best as a twelve years old could. And now you sit on his lap and his large delicate hands caress your body. You can’t believe he killed someone with these tender lovely hands that arouse goosebumps all over your skin. The thoughts don't stay for long because soon enough Ran kisses under your jaw and then he bites your neck, sucking too harshly you yelp. He licks the bite as a lame sorry you don’t really believe in.

It’s when his hands slip under your t-shirt and he yanks it off you, you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

Everything feels too much. Everything feels too good. Too bright. Too intense. You are burning in his hands. “Ran, I don’t think we should. They can be back any time now.”

He lifts his hand from your waist then and cradles your face in them, bringing you closer to him. His forehead falls on yours and it’s only now that you notice how fast his breathing is. He licks his lips pecking you twice or thrice or maybe more times, you don’t count. You can’t count. “I think… I believe… You know when you fight the adrenaline is kicking in and you go all crazy. Every move is mechanical.”

You have no idea what he is talking about, but you hum, wanting him to continue.

“With you it’s worse. Ten times worse than in a fight. I get so violent when I am with you. I can’t fucking help it. I think I am…”

You swallow his words with a kiss. Year younger than him you know better than letting him admit that he is in love with you. For both of your sakes. Still your heart hurts and tears emerge in your eyes. Ran kisses them off your face. He doesn’t know why you are crying and he doesn’t want to. He’d hate himself if he knew he was the reason.

So you kiss him and while you do you slip your hands to your back taking your bra off.

After all, you too, are weak before him.

Ⅺ. It’s late. The summer of 2004 is almost over. Three more days and they’ll be back in Tokyo. Until next summer. Or maybe until forever.

It does feel like their last summer in Nishiawakura-son.

Ran smokes the Seven Stars he brought with himself all the way from Tokyo. He isn’t a smoker really. The occasional cigarette is put between his teeth only at parties or in good company. It’s his first time smoking alone and he isn’t sure it does feel good, but it numbs him enough to smoke just one more and the last one until there’s nothing left in the package.

That’s how Rindou finds him outside of their old family house in the small forgotten village. With a lit cigarette in his mouth, shirtless, looking at the small yellow dancing dots.

“Do you remember when you were afraid of fireflies?” Ran asks, taking a puff. The cigarette smells awful. Bitter. “You used to pee yourself, you were so afraid of them.”

“That's cause your mean ass told me it was spirits.”

“Maybe they actually are.”

“Oh come on, Ran. Don’t!”

“Are you still afraid?”

“Absolutely not. You just sound stupid.”

Ran side eyes his younger brother and Rindou elbows him between his ribs. They both laugh and for a good minute it’s the only sound around there. Everything in this village does seem dead until you are the reason to bring life to it. It’s like a domino effect. You do something and your doing provokes a chain reaction.

“So you two are…” Starts Rindou, kicking the dirt under his flip flop.

“Yes.”

“You don’t know what I wanted to say.”

“I do.”

“No you fucking don’t.”

Ran smiles sweetly at his brother. His first favourite person on this Earth. “Okay then. Ask.”

“So you two are together?”

“That’s exactly what I thought you wanted to ask, Rin. And yes we are, but I haven’t asked her out, cause it’s obvious that we are together.”

“How is it obvious? I only knew something was going on because I know you and I know her.”

“It’s obvious because we kiss, we make l… we fuck and we do all shit people who are together are doing.”

Despite his best judgement Rindou grins. “Make love, Ran? Really? Where?”

“In our room, her room, tatami room. Shrine.”

“Disgusting. I am sorry I asked.”

“You are excused.”

Silence falls over them again. This time longer. Ran finishes his cigarette and takes the pack to the steel garbage can a few metres away. He comes back and stands near Rindou. The street lamp provides them with enough illumination to see their surroundings and still be able to see stars. It’s beautiful here, they both think. It’s like you are at the end of the world, they know.

“Wanna know what I am thinking, Ran?” Rindou speaks first again. The curse of little brother to start all conversations. “Next summer she should come to Tokyo. She should come and stay there with us. You should ask her to. Have you ever asked her what she’s gonna do when she finishes school?”

“No.”

“Really? Do you just bang all the time?”

“Pretty much. She’s got nice…”

“Absolutely not.”

They both laugh. The night gets chilly the way it does only in mountains before dawn and so they return home.

Before Ran falls asleep he promises himself to speak with you first thing next - or rather this - day. He believes you have something special and he knows he isn’t the best person to transform his feelings into words he still wants to try. For you. For him. He closes his eyes. Bitter taste of Seven Stars dissolving on his tongue.

Summer 2004 in Nishiawakura-son was good. Everyone was happy.

Everyone was hopeful.

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lysnthere · 1 year

Text

Waterfall

The sound of steps followed you, wet land squishing beneath your soles.

You were all warm and fuzzy from the hang-out you had with the tall skeleton an hour before, but the feeling was slowly fading away the further you walked in the soothing atmosphere. The splash of water and a distant song kept you company as you walked.

You decided to stop for a brief moment in a small woodsy bridge that connected the scattered pieces of land, steady among the blue glowing water. You sat down, legs dangling on the air as you were on the verge side.

“enjoying the view?”

You looked up, the skeleton with the blue jacket, Sans!

“Just taking a break, care to join?”

“heh, if you insist in prying me off of my work”

“Oh please…” you give an airy laugh his way.

He sat beside you, hands cozily stuck in his pockets, head up, watching the ceiling. You followed his gaze, looking up yourself.

Stars made of gems.

“how… how do they really look?”

You give him a glance before looking away again, sighing

“It’s hard to explain…. But I can assure you, that is one hell of a sight!” you smile longing “Is similar to those above us, the stars are silver, with a gentle hue of light adorning them, making the sky a deep dark blue, sometimes… You can see a comet speed across it, we call those-”

“shooting stars, yeah…”

“And if you see one, remember to cast a wish!” you giggle “Then we have the moon, a silver coin in a dotted dark cloth, sometimes it’s big, sometimes it’s small, it’s always changing, never the same”

sob

“I’ll never see them again..” you choke another sob “I’ll never see the stars again, nor the moon, not the sun and the clouds, I’ll die here, in the darkness…” you don’t hold up any longer, burying your face in your hands, sobbing, thick tears rolling down, your nostrils getting less and less air. “H-how did you all made it up? For ages, buried in s-some, stupid m-mountain!”

Sans finally looks away from the ceiling and at you, he takes a moment, taking a deep breath in.

“hope is the last to die…” he deepens himself in his hoodie, now looking at the flowing water “we’re all holding up to something, someone.. we know that is our right to be under the sky, to have a real home outside this hole, so we wait, we’re patient enough to ‘stick around for as long as needed, some of us don’t… but we persist, that little determination in every monster soul screams to…”

Silence again, now the distant song a little louder, you try to concentrate yourself in the notes, wiping the tears off your face. You take a deep breath, and slowly gets up, steadying yourself on your two feet as the dizziness of crying gets to you.

“I… I hope that my soul is going to be of any help, if it means it will give a needing piece to free all of monster kind… I’m willingly to let go, after all….”

“I did come here to find an end”

“HUH? What do you mean?”

“If you’re the head of the royal guard, I am willing to give you my soul…” you look down at your feet

Undyne looked skeptical at you, but her eyes softened when she saw you standing there, her spear centimeters from your wobly form.

“I… We thank you human” she takes her phone and in an instant she calls someone “Hey, I need one of your short-cuts”

Your ears started buzzing, your eyes unfocused as someone with a blue jacket appeared from thin air, they exchanged some words and before you knew it in a blur you found yourself in a room filled with flowers, golden buttercups of a great size dotted the floor a tall figure looming over you.

Everything is a blur... the tall fire-haired guard and the blue jacketed skeleton stood behind as the tall white monster gently led you away from the flowers and into a long white corridor.

Another battle, but this time you didn’t bulge, your eyes looking but not..

a hit

another hit

damage, pain, but you didn’t move…

From your blurry vision you could see the man with a pitiful look in his eyes, and before the last strike was made, you smiled gently and quietly mouthed a weak ‘thank you’

everything went dark

But before the quiet, you could hear the sound of streaming water, and a soft, whimsical music, and on top of you, there wasn’t a ceiling but the stars and the moon.

“Now all we need is one last soul”

#undertale #waterfall undertale #text #one-shot #xreader #non-rom #TW #mention of suicide #showcasing our stars:#sans #undyne #asgore #ANNNDDD #you #waterfall song credits to Toby Fox #yall already know that yer dimtwits

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hanazou · 3 years

Note

hello,, I’ve been feeling down lately and a loved one of mine recently has passed away...

if you are comfortable with it may I request a scenario of Atsushi and Chuuya comforting their s/o who were grieving over a death of a loved one? ;0 thank you I love your blog 💖💖

𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

Books : Chuuya | Atsushi

Genre : Comfort, romance

Category : Headcanons, short scenario

Shelves : Hardback | Paperback

Warning : Description of grief

Note : I am deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t do emergency requests but I tried to get this one out as fast as I could. I could only do short scenarios of this so I added headcanons, I hope this is alright. Once again, my condolences and please stay strong.

Chuuya has to ask you a couple of worried questions before it strikes him what you’re dealing with.

He will be on the verge of panicking when he first hears the bad news, worse if you're the one that has to tell him what happened. He instantly undergoes flashbacks from experiencing something like this himself and he fears that your coping with the grief might harm you.

If you can’t afford to talk to him like you usually do, he understands.

He stands/sits next to you, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at you to see if there’s any change in your stance, expression, anything.

He avoids staring at you directly in concern that you'd become pressured by him.

He’s ready to catch you if your legs fail you

Holds the top of your head lightly yet firmly. If you don’t show signs of protesting, he’d slowly pull you closer to his neck.

Getting physically affectionate is his prime card to comfort you, but before anything, he takes off his gloves so he won’t dirty you.

His fingers move kind of unevenly and feel rough, but that’s how you can feel his desire to support you

If you can’t stop crying or on the verge to go on a complete mental breakdown, he immediately collides his body against yours as tight and strong as he could.

If your legs give up, he drops down with you in his arms instead of keeping you standing with his ability and he’ll clutch your face close when you both land on the floor.

If you won’t hug him first, he’ll pull you to him. He forces your face down his shoulder so you’d grieve as much as your heart can empty while his hand brushes your back up and down.

“Cry as long as you need,”

Words, as I’ve once said, isn’t his speciality, but he tries regardless. He wants to make sure that you know you aren’t alone, that you have him with you.

He doesn’t talk as much but his distressed expression stays as long as he’s with you.

“You can take it out on my shoulder, you know,” He hesitates a bit, unsure if he sounds too rough.

If you can’t stop crying, he pats your shoulder, only knowing how to say “There, there” since he thinks it’s better than saying nothing at all. Chuuya thinks you need to hear him being there.

Chuuya squeezes through his tight schedule to make time for you.

He negotiates as best as he could with Mori to give him as much time off as possible.

If it’s impossible to take a week off, he goes full rampage in his job with the thought of you in his head motivating him to finish everything as soon as possible, making a mess where he goes.

If someone gets in his way, Chuuya shouts, "I've got someone more important to see, you punk!" while blasting them away.

He always brings food and drink over and makes sure you eat. He spoon-feeds you if necessary. He isn’t the cleanest but him wiping your face clean makes up for that.

"Come on, babe, you gotta eat," Chuuya says. "They won't like seeing you grieving like this, so eat, yeah? For them?"

If the emotions exhaust you to sleep, he sits against the wall and pulls you to him so you’d sleep against his body, making sure his limbs are around you so you’d never feel the loss of pressure around your body.

If it's cold, he wraps you with a blanket and occasionally touches your fingers to know whether you're staying warm or not.

Since Chuuya’s goal is to make sure you don’t feel alone or abandoned as I’ve mentioned, he does everything to solidify his presence.

He calls often if he has to be away, he sends food delivery, leaves short sticky notes, and sends voice messages.

It’s noticeable he doesn’t know what to say and even more obvious that he wants to keep reaching out to you.

Chuuya tries to strike a light and brief conversation once in a while. He’s disturbed by your uncharacteristic silence, it scares him.

“Do you want some takoyaki?” He’d ask randomly. The anxiety on his face never wavers away.

He does any activity that comes to mind when he stays at your place, but regardless of what he does, he’s never more than three feet away from you.

Always, without fail, kisses you good morning and good night on the forehead regardless he stays at your place or not.

Or if you're not opposed to it, Chuuya wants to take you to his place. He may still have to go to work, but something doesn't feel right about leaving you alone for so long in a place he's not too familiar with. At least in his space, you're constantly reminded you're not alone and that you're there because you're never abandoned.

Like a strayed ship in a storming ocean, your emotions are the waves storming your damaged vassal of conscience to the point that even looking forward to sunray from the bleak sky of endless cloud sounds mythical, making speaking a heavy chore. You’ve been exhausting yourself to sleep, soaking everything with your tears until it no longer comes out. It’s frustrating, it’s turbulent, so active in making you passive. Your tears run out but not the multiple stabs around your heart. Your voice leaves you but not the intensity or the transparency of hurt on your face.

It feels impossible, fictional, but if it were, then you aren't supposed to have your heart cauterized. It's the reminder of the bitter truth you're grappling against accepting.

If they had to go, why not bring the pain with them? Why do they have to leave you fractured, incomplete, empty, by transcending away while you stay behind, only able to watch them shrink somewhere unreachable?

Why do pieces of you have to be chipped off your already fragile soul, leaving holes in your essence? Why leave many pieces behind, why leave you alone?

“Hey,” A voice zaps your mind back to your head.

You remove your face from your wrinkled, moist, and sweaty palms, everything in front of you foggy from the swelling of your eyes. You still wear your dark clothes, unable to find the heart to change into something new, something brighter, after the sudden tragedy strikes. It was not, and still not is, in your capability to even stand up to eat.

Chuuya’s oddly timid and soft-sounding voice for this week is what makes you feel something other than rocking instability.

Slightly opening your eyes to see him, his figure before you hurts your eyes from how colourful he is. His face appears like a messy mix of vibrant paint, his orange hair, blue eyes and fair skin, and dark clothes sticking out from the stale background behind him.

A pair of silver keys, ones that unlock your door, stand out from his black-gloved hand from beneath his tightened fist. He puts it in his pocket and takes your hands, forcing you to stand and steadies your arms when your knees wobble.

"Have you eaten the lunch I had delivered here?" He pats off the dust from your shoulders and arms, his vibrant face still paining your swollen eyes.

Your eyes roll to the untouched paper bag on the table. You figure Chuuya’s eyes follow because of the stifled sigh he holds in.

"Babe, come on…"

"I can't," is what you try to say, although with your dry throat, it comes out like scorched empty words. "I'm sorry, I know you picked it with great care and thoughts so I'd eat, but I just can't, not when—" You catch a coarse breath. "Not when I'm like this, I can't yet."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" His voice squeezes. "You can't keep it in forever, you know, and you really shouldn't."

With your blurry vision, you figure that his arms extend open. A weak ‘what?’ is all you can hoarsely ask.

“Saying nothing, skipping meals and not drinking.” He says sourly. “Let out your grieve like how it should be done. That's what they'd want too."

Your tears make a reappearance at either a bad or perfect timing, depends on how you tilt your head to see it. They prickle your eyes, some rushing down your face.

“Come here,” Chuuya says, perhaps frowning from the way his voice changed.

Your eyes close slowly before opening again, your puffed eyelids troubling you from keeping your eyes opened. “I don’t think I can,” You sound like an overworked opera singer. “If I hug you, I won’t be able to let go and I might suffocate you without meaning to.”

You think Chuuya makes a sound of annoyance until a force smashes your body forward, lunging your face against him. The brief faint glow of orange earlier helps you process that he used his ability on you to bring you to him. Now his arms trap you in him, your forehead strongly weighted on his shoulder.

“Then suffocate me,” His muffled voice says from behind your head, one of his hands taking your arm to hold his body. “I’m always here.”

Your hands stretch his shirt with your tight clasp as you feel yourself getting lost in the waves. The turbulence crashes out from within you as you incoherently cry on Chuuya’s stable body, him becoming your guaranteer in the midst of the rocking forces that threaten your balance. His rigid arms support your weight as you wail out, ensuring that the waves don’t sweep you away, somewhere unreachable from him. He secures you, letting you explore the storm’s rolling waves while still grounding you safe.

“I’m here,” The soft wind in the storm grazes your ear. “I promise.”

Atsushi is one of the most sympathetic and empathetic people you could ask for when it comes to comfort you through your grief.

He’s nowhere oblivious to someone who’s hurting. He recognizes what kind of pain you’re going through and it doesn’t take him too long to identify what you’re feeling and the intensity of it although he can’t process it into words.

Atsushi is so worried sick for you that he has trouble thinking straight and his breaths get faster.

He’s really anxious about you feeling left behind or abandoned.

He makes sure that you don’t doubt that your beloved one who has to leave earlier definitely loves you.

It breaks him if you think of things such as disappointing them, unable to fulfil their wishes, etc.

Atsushi can feel your hurt as if it’s his own, and because of his heightened emotional senses, he’s quick to jump in to support you. It’s instinctive.

He’s at first hesitant to touch you, let alone comfort you with his embrace, so he starts with generic sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “You can lean on me” while offering his empty shoulder

It’s challenging for him, but Atsushi is persistent to comfort you with his words before he touches you.

He insists on speaking before holding you around him.

Atsushi validates your feelings by putting his guesses of how you’re currently feeling into words. He’s not the best with words so he’ll struggle to pick his vocabulary, but the things he says are mostly true.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like your heart is becoming stiff,”

“If you feel like everything around you is empty, I’m still here,”

When he does get to the point where he feels that physical touch can help you, Atsushi is very tender.

He starts with wiping your tears away until your cheeks are drier and offers you tissues. He’ll help you blow your nose

He removes the hair sticking to your face and wipes your face until you’re dry

He hugs you like he's the one broken; putting his face on your shoulder, arms hanging from your neck. It's because that he fears that you might get as hopeless as him. He dreads for that for that happen so he holds you with the strongest Affirmation he can give.

"I'm with you, I'll always be," He keeps repeating while he hugs you.

Touches your fingers most of the time and squeezes your hand

Atsushi fights tooth and nail to get several days off to stay with you in your place. He’ll have a whole speech prepared so he can convince Fukuzawa and Kunikida

He’ll spend the morning bargaining with Fukuzawa in his office after giving Kunikida a 15 minute TED talk about how badly he can empathize with your loss and how he’s rock certain you need his company

He asks Kyouka to help him make your food that’s easy to digest for the stomach, like soup and porridge. You can best bet that she’s going to add some tofu to it.

“Kyouka-chan helped me make this fish soup,” Atsushi presents you the bento boxes, unwrapping the cloth. “Let’s eat, okay? You have to keep your stomach filled. I’ll help you.”

If he’s unable to spend the night at your place, Atsushi makes sure to arrive at 6 am sharp every day to check on you, and the earliest he’ll leave is around 8 o’clock

He cleans your place every day diligently and does an excellent job at it. Doing the dishes, cleaning the floor, making sure the sink is clean and ensures the bathroom floor isn’t slippery. He doesn’t want an untaken care living space to worsen your emotional state.

Despite always bringing fresh food, Atsushi makes sure to cook fresh batches of rice to eat with anything he delivers so if you miraculously want to eat something, you’ll have something to consume.

If he has to leave for a while, he surrounds you with plush toys. If you don't have any, he borrows Kyouka's bunny plushies collection and arranges them around you, your pillow, the corner of your bed, and on your blanket.

Atsushi never wants you to forget that your loved one loves you. He does everything in his power to remind you everyday that although they're gone, the love they have for you will eternally stay with you and that nothing can ever change that.

He hugs you while verbally reminding you of that.

His hugs always lasts a long while if you're not uncomfortable with it. He can stay long minutes in that position.

Or he sits/lays down next to you in silence, doing absolutely nothing. He's anxious about the quietness himself so his fingers are always near yours.

Words of affirmation randomly comes out. Sometimes he talks about his personal experience to encourage you that everything will be alright, sometimes he tells you the reasons to his belief why your loved one's love for you preserves through all.

He keeps his talks motivational and faithful for the future. Sometimes he'd quote the things Dazai had said to him, filtering out the nonsense if necessary, or the things he always told himself in hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A breathing doll has been haunting your room for a week. It blinks, it moves, it can be spoonfed, but nobody at a glance would argue that it lives. It’s a doll. Calling it an undead is more generous than calling it a doll because of the existing needs. A doll sits inanimately, breathes at the bare minimum, and is devoid of wants and needs.

It’s the perfect status to illustrate how corpse-like you’ve been living like for this week. Your stone-cold face, just as cold fingers, eyes that barely shift, dried mouth and chapped lips make it a challenge to have you described as something living. To even use the word ‘live’ to describe you is contradictory and to hear the word ‘live’ suffocates your throat and clamps your once functioning heart. The indescribable pain mutes you, paralyzes you, turning you doll-like.

A broken doll, you are, once full, once living and moving until the one you love had to bid life farewell first without warning.

One tireless and loyal white-haired boy frequents you every day, bearing food and water to make sure the living doll in your room doesn’t fade into the cold. Cobwebs would have formed between your arms and your bed if he didn’t clean you off the filth you don’t bathe away, your nerves have been too dormant for you to feel filthy.

A bright white figure shifts around in front of you like a poltergeist. You pay it no mind. This isn't the first or second time you're seeing things that aren't there, or rather, someone who isn't supposed to be here. Your cluelessness to cope with the grave reality seems to have driven your brain on autopilot, it seems that this time it decides to give you a hallucination so you'd have someone to cling to.

A sudden snap startles your eyes to open wider, albeit without focus. Something black was in front of you, it had five branches and moves so... humanly. Like it's real. You trace it back to the white hallucination in front of you and it takes you a while to realise that you aren't hallucinating. The white haired boy who has been frequenting your place is here again today.

"Atsushi..." His name falls emptily through your teeth.

Atsushi’s mouth opens and his lips move in accordance. His face wrinkles to the centre. The inconsistent pressure he applies around your cold hand before holding you as tight as now tells you of how fragile he knows you are.

His mouth opens again familiarly. You shift your eyes to him without any effort to listen through the incoherent sound.

When his lips move for the third time, you figure out he has been calling your name. You blink twice and his chest deflates with a long exhale.

“You’ll pull through,” His hold around your hand boldens as he grit his teeth. “They had to depart first but they did so while loving you. You're loved, they love you. You can use that to push on, their love for you lives on and so do your memories of them.”

He observes you with high intensity as if expecting you to speak. You notice the disappointment when all your eyes do is gaze hollowly through him. You think he breathes in a sob from the sudden squeak he makes.

Your eyes lazily roll to follow your hand Atsushi lifts to put against his face. “I’m with you, I'll always will be. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.” He chants. “You’re never alone, you’re never alone.”

He brings your hand down against his chest. Something beats inside to hammer you the reminder that it will never stop thrumming. The warmth reminds your nerves of something. It feels contagious, bringing you recollecting something you used to feel often.

“I promise, I promise, I promise,” Atsushi hurriedly says, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Like a mantra, his words deliver the familiar sensation his chest makes you feel to your essence. After your slowed blink, you tilt down your head and tilt back up, repeating that movement until it’s fitted to be called a nod. Atsushi heaves a breath out and pulls your hand to get between his arm and side until your upper body drops against his.

“They watch over you, I promise,” His hand holds your head as you passively breathe on his shirt. "Anytime and anywhere, they're with you, and so am I.” He says airily. "You're never alone and never will be. They're with you and I'm staying forever, you'll never see your side empty, I promise they watch over you, I promise, I promise, I promise,"

Your head tilts to the side, giving more space to breathe. His solid body exudes more of the feeling you don’t realize you crave. It reaches your throat eventually, nourishing you with words you once lost.

"Thank you," You whisper.

A living doll you temporarily are but not forever, and most certainly, a loved human you are for as long as the memory of your beloved and Atsushi keep you close to them.

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minniepetals · 4 years

Text

Rose & Thorns: 01

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 3.4k

— warnings: orphan reader, bits of insecurities kicked in here and there

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Hi there."

In the dark and deep dungeon where Jungkook laid, his head perked up at the sound of a lady's voice and his brows furrowed. A girl? What was a girl doing in a part of the village where the villagers have deemed to be the most dangerous zone? Surely guards must have surrounded the area with tough security, right? So how did you manage to go past it?

"I'm Y/N," he heard the voice again and a soft scoff left him.

You were probably just there curious to see the dragon those infamous soldiers have managed to catch.

"I am..." you trailed off and he found himself waiting for what you had to say, "I am the keeper of the dragon."

Keeper.

He never imagined a girl to be a keeper.

"Damn, that sounds weird," he heard you mumble to yourself, a light chuckle leaving your lips. "But anyways," you went on, "it'll be just you and me for a while because no one else wanted to take up the role of the keeper except I. Which is fine, I've always wanted to take up a task as big as this. Oh, and you must be hungry so I brought you food. Trust me though, no one has poisoned it so don't be shy and starve yourself, alright?"

Shy, Jungkook scoffed to himself. What would a dragon ever be shy about? He could rip you to pieces if he wanted.

Too bad the chains around him kept him from escaping and doing anything rash.

He sighed, ignoring your ongoing ramblings and thought back on how in the world he managed to get caught in the first place.

His hyungs have always warned him about going hunting around the areas where humans settled but there was more prey there so he decided to take up the challenge. He should have told someone yet his rebellious side allowed him to go off on his own without a word to his own clan.

That was how the humans got to him, dragon hunters, they'd call themselves.

Stabbed on his arm as he was flying about the sky and near the ground. That didn't entirely weaken him but because of the fact that he was caught off guard and they held spears and ropes, Jungkook struggled to get away so, in the end, he woke up after being unconscious, locked up in some sort of dungeon with his neck chained up that extended to the wall to keep him from escaping.

The chain around his neck was hurting him far more than he expected but what could he do?

Maybe his clan would come looking for him. But with the fact that he had told no one where he was heading off to, Jungkook doubted they'd be able to track him down that easily.

"Are you alright?" You asked him the next day but he gave you no words. Still, despite his silence, you went on and on about all sorts of stories probably out of boredom.

He didn't know what you were doing, why you decided to take up the role of a keeper when everyone else in your village was in fear of him. Were you brave or just a fool? He had no idea what to conclude.

But for some reason, as the days passed and he was forced to listen to all of your endless stories, Jungkook was glad for your presence. Maybe it was the fact that he would have gone crazy if he wasn't around anyone for a while. Maybe because you actually sounded like someone who wasn't scared of him, someone who was a little different from those villagers, and someone who was treating him as a normal being.

Whatever it was, he was glad for your presence that replaced the warmth of his hyung's arms.

"You ate!" You rejoiced the second you came back early one morning.

It was funny how excited and happy you were about the fact that he actually ate something. He didn't know what you looked like because he never cared to head into the light, where you were, but your voice alone was sweet, something that told him you were a pure sweet being who enjoyed the little things in life.

You reminded him of Hoseok and Taehyung in that sense, and the feeling of nostalgia came rushing over him.

He missed home.

"Do you have a family?" You asked suddenly, sitting down at the exact same spot you would always sit at. "I had a family but they've gone and now my families are the villagers. But lately, they think I've gone crazy because I still haven't run away from this place and still visit it each and every day. But I'm not crazy, trust me!" He wanted to laugh at how defensive you were despite his silence. You were cute. "It's just that whatever job I am given, I never give up even if it gives me a hard time — not that this job is giving me a hard time, I actually enjoy this believe it or not."

Why is that? Jungkook wanted to ask.

And as if reading his mind, you answered "It's lonely back in the village. You don't talk much but that's alright, it's better to have a silent presence than abandonment and someone who rambles about how stupid and crazy I am."

Had something happened? Your voice was growing somber.

"I'm so sorry." It came out into a breathless whisper, as if you were recalling a lost memory, as if you were on the verge of crying. "I'm so sorry they've kept you locked up in here," you said. "Trust me, if I was the chief villager and had the power to have others nodding at my commands, I'd tell them to set you free."

What?

"I've already done it once but was cast away and told to just continue doing my job. They're so cruel," you mumbled through a pout. "You must have a family that misses you but I can't even do anything to help you except ramble on and on about useless things which aren't helpful at all. I'm so sorry."

Why were you apologizing when none of it had been your fault? Why were you blaming yourself for the villager's actions?

"Would you rather I kept silent instead of rambling? I'm so sorry, you must be annoyed with me, right? I can-"

"Don't."

You froze, head quick to shoot up upon hearing his voice for the first time. Jungkook was surprised too. He never thought he'd ever say a word, but the deeds were done so he convinced himself whatever, he had already spoken so he might as well do some more.

"Don't stop talking," he said again, "I like your voice...Y/N."

A small smile spreads across your face, creating a beaming glow and with just hearing his voice and pretty words, and a drop of tear fell from your eyes.

"R-really?" You asked, standing up from where you sat as you held the silver bars in front of you, trying to look for him. But it was too dark to see.

A long silence passed and then, light footsteps. Footsteps of a human walking and you held your breath.

Bit by bit, little by little, you watched with a piercing gaze, waiting until he finally walked into the light. Your breath hitched at the sight of a man around your age, shirtless with scars all over him from the events of when he had gotten caught and old scars from elsewhere.

He was handsome. So incredibly handsome. With a sharp gaze and jawlines that could cut straight through the silver bars.

When Jungkook saw you, he had to blink for a moment. He wasn't too surprised by your beauty. Your voice was incredibly sweet and pretty, matching your beautiful face. But he frowned at the trail of tears that had left your eyes and his heart ached.

"Why are you crying?" He asked you by the time he got closer and stood just in front of you with the bars being the only thing that kept you apart.

Jungkook wanted to reach out but he held back, knowing that that would have been incredibly rude towards a lady.

"I'm not crying," you quickly lied and went on to wipe away the tears that had been waiting to fall away.

"You're a horrible liar."

You cringed. "Am I?" Jungkook hummed, nodding. "It's just...it's the first time someone has told me they liked my voice."

He frowned. "No one else likes your voice?"

"It kind of gets annoying," you said, a small bitter smile appearing.

His heart ached at the once bubbly voice now gone due to the insecurities those villagers have drilled into you.

"Speak as much as you'd like," he told you. "Your voice calms me down, lets me know that I'm not alone."

"Well you're not alone," you declared, suddenly acting all heroic. He smiled at the energy. "As long as I'm here, you'll never be lonely. But let's hope it isn't for long because I want you to have your freedom soon."

He knew that he'd definitely miss you if he ever got that freedom again.

"Does it hurt?" You asked him the next day and Jungkook looked up from smacking on a mango. You gestured at his neck, where the chain stood and Jungkook gave you an awkward lopsided smile.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It weighs a lot, it's a burden but I'm a tough dragon so I'll be alright."

"Oh please," you scoffed, pouting a little, "even the biggest and strongest dragons get hurt."

That next day, you came back with some ointment and treatments in a basket along with his meals.

"You told me it wouldn't hurt!" Jungkook hissed the moment you applied the ointment on him, stinging his wounds.

"I told you it'd sting just a little!" You argued. "Now stop moving around, it's hard enough treating your wounds with bars in our way, don't make it harder."

"But it hurts," the young dragon whined and you laughed aloud, making him pout.

"I thought you were a big and strong dragon."

"Even the biggest and strongest dragons get hurt."

The two of you smiled at his words, a reminder of the day before.

You came back a few minutes later with a pair of clothes you managed to steal from one of the village boys. They wouldn't notice, they had plenty of clothes to spare and you needed Jungkook to have clothes so that he could at least keep warm for the chilly nights.

"What happened to your shirt?" You asked him as he placed the shirt on top of him. He was masculine, so bulk with abs that could make you full for days. But you looked away before he could notice your stare, lightly slapping yourself in the face for such imaginations.

"I guess they must've stripped it off me when I was unconscious."

Them, as in the village soldiers. You didn't like the soldiers, they were too cocky especially after capturing Jungkook. One was even consistent on trying to steal your heart, deeming himself worthy because he was part of the party that struck upon the dragon.

"Oh, I forgot!" You suddenly recalled and was quick to jump onto your feet. "I'll bring you one of my warmest blankets so that you don't have to-"

"You're leaving?"

You blinked at the disappointed sound of his voice and kept yourself from leaving just yet.

"The night can get really chilly. I'm worried about you," you told him.

But Jungkook shook his head. "I can go on another day without a warm blanket, Dragons have thick skin. But can you stay here?" He asked, eyes a little shy with a small blush painted on his cheeks. "I don't like being lonely."

"Oh."

You smiled. No one had really appreciated or even acknowledge your presence until Jungkook came along. So you stayed, sat down again and nodded.

The days went on and on like that, some bickering and little fights here and there but for the most part, the two of you got along and a friendship was growing.

But because of that, you became the center of attention when you weren't in the dungeon visiting Jungkook. The villagers would stare and talk to and about you about all sorts of things. Some deemed that Jungkook used his "powers" to keep you in there for so long every time you'd visit. There were all sorts of rumors going around and you tried to pay no mind, continuing on your task as the keeper of the dragon.

"One day, I'll free you," you told the man.

"Don't hurt yourself just for me. The villagers will turn on you."

"Why does it matter?" You shrugged. "They don't care about me except for my role of keeping an eye on a dragon. I am your keeper, Jungkook, and as your keeper, I vow to free you one day soon."

"You're a rose, Y/N," Jungkook said, eyes filled with concern for you, "and roses shouldn't try to be a thorn."

"But roses carry thorns," you argued, eyes filled with determination. "I can be brave, trust me."

"I know you can, dear one." He sighed a sad sigh. "But I'm telling you, don't hurt yourself for me."

Jungkook knew that bit by bit, he was falling for you and for a moment, he had almost forgotten about the six dragons back at home. Almost.

But he knew that in the end, it wasn't right. He was given his own mates already, ones he knew he would betray the world for without a split second of hesitation. Yet as he stared at your sad face that became more and more apparent as the days went on, Jungkook had this desiring urge to protect you from your own insecurities and the things the villagers have said about you. He knew they must have said or done something to you for you to walk into the dungeon with a face that darkened of a cloudy sky.

The longer he sat there in the dungeon waiting every night for you to return every morning, the easier it was to pick up on your fake smiles and real laughter, the easier it was for him to fall.

Yet it was forbidden to yearn for you. Not only did he have his own mates waiting for him back at home but he knew that it would be best for you to be with a man that was your own kind. A human. And the bars that separated him from ever reaching towards you reminded him each and every day.

A few nights later, Jungkook woke up at the sound of keys rattling and his head shot up with alarm, afraid it had been some soldier.

"Jungkook!"

At the sound of your harsh whisper, his brows furrowed. "Y/N what the heck are you doing?" He asked, running over towards the bar and holding onto them tightly as he stared at you with fright.

"I told you I'd set you free one day," you simply stated and then, the door opened.

He stood there frozen for the longest time, contemplating on what to do while you rushed over to his side to unlock the chains that kept him locked in. He didn't know whether to pounce onto you with a hug or scream at you to leave. He didn't know what to do. And had the doors truly opened for him to escape out of?

The second you dragged the chain off his neck, Jungkook felt free for the first time in forever, a weight taken off of him after such a long while. Literally.

"Don't cry," you told him, wiping away the tears he hadn't realized were there. Your hands were so soft, the way you cupped his face in such a gentle way. He always imagined your touches would be as gentle and soft as your heart.

Jungkook cried because your hands reminded him of the gentle touches he's once been used to from his mates, the hyungs that have always loved and taken care of him, the hyungs who were probably worried in fear each passing day, wondering whether their maknae was still alive or not. But he didn't cry just for him, he cried for you. A pure soul, a human he never knew would care so much to the point where she was saving him by risking her own life.

"We have to go, Kook, before they find out I've stolen the keys."

You took his hand into his, rough and larger, and the two of you ran into the deepest part of the forest until you finally stopped after deeming that it was finally a safe distance from your village.

"Go home, Kook," you smiled at him but he could see the glistening tears in your eyes under the moonlight.

"What about you?" He asked, holding your face in his large hands as he wiped the tears away. He'd always wanted to do that, to hold you close to him and finally he was given that chance. No bars in between to keep you apart. "They'll know that it was you who freed me, you're the only crazy one who'd free a dragon."

"I know," you chuckled through the tears, trying to make light of things. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." A tear slipped from his eyes. "They'll kill you, Y/N, they'll have you executed for losing a prized possession of theirs."

"I..I know." Your voice shook and you both cried a little more. "Transform now, Kook, before they find the both of us here."

He didn't want to but he knew that you were right. So lingering his fingers on you for a moment longer, not wanting to let go, he smiled at you before stepping back and then, you watched as the man in front of you transformed into the creature the villagers have come to fear and deemed the most dangerous creature in all of the lands.

When he looked back at you, eyes of a golden sun, you reached out with your hands to hold the beautiful dark scales on him, something none of the villagers would ever dare to do. But you weren't any of the villagers, you were Y/N, and Jungkook knew that Y/N was far braver and sweeter than any of those villagers.

Those eyes were still the same ones Jungkook always held despite his true dragon form and you smiled at the beautiful sight in front of you.

A loud uproar was quick to having you flinching and Jungkook looked towards the sound.

"They've found us," you gasped, turning your head back at him with alarm. "You have to leave now."

He hesitated but you were so insistent on him leaving. "Go, Jungkook. Don't let my freeing you go to waste or we'll both get executed."

"I won't let them hurt you," he vowed, "I won't let them lay a hand on you."

"Kook-"

"You saved my life, Y/N," he cut you off, "it's my turn to save yours."

You looked at him in confusion, wondering what that meant.

"Climb on my back, Y/N, ride the wind with me."

"What? Jungk-"

"Come to my village with me," he said, voice a little more desperate. "Come to my clan."

"Your clan?"

The shouting was nearing louder and louder.

"Come with me."

He lent you his back, large wings flared out and silently asking you to climb onto it so that you could reach his back.

You took a moment to look back at the loud voices that came closer and closer and then back at the eyes that had been home to you more than the village had ever been. And then, without another moment of hesitation, you climbed onto Jungkook's back and his wings flapped a few times to get themselves ready to take flight.

Yet at that moment, a bow came flying by and you were hit right near the chest, near your heart, making your body fall back and off Jungkook's back, onto the hard ground with a harsh thud.

Freedom so close yet so far away.

Jungkook growled at the soldiers that stood a few yards away, his eyes growing red at the sight of you weak and vulnerable.

His voice raged into the night sky, a cry so loud and booming that it could be heard from far, far away. He flung his tail at them, causing the soldiers to fly a few yards back.

He turned to you, whimpers leaving your lips and held you under his claws safely and securely, and then, Jungkook flew off into the night sky, riding the wind with you in hand.

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #resident evil #resident evil village #lady alcina x reader #lady alcina #alcina dimitrescu #dis tew much #assassin's creed odyssey #simpin for these bishes

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smolkooks · 3 years

Text

how long, pt ii - j.jungkook

pairings: reader x jungkook, established relationship!au, non idol!au

word count: 1.6K

content and warnings: angst, low-key couple fight, breakup, mentions of cheating, heartbreak, mild cursing

summary: your nonchalance broke him more than anger ever could.

(note: please do not plagiarise my work! all character/idol representations are purely fictional! this is part two of ‘how long’...part i is linked here. sorry this took so long...hope you guys like it though <3)

my masterlist

***

You weren’t sure when you last saw Jungkook in the apartment.

It was odd; neither of you wanted to confront the conflict and so it had faded away into the background of your daily lives once more.

You spent hours curled up in bed before you fell asleep, crying—the only time you allowed yourself to think about him. It was stupid that you refused to talk to him—that he refused to talk to you—and you knew that. The relationship you’d once had was but an aching pain in your chest now, and you wondered if he felt the same, wherever he was going every night now.

Foolishly, you hoped that it wasn’t the other girl’s house, even though you knew it was the only other place he could go. His family was in Busan, his old friends had moved out of Seoul—the only other place he could go was hers.

Even your coworkers seemed to notice your drab mood which only seemed to deteriorate each day. As somebody who’d always been known to be the cheerful one in the office, it was odd to not be excited about things you’d once looked forward to.

Heartbreak worked in strange ways, you supposed.

The initial numbness wore off within a few days and it turned to a throbbing in your chest; a strange emptiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. Jungkook had always been by your side whenever you felt upset, and you hadn’t ever imagined that he’d become the causeof your pain rather than the one holding your hand through it.

You spent so much time alone now in your apartment that it gave you time to think about what you wanted to do next. You knew that you weren’t willing to forgive Jungkook—especially since he was so adamant on not apologising and facing you, given that he’d managed to avoid you for a whole week despite living at the same place. If you didn’t want to stay with him, then you’d have to find a new place, too, since this was his apartment…

It must’ve been nine days after not seeing Jungkook that your phone lit up with a familiar name while you were having dinner after work, alone at the kitchen bench. The notification sound broke you out of your train of thought and you mindlessly glanced at the lit-up screen, only to straighten when you saw hisname. His contact name was still labeled as boyfriend with a pink heart emoji, and something inside of your chest twisted strangely. The pain was far duller than it’d been just a few days ago, almost as if it was distant. Like rather than being a thunderstorm, it was a passing raincloud in the town down the road.

hey, can we talk?

You heaved a sigh and turned your phone screen down, leaving his message without a response. You had been able to find another apartment you’d be able to afford—one close to your workplace and the centre of the city, but you would only be able to move into it next week. Maybe you should hear him out…at the very least.

And so, with another deep sigh, you took another bite of your food and then picked up your phone, typing out your response: yeah. i’m home.

His reply came almost instantly: okay

You turned your phone off and slipped it into your pocket, your stomach clenching in sudden nervousness. How would you even look at him now, knowing that he’d probably been with the other girl for a whole nine days without a single call or text to you?

You must have been lost in thought for far longer than you thought, because it was the rattle at the door and the huff of his jacket sleeves as he slipped it off and hung it onto the rack that finally snapped you out of your own head.

He didn’t say anything, and you heard his footsteps softly pad towards the kitchen wordlessly. Suddenly you weren’t sure where to look, and instead of looking at him as he approached you (you knew he was, you caught sight of his curly black hair in your peripheral), you fixed your gaze on your food, composing yourself.

You felt a tentative hand on your shoulder, and you finally looked up at him.

He looked like he always did. Your pretty koo, your rock, your best friend. His hair was undone from its usual tiny ponytail and his eyes were slightly lined with dark shadows, as if he hadn’t slept last night.

“Y/N,” He finally said, taking his hand off your shoulder and putting it back at his side.

You didn’t say anything. Just swallowed, waiting for him to sit. When he finally did, you responded, “Yes?”

He gulped, biting his lip nervously, “I…I mean…are you okay?”

“I’ve been doing fine,” You said shortly.

“That’s good.”

You didn’t reply; only returned your gaze back to your now-cold food, the silent as heavy as ever.

“I…I didn’t want to hurt you.”

When you didn’t say anything, he pushed ahead, “I love you more than anyone else, and I didn’t mean for you to find out in this way.”

You scoffed without glancing up, “You didn’t mean for me to find out at all. How long were you going to string me along for, Jungkook?”

“I wasn’t going to—,”

“You did,” You cut him off, finally glaring up at him coldly, “Were you going to make me be your fucking housewife, sitting home by myself, mopping your fucking floors, while you go and get drunk with other girls? I’m not stupid, Jungkook, I know where you were the whole of last week.”

He was suddenly silent as he looked at you, unable to reply, mouth running dry.

You saw him gulp but you ignored it.

“I know you were with her, while you left me here, alone,” You said, your voice breaking at the end. You still managed to get the rest of your words out, “I don’t believe you when you say you love me, Jungkook, because I don’t feel it.”

“Y/N…”

“Five months, Jungkook. How long have you been lying to me?”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, and you didn’t bother to break it—his silence was telling enough.

He was tearing up now, you noticed with the tiniest bit of emotion showing on your face—even though you tried your hardest to hide it. His eyes were becoming foggy, and as much as you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him it was alright, you didn’t.

It wasn’t your place anymore.

He’d made that much clear.

“Y/N, please…I can make it right,” He whispered, his voice on the verge of breaking.

You paused, mulling his words over for a long moment, before saying with finality, “Good luck with that.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hands began to shake as he caught onto your tone and implication, “W-what do you mean?”

“I’m leaving, Jungkook,” You told him, “I’m moving out next week.”

You watched—watched as the emotions washed over his features, one after the other. His hopeful, composed expression fell first, crumbling as he took in the reality of the situation and the unfaltering truth in your eyes and tone.

He didn’t move, only stared at you—first at your eyes, as if trying to search for any sign of hesitation or reluctance, and then at your unsmiling, firmly-pressed lips, and then finally his gaze turned to your hands—unfolded over the desk, palms flat on the table.

He gulped before he softly said, “Oh.” His voice was so small you barely registered it, so different to his usual, cheerful, enthusiastic voice—not that you would know anymore, seeing as you hadn’t heard it for a long time.

He was gone—emotionally, mentally, then finally physically—for so long you forgot what he feltlike—what he sounded like, truly.

“Yeah.”

There was no more malice in your tone. You didn’t have energy for bitterness or anger, or jealousy anymore. All there was was emptiness, the lack of anything and everything, that you felt through your heart and bones.

There was nothing.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

Those words snapped you. Despite your previous calm, you felt a storm pass through your gaze and you swear you saw him shrink back a little at the change in your expression.

You scoffed, your hands angrily fisting, “You broke up with me, the moment you decided to hurt me like you have. Like you are doing, right now, pinning this situation on me.”

He said nothing, only watching as your eyes became lined with frustrated silver, and he felt his own begin to tear up, too, as he took in your absolutely broken form and voice.

“I’m sorry.”

It was your turn to be silent, not bothering to mull over his apology as you simply stood up, taking your plate with you. The only sound in the apartment was the soft rumbling of the airconditioning, and the clinking of your cutlery as you tucked your chair in, “It’s too late for us, Jungkook.” You said without meeting his eyes so that he wouldn’t see your quiet tears. You slowly made your way to the kitchen to wash your dishes, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, I will.”

“Okay.”

Your nonchalance broke him more than your anger ever could. You were always so bubbly, so energetic and loving. Jungkook knew he didn’t deserve that anymore, not with how badly he had destroyed your heart.

He simply stood in place, numb, as you finished cleaning your dishes and made your way to the bedroom.

He didn’t see your face, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said.

You silently shut the bedroom door and didn’t reply.

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arvandus · 3 years

Note

Woooohooooo congrats on 500!! Can you do fluffy prompt no 30 with hawks? Love youuuuuu (I have notifications turned on for your blog lol)

So... um... this came out longer than expected.... s;dfajsdlfksdaj

1300 words counts a drabble... right? RIGHT??

.........

I have a problem. _____________________________________________________

Prompt #30: “I Didn’t Think You Were The Hugging Type.”

You were having the worst day. Your alarm didn’t go off, making you late for work, which then led to you getting chewed out by your supervisor. Clients weren’t much better, the particularly rude ones able to sniff out your bad mood like a blood hound, and proceeding to press every single button until you were either seeing red or on the verge of tears.

All you could do was wait… wait until lunchtime, in the hopes that the one good, consistent thing about your day would walk through those doors and make himself comfortable next to your desk. Hawks had been visiting with you for some time, coming into say his hellos and occasionally take you out out for lunch. It was your most cherished time of day, his jokes and kindness always putting a smile on your face.

You could desperately use that positivity right about now.

But he never came, and the longer you waited, the worse you felt. He probably got tied up in hero business. It wouldn’t be the first time. But usually, he’d send you a text message, letting you know he wouldn’t be able to stop by. Today? Nothing.

His absence left an emptiness in you, giving doubt a place to hide. How well did you really know Hawks, anyway?

When you’d first started spending time with him, it didn’t take long for you to realize that his cocky smirk didn’t always reach his eyes, and that despite how personable he was, he actually gave away very little of himself. For all of his outward warmth, there was always a part of him that was completely walled off. You’d accepted it, understanding that need for privacy, especially now that he was the #2 Hero in Japan.

But… there were times when you were both silent over lunch and you’d lock eyes with him. In that moment, you could swear that you could see something in his dark pupils framed in honey... you couldn’t tell if it was need or loneliness. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither. But whatever it was, it made you want to reach out and touch his hand.

…which you never did, of course. But you could feel your own feelings for him stacking like poker chips, and you knew it’d only be a matter of time before the tower came tumbling down in a mess of words (or tears). Today you could feel that tower start to teeter, and terror filled you at the possibility that he might not be there to catch you.

What if he didn’t care?

Someone cleared their voice and you snapped out of your thoughts to lock eyes with your boss. He pinned you with a withering glare and you ducked your head back down to your work.

You couldn’t think about this right now. You had to make it through the day, get a decent night’s sleep, and see how you felt in the morning. And maybe… if you were still having these feelings… maybe you’d find the courage to say something to him.

The day moved painstakingly slowly, made even worse by the frequent checking of your phone, until finally you were able to clean up your desk and go home. By this point, exhaustion pulled at you, the weight of your concerns heavy in your mind.

You got down to the parking level of the building and made your way to your car. Once you got there, you went to grab your keys only to find….

Nothing.

You checked your pockets. You checked your briefcase. Your keys were nowhere to be found.

“Oh shit…” you muttered. “No, no, no….”

You checked all of your belongings again, but once again found nothing. Realization dawned on you.

You’d left your keys on your desk. And now the office was locked.

“God damn it!” you cursed, as you jiggled the car door handle. It was futile of course. You knew it would be. You let out a frustrated groan as you leaned against your car. This was it. The was the last straw. You were so done. You could feel the burning in your eyes as your vision began to blur.

“What’s wrong, Little Dove?”

Your eyes shot up to see Hawks standing six feet from you. Your heart pounded in your chest and you weren’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. He was here. And yet, of all the times for him to finally show up…

You averted your eyes from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry.

“Nothing,” you sniffed. “I’ve just… had a really rough day.” Words began to spill out of your mouth, with nowhere left to keep them. “I was late to work, and my boss chewed me out, and customers sucked, and now I’m locked out of my car, and… and…”

You barely managed kept yourself from blurting out the most important piece of information, clamping down your jaw to force your silence. You couldn’t tell him that part… not yet, not like this.

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks, wet rivulets betraying your forced composure.

Not a moment later, his arms surrounded you, his red, soft feathers wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. After all of the negative thoughts swimming in your mind all day, this bold gesture of affection took you by surprise, knocking the breath from your lungs. It was exactly what you needed, giving you the answer to the heavy question that had been plaguing you all day. You fell into it gratefully, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him in return. Your anxiety and stress were washed away by his intimate embrace and more tears slipped down your cheeks. Grateful tears. Happy tears.

His hand stroked your head as he muttered reassurances into your ears. His voice was like a song, filling every tired corner of you with new life.

Once you had calmed down, you gave a soft laugh into his wet shoulder. “I didn’t think you were the hugging type.” you teased.

“Only with someone I care about.” he replied. You squeezed him tighter against you, his wild hair tickling your cheek, and his arms responded in kind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come by today.” he apologized.

You finally pulled away slightly and wiped at your eyes. “It’s okay…”

You wanted to laugh. It all felt so silly now. So small and insignificant.

He loosened his arms on you, while his wings maintained their gentle curtain around the two of you. “I got you something…”

He pulled out a flat rectangular box from his jacket pocket. You chuckled. How very like him to come to you with another gift. But you could tell that this time, it was different. You took it from his hand and opened it.

A smile spread across your face as you removed the chain of a thin silver bracelet from the container. The silhouette of a bird sat in the center - a dove.

“It’s perfect.” you whispered. You watched as his hands took the jewelry from you and secured it around your wrist, his touch delicate.

“Next time you’re feeling lonely or having a bad day, I want you to look at this and know I’m always with you.” His finger tilted your chin up until you were looking in his warm amber eyes. This time the mystery in them was gone, warm affection taking its place. “You got that, Little Dove?”

You laughed and nodded, his touch making you giddy as his words tied bows from your heart to his.

“Thank you.” you said softly.

He gave you a quick peck on the lips, barely giving you time to register what he’d done before he pulled away. He watched you process his stolen kiss with a cheeky grin as a combination of elation and annoyance washed over you, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Wha…” you stuttered. “Excuse you...”

He gave a chuckle and booped your nose with his finger. “Well... Now that that’s done, can I take you out to dinner?”

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #bnha #mha

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Little Dragon - Part 12

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

(Warnings: the reader learns to fight! so yay that! Also some sadness because of Viserion’s death, and some fluff between the reader and Ezzo, so hope ya’ll enjoy!:D)

High Valyrian is in cursive

You panted heavily as you finally managed a blow to Ezzo’s chest, one that knocked him back a little, so you took the opportunity to lower yourself, using your foot to sweep him off his feet, quite literally, watching him land on the stone ground with a huff, making you chuckle a bit “good” Ezzo grumbled as he got up, and you instantly got ready to fight again, you had been at it for at least a few hours, sweat was running down your body but you couldn’t care less, you felt alive, you felt strong, and most importantly, you were with Ezzo. Instead of Ezzo charging at you however, he turned around and went to a nearby table, picking up something, keeping it behind his back and approaching you, making sure you couldn’t see it.

“What is it?” you grinned widely at him, you had gotten more fluent in Dothraki, and he had gotten more fluent in the common tongue, though not as much as you, but you did have a head start, knowing some of the Dothraki language before you met him. Ezzo grinned widely and dodged your attempts at pulling his hands out from behind his back, making you let out a frustrated sigh, though you couldn’t deny the smile on your lips, he finally showed what he was hiding, it was a beautiful arakh, it was not as big as the Dothraki used, but instead could be used with one hand. “It is your name day today, yes? I heard it from some of the other Dothraki” the blade was steel but the handle was bone, the more you studied it, the more you noticed the carvings in the bone, small figures of dragons flying, and at the very bottom of the handle was a small carving of a flower among some grass, making you frown as you tried to recognize it.

“Hranna” your eyes locked with his, a slight confusion portrayed on your face and Ezzo just smirked “the great Grass Sea blooms dark red flowers, that turn brown in the dry season, you reminds me of a Hranna flower, you come from somewhere that looks all the same, but you stand out, your colour does not match what’s behind you, and I find that beautiful” he mumbled the last part embarrassed, but you couldn’t care less, you loved this gift. You leaned up, letting your lips meet his cheek, but only for a brief moment “thank you” you knew there was no word for it in Dothraki, but he understood you all the same, his hands finding their way slowly to your hips, as if to test if he was overstepping any boundaries, but when you didn’t push him away, he gave you a wide grin, one that made you grin back as your eyes went back to the arakh in your hands “it’s beautiful” you mumbled, but before Ezzo could respond you heard someone cough, seeing Daenerys, Tyrion and Missandei standing there, Tyrion and Missandei were trying to hide their amused smiles, but Daenerys just smirked knowingly at you, making you blush and look away quickly, though you couldn’t hide the fond smile you gave Ezzo as you were leaving, one he happily returned.

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You stood patiently by Tyrion and Missandei, the few Dothraki that was with you included Ezzo, who stayed close to you, something that made you smile. Your mother had yet to arrive, something that clearly irked Cersei, clearly what was probably intentional on Daenerys’ part. Once she finally arrived you felt yourself relax, you let your mind wander instead of paying attention, not even when the whight was let loose, not even when Jon showed how to kill it, not even when Jon told of his sworn loyalty to your mother, none of it mattered. As Cersei stormed off, you decided to move to a more discreet part of the ruins you were in, and once out of sight, you let a sob rake through your body, bending over near a stone wall, the thought of Viserion plagued your mind, it had since Daenerys came home without him. You sat down on a stone and finally let your tears flow, unaware of the black haired Dothraki who were silently approaching you, contemplating if he should comfort you or leave you be. He finally decided, kneeling down next to you and putting an arm around you, gently forcing you to lean into him, and you let out another sob, holding on tightly to Ezzo’s clothes as you cried.

Daenerys watched from afar as you cried, and she felt the urge to shed a tear, but decided against it, she couldn’t, you needed her to show strength most of all. As you continued to sob Ezzo did his best to comfort you “it’s alright… it’ll be alright…” you gently shook your head “what if I lose Rhaegal too? Or Drogon? Or my mother…” Ezzo gently shook his head, holding you close “you won’t, I won’t allow it. I will do everything I can to not let that happen, I swear it upon the Mother of Mountains, upon all the stars”, you let another sob rip through you at his words, holding onto him even tighter, but he just let you, letting you cry as much as you needed to. Eventually Daenerys approached, making Ezzo glance up at her with a sad look, one she had on as well, and when she nodded to him he gently moved away from you, letting Daenerys take his place instead. You locked eyes with her, your tear stained cheeks red from being pressed against Ezzo, your eyes were puffy and Daenerys hated how you (Y/E/C) eyes were red and still had tears in them. Silently Daenerys leant forward, leaning her forehead against yours, closing her eyes as you did, her left hand gently resting in the nape of your neck, her right holding your cheek as you tried to hold back another sob “my Little Dragon, my brave, brave Little Dragon...” her voice was barely above a whisper, making you sob once again as she moved her head aside, holding you tightly against her, a tear of her own shedding. Daenerys felt awful, she felt as if she had expected too much of you to be here, you were fifteen, you had just turned fifteen and you were dragged away to this meeting, you weren’t there as Viserion died, and she is thankful for that, but it gave her a form of closure, one you didn’t have, and never would get.

Daenerys was brought out of her trance as she Tyrion approached with Cersei and her guard, and Daenerys wished she had more time to hold you, to comfort you, but you leaned away from her, getting up, drying your cheeks and holding your head high as you approached Tyrion and Cersei, only stopping to wait for her. Daenerys smiled proudly as she got up herself, whispering something to Ezzo, making him nod, before she joined you herself, Ezzo placing himself behind you, letting his fingers brush against your back, silently letting you know that he was there.

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You watched the waves below rash against the ship, Jon had managed to convince Daenerys to sail north with him, instead of flying on Drogon. So here you were, at night, onboard of the ship, silently watching the waves, feeling on the verge of tears, you hadn’t even noticed how you shivered from the cold, that is, until you felt something soft being draped over your shoulders, you turned your head to see none other than Ezzo again, giving you a soft smile before stepping away from the railing of the ship, making you frown “Ezzo, what is it?” he grimaced ever so slightly, forcing a smile but nervously glanced towards the water, and then it hit you, he was probably scared of the water, he had only been aboard a ship a few times now, so it was probably not the most pleasant thing for him. You took a step away from the railing, sitting down against a mast instead, patting the space next to you as a hint for him to join you, which he did. You both sat in silence, listening to the waves crash and the wind howl.

“I-... miss him… Viserion… does that make sense?” you finally broke the silence, looking up at him as he shrugged “I had never seen a dragon before, so I don’t know, but if you miss him, you miss him” you hummed in response, thinking his response over before replying yourself “he wasn’t-.... he was never like Rhaegal, or Drogon… Rhaegal is sweet, and patient. Drogon is fiercely protective. Viserion was just… he had a temper, sometimes, it just didn’t show as much as Drogon’s, but Viserion could be snappy and jealous, if it makes any sense, I think it’s why I always liked Rhaegal better, and now-... now I feel bad for not loving him the same way” you mumbled the last part, but Ezzo heard you anyway, and he thought over a response, but decided to pull you closer instead, putting his arm around you and holding you against him, and eventually you fell asleep to the sound of the waves crashing, the ship creaking, the hinds howling, and the sound of Ezzo’s steady heartbeat and his warmth.

#Daenerys Targaryen #Daenerys Targaryen x Child!Reader #GoTFanFic

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elegantwizardtree · 3 years

Text

Erik falling through the cracks in the universe a little after the Hex fell. He's been trying to find the missing teacher from Charles school and hasn't had much luck until he stumbles upon the kid in a particular forest in Poland, one that he's pretty sure Peter shouldn't know about. The speedster is leaned up against a tree with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on his knees with a picture held tightly in one hand.

Erik hesitates to walk up to the young man. He doesn't know how to comfort crying people, the only crying he was only ever able to sooth was that of Anya and Nina's cries, and it's been years since he's had to be a father to his dead daughters, but the soft sniffling and lonely crying pulls at Erik's heart. It reminds him so much of his children who died too young, who died in fear away from their fathers hold, so he ever so gently moves to sit by Peter. The two of them sit in silence for awhile, Peter still softly crying and Erik patently waiting.

Soon the silver haired man looks up and his eyes widen in shock. Out of everyone in this universe, this world that wasn't his own, he wasn't expecting to see his father at his side in a forest not unlike the one on his world where the family he never got to meet lived and died.

"ho- how the fuck did you get here old man?" Peter would manage out as he attempted to safely hide the picture in his hand only for it to fly out and lay gently on it's back inbetween the empty space of him and Erik.

Erik, getting ready to respond would stop as he watched the slip of paper slowly fall to the forest ground and suck in a breath. Because he knows those three faces. That's him, smiling ever so happily as he holds his first daughter, his first to ever be killed before him, and Magda, his sweet Magda who had run in fear of him.

Erik would gently pick up the photo and ever so gently let his finger run over Anya's smiling face. He missed her, his heart always ached for his oldest, he never once went a day without thinking about her. Sometimes he wondered what her life would be like if he had not shown his powers that day, would she have been a doctor? Or maybe a teacher?

"where did you get this?" He would ask Peter, his voice broken as he was on the verge of tears himself. Though Magda had run from him, she had come back to him later in life, and then came Nina, he was happy again, but that happiness had been taken away from him just as soon as it had arrived.

Peter would freeze for a bit. His instinct is to run from this situation, but he's come to realize that he's tired of running from his father, tired of keeping this secrets, so, with a strangled sigh and a limp hand running through his silver hair he speaks, "it's the only thing I have from my biological mother. The only thing she left with my sister and I before giving us to our adopted family."

Peter would look at Erik as realization settled into his eyes. He would watch as grief turned into joy only for it to settle back into grief. Erik had missed out, he'd missed out on much. The birth of his twins, the manifestation of their mutations, the death of a daughter he had never known about, and Peter, Peter would pull his father into a hug because it's something they both needed. They needed something to ground one another. Something to keep them saine as they moved forward in a world that they didn't even know.

#wandavision #xmen movie's #mcu #xcu #marvel #marvel comics #marvel universe #marvel multiverse #erik lehnsherr #magneto #peter maximoff #quicksilver #dadneto #quickson #hahaha #spain but the s is silent #you're welcome

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whump-me-all-night-long · 3 years

Note

“Have Mercy” with Dollie? 💛

So this, uhh, went from short, kind angsty drabble, to sad whumpy backstory hours. I hope y’all enjoy this little glimpse into Dollie’s past!

Tag list because I think it’s long enough (let me know if you only want to be included on official chapters!): @cupcakes-and-pain @lave-e @simplygrimly @greenhouseofwhump @yet-another-heathen @faffisalus @lonesome--hunter @florenceisfalling @legendarypotatoknish @starnight-whump @wildlywhumping @shoyzz-art @deluxewhump @poppys-writing @thatonepeep (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

CW: lady whump, lady whumpee, male whumper, pet whump, general violence (nothing sexual), manhandling, choking, slamming into walls, cutting, gendered slurs/language, this one’s kind of a rough one, so please let me know if I missed anything!

---

Doll was sitting, still and silent as all pets should be, on her small, wine colored bed, legs folded perfectly under her, when Master stormed in, the door banging loudly behind him. Startled, she quickly stood, ready to curtsy, but Master was already crossing the room, standing in front of her, his large, meaty hands clasping around her neck, over her silk-and-satin collar.

He squeezed her neck tightly, slamming her back into the wall. The room spun around Doll as she gaped, breathless. She smelled the alcohol on Master’s breath only a moment later as he leaned in to snarl at her.

“You little bitch!” he spit at her while she tried regaining her breath. One of his hands moved from her neck to grab a fistful of hair, yanking her head back farther. She whined softly, painfully, but he quickly slammed her head against the wall again. “Don’t you dare!’

Her hands rose up to brush against his, but she quickly thought better of it and dropped them back down to hang limply at her side. She hung there, forced up on her toes, as she gasped for air and watched her master warily. Once she no longer felt on the verge of passing out, she cautiously asked, “What- what happened, Master?”

He froze before flinging her away from himself into the opposite wall of the medium sized parlor, causing her vision to darken and sending her to her hands and knees. “What happened?” he roared. “What do you think happened, you bitch? She left! My wife, your precious little Mistress, left!”

Doll blinked at him uncomprehendingly. That- that couldn’t be right. Mistress wouldn’t just leave. There had to be something else he wasn’t telling her. Mistress loved her darling little Doll; she’d never abandon her. The confusion must’ve been showing on her face, because Master sneered.

“That’s right,” he continued. “She abandoned you. She never loved you. In fact, you’re the reason she left!” As quickly as it had come, his sneer left, replaced by a hate-filled gaze. “Your worthless ass is the reason she left. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Doll couldn’t help the tears that began sliding down her face as she sat there, propped up, ugly, against the wall. “N-no,” she whimpered. “No, Mistress, no!”

Master crossed the room in a few short steps, quickly backhanding her. Her head snapped to the side, bursting in red-hot pain and making her eyes water. “Shut up!” he bellowed. “You don’t get to be upset! Not when you’re the reasons she’s gone!” He dragged her back up, then, by her collar, causing her to scramble and follow him up as her air was cut off. He brought her close to his face, so much so that she struggled not to gag against the alcohol clinging to his breath. “I am going to make you regret it,” he murmured, eyes glazed with rage meeting her own terrified ones. “I am going to make you regret making her leave. I am going to make you regret being born.”

As he pressed her against the wall, his hands grew steadily tighter around her neck, causing the black at the edges of her vision to take over. Suddenly, it was as if she couldn’t control herself; she began to struggle.

She grabbed his hands with her own, uselessly pulling at his much too strong grip. She could feel her strength draining, so she made one last desperate attempt and kicked her legs out wildly. One of them connected with something solid, and less than a second later, Doll was dropped to the ground, crumpling in a shaking heap, as Master doubled over, clutching between his legs and spewing curses at her.

“You filthy pet!” he screamed, red in the face. “You useless whore! You disgusting slut! I am going to fucking kill you!”

Doll blinked her wide eyes, still filled with tears, at him, shaking and silent. She had hurt her master. She had heard the stories of what happened to pets that did that. But she didn’t mean to- but she had, and now she would pay the price.

Registering that, she dropped into a less than graceful kneeling position, pressing her forehead to the ground. She waited until he slowly stopped screaming, then waited some more as his feet walked in front of her. She hardly dared to breathe as one of his solid hands gripped her chin and lifted her head. She kept her eyes lowered in submission, waiting until he spoke.

When he did, it was in a much too calm voice. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, pet?”

Lips trembling, she murmured, “M-mercy. Have mercy, Master. I apologize for my actions. Please-” Her voice broke and she swallowed a sob- “Please punish me how you see fit.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, just silently gazing down at her, in disgust and another emotion she couldn’t place. When he finally did speak, his voice barely wavered. “I never understood why she liked you, my dear Malia. She would fawn over you for hours in this little parlour, show you off to all of her friends, dress you up and spoil you rotten. I never understood it. She would just say that you were her ‘darling little Doll.’” He spoke the words with such venom, Doll was surprised she didn’t flinch back.

He continued, as if unaware. “I don’t know why she loved you. Or whatever it is owners feel towards their pets. I don’t think I’ll ever understand. To me-” his hand tightened on her chin, and it took everything in her not to cry out in pain- “you’re just a breakable toy with a pretty face!” He grew louder as he spoke and when he finished, he flung her back down to the ground, where she allowed herself to crumple and waited.

His feet paced in front of her, growing more and more agitated before he finally left the room with stomping feet. Doll felt her throat closing up as panic began to eat up at her. She knew her punishment would be severe. But she didn’t know how far Master would take it without Mistress there to rein him in.

She didn’t have to wait long; only a minute or so after he left, he returned, grabbing her already bruising neck and shoving her into the wall, the forearm of one arm resting heavily on her throat, constricting her breaths. He watched her with dark, hooded eyes.

“I think,” he drawled, “that the best punishment for you would be for that pretty face you and your Mistress treasured so much to be ruined beyond repair.”

Doll could only blink up at him, too winded to say anything and too terrified to move. Something silver glinted in the corner of her eye before his other hand made a violent slashing motion, and the left side of her face exploded in pain.

She let out a breathless scream, collapsing to the ground as he let go of her. Her hands immediately went to clutch at her face, coming back crimson. Oh, she thought distantly, that’s blood. I’m bleeding. Blood dripped, thick and warm, down her eye and cheek and face, clouding the sight in one of her eyes.

She had never been in such pain before. Mistress, when displeased with her, would only starve her for a few days, maybe a couple lashes with her belt if the offense had been serious. Never something so violent, so painful. She wasn’t trained to handle pain. She heard a soft whimpering sound, and it took her a minute to realize that the sound was coming from her.

Master gave her a hard kick to the ribs, making more tears flow down her face, mingling with the blood and making it sting. “Shut up,” he snapped, turning to leave the room. “By the way,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m taking you back to the pet store in the morning.” With that, he turned and left, the door closing and locking behind him.

Doll laid on the ground, blood spilling from her face and into the carpet. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that before she finally mustered the strength to rise to her knees and crawl over to her bed. Curling up tightly, she allowed her eyes to close and fall into unconsciousness, into a dream where Mistress had never left her, where her face was still perfect and beautiful.

#charleigh's doll #charleigh - charleigh's doll #master and mistress - charleigh's doll #whump #whump writing #lady whump #lady whumpee #male whumper #violence #manhandling #choking #slamming into walls #cutting #gendered slurs #pet whump #this one kinda got away from me y'all #and there's no editing we die like men

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megalony · 4 years

Text

Open your eyes

This is a dad! Harry Styles imagine that I hope everyone is going to enjoy, there is a tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me�� @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg

Masterlist

Summary: When their boys start fighting and one of them gets a rather bad injury, (Y/n) and Harry have to take him to the hospital where they get recognised.

Enjoy.

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An unconscious smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips when she heard the all too familiar voice of her husband singing away, presumably to Lilah considering it was Only Angel he was singing and that was the song he always sang for their daughter.

His voice started to get closer and his melody sung through the kitchen as (Y/n) lifted her eyes from the plate she was washing to glance out the window in front of her to check on the boys. She couldn't help but roll her eyes when she caught sight of Alex and Carter squabbling. They never seemed to need a reason to have a fight or bicker like an old married couple and (Y/n) knew that most siblings didn't get along well at the best of times but she had hoped the twins would at least get along but they couldn't seem to be able to.

"They're at it again." (Y/n) sighed through her words as she turned her head to look at Harry over her shoulder. Her eyes followed him as he moved to sit down at the round kitchen table, settling Lilah properly on his lap so the seven-month-old was leaning her back up against his chest.

Harry's singing momentarily stopped and his head lifted up so he could try and peer out of the kitchen window but he didn't really need to see the boys since he could hear their voices getting louder and louder by the second. The couple knew well enough to know that they could leave the twins to argue or squabble for a while before having to intervene. It got to a certain point and they both knew when that point was which told them to separate the boys.

Harry silently shook his head at (Y/n) before he looked down at his girl and gently started to bounce her up and down on his lap to hear her giggle.

"I told you to leave those." Anne's stern yet defeated tone caused Harry to smile when he caught (Y/n)'s eye who simply smiled.

"You cooked dinner, the least I can do is help you clean up." (Y/n) and Harry had an unspoken rule when they were at home, if one of them cooked then the other would do the dishes and clean up because it only seemed fair that way. They were round at Harry's mother's house for dinner today and she had cooked without letting them intervene or help, mostly because Harry took over the kitchen when he was cooking. She shouldn't have to do the dishes as well.

Quite by chance, (Y/n) tilted her head up to look out of the window again when she heard Alex shouting something but when her eyes locked on her boys, it felt like her heart had dropped to her stomach like a stone falling to the bottom of the ocean. It felt like she couldn't breathe when she watched Alex ball his hand up into a fist and smash his hand into the side of Carter's head causing him to stumble.

The plate in (Y/n)'s hands dropped down into the sink but the clattering noise of the plate pivoting into the silver sink didn't reach (Y/n)'s ears over the deafening white noise she could hear.

(Y/n) could feel her lungs shrivelling up into nothing in her chest when she watched helplessly as one of her boys fell so harshly and quickly that his head smacked into the concrete verge that merged onto the grass the other twin was still standing on. It was as if the fall happened in slow motion, (Y/n) could see the fright in her boy's eyes and the way his head bounced off the floor before thumping back down and staying there. The moment his head fell down again, his body went motionless and flopped like a rag doll against the concrete.

(Y/n) felt like screaming but the only noise that seemed to leave her lips was a desperate choking sound like the oxygen in the air had evaporated and she was clawing for air.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n) what's happened?" Harry's head whipped round to look at (Y/n)'s horror-stricken face before she was suddenly bolting for the back door and stumbling down the small step to get out into his mother's garden.

Unsure what was happening, Harry stood up quickly before he leaned over so that his mother could take Lilah from him to let him go and find out what was happening. A worried look passed between him and Anne before he thundered through the kitchen and out into the garden after (Y/n) but the moment Harry looked at the scene in front of him, he couldn't breathe.

The look on Harry's face was indescribable when his eyes found Carter laying motionless on the floor with a small streak of blood beneath his head and his twin stood three feet away with tears streaming down his face and his body also motionless with shock.

(Y/n) wasted no time in falling to her knees, not caring how the gravel and stones grated against her skin as she shuffled closer to one of her boys. Her hands started to shake as she reached out cautiously for Carters's head, trying to be as gentle as she could when turning his head so she could look at the damage. The growing anxiety in (Y/n)'s chest started to ignite into pain when Carter didn't make a single sound or move at all, the impact seemed to have knocked him out straight away or caused him to faint but either way, (Y/n) didn't like it. She wanted him to cry, she wanted her boy to wail and scream and shout because she would feel better if he was conscious.

"Carter... Carter, baby look at me, come on... Harry he isn't responding!" Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes as she turned to look over at Harry who was still stood in the same place like he was frozen in time.

Her words seemed to break Harry out of his trance and he moved down to kneel at her side, looking at Carter's head to assess the damage. There was a wound just over his left brow but the blood was making it too difficult to see how deep it was but Harry guessed it was rather bad.

(Y/n) let Harry's hands replace hers that were gently holding Carter's neck to keep his head turned at an angle and the wound away from the floor.

"Carter, baby you need to open your eyes for me. Come on wake up." Harry rubbed his fingers over the pressure point in Carter's neck, trying to stimulate his nerves to wake him up before he moved his hand to rub over his chest, making sure he was breathing properly at least. Harry took a stab in the dark to guess that Carter had fainted rather than knocked himself unconscious because his breathing was rather fast and as if it was trying to even out. He might have panicked in a split second and passed out.

"I- I didn't m..mean to..."

"Alex go inside and stay with nana." Harry looked over at his other son, trying to keep his voice calm and level as not to scare Alex when he was already petrified at what he'd done to his brother. They couldn't have Alex hovering around because he was only scaring himself and it wasn't fair.

When Alex disappeared inside (Y/n) looked back down at Carter who was still motionless but his eye was beginning to turn a rather dark shade and his brow and the side of his head was starting to swell up like a balloon. Harry's hands were resting either side of Carter's neck to try and keep his head in place with his thumbs brushing over the skin and his fingers pressing a little harder so he could keep trying to concentrate on his boys heartbeat and make sure he was okay.

The moment a small, slow moan left Carter's mouth both Harry and (Y/n) shuddered and breathed like it was the first time they'd tasted the fresh air. Carter tried to move his head but Harry's hands made that impossible for him and he clearly didn't have much to any energy at all, he couldn't even manage to open his eyes but that didn't stop the tears from starting to fall.

"Alright, Carter I'm going to pick you up now, try not to move baby." Harry's hands left Carter's neck before he moved round so he could slip his arms under his boy's frame and very carefully pick him up as (Y/n) kept his head up so he didn't hurt his neck.

The couple headed back inside the kitchen, finding Alex smothered in Anne's hug and Lilah presumably in her carrier in the lounge somewhere.

Harry sat down at the table once again and carefully adjusted Carter in his arms but his eyes locked with his mother's, silently begging her to come over and take a look because Harry was sure this didn't look good. A trip to the hospital might be needed. (Y/n) grabbed a wet flannel before bending down beside Harry and very gently dabbed it against Carter's head but her arm retracted quickly when he all but screamed, his body jolting and writhing in Harry's arms from the pain.

"Shh, it's okay baby, we just need to take a look." (Y/n) tried to clean the blood away as best she could until they could actually see the extent of the wound but it was the bruising and swelling that was beginning to worry everyone.

When Carter let out a half-hearted scream, Harry started to rub his hand up and down his side and press his lips to Carter's hair to try and soothe him and calm him down. His screams turned to whines and moans of pain that showed he was still on the verge of falling unconscious and the pain seemed to blind him for he couldn't face the effort or the pain of opening his eyes.

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

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked at Harry sitting beside her when she could hear him quietly humming beside her and she realised his lips were resting against Carter's forehead and he was humming a song to try and keep him calm and settled. Harry was never a fan of waiting like this, it gave him too much time to overthink and panic about everything and he never knew what to do with himself. Sitting here in the waiting room in A&E without anything to do made Harry nervous.

He'd had his head tilted down for so long that his neck was beginning to seize up and his shoulders were hurting from being slightly hunched over to try and give Carter some love and reassurance.

The seven-year-old was laid over Harry's lap with his head resting up against Harry's shoulder and an ice pack wrapped up in a flannel pressed against the left side of his face. The ice pack was directly over his brow and eye to try and help with the swelling and the flannel covered half of his face which Harry was glad about. People in the waiting room had already been whispering and pointing and glancing over but this way they couldn't take any pictures of Carter or see what he looked like.

Harry had done his best of the years to make sure that the media didn't get any pictures or looks at his children, he didn't want them growing up in the media or with people constantly taking pictures of them because it would be scary and unfair. Harry wouldn't even disclose their ages or names when he was in interviews, he wanted his family life to be private and be his, not for the public.

It was times like these that Harry wished he wasn't famous or that the fans weren't as intervening as they were. He loved the fans, he really did because they made him who he was today, but when they tried to get involved or talk or be nosy in panicked situations like this it upset him because they had no sense of boundaries at times.

"Can I take a look, baby?" Harry pulled his head back so he could look down at Carter who simply made a weak noise, too tired and in pain to give a proper response.

Trying to be careful, Harry lifted the flannel and moved the ice pack so he could see the damage as (Y/n) leaned her chin on his shoulder so she could see too. The swelling had gone down a tiny bit but the bruising was only getting worse and his eye would be swollen shut soon at this rate. With a sigh, Harry moved the ice pack and flannel back to where they were before he rested his chin on top of Carter's head before slowly beginning to sway them both side to side.

When their name was called out neither of them could have been more thankful because the whispers were starting to get louder and fingers were being pointed in their direction.

(Y/n) gently took Carter's hand and held it to the ice pack so it wouldn't fall or move when Harry carefully stood up with Carter still in his arms. Holding him like this for this long reminded Harry of when he was a baby or a toddler because he always used to want to be carried everywhere and Harry always obliged.

They didn't get three paces before their heads turned to the left when someone exclaimed 'it's Harry' and he noticed three people getting up like they were going to approach him. Would they really want to talk to him right now when he had his child in his arms- in A&E? This wasn't the place to try and get a picture or an autograph or even a kind hello from Harry because he wasn't in the mood.

Normally he tried to be kind and considerate, if fans asked for a picture or just a hug he obliged because he knew it wasn't every day that people could meet an idol or someone they liked or admired. He understood what it was like to want an autograph or just a glimpse of someone he really admired but right now wasn't the time. His child was ill and he was at the hospital, this wasn't the time to be making conversations or friends.

It felt horrible but Harry hid his face next to Carter's who he held a little closer to his chest to make sure he was hidden before he turned his side to whoever was approaching them.

He could see (Y/n) looking at the floor out the corner of his eye as she looped her arm through his own, desperate to be invisible.

"Harry! Harry!"

He couldn't help it, he couldn't help the way his head turned in the sound of the voice because it was automatic for Harry to search out who was calling out to him, he never liked to ignore people. His eyes set on a girl who he guessed was around nineteen or so and she had her arm cradled to her chest making him sure she had broken or damaged her wrist.

When the girl tried to reach out for him Harry shook his head and pulled out of her reach before looking at Carter resting in his arms who was very quietly moaning and whimpering every so often. Surely she couldn't believe Harry was going to talk to her when he was here with his injured child who was now about to be seen by a doctor?

"Can I get a picture?"

"...I'm sorry..." Harry motioned to his son again before he regretfully turned away from her and walked with (Y/n) in the direction of the nurse they were going to follow to get Carter checked out. The bleeding had slowed down a little but the wound looked deep and they had to make sure there was no proper damage done to his head or even his eye.

The moment they got out of the waiting room and were advancing down a corridor the sound of a camera flash caught them both off guard. Harry felt (Y/n) pushing herself into his side and her head tilted even lower towards the floor. She always knew marrying Harry came with the fans and the media and constantly being watched and photos but she hated being photographed, especially at times like these and without permission.

(Y/n) could still remember when they went to the hospital to have the twins and someone had spotted them. Photos got leaked everywhere of the couple entering the hospital where (Y/n) was clearly in agony and didn't look her best or very happy at all.

"Please don't take pictures, we're in a hospital." Harry had to stop himself from saying 'have some respect' but it was how he felt. It wasn't that respectful to take pictures of him like this without asking when they were in a hospital and clearly not here to visit anyone.

His words didn't seem to stop the girl who took another photo despite what he just said before she leaned closer, clearly trying to look at Carter since barely anyone of the public knew about Harry's family and kids.

"Don't do that." His voice was low and his words were practically growled as he made sure the flannel was covering Carter enough so that his features couldn't be seen or made out. He didn't want any pictures of Carter surfacing on the internet, especially not when half of his face was swollen and bruised because that wouldn't be nice or fair to him at all.

Harry tangled his fingers into the back of Carter's hair to try and make sure he was okay and calm before they speeded up after the nurse who was looking to try and assess the situation. The moment she guided them down the corridor on the right and into a small empty room (Y/n) sighed in relief. She knew people would stare and whisper but she didn't think anyone would actually approach them.

Moving over to the bed in the middle of the small room, Harry settled Carter down before carefully removing the ice pack and flannel from his face as the nurse left the room and another woman took her place who they presumed must be the doctor. She bit her lip and smiled sadly at Carter who could barely open his sore eye.

"Alright young man, let's take a look at you. What happened?" She walked over to the left side of the bed since both Harry and (Y/n) were stood on the other side of the bed.

"He was fighting with his brother and hit his head on the concrete."

(Y/n) held Carter's hand and brushed her thumb over his fingers as Harry smoothed his hand through Carter's hair to try and keep him calm for the doctor. She was very careful and gentle when touching his temple and pulling his eyelid so she could see his eye properly and she winced when the action made him cry out but the light shining over his eye didn't seem to bother him very much.

As soon as she let go of his eye he squeezed both eyes shut very tightly and started to squirm on the bed when she tried to assess the cut to his head and feel the swelling and bruising.

"Alright, you can relax now you did very well." No sooner had she said that, Carter turned away from her and more in Harry's direction, not daring to open his eyes again. "There's no pressure on or around his eye or optic nerve which is good, his pupil is constricting normally. He will require stitches and I'd like an MRI just to make sure there isn't any pressure or swelling around his brain but it's only as a precaution. We'll get him sorted straight away and he should be fine to go home in a few hours."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #dad! harry styles #imagine #imagne #one direction

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army-author · 4 years

Text

jungkook scenario | the village idiots

❝ Only an idiot would lose their soulmate. Yet this is exactly what you’ve managed to do. In your small village rumours travel fast, and it’s soon whispered on all the street corners that Jungkook is destined to be with you. That only makes his visit home at Christmas all the more awkward for you… ❞

➸ prompt: I returned to my childhood town for the holidays. You’re my estranged childhood friend, and - wow! - you grew up to be hot!

➸ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➸ warnings: mild swearing

➸ requested by anon | 15k words | fluff, mild angst, childhood friends au, soulmate au

➸ author’s note: can you believe I actually got something written in time for christmas, because I can’t!? I hope you all enjoy it! I combined some of my favourite tropes, since I have no self control. I hope you enjoy fluff with a serious chance of diabetes! (and sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes! I’m pretty tired!)

[Sixteen Years Ago]

The soulmate system is easy. Only an idiot could loose their soulmate.

Yet, this is exactly what you manage to do at the age of three. All when a boy, the same age as you, with black hair falling into his dark eyes, rams into you on his tricycle. And your soulmate watch falls off before you can even read what it says, or know when you were supposed to meet your soulmate.

Broken. That’s what you think it is. Not just your watch. But you, yourself - broken. You’re destined to never pair with anyone else. A complex thought for a three-year-old to grapple with.

This is how you get into that predicament:

It’s your first day of nursery school. You’re walking through the playground, clutching at your mother’s hand, and glancing around at the faces of all the new children, with a strange mixture of curiosity and nerves brewing inside you.

All you can focus on is the void of noise swallowing up your eardrums, as children scream around you. Their faces blend together in unfamiliarity as they run by. Yet, you know that you should be looking out for their faces, catching their eyes in the reflection of your own. That’s how you’re meant to meet your soulmate. You don’t know much about the world at the age of three – you don’t even know how to read properly yet – but you know how soulmates find one another. When your eyes meet, your watches, which have been counting down to this fateful moment, will fall off, and you’ll both realise that this is the person you’ve been waiting for.

Your mother has explained it all to you – telling you that soulmates are like best friends that stay with you forever. You don’t quite understand it, but you know that you want a best friend forever.

That’s why you can’t wait until you can read. More specifically, you can’t wait until you can read the time written on your watch, and find out how long your wait will be – how long your forever best friend will have you waiting for their appearance.

You keep asking your mother if she can read your watch for you, tell you when you should expect your soulmate, and every time she patiently explains that only the wearer of the watch can read the timer on it.

“You’ll just have to be patient, sweetie,” your mother says every time you bombard her with questions.

You’ve been trying to teach yourself numbers so you can read the watch as soon as possible, asking your parents any time you pass a sign with a number - “What’s that one? What does that mean?”

But at the age of three, reading a watch is just a little too complicated for you. Much to your frustration.

“Never mind, sweetie,” your mother says when she finds you staring gloomily at your watch - a regular occurrence “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“But mum,” you always whine, “What if I’m meant to meet my soulmate before I can even read my watch?”

“Well,” your mum wraps an arm around your shoulder, “It’s very rare that soulmates meet each other at such a young age. But if it does happen to you – you’ll know because your watch will fall off, and someone else’s watch will fall off as well – that person will be your soulmate.”

You nod, burying your face in her sweater, smelling of baking bread and primroses, like she always does. It sounds so simple when she explains it like that.

But it’s not simple. Not for you at least.

You grip your mother’s hand, as she leads you across the playground, towards your nursery school. The children around you are all so noisy. As you search the faces around you, you feel at the watch on your wrist, still clasped on tightly. None of them are your soulmate then.

As you walk on, a young boy zooms past you on a tricycle, stopping you in your tracks, watching after him as he flies by, wheels skidding on the gravel of the playground.

“They should really watch where they’re going,” your mother eyes a group of boys, following after the first boy on their tricycles.

You turn your eyes to them, wary, as they rumble noisily towards you.

Your gaze fixes on one boy, laughing as he pedals faster and faster, his black hair pushed back off his forehead as he gains speed, his face cracking up with laughter, his friends skidding around him. He’s going faster and faster, pedals pushing the wheels harder, to the point that you think he might leave the ground. The whirring of his wheels fills your ears, as he careens forward. All too late you realise he’s careening towards you.

It happens in slow motion.

His eyes turn to you, widening. You can see your scared face reflected in his dark pupils.

BANG!

You’re on the ground. You know that before you open your eyes. You can feel the scratch of gravel against your cheek.

You sit up slowly, looking up. The boy is standing over you, worry clouding his eyes. He’s saying something to you. He seems on the verge of tears.

Blinking past him, you see your mother bending over you. A group of curious children has formed around you. You frown, fixing your eyes on your mother’s lips as she speaks at you, your senses slowly trickling back, firing messages to your brain. “Are you alright, sweetie?”

You nod. You don’t feel hurt, just shocked. You lift your hand to clutch onto your mother’s for reassurance. Your wrist feels lighter than normal. You frown, blinking away the fog from your brain.

Your mother helps you to your feet, brushing the dirt off your shirt for you.

“I’m so sorry,” the boy who crashed into you is beside you, wringing his hands together, and biting his lips. “Are you okay?”

When you don’t answer, he turns to your mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Your mother nods her head. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

As your mother leads you by the hand, away from the crowd of children and towards the nursery school, murmuring about getting you cleaned up, the boy follows behind you, not seeming to believe your mother’s assertion that you’re okay.

But you don’t feel okay. Something is wrong. The light feeling at your wrist is letting you know.

You dig your heels into the ground, pulling your mother to a stop. “M-my watch.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What’s that?” Your mother’s brow furrows, turning her gaze to your own worried expression.

“My watch. I lost it.” You pull up your sleeve to check what you already know. It’s gone.

“Oh, it must have fallen off when you fell over,” your mother says, as you drag her back the way you’ve come.

Your eyes scan the grey of the gravel, yawning back blankly at your searching eyes, as you trace the area, until a glimmer catches your gaze. The unmistakable silver of a watch, glinting by the base of a plant pot at the nursery school entrance, a few feet from the spot you fell.

You dart across to retrieve it, desperate to put it back on, where it can go back to doing its job of counting down the days until you meet your soulmate. You get the sense that if it isn’t on your wrist it will stop working. Turning the it over, your eyes fall on the watch face, where a crack perfectly separates the glass in half, splitting it across the centre. The numbers on the watch aren’t moving any more, no longer counting down, just large gaping circles staring back at you.

Your eyes start to sting, as you try to put the watch back on, fiddling with the clasp. Your fingers feel as slippery as butter. But despite your desperate attempts, the watch keeps sliding off, tumbling back to the ground with a sad clinking.

“I think it’s broken,” your voice shakes, as you stare up at your mother, hoping that she’ll have some grown-up solution. “It won’t go back on.”

Your mother frowns, leaning down to try and help you with the clasp, but her well practiced hands still can’t affix the watch to your wrist.

“What do the numbers say?” she asks you, a note of urgency in her voice.

“I – I’m not sure,” you stammer.

Behind you, the boy who knocked you down is still hanging around. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“My soulmate watch…” you hold it up to show him the cracked face.

“Is it meant to look like that?” the boy asks, wrinkling his nose at the shattered glass.

“No,” tears begin to stream down your face as the reality of the situation hits you, “It’s broken. It’s broken because of you.” Before thinking, you step forward, and push the boy in the chest, so that he wobbles back on unsteady legs.

His face crumples. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

“It’s your fault,” you continue, voice raising as you move towards him, your fists flailing at him in frustration, “You broke it, you broke it!”

And so, your nursery school teacher comes out to find you and the young boy in a snivelling heap on the ground, both crying, as you throw punches at his chest, and he wards off your attacks with arms raised over himself in self-defence.

“Alright, break it up!” You feel a hand grabbing around your arm, pulling you away, and you stare up at the face of your new teacher. “What is the meaning of this?”

Faced with an angry grown-up, you only sob harder, overcome with anger.

Your mother steps forward. “I am so so sorry. She’s not normally like this.”

The teacher raises an eyebrow. “Is this your daughter?”

Your mother nods her head.

“Care to explain why she’s starting fights?”

“He hit me on his tricycle,” you shout out, before your mother can answer.

“It was an accident,” the boy sniffles.

“And he broke my soulmate watch,” you continue, kicking out, trying to reach the boy again.

The teacher’s grip around your arm gets tighter. “Alright. Be that as it may, that’s still no reason to get violent.”

It takes a lot of pulling to get you inside, and seated on a chair across from the boy, as your mother and the teacher watch you apologise to the boy. The teacher makes the two of you shake hands, which you do rather reluctantly.

“So, you say that your soulmate watch fell off,” the teacher says, bending down to look into your face after the performed rigmarole of apologising for fighting.

You nod, struggling to meet her gaze.

“And that it’s broken.”

Another nod.

“You’re sure that it didn’t just fall off because you’ve met your soulmate?”

In all the turbulence, that thought hadn’t occurred to you. You don’t answer.

“Did any other child happen to lose a watch around the same time?” your teacher presses.

You shrug, shoulders heaving up and down. You don’t know. In all the confusion you didn’t notice anything but the ringing in your ears and the erratic beating of your own heart.

There were so many new faces around you when your watch fell off. Any one of those children could have been the one. You don’t know. You didn’t get a sense in your heart, like you had expected you would, knowing instinctively who your soulmate was. All the children were strangers to you – no one stood out.

The teacher nods, as if she’s decided something. “I’ll check with the rest of the children. Don’t you worry. We’ll find your soulmate, no trouble.”

She heads out of the room, towards the playground, and your mother ushers you out after her. You’re aware of the boy following behind you. You’re already beginning to feel bad about your outburst, but despite all instincts, you refuse to turn around and acknowledge him.

Outside, your teacher is rounding up the children, herding them into a disorderly line, where she holds up your broken watch in front of them. You watch it glinting in her hand, heartstrings pulled taught.

“Listen up,” the teacher’s voice booms out, commanding the children’s attention, “I have an important question for everyone. One of the children here had their watch fall off. Which means they might have met their soulmate. Now, I need you to answer truthfully. Did anyone else’s soulmate watch fall off this morning?”

The children remain silent, some pulling at their jumper hems, some chewing on their fingers.

“No one?” The teacher’s eyes scan the group.

Some children check their wrists, but no one steps forward.

The teacher turns back to your mother, handing your watch back. “Sorry. It was worth a try.”

A cold settles in your stomach. No soulmate. What does that mean?

“I’m so sorry.” Behind you, you hear the voice of the boy who knocked you over. “I really didn’t mean to break your watch.”

You shrug. You’re too drained to be angry any more. “It was just an accident.”

The boy nods. “Do – do you still think we could be friends after that?”

This catches you off guard. You didn’t expect to go from fighting him with your fists, to getting an offering of friendship. Maybe violence really is the answer, despite what your mother always says.

“I guess,” you pretend to think over the boy’s question, “We can be friends if you really want.”

The boy’s face lights up, and you realise you aren’t angry any more. “My name’s Jeon Jungkook,” he says, smile scrunching up his face.

That’s how the two of you become friends.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

Everyone says that Jeon Jungkook is your soulmate.

In a small village rumours travel quickly, and the story of the girl who lost her soulmate at nursery school has travelled well around the small streets in the many years since it happened.

You’re not so sure. Maybe there’s a chance Jungkook is your soulmate. After all, it’s a strange coincidence that he lost his soulmate as well. But he couldn’t have known that when he first ran into you. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him. Surely, if you were meant to be together, you would be with him now. Soulmates will find a way to be with each other. That’s what your mother has taught you to believe. If Jungkook was your soulmate he would be here.

Yet he isn’t. He’s far way. On the other side of the country, living with his dad. And you’re stuck in your small village, serving beers to the locals at your nearest pub, making some money over the Christmas holidays. Despite being old enough to live independently, you still haven’t moved from the village, attending the local university, and living in a small house an old family friend rents out to you. When you imagined going to university, you didn’t expect to be living so close to your old childhood home. But life doesn’t always go the way you expect.

You sigh as another customer turns away from the bar, beer in hand, walking slowly back to their table – the classic, ‘I really don’t want to spill my drink’ walk. You can’t help but glance at your watch. It’s a simple one, the kind that tells the time, not a soulmate watch. It’s twenty minutes to midnight. You knew your shifts would be late when you started this part time job, but the sleepless nights still get to you. You stifle a yawn.

Despite everything wrong with this job, at least it’s a good distraction this time of year. Christmas is the worst holiday for you. Having no soulmate, you’re left to sit alone, while couples that have been busy working all year spend quality time together, snuggled up from the cold, leaving you frozen, with no one to thaw you out.

At least in this pub most of the people you serve are groups of young friends, rather than couples, so you don’t have your lack of soulmate rubbed in your face.

The door of the pub opens, dragging you from your moping. A smile spreads across your face as you recognise the face.

“Taehyung!”

He shakes rain water from his hair as he walks up the bar, unwinding his scarf. “Hello!” He leans on the counter, smiling, “Thought I’d pop in to see how you’re doing.”

You smile, grateful for the distraction – some stimulation to keep you awake. “i’m doing fine. Nothing to complain about.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “No complaining? That’s not like you.”

You make a swipe at him across the table, and he ducks your lunge, tutting:

“If you’re going to physically abuse me, you won’t be getting a tip.”

“You weren’t going to tip me anyway,” you call him out.

“You got me there.”

“So, what’s new with you?” You lean on the bar, taking some of the weight off your feet. Your worn trainers were a poor choice for tonight, with soles barely there to support you.

“Nothing much,” Taehyung says, “Although I have some news that might interest you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Taehyung slams his palms against the counter, in an impromptu drum roll. “I’ve been messaging Jungkook recently. Apparently he’s visiting here for the holidays. To see his mum again.”

That name has piqued your interest. You try not to sound too invested. “Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, and you blush. You already know what he’s going to say.

“Don’t,” you warn.

Too late – he’s going down that rabbit hole. “Are you excited to see your estranged soulmate?”

You shake your head, “You don’t really believe he’s my soulmate?”

“Why not?” Taehyung pouts at you, “Both of you lost your soulmates. In a small village like this that can’t be coincidence.”

“Yes it can. We have no idea when Jungkook lost his soulmate,” you remind him, “So I’m not going to accept that he’s my soulmate, just because he happens to be lacking a soulmate too.”

“Well,” Taehyung pushes off from the counter, standing up straight, “Maybe you’ll figure out that you’re destined to be together when he shows up tomorrow.”

You open and shut your mouth, unsure how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve seen Jungkook, and now he’s being thrust back into your life. For so long he’s just been a name whispered in conjunction with your own by old ladies gossiping on street corners - “She’s the one who lost her soulmate, you know?” “Is that so?” “I heard her soulmate is supposed to be that Jeon boy.”

“I’ll tell him to drop into the pub and say hello,” Taehyung says with a wink, moving towards the door.

“You… you don’t have to,” you call after him, but the door is already swinging shut behind him, and with your brain slamming back to reality, you realise that it’s gone past midnight, and you should be closing up the pub.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Sixteen Years Ago]

You sit with Jungkook on the swings in your local park. It’s been a few weeks since he clattered into you on his tricycle, and the ordeal is mostly forgotten – apart from your now bare wrist.

Jungkook is crunching on a chocolate biscuit, while you stare across enviously at his snacks. On the other side of the park, your neighbour Taehyung is spinning himself around on the roundabout. His laughter floats through to you on the still air.

Jungkook catches your eyes, glued to his biscuits. Wordlessly, he reaches across the gap between you, to offer you one. As he stretches across, you notice:

“You don’t have a watch, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looks down at his bare wrist, as Taehyung wobbles off the roundabout, and precariously makes his way towards you, unstable on his feet.

“Does that mean you’ve found your soulmate already?” you ask, curiosity fizzing inside you.

“What you taking about?” Taehyung asks, leaning himself against the metal frame holding the swings, steadying himself.

“Jungkook doesn’t have a soulmate watch,” you say.

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung stares across in mild curiosity at your new friend.

“I’m not allowed to wear my watch,” Jungkook explains, licking at his fingers to get the last of the biscuit crumbs.

“Not allowed?” You wrinkle your brow, confused. “Why?”

Jungkook huffs out his cheeks, and begins reciting, like his parents probably always tell him, “I’ll be given my soulmate watch when I’m old enough to understand the significance of having a soulmate. My parents say that children aren’t old enough to get soulmates.”

“But…” you chew on your lips, cogs turning in your brain, “What if you’re supposed to meet your soulmate before your parents let you wear your watch? What if you miss them because of that?” You’re thinking of your own soulmate, who you may have lost because of a faulty watch. You don’t want your new friend to be subject to the same fate.

Jungkook shrugs. “If that happens, my parents wouldn’t want me to be with my soulmate anyways. They say I’m too young for a relationship like that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “They seem strict.”

Jungkook nods glumly.

“When will you be old enough for a soulmate,” you ask.

“When I’m fifteen.”

Your jaw drops. That seems like an eternity away for your young brain. You can barely comprehend being five years old, let alone fifteen. “That’s so long!”

Jungkook shrugs. “Well, my parents didn’t meet each other until they were in their late twenties, and they say that’s the best age to meet your soulmate.”

Suddenly, Taehyung, who’s been silent for an uncharacteristically long time, lets out a loud gasp. “Hey!” He turns to you. “Didn’t you lose your watch recently?”

You nod your head, confused by his visible excitement.

“What if you two are soulmates?” Taehyung blurts, finger flicking back and forth between you and Jungkook, like he’s doing some complicated maths in his head – one plus one equals soulmates.

Jungkook glances at you, then wrinkles his nose, “Ew, no way. She’s not my soulmate. She’s my friend.”

“She can be both,” Taehyung says with the authority of a child that’s one year older than you.

“No way,” Jungkook sticks out his tongue, “You have to kiss soulmates, and give them hugs, and be in love with them, and all that stuff’s yucky.”

You nod, “Yeah, Taehyung. There’s no way Jungkook’s my soulmate. I punched him when I first met him. And if he was my real soulmate I wouldn’t have punched him, would I?” This logic makes sense to you. Soulmates never punch each other upon meeting. It should be love at first sight, right? With you, it was frustration at first sight.

Taehyung shrugs. “You could still be soulmates.”

“No way!” You and Jungkook both exclaim at the same time, and then both yell, “Jinx!” at each other and keep repeating, “Jinx! Jinx Jinx!” while Taehyung rolls his eyes at you.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You hold back a yawn, feeling it tugging at your jaw, tempting, as you wave off another set of customers. This evening of work has felt particularly long. It’s been quiet, with only a small group of friends laughing over card games in the corner, and occasionally coming up for another round of drinks. You’ve spent most of your time perched behind the bar, scrolling through your phone, and willing the hours to pass quicker. At the back of your mind, you remember Taehyung’s promise to send Jungkook your way. But as the clock counts closer to midnight, your hope of seeing him is fading.

Your head snaps up when you hear the door opening – a new customer. The orange glare of the streetlights shines into the pub, reflecting off the wet pavement beyond the door. Through the artificial light, steps a figure you can’t take your eyes from. You know his face, familiar, yet strangely different – like buying your favourite brand of chocolate, only to discover that the company’s changed the recipe.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you’re left an incompetent mess, unable to say anything but his name as he stands in front of you, loosening the buttons on his coat.

“Hey,” he smiles at you.

He’s changed so much from the last time you saw him, you’re almost surprised you recognised him. Yet there’s something still familiar in the twinkle of his dark diamond eyes, and the scrunch of his nose as his smile eases wider. His hair is longer, falling across his face, framing his cheeks in ebony.

Jungkook has grown up to be – you’ll be damned for thinking this – incredibly hot.

You swallow down this thought, embarrassed it entered your head. This is Jungkook – your childhood friend. You can still envision him when he was old enough to be picking worms out of the mud. You shouldn’t be thinking like this about him.

It occurs to you that you’ve been standing staring for far too long – more than is ever socially acceptable. But he hasn’t said anything to you. And you haven’t said anything to him either, and now it’s awkward.

You take a breath to speak, just as he opens his mouth, and you both stutter to silence again. You indicate with your hand – he should go first, but he shakes his head firmly, and nods your way – you should go first, and you both mime back and forth at each other that the other should speak, until at last you break, saying:

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, squinting at the drinks behind the bar, “Uh… just… water will be fine.”

You raise your brow. “Nothing more exciting for you?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “No. I don’t handle my drinks very well. And I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of you after just meeting you again.”

You laugh, and grab him a glass from behind the bar, filling it with water. Over the counter, he continues:

“I hope you don’t think that I came into this pub just for the water.”

You slide his cup across the counter to him. “Didn’t you?”

“No,” he fumbles in his coat for his wallet, eyes still on you, “Taehyung told me you’d be here.”

“Tap water’s free by the way,” you say, as Jungkook rifles through his wallet.

“Oh, right.” He chokes on a laugh, “My brain’s like mush tonight.”

You smile sympathetically, “I know the feeling. Having to stay up for work most nights has left me with only two functioning brain cells.”

Jungkook chuckles at this, a genuine smile carving out his face.

Rather than taking his drink and going, Jungkook stays standing in front of you, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“You too.” You can’t fight off a smile. Seeing Jungkook is filling you with the warmth of your childhood spent with him, all flooding back in a rush of lazy days lounging on the grass, and running around the village park, swinging yourself off swings, and trying to make each other sick on the roundabout.

You’re excited to talk to Jungkook, until you hear the pub door opening. Normally you’d be glad of a new customer, but Jungkook’s a special customer – the only one you want to pay attention to.

“Listen,” you speak up as Jungkook takes hold of his glass, “I’ll be finished work in about fifteen minutes. If you’d like to stick around until then, we could… I don’t know… go for a walk or something. Get a chance to chat – catch up.”

Jungkook nods, and steps out of the way to let your new customers forward to order. “I’ll be here,” he promises, before turning away to find himself a seat.

As you serve your new customers, you can’t help but smile, excitement bubbling through your veins at the prospect of getting to spend some time with Jungkook.

As you keep working, cleaning up behind the bar, your eyes keep dancing back to Jungkook, where he sits in the corner, watching his old village out the window and sipping his water. Once or twice, his eyes find yours, watching him, and you quickly pull your gaze away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. The fleeting eye contact pulls your heart into a tight knot.

At last, the final customer leaves, and you can slip out from behind the bar to flip over the sing on the door to read ‘CLOSED”. With a final check that everything behind the bar is in order, you grab your coat, and head over to the table Jungkook’s sat at.

“Hey.”

He looks up at your voice, a smile spreading across his face. “You done now?”

You nod, and Jungkook chuckles:

“Stupid question. Sorry.”

He stands up quickly, bumping into the table as he does so, and laughing again, as he collects his coat and scarf from the back of his chair, and pulls them on.

As you open up the door, letting him out, a gust of cold air bursts in, stealing the breath from your throat. You pull your coat tight around you, hoping to block out the icy wind as you step into the street.

“Where to?” you ask, and Jungkook shrugs:

“You know this place better than I do.”

“You probably still know it pretty well. This place has barely changed since you left,” you say, picking a random direction, and leading him down the pavement.

“I suppose it hasn’t,” Jungkook observes, “I was expecting it to be different to how I remembered, but it’s almost the exact same… Well, except everyone’s gotten older, and some of the buildings look a bit worse for wear.”

“That’s just how it is here,” you say, “There’s never any change. In some ways it’s charming because of that. But it’s also….”

“Boring?” Jungkook suggests.

“Yeah,” you huff out a puff of misted air, “It’s boring.”

Jungkook nods, pressing his lips together. Silence falls between you, and the wind blows harder, roaring against your frozen ears.

“Listen,” Jungkook shoves his hands into the depths of his pockets as he speaks, “This should probably have been the first thing I said to you. But I guess I’m doing it now instead. I need to say I’m sorry.”

You pause on your path, steps faltering. “Why are you apologising to me?”

“I should have messaged you while we were apart,” Jungkook says, “I lost your number, and then, when it eventually turned up it felt like I had left it too long to pick up any kind of conversation with you, so I chickened out and never ended up calling at all.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. I could have always asked Taehyung for your number. I knew he had it. But I never did. I guess I worried he might think it was weird, me chasing after your number like that… It was stupid of me.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, pretty stupid. Not any worse than me. I should have just called you anyway.”

You laugh. “Yep – we’re both idiots. You especially.”

“Hey,” Jungkook brushes against you with his shoulder, gently bumping you, “That’s mean.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you bump him back, “You know I only tease because I like you.”

Glancing over, you see him smiling at the pavement. “Yeah. I really missed you, you know?”

“Me too,” you say.

Around the corner, the old park that you used to play at as kids emerges.

“Oh, no way,” Jungkook stops in front of it, eyes gleaming, “This is just how I remember it.”

“It’s another thing that hasn’t changed here,” you stop beside him, hesitating in front of a panorama of childhood memories that rush back with the shape of the small slide and the squeak of the swings as they move in the wind.

Jungkook turns to you, nose scrunching up in childish glee. “Shall we? For old time’s sake?”

You grin back. “Yeah!”

The gate creaks as Jungkook opens it, just as it always did, swinging closed with a clang.

Jungkook runs over to the swings, and you chase after him, taking up the swing seat beside him. Kicking yourself off with a push of your heels, the world around you swings back and forth as the sky looms closer, then falls away again. If you reach up at the highest point of your swing, you feel you could catch the clouds in your hands, melt them on your fingers.

“This brings back memories,” Jungkook says, swinging back and forth beside you, in the opposite direction to you, so you only occasionally catch sight of his face, looking back at you.

You hum in agreement, but the wind snatches away the sound, so you reply, “Yes, it does.”

Your mind falls back to the many times you would come here after school, laughing at inside jokes that didn’t makes sense to anyone but you and Jungkook, the many experiences you had here with Jungkook – the time that you fell off the swing, and scraped your knee, and he helped you back to your house; the time that you spent all your pocket money on sweets, which you then ate, sitting on the climbing frame, until you were nearly sick from the sugar. You fingers feel strangely hot on the cold metal of the swing chains as you remember the last time you sat with Jungkook on these swings, right before he left your village. Your cheeks heat up.

The both of you are silent. You wonder if Jungkook is remembering the same moment you are – if you should bring it up.

At last, Jungkook cracks the silence. “You know… Taehyung keeps going on about the two of us being soulmates, telling me we’re both idiots for not getting together.”

A wry smile spreads across your face. “Yeah, he’s the same way with me.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Part of me wonders if he’s right,” Jungkook says.

You pause, fingers wrapping round the cold metal of the swing chain - an attempt to ground yourself in reality.

Jungkook continues, “The thought kept going through my head once he brought it up with me recently… And I was thinking… Well… Even if we’re not soulmates, there’s no harm in trying things out together.”

You remember Jungkook had suggested something similar just before he left you – a chance of love snatched away with his sudden move. The memory still stings.

“What do you mean?” You already know what he means. You heart clambers into your mouth.

“I mean, I would like to try… dating. If you’ll have me,” Jungkook stares across at you, catching you in a gaze you can’t look away from. “Even if we’re not soulmates… we’re both single,” he continues, “And we might never know who our soulmates are. There’s no harm in trying, right?”

You can barely find your tongue to respond. “But, you… you live so far away now.”

“We could make it work,” Jungkook says, “If you wanted to?”

You turn the thought over in your head. You know this will probably end like it did last time, with Jungkook snatched out of you life, only a distant memory. You glance across at him, drinking in his matured face. This isn’t the boy you grew up with. This is someone else. Someone, who’ll maybe, just maybe, fend off the loneliness chilling your heart. “I- I’d like that,” you reply.

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s face breaks into a wide smile, squishing his nose up in the way you always liked when he was a child.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I mean… why not?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods.

“Yeah…”

You both fall silent again. You suddenly realise you don’t know where to go from here. How are you supposed to continue with someone who might not – but then again might – be your soulmate?

Jungkook seems just as unsure as you, rubbing at the back of his neck, as he stares up at the expanse of stars above him.

“So… what exactly does dating involve?” you ask, feeling stupid as soon as the words leave your lips.

“Uh… dating?”

“Well obviously,” you chuckle, “But what does a date with Jeon Jungkook involve exactly?”

“Hmmm,” Jungkook considers this, “It probably involves getting coffee together. Tomorrow. At, shall we say… eleven thirty?”

“It’s a date.” You stick out your hand to him. “Let’s shake on it.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Ten Years Ago]

The unthinkable had happened.

And Jungkook doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about anything as he stomps through the rain.

The drops pelting down on the hood of his coat sound like coins rattling. He sloshes through puddles, ignoring how the water soaks into his shoes. The streetlights shine down on the rain that glazes the pavement, leaving yellow rings rippling across the ground.

Jungkook blinks past the raindrops, seeing the village park ahead of him, swing sets shining under the sheen of rain.

Tramping forward, he sits down on one of the swings, ignoring the cold rain seeping into the seat of his jeans.

Pushing himself off the ground, his feet splash up water. He doesn’t want to think of it.

Doesn’t want to think of the divorce.

Now he’s thinking about it.

So rare. It’s so rare for two soulmates to get together, and then decide that they’re not compatible anymore. How did it happen to his parents of all people? The two people he thought were living happily, despite their arguments? Was he blind, should he have spotted the warning signs, helped his parents out more? What could he have done to stop this? Could he have done anything?

He’s thinking too much. He pushes himself off the ground, swinging forward further, falling back. He stares up at the sky, the raindrops streaking down to stain his cheeks. If he leans his head back far enough he can see the ground behind him, hanging upside down, falling towards him as he swings back. It makes him dizzy. A better feeling than the confusion clouding his brain.

“Thought I would find you here.”

Jungkook sits up straight on the swing, seeing his father standing in front of him, umbrella in hand.

“What are you doing here?” The question sounds more aggressive than Jungkook intended. “I thought I said I wanted to be left alone.”

“I know, Jungkook,” his father says, “But it’s cold and damp out here. I want you to come home.”

“Well I don’t want to go home,” Jungkook folds his arms across his chest, trying not to shiver, not wanting to show his father that he’s right – it’s bitterly cold outside.

“I know,” his father says, “But you’ll get sick out here.”

Jungkook remains quiet.

His dad sighs, and comes across to sit on the swing next to him.

“Listen,” he begins, hesitating, “I know this is tough for you. It’s strange to see two soulmates separate. But, I do know that at one point in my life, your mother was my soulmate. She was perfect for me. But we’ve both changed a lot. We’re very different people now. And we’re not making each other happy anymore.”

“You never really believed in the soulmate system, did you?” Jungkook accuses.

His dad makes a noise like he’s going to respond, but no words come out.

“That’s why you don’t want me to have my watch until I’m older. You don’t think it’ll do me any good, knowing who my soulmate is. Just because you were unhappy with your soulmate.”

“That’s not true,” his father says, but Jungkook butts in:

“It is true! You expect me to be just as unhappy with my soulmate, so you don’t want me to find them. Isn’t that it? All this time I thought you were keeping me from my watch because you thought it would do me good. But you have no real idea what’s good for me, do you?”

His father is silent.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut against the glare of the streetlights on the rain soaked ground. If he squeezes hard enough, the tears won’t come.

“I should have know.” Jungkook jumps up, and walks away from his father. He can hear him calling him back, but he ignores him, picking up the pace, speed kicking up, until he’s running, rain splashing up his legs.

Anger is thundering through him, warming him despite the cold. He’s going to find his watch. He knows his parents keep it in their room somewhere. He’s going to take it, and he won’t let his parents take it back.

He deserves to know who his soulmate is.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You’re overthinking this. It’s just a date. Nothing to get worked up over.

But it’s your first date. Ever. And you have no idea what to expect.

As you stare at the collection of clothes spread haphazardly across your bed, this decision seems harder than the choice of name for your first born child. What are you supposed to wear? Should you dress casually? Or will Jungkook think you aren’t taking this seriously enough if you don’t wear your best clothes?

Your phone goes off, vibrating violently on your bedside table, and you grab it to check who’s messaging you. Taehyung’s name flashes up on screen: Heard you have a date today! ;)

You smile to yourself. Of course Taehyung’s already found out about you and Jungkook. You text back: You head right.

You barely have the time to return your attention to you choice in clothing before your phone is buzzing again: Good luck. Not that you need it! :P

A smile spreads across your face, which immediately disappears when your eye catches the time on your phone screen. Shit! You’re going to be late.

With no time left to decide, you grab a pair of jeans and a knitted sweater, throwing them on, struggling to get your arms through the sleeves as you bump down the stairs, wildly grabbing for your shoes.

The walk to the cafe where you decided to meet Jungkook is a short one – but a sweaty one, as you power walk the entire way, holding back from running for fear of all eyes gluing to you, as you make a spectacle of yourself.

As you throw open the cafe door, with the tinkle of the bell above your head, Jungkook stands up from his table with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” you walk over to his table, trying to catch your breath, and hoping your face isn’t too red, “Sorry I’m late. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

He shakes his head quickly, “No, no.”

You follow him over the the cafe counter with a relieved laugh. “Good. It took me way to long to decide what to wear, and I kind of lost track of time.”

“I know the feeling,” Jungkook flashes you a look with his melted chocolate eyes, “I was so nervous this morning!”

“Me too,” you laugh at yourself, “Guess there was no need to be.”

“No,” a soft smile settles across Jungkook’s face as he looks at you, until the barista draws his attention away, asking him what he wants to drink.

As you read over the cafe’s menu behind the counter, an odd shiver runs down your spine, like a drip of icy water has slid past the collar of your sweater. You turn back to the cafe, and catch the eyes of the other customers, all glued on you and Jungkook – there’s Margaret, the old lady who lives across the street from you, with her friend Alice; there’s your primary school teacher, a friend of your mother’s; there’s the father of your old babysitter - all people you know. And they’re all murmuring amongst themselves, eyes flickering between you and Jungkook. A warmth sweeps across your face, burning your nose.

“Can I help you?” You jump, realising that the barista has been talking to you.

“Oh, right,” you shake yourself, turning away from the curious eyes fixed on you, “Can I have a flat white please?”

Having ordered your coffees, you and Jungkook return to your table. Seated opposite from you, Jungkook blows at the steam rising from his coffee, while you lean towards him to whisper, “I feel like everyone’s staring at us.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glued to his coffee as he swirls it round and round with a wooden stirrer, watching the cloudy patterns of milk mixing through the coffee. “Yeah, I couldn’t help noticing that myself.” His shoulders shake with a quiet laugh. “I kind of forgot what it’s like in a small village like this - that you can’t get away with doing anything in secret here.” His eyes bounce up to meet yours, catching you off guard with their brightness, “In the city no body knows who you are, and you can go anywhere without bumping into a familiar face. In some ways it’s nice. It gives you privacy.”

You nod, “Yeah… it’s kind of awkward here, isn’t it? We’re going to be the topic of gossip all over town now. People will be saying that we’re getting married next.”

“And that you’re pregnant with our third child.”

“And actually we’ve been married for three years, and you’re filing for a divorce.”

Jungkook’s head bobs down in a snort of laughter. “I forgot how ridiculous the rumours can get.” He scratches at the back of his neck, “Maybe I should have chosen somewhere more discrete for our first date.”

“It’s no problem.” A smirk plays across your face as a plan comes into your head. “Why don’t we give them something to really gossip about?”

A grin rises on Jungkook’s face to match your own. “What did you have in mind?”

With a burst of bravery, you lean across the table towards him, and Jungkook, taking your cue, leans closer, tilting his head forward.

Your lips connect with a rush of warmth through your body, and a rush of blood to the head, leaving every limb feeling tingly. You’re not sure how long you should kiss Jungkook, how much tongue should be involved, or if Margaret will be telling your mother about this, but all other thoughts begin to melt away as Jungkook’s mouth moves against your own, using you in strange new ways that you have never experienced before. He pulls away from you far too soon, leaving you hovering over the table, with your eyes fluttering open, like you’re waking up for the first time, a brand new person.

Jungkook grins across at you. “Am I that good a kisser?”

You blush, sitting back in your seat. “Don’t flatter yourself.” A smile lets him know he is that good.

All eyes are definitely on you now.

“I think it’s time we leave,” Jungkook says with a laugh, gaze sweeping the cafe.

You’re only too happy to comply, gathering your coat and scarf from the back of your chair.

With a barely contained giggle, you and Jungkook collapse out of the door into the cold December air, where you promptly descent into laughter.

“Did you see their faces?” Jungkook wheezes.

You lean against him, gasping in cold air, with your ribs feeling like they’re about to snap, “Those old ladies looked so happy to have a new story to spread around.”

“I’m pretty happy too,” Jungkook says, with a shy smile directed your way, “I got a kiss out of it.”

“You can certainly get more of those,” you promise. It surprises you how easy it is to be like this around Jungkook, like the two of you are meant to be by each other’s side, laughing at life together..

As you walk down the street, you manage to restore your composure, “It’s nice to be back with you, Jungkook.”

“You too,” he says, “I’m just sorry I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Do- do you mind me asking why that is?”

Jungkook breathes out a sigh, “Honestly, I’ve been putting off coming to visit my mum.”

“You don’t get on with her, huh?”

Jungkook pauses in his path. You stop a few steps ahead of him. “Not really,” he admits, “I know I should. I mean, she’s my mum. She’s family. But part of me blames her for losing my soulmate, I suppose. And she’s never really seen eye to eye with me when it comes to the topic of soulmates.”

You decide not to pry further, knowing Jungkook will open up more when he wants to.

The two of you continue walking, twisting your way down familiar streets, past old houses lounging behind neatly trimmed hedges. Without thinking, your hand slips comfortably into Jungkook’s. He pulls up the sleeve of his coat so your palm can press against his, without the fabric getting in the way.

Suddenly, a shout across the street grabs your attention. “Well, if it isn’t the two love-birds!”

You glance over, and a smile brightens your face when you see Taehyung, waving across at you. He glances up and down the street, then runs over to the two of you. “Hey!”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you smile.

“How’s the date going?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Pretty good, I’d say,”Jungkook grins, “We’ve already managed to make ourselves the talk of the village by showing up together at the cafe.”

Taehyung laughs. “Sounds about right for this village.” He’s silent for a second, then suddenly exclaims: “Hey, if you’re wanting to get out of the village for a bit, me and a few other friends are taking the bus into town his evening. We’re going to be visiting the new club that’s just opened there. It’s meant to be really good. And less people will know you there. That means less people gossiping about seeing you together.”

Jungkook looks to you, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to call the shots.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good night out,” you say, “And I am off work for the next few days. It would be a shame to waste that freedom.”

“That’s the spirit,” Taehyung slaps you on the back, while you and Jungkook share a smile.

Maybe getting out of the village is just what you and Jungkook need.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

The clubs is already throbbing with bodies when you arrive. You can’t hear anything over the blast of the bass, vibrating through your bones. But that doesn’t matter, as Jungkook offers you a beer. All you care about are his eyes on yours, drowning you in melted chocolate. Holding up his own glass to you, you see his mouth form around the words “To us!” and you shout back “To us!” hoping he can hear you over the music.

One beer turns into two, turns into three, leaving your head in a happy haze, as you push your way closer to the centre of the dance floor. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, as you move in time to the beat, and you stop caring about the other people around you. None of them know you. You’ve managed to loose Taehyung and his friends already. It’s just you and Jungkook, and the music moving in waves through your bodies, like you’ve merged into one living, breathing being, joined by the beat. Jungkook’s body presses closer to you, and all the nerves in you spark at the sensation of him against you. Looking up, his face is bright in the spinning lights. You lean closer, breathing the same air as him, not minding the scent of beer. You’re hypnotised by his eyes, drawn in closer, closer. You can make out every small imperfection on his face, faint freckles, a loose eyelash on his cheek. His lips are so close, they’re almost brushing yours.

And then you’re kissing him. It’s not like the kiss in the cafe. This one isn’t for show, to get the neighbours talking. This is purely, unapologetically Jungkook, and all the feeling that comes from him. It’s the taste of his tongue, rough against your own. It’s the softness of his lips, pressing to the shape you cast for him. It’s the nip of his teeth on the tender skin of your bottom lip, sharp and sweet to you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur - all you’ll remember later is the pounding beat of the drums, and the beat of your own heart as Jungkook’s body moves against you in a slow dance all of your own, while the rest of the club pulses around you, cutting you into your own world, with your own atmosphere, revolving around your own bright sun.

When Jungkook speaks into your ear, breath hot on your skin - “Want to get out of here?” - you’re ready to comply.

The bus ride back to your village is spent giggling in the back seat, leaning against Jungkook, as he draws silly faces for you on the fogged up window, and whispers about the other bus passengers, making up reasons for them to be getting the bus at half one in the morning.

You barely know yourself as you lead Jungkook back to your house. If you had been told a week ago that you’d be going home with someone this evening, you would have laughed. You’ve been single for so long, so starved of touch, any scenario with this outcome seemed farcical. You refuse the urge to pinch yourself.

Bursting into your house, the empty rooms fill with your laughter, as you and Jungkook collapse onto your sofa, without even bothering to turn on the light. You end up underneath Jungkook, his weight holding you down, pressing comfortingly. In the darkness, Jungkook’s lips find yours, with a quiet desperation. These are the kisses of someone as starved for physical contact as you are. You respond back with the same intensity, lungs pulling air between kisses, head dizzy from alcohol and the strength of his affection.

You’d be a fool if you didn’t realise where this is going. Your stomach flips over, as the two of you sit up, bodies tangled together as you straddle Jungkook’s thighs. His hand slips under your shirt, hesitant at first, waiting for you to give him the go ahead. You can only press your lips to his all the more fervently in answer, and his fingers trail across your exposed skin, exploring, like he’s marking out a map of your body.

Suddenly he pulls away, leaving you breathless and cold. In the fog of alcohol your head tries to bend around the heat he ripped from you, wanting desperately to grab it back.

“What’s wrong?” You fumble blindly for the lamp by your sofa, wincing as you douse the room in light.

Jungkook is sitting across from you, his hair mussed up and his cheeks pink. “I’m just not sure about this,” he says, “Are we moving too fast?”

“What do you mean?” Your heart clenches.

“It’s just,” Jungkook puffs out his cheeks in a sigh, “We don’t even know if we’re soulmates. What if we’re not? What if our real soulmates are out there somewhere, just waiting for us to show up?”

“You think I haven’t worried about that myself?” Your eyes search his, just as mesmerising as ever. You refuse to let yourself get sucked in, blinking past the haze in your head, “Obviously I worry about that. But I’m so tired of being alone. I want what everyone else has. I just…” you hang your head, “I want to love somebody.”

“I know,” Jungkook nods, “Me too. That’s why I don’t want to rush into this. I don’t want to be doing this just because I’m desperate for a cure to my loneliness.”

The two of you fall silent. At last Jungkook speaks up. “I should probably get going. My mum will have a fit if I’m back late.”

“Alright,” you nod. You know Jungkook is right, you should slow things down, be sure that this – the two of you, together – is something you really want.

Still, as you wave him off at the front step, you can’t help but feel disappointed. You wish your love life could be as simple as everyone else’s seems to be – that you could have your soulmate watch fall off, and immediately know who you’re meant to be with. And that you would never doubt a kiss after it’s happened.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Ten Years Ago]

The numbers stare back at Jungkook, blank and lifeless, as he stands in his parents room, watch in hand.

The screen reads: 00:00.

His timer is up. That’s what this means. He’s met his soulmate somewhere already, without knowing it, without a watch to guide him to the person he was supposed to be with.

Anger burns in his stomach.

“Jungkook!” His mother runs into the room, switching on the lights. The brightness of the bulbs blinds him, leaving him blinking. “What are you doing with that?” his mother demands.

“Taking what belongs to me,” Jungkook holds up the watch, and his mother’s eyes widen.

“How did you find that?” she asks, taking a step forward and making a grab for it.

Jungkook swings out of the way, clutching the watch to his chest. “It didn’t take too long to look through your drawers.”

His mother’s face reddens. “You shouldn’t be going through my things, Jungkook.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have taken something that belongs to me,” Jungkook replies, not caring that he’s being rude. He’s too angry to care about anything, but the blank numbers on his watch.

“Did you read it already?” she demands, stepping back. Her face is lined with worry, cracks of age etched into her skin.

“Yes,” Jungkook clutches the watch tighter in his hand, feeling the cold metal cut into his skin. His jaw clenches, defiant against his mother, as she draws herself up to her full hight, not quite as tall as he is. It wasn’t long ago that she towered above him.

“After your father and I told you not to? Demanded that you didn’t?” Anger simmers in her voice, below a barely concealed disappointment.

“Yes,” Jungkook remains monotone with her, feeling his teeth grinding together, holding him back from snapping at her – the woman who stopped him from finding his soulmate, prevented him finding love.

“You give that back now,” his mother holds out her hand to him, bare palm demanding.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head, stepping back.

“Jungkook,” his mother’s tone is strong, unaccepting of his answer, “That’s no way to talk to me.”

Jungkook pockets his watch, watching his mother carefully, letting her watch for herself as he disobeys her. He doesn’t need to say anything. Slinking past her, as she shouts after him, he heads out of the room, across the landing to his own room, where he slams the door, immune to the shouts of his name behind him.

Here, with no eyes on him, he pulls out the watch again, looking at the blank zeroes that stare back, heartless and cold. So his parents have spoiled his soulmate connection because their own soulmate connections have failed. In keeping him from it, they were keeping him from what every other person was going to easily walk into as they journeyed through life – companionship, friendship, a promise that they wouldn’t be lonely again. And for what? Because it hadn’t worked out for them?

With a sudden surge of rage, Jungkook lunges for his bed, and grabbing a pillow, pounds it with his fists, until the breath has gone from his chest, and the tears are gone from his eyes. Leaning down, he rests his head against the pillow he was just assaulting, feeling its comforting softness resting against him, and the thought crosses his mind of how much he wants a soulmate for moments like this, when he’s feeling weak and broken. He wants someone to stay by his side, to comfort him, run a hand through his hair, and promise him everything will be okay.

But it’s not okay. He’s stuck without a soulmate. And somewhere out there, his other half is living with no soulmate, wondering where he is, and why he never showed up in their life when their watch went off.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You wake to a knock on your door. A glance at your phone lets you know that it’s almost midday, on the twenty third of December. Later than you had meant to sleep in. You can still feel the alcohol in your system, not enough to give you a full-blown hangover, but enough to make you roll over with a groan, hoping for more sleep.

Another knock rattles on the door, and you sigh, pushing yourself out of bed. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you mutter, knowing the person at the door won’t hear you. You scramble for clothes, before padding down the stairs to open the door.

The bright sunlight greets you, with a brighter smile from-

“Jungkook?” You stare up at him, “What are you doing here?”

He steps into your house, without giving you an answer, leading you towards your living room. “I think I’ve figured out how to fix our soulmate problem.”

“Uh huh?” You flop down on your sofa, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and trying to get your brain in gear.

“So,” Jungkook sits down next to you, warmth radiating out from him, making you want to melt back into bed, maybe with him by your side this time, “I was wondering if it’s possible to find out when soulmate watches were set to go off, even after their timer has already gone off.”

“Yeah?”

“And it turns out that there are a few watchmakers than can wind back watches to figure out the dates they were set to come off. There aren’t many of them. But they do exist.”

“Yeah?” your brain is still half asleep, not quite processing what Jungkook is saying.

“Don’t you get it?” Jungkook stares you dead in the eyes, “If we take my watch to one of these watchmakers, we can see if it was set to go off on the day your watch fell off. We can figure out if you really are my soulmate.”

Your brain finally snaps awake. “This is really a thing we can do?”

“Yeah. I mean, our nearest watchmaker is quite far away. But sure it’s a thing we can do. If you don’t mind a long drive?”

You’re on your feet, before your brain can catch up with your body, leaving you wobbling. “What are you waiting for, let’s go!”

“Now?” Jungkook stares up at you.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well… it’s the twenty third of December,” Jungkook reminds you, “The roads are going to be a nightmare with everyone trying to get home to their families. Not to mention there’s heavy snow forecast for this evening.”

You feel yourself deflate. “Ah, right. So we should probably wait, right?”

“I guess,” Jungkook says, and then the two of you fall silent.

You turn the thought over in your head. The possibility of knowing once and for all if Jungkook is your soulmate – if the fluttering in your heart is the real deal, or just the jittery hope that love is even an option for you.

“Oh, what the hell,” you look down at Jungkook, “I need to know.”

Jungkook grins, “And here I was, hoping you would talk me out of this crazy idea.”

“No way,” you shake your head, “I’m just as crazy as you are.”

“So… road trip?” Jungkook raises his brows expectantly.

“Just wait. First breakfast. Then, road trip!”

Jungkook grins, “Can’t forget breakfast.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

Jungkook wasn’t exaggerating when he said the roads would be a nightmare today. You stare out at the sea of cars on all sides of you, sitting at a standstill, with passengers and drivers looking just as hopeless as you feel. The sky above your is a dark grey, and around you, car lights are beginning to turn on as evening sets in.

“We’re never going to get moving,” you groan, leaning your head against the cold window.

“Sure we are,” Jungkook shifts into first gear, rolling the car forward, “Look at that. We gained some ground.”

“Yeah… an inch,” you say.

“An inch is better than nothing,” Jungkook says, and you bite back on any immature jokes you could make, turning your attention to the radio instead:

“How about we have some music?” You turn the volume up as the notes of ‘Let it Snow’ start swimming through the stuffy air of the car.

“I’d rather it didn’t snow,” Jungkook addresses the radio, “At least until we get home again.”

You glance up at the grey clouds that have been consistently gathering above you all day. The sky is dark now, and you can barely tell if that’s because it’s getting late in the day, or just because the heavens are threatening a storm. Maybe both.

Trying to remain positive despite the aching in your muscles from sitting for so long, you begin singing along, putting on a silly voice to coax a smile out of Jungkook as the car rolls forward a few more inches.

Shyly, Jungkook begins to sing along with you, and you trail off, listening intently to Jungkook, awed by his voice. He continues on, not noticing you’ve stopped singing with him, until the song comes to an end. “What?” he glances over at you, “You’re staring at me.”

“Sorry,” you flush, “I just- I never realised you could sing, Jungkook.”

“Huh?” It’s his turn to blush. “I’m not that good.”

“Sure you are! You sing like an angel.”

The tips of his ears are turning red. “Oh, stop flattering me.”

“I need you to know how talented you are, Jungkook, damnit.”

“Oh yeah, well if you’re going to be complimenting me, then you better expect some compliments in return.”

A smile tugs at you lips, “Yeah? You got compliments for me?”

“Sure I do.” Around you, the traffic begins moving again, slowly. “For starters, you’re beautiful!” Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road, rolling forward, but he can’t hide the smile on his face as he talks about you, “And you’re really funny. You’ve got the perfect sense of humour. Not to mention you’re kind. And you’re willing to put up with all my crazy ideas - liking driving miles to find a watchmaker on the off chance he might be able to tell us when I was supposed to meet my soulmate. And you’re also really beautiful. Did I already say that?” He laughs at himself, clearly embarrassed by his rambling. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you end up being my soulmate, then I’m a very lucky man.”

You can’t do anything but smile, cheeks hurting, unused to stretching so far. Jungkook has rendered you speechless. You want to tell him so much – that he’s beautiful too, that you love his jokes, his passion, his gentleness, that you think you’d be very lucky if he turned out to be your soulmate too, but the words stick in your throat.

Above you, the heavy clouds begin to release their first flakes of snow with a gentle sigh.

Somehow, you get the sense, Jungkook already knows all you want to tell him.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

The clock on the car dashboard reads 11:00pm. You can barely see the road in front of you, dimly lit by the car's headlights. You’ve made your way through all the traffic, and are somehow still making barely any progress on the road. The windscreen is obscured by a flurry of snowflakes, occasionally punctuated by the windscreen wipers, giving you a brief glimpse of the snow drowning the road in white.

“Jungkook,” you murmur across to him, “We really need to stop.”

“We’re nearly there,” Jungkook insists. You can hear the rough scratch of sleepiness in his voice.

But you know you need to stop driving soon. Jungkook’s tired, and despite turning up the volume of the radio until it’s blasting obnoxious Christmas tunes at full volume, you know Jungkook can’t fight the battle against sleep for much longer.

“We both need rest,” you insist, “We’ll get there tomorrow. But for now we need to stop.”

Jungkook is about to argue back, until a yawn catches him off guard. Blinking tired eyes at the dark road ahead, he relents: “Alright, I’ll turn in at the next service station.”

You watch carefully for the signs directing you to the service station. Through the snow, the sign pointing for a hotel almost feels like a mirage at first. Relief floods through your veins as you turn into the car park, safe, as the snow falls silently around you, covering you in a muffling blanket.

“You okay with sleeping in there?” Jungkook nods at the hotel sign, barely staying up above the entrance. Somebody’s scratched off the “T” and the “L” so it reads “HO E”.

“Anything’s better than sleeping in the car,” you tell him, and so the two of you jump out, and make a break for the hotel, scrambling to escape the bitter cold.

As Jungkook pulls the door open for you, you’re greeted with the smell of damp. You remind yourself of what you had said just a few seconds ago: Anything’s better than sleeping in the car. You’re beginning to doubt that.

Jungkook speaks to the tired looking receptionists, who hands you over a set of keys, telling him it’s the only room they have left.

“Thank you,” Jungkook smiles, before leading you towards the stairwell. The two of you make your way up the rickety old stairs, creaking under your weight.

“I’m regretting not packing a clean set of clothes,” Jungkook admits, as he locates your room down the corridor, “Or a toothbrush for that matter.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I didn’t bring those things either. We’ll just have to rough it together.”

Jungkook shrugs apologetically, “I really didn’t think the drive would take this long. Maps said it would only be a five hour drive.”

“That was without snow or Christmas traffic,” you remind him, as he fights with the door, trying to unlock it. With a couple of hard shoves, the door finally shudders open with a blood curdling creak, and you’re greeted with your room, if you could even call it a room. The whole space is taken up by a double bed, covered with grey sheets that might have been white once upon a time.

“Well,” Jungkook steps inside, “I’m beginning to think sleeping in the car might have been a better idea.”

“The car would certainly have had more space,” you laugh, closing the door behind you, with some force, so that it stays shut.

On closer inspection, the small door you had expected to be a cupboard turns out to be the en suit, almost the size of a cupboard itself.

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t bring any luggage,” you joke, “We’d have no room for it.”

“I suppose so,” Jungkook says, “If you want to look on the bright side.”

With no luggage with you, it doesn’t take the two of you long to get ready for bed. The two of you take the toothpaste the hotel left out for you, using your fingers to spread the paste around as best you can. It’s not the cleanest your teeth have ever been, but it’s better than nothing. That’s all you can say for this hotel in general. It’s better than nothing.

Defeated, the two of you crash into your bed, too tired to be embarrassed by the prospect of sharing a bed for the first time.

You roll away from Jungkook, snuggling the blankets up around you, and try to fall asleep. As soon as you close your eyes though, thoughts begin to bombard you, doubts springing up like daisies – what if Jungkook isn’t your soulmate, and this trip is all for nothing? Worse – what if the watchmaker reveals who Jungkook’s real soulmate is, and he goes off with them instead?

Rolling onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling, where, in the dim light from outside, you can see the shape of a damp patch on the ceiling. It looks like a map of the USA if you squint.

“You still awake?” Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence, raspy and deep.

“Yeah…”

“I can’t sleep,” Jungkook admits.

“Me neither.”

“What’s keeping you up?” Jungkook asks.

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I’m worried about what will happen once we find out when your watch was meant to come off… I’m worried I won’t be your soulmate.”

Jungkook considers this silently. You swallow, focussing on the strange USA-shaped damp patch on the ceiling.

“Well,” Jungkook finally speaks up, “I’ve been thinking… Even if it turns out that we’re not soulmates… I’d still like to be with you.”

You hadn’t been expecting that. You sit up, looking down at Jungkook. His eyes gleam up at you, reflecting the street lights from outside.

“What?” he asks, frowning up at your face.

“You mean that, Jungkook?”

His voice is soft, firm. “Of course I mean it. I like you. I like you a lot. And I get a sense I’m dangerously close to falling in love with you. Frankly, I don’t care if we’re soulmates. I want to be with you, regardless of what the watchmaker says. I want to see if we can make things work.” He pauses. “I’m sorry for last night. When we got back from clubbing. I guess I panicked because I thought we were moving too fast. And I was worried there was someone out there who was meant to be with you, when I wasn’t. But I can feel it now, even if I’m not your soulmate, I want to be yours – if you want me?”

The only answer you can give to that is to lean down over Jungkook, and press a gentle kiss to his warm lips. “I want that too,” you whisper the answer into his skin, lowering yourself back onto the bed. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you closer, and that’s the last thing you remember before sleep finally takes you captive.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Ten Years Ago]

You’re sitting on the swing in the village park, Jungkook on the swing beside you. The sky before you sparkles out with a kaleidoscope of stars, bright and clear with no clouds to hide them. Your breath comes out in clouds of fog as you push yourself back and forth.

“You said there was something you wanted to tell me?” you press Jungkook.

He asked you to come over and meet him, but you’ve spent the past few minutes talking over small, inconsequential things. You knew you would have to bring it up eventually, his reason for calling you out here.

“Yeah,” Jungkook huffs out a sigh, the mist of his breath rising in front of him, to melt into the air. “See, the thing is… I’m moving away.”

The whole world shifts then, like the earth, spinning on its orbit, has suddenly accelerated forward faster than you were prepared for. You’ve spent so much time with Jungkook, he’s one of your closest friends, one you’ve known for so long. A life without him in your small village seems like a different life entirely, lived in a new body – like you’re not yourself, like you’re losing a part of you.

“Oh,” is all you can say.

“It’s because of the divorce,” Jungkook explains, pushing himself back on the swing, and tipping his head back to stare up at the spilled contents of the milky-way. “My dad’s moving away, and taking me with him. Mum’s staying here.”

Of course, you already knew about the divorce. Nothing stayed a secret in the small village, and you had heard your neighbours whispering about Jungkook’s parents. Everyone had also managed to hear about Jungkook’s lack of a soulmate. He had told you about it soon after he found his watch himself, and you hadn’t had any way to respond, only being able to offer him a hug. You knew what it was like to have no soulmate – to face a future without the promise of a partner. But you couldn’t express that him. Not in any way that felt adequate for the weight of sadness you could feel around him.

“I see.” You know your replies are stiff, but you don’t know what else to say.

Silence ebbs in, feeling heavy in your ears. You stare up at the sky, where the stars wink back at you, offering no answer for the sudden empty feeling in your heart.

“I’ll miss you,” you say at last. It’s something you know you should say, and when you finally push it past your throat, you realise it’s easy to admit. You’ll miss Jungkook so much.

“I’ll miss you too,” he pushes himself around on his swing, so that he’s angled towards you, chains of the swing twisting. “I suppose I should confess this now before I leave…” he presses his lips together, “I thought that because the two of us are soulmate-less, the two of us might eventually end up together.”

“Like, soulmates… but not?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods.

You twist around in your swing as well, facing him. You’re grateful for the darkness of the park, which hides the blush on your face, as a swarm of emotions swim to the surface. You hadn’t considered it before, but it makes sense that the people who don’t have soulmates should be paired together. And Jungkook’s such a good friend. Isn’t that what a soulmate is anyway? A really good friend, who stays with you forever.

But Jungkook can’t stay with you forever.

“I would have liked that,” you admit, your heart jolting into your throat as you speak, and choking you up, so you can’t continue that thought any further.

“Me too,” Jungkook smiles sadly. Pushing himself up off the swing, he walks over to you, hands gripping onto the chains of the swing you’re sat on.

He’s so close that you can see the reflections of the orange streetlights in his dark brown eyes. The ghost of his breath waltzes across your cheeks.

You don’t quite realise what you’re doing, or what he’s doing, until his lips are upon yours, warm and soft.

The whole world seems to pause, as if it’s holding its breath, with the stars twinkling above your heads as the only indication that time is moving forward.

The kiss is short, barely a few seconds, but it’s now imprinted on your brain forever, repeating a thousand times over. A thought stabs painfully at you: If you never find your soulmate, that could be both your first and your last kiss.

Your stomach fills with ice, as Jungkook pulls away, murmuring, “I’ll miss you so much.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You awaken with Jungkook stirring beside you. Blinking, you look up to him with a smile as he sits up in bed, stretching his arms above his head. His hair is falling across his face, messy and tangled, but he looks better than he ever has as your heart fills with the hope that the two of you have a future together.

“You’ll never guess what,” Jungkook says, as he goes to open the curtains.

“What?”

Outside, the snow has calmed down, a snug blanket lying over the ground, leaving the world peaceful – a far contrast from the wild flurries of ice last night. Jungkook points out the window at the sign in the car park, “We’re only a mile away from the town the watchmaker lives in.”

And despite how awful the weather was last night, and how scared you were on the road with Jungkook, you can’t help but laugh. “I guess we better go find that damn watchmaker then, since we’ve come all this way.”

“Right!” Jungkook grins, “But remember, no matter what the outcome of all of this… we’ll stay together, so long as that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” You’ve never been more sure.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

The centre of the town is bustling when you arrive. There are people milling around, some frantically buying last minute gifts, others out to enjoy the atmosphere and the bright Christmas light.

You feel like an oddity, scouring the streets for a watch shop while the rest of the town prepares for Christmas.

“This is it!” Jungkook’s voice directs you towards him, a few feet ahead of you, where he’s found the shop you were looking for. You run over to him, excited – until you see the ‘Closed for Christmas’ sign hanging on the door in cheery shades of red and green that don’t match your mood.

“No way,” you can’t hide the disappointment in your voice, “We drove all the way here...for this?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Maybe we’re just not meant to know if we’re soulmates or not.”

You’re ready to turn around, and try to make the most of the town that you’ve taken so long to drive to – when you hear a voice from behind.

“Excuse me?”

You turn around to see a small old lady in front of you.

“Hello,” you say, smiling at her.

“Are you looking for the watchmaker?” she asks.

Jungkook nods, “We were. We heard he can wind back soulmate watches that have stopped, to see when their timer was meant to go off. Do you know if that’s true?”

The old lady gives a smile, her wrinkles stretching as she does so. “Yes, that’s so. Why were you wondering?”

“Well,” Jungkook pulls his watch out from his pocket. It’s silver chain glints in the Christmas lights. “We wanted to find out when this watch was meant to go off. It’ll help us figure out if we’re soulmates.”

“You don’t know if you're soulmates?” the old lady frowns.

“My watch fell off when I was very young,” you explain, “I was never sure if it was a malfunction or not. And Jungkook never wore his watch as a child, so we have no way of knowing if it was supposed to fall off with mine.”

“I see,” the old woman’s eyes twinkled, “It’s just that when I saw you as I walked past, I was so sure you were soulmates. This might sound strange, but the two of you remind me of myself and my husband when we were younger.”

You smile, a warmth spreading through your chest, heating your body despite the cold.

“Do you know who my husband is?” the old lady continues, with a twinkle in her eye, and you shake your head. She leans forward, as if she’s about to divulge a great secret. “He’s the watchmaker you’re looking for.” She smiles at the surprise settling on your face. “If you want, you can visit our house, and I’ll have him take a look at that watch.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Jungkook says, “I wouldn’t want to make him work on Christmas Eve if he’s taken the day off.”

“Oh nonsense,” the woman flaps her hands at Jungkook, wafting off his concerns. “It’s no problem. Consider it an act of good Christmas cheer.”

Jungkook glances at you, and you give a reassuring smile. “That’s very kind,” you say, “We’d love to take you up on the offer if it’s not too much trouble.”

The lady’s wrinkled face breaks into a smile. “No trouble at all!”

You find yourself being led down twisting roads towards the old lady’s house as she tells you about how she and her husband met – in a situation similar to yours. Her husband had been wearing his watch. She hadn’t. She told you that when she was younger she used to believe that soulmates were a farce, and so refused to wear her watch. When she bumped into her future husband, she hadn’t realised that she was the reason his watch fell off – it wasn’t until he chased her down the street with such determination not to loose her, waving his watch in her face, that he managed to convince her that soulmates were worth believing in.

“That’s how my husband got into mending watches, you see,” the lady goes on, as you walk beside her, Jungkook on her other side, “He wants to help people who are unsure who their soulmates are.”

You smile at Jungkook, as the lady points up ahead, “That’s my house. We’re almost there.”

As she unlocks the door, she calls for her husband, before bustling towards the kitchen. “Let me make you a cup of tea.”

You’re ushered into a quaintly decorated living room, with a steaming cup of tea placed into hand, explaining your situation to the watchmaker, as he turns over Jungkook’s watch in his hands.

“I’ll see what I can do with this then,” the old man says, with a kind smile, taking the watch into his back room. You watch him through the open door, as he fixes his glasses on his face, and begins work.

By your side, Jungkook’s hand comes to rest on your knee – a gentle reminder that even if the watch tells that you aren’t soulmates, he’ll still be there for you.

The wait is long – or maybe it only seems that way, because you’re aware that you’re waiting. You try to listen carefully, as the old lady keeps you entertained, telling stories of other couples her husband has helped, but at the back of your mind, Jungkook’s soulmate watch keeps flashing up, in shades of silver.

At last, with the all of the tea drunk, the watchmaker emerges from his work room, handing the watch back to Jungkook.

“Well?” You can tell Jungkook is holding his breath.

“That watch was set to go off sixteen years ago,” the watchmaker says, “To be precise it was set to go off on the fourth of September, sixteen years ago, at quarter past nine.”

Your gaze falls on Jungkook. His eyes are a mirror of your own – shining, wide and bright. You don’t need to check. You’ve got the date memorised by heart – the day you lost your watch, the day that Jungkook careened into your life on his tricycle, destroying your watch, and making your life all the better by existing in it.

“Well, is that the date you were hoping for?” the watchmaker asks, but his wife quickly shushes him:

“Can’t you tell from their faces. That’s the right date alright!”

You can’t hold back as you barrel into Jungkook’s arms, not even caring that you’re being watched. He’s planting kisses across your face, spreading warmth along the paths his lips travel.

Of course, you knew that he would stay with you, even if you weren’t soulmates. And that these kisses would come, even if the date differed. But a part of you also knew that you were soulmates all along, that you didn’t need a watchmaker to tell you the truth. You didn’t need to check what you already knew – what the whole village knew. Maybe you really were an idiot for not believing all this time. The boy who broke your soulmate watch, was the boy who was your soulmate all along.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

It’s almost midnight by the time you make it back to your village, the Christmas lights still illuminating the small streets, warm and familiar, as Jungkook’s car pulls up in your drive.

“Is it alright if I stay the night?” Jungkook asks.

“You’re always welcome,” you tell him, getting out of the car, and leading him to the house.

The both of you are still too excited by the events of the day to go to sleep, so you end up on the couch, with mugs of instant hot chocolate steaming in your hands.

“So, where do we go from here?” you ask Jungkook. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do once you get a soulmate. Especially if you’ve known this soulmate for most of your life.

“Well, for one thing,” Jungkook says, sipping on his hot chocolate, “I’m going to have to start taking more trips to see my mum.”

“You mean trips to see me,” you nudge him with your foot.

“Of course,” he bows his head graciously, “Obviously I’ll be coming over to see you. But we can at least pretend for my mum’s sake. Make her feel special.”

You laugh. “That’s odd for someone who doesn’t get on with his mum.”

Jungkook shrugs. “She might have been misguided, but in the end, her actions didn’t stop me from finding who I was meant to be with. And I suppose I never really needed the watch, even though I thought I did. So maybe she was onto something after all, even if she didn’t realise that herself.”

You nod, “I know what you mean. It’s like I’ve always known on a subconscious level that I was going to fall for you.”

Jungkook’s ears turn pink with pleasure. “So you’d say you’ve fallen for me?”

“Obviously. Completely. Head over heels.”

On the wall across from you, the clock ticks over from 11:59 to 00:00.

“Happy Christmas,” Jungkook smiles across at you.

“Happy Christmas, Jungkook.”

- END -

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