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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

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Honey Girl. Chapter Four.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You can't breathe.

It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.

You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.

Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.

"Sweetheart?"

It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.

"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.

"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."

She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"

You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.

"Everything's such a mess, Mama."

She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.

"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."

You take a shaky breath before replying.

"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."

She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.

"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."

"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"

You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.

"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."

"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"

You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."

"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."

A pause.

"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."

"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."

He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.

"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."

You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.

"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."

"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."

"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."

You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.

Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.

"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."

"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"

"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you too. Both of you."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.

The beach.

You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.

You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.

You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.

"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"

He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.

"Bucky, please!"

He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.

"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.

You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.

"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.

"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."

He looks at you in disbelief.

"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"

You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.

"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"

"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"

"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From blowing your life up for me!"

You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.

"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.

"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."

He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.

"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."

When he doesn't say anything, you continue.

"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."

You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.

"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"

"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"

You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.

"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."

Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.

"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."

"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."

"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."

Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.

"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."

"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."

"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."

"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."

You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.

"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.

"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."

You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.

He doesn't let go the whole way home.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky takes you to his house.

You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.

It's overwhelming.

Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.

You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.

It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.

You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.

"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."

"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."

A pause.

"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"

"You do?"

"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."

"Tea sounds good. Please."

You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.

"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."

You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.

J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.

The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.

Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.

"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"

You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.

When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."

"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."

"Mine too," you laugh softly.

It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.

"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."

"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."

"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.

You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.

"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"

Your voice cracks just saying the word.

"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."

"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."

"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."

"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."

Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.

"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"

He takes a deep breath, and continues.

"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."

You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.

"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"

"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."

Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.

"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."

"All the time in the world."

You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.

You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.

"So you'll go."

"I'll go."

"And I'll stay."

"You'll stay."

"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."

You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The happiness is starting to seep through.

You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.

You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.

"Bitch!"

You know who it is instantly.

"Hi, Lacie."

"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"

"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"

"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"

You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.

"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."

"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"

You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.

"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"

"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."

She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.

You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"

You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turn to look at her.

"What?"

"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"

There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.

"I had my Tethering."

Silence.

She's processing.

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"

"It's... complicated."

There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.

"Who is it, babe?"

You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"Bucky."

Her jaw drops.

"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"

"That's the one."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"This is complicated."

"Yeah."

"Aw, babe."

She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."

"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."

"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."

"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."

"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."

You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.

"Where is he tonight?"

"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."

You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.

"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You've lost track of exactly where you are.

You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.

The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.

"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.

"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"

Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.

"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"

"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."

"Jesus Christ."

"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.

The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.

"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"

You nod.

"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."

"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.

"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.

"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."

You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.

"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."

You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.

Bucky.

His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.

You're snapped back to reality by Sam.

"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."

"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"

She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.

You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.

You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.

"Hi."

"Hi, honey baby."

You smile softly at the nickname.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a girls night."

He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."

"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."

"Cosmic karma," you whisper.

The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.

"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."

"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."

You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."

A smile. A pause.

"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Bye, Buck."

"Bye, pretty girl."

You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.

Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.

He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.

A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.

"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."

"Goodbye, honey girl."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.

Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.

Let the happiness seep through.

tag list part one -

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stylesispunk · 4 months

Text

"The not so invisible string" | part 2

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

chapter summary: You and Joel had a "lunch" together and some things were said, and the past between you both is meeting the present.

word count: 5k.

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). I probably made some grammar mistakes because I write things fast. Not proofreading, ups. Italics are flashbacks <3

a/n: Chapter two is here!! Thank you so much for your nice comments and appreciation for the previous chapter, I didn't think it would be good enough but thanks for appreciating. This one is less intense than the first one, but we still have a story to develop. I'm on my summer break from work, so I hope to have time to keep writing. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 p.s if you wann be taglisted, please I'm so shy so I feel asshamed of tagging people if you don't tell me 😳 and if I forgot someone, sorry 😭

dividers by @/saradika

"Are you waiting to see her again?" Sarah asked when Joel was parking outside school before driving to his job.

"Who?" He asked, trying to dismiss the nagging feeling settled in his stomach at the minimum possibility of seeing you again.

"Tara's mom?" She said, leaning toward his dad, "What's the issue with her, by the way? Was she your ex or something?”

"No,” he said immediately.

“So why did you get so nervous?"

"She is the love of my life," he confessed, not turning his face to Sarah in shame of being seen in such a vulnerable state.

When you were a parent, you never showed yourself vulnerable in front of your children; you never allowed them to see that part of you that’s beneath what they knew. But when they grow up, they understand you would never be a hero, but a human living life for the first time too.

Sarah's eyes widened at Joel's unexpected confession. The revelation hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension inside the car.

"The love of your life?" Sarah echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. "But you never mentioned her before."

Joel sighed, his eyes fixed on the steering wheel as if it held the answers to a long-buried history. "It's complicated," he finally admitted. "We were each other's first love, but things didn't work out. We went our separate ways, and I thought I had moved on."

"But seeing her again..." he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "I never expected her to be here again."

Sarah studied Joel's profile, recognizing the struggle in his eyes. "And what about Tara's mom? Does she feel the same way?"

"I don't know," Joel confessed, a heaviness settling in his chest. "It's been thirteen years, and a lot has changed. She has a daughter now, and I have my own life."

Sarah reached out, placing a comforting hand on her dad’s shoulder. "Well, life is surprising," she said. "Maybe it's a chance for both of you to find closure, or maybe even something more. Who knows?"

Joel nodded, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future swirling around him.

“Perhaps” He said, “Okay, now go to class before you get late.” He hurried Sarah, but before she closed the door, a bolt of thought invaded his mind before he could even think.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

She nodded.

“Ask Tara for her mother’s number, please.”

Sarah grinned, nodding her head and blowing a kiss to his father.

The days had passed, and life had settled into a new routine for you, unemployed and doing house chores, feeling just as the same twenty-two-year-old you once were.

But that wasn’t your only thought in the back of your mind. Since the day you had seen Joel, you hadn’t been able to take him off your mind, and as if it weren’t already difficult, Tara and Sarah were slowly becoming best friends, just as you and Joel were someday back when you had anything to lose.

For Joel, things weren’t different. There wasn’t a second of the day since he had seen you that he hadn’t thought about you. About how gorgeous you still looked and how much he had missed you for the past years. Despite the investable passing of time, the past seemed to cast a long shadow over the present; he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that had resurfaced since he saw you.

Late one night, he found himself staring at his phone. Since Sarah got your number from Tara, he has been doing the same, contemplating whether to send a message. The words formed in his mind, but typing them out was a whole different thing for him. Trapped between the enormous desire to know about you or to let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But before he could even formulate the thought, he pressed send.

Unknown number

"Hi, it’s me, Joel"

Your phone vibrated on your side of the bed.

"Honey?" Dwight called out,

“Yes?" you asked from the bathroom.

“Why is a Joel messaging you at this hour?”

You paused, the sensation of cold cream on your fingertips suddenly forgotten. The name "Joel" seemed too foreign on Dwight's lips; you even felt guilty.

"It's probably just something about Tara," you replied, forcing nonchalance into your tone. But the unease crept into your voice, betraying the facade.

Dwight's curiosity lingered in the room as you picked up your phone. The screen illuminated with a new message, and the familiar ache resurfaced in your heart.

Unknown number

Sorry for sending this at this time, but I've been thinking a lot about you since our unexpected meeting, and I was wondering if we could talk. No pressure, just a conversation.

You felt a mix of emotions—surprise, apprehension, and a tinge of curiosity. The late-night timing added an unexpected layer of intensity to the message.

"Honey, is everything okay?" Dwight's voice carried a note of concern.

"Yeah, it's probably about Tara or something. I'll go better call him,” you replied, forcing a smile. But deep down, you knew that hearing his voice through a phone would do enough damage to you.

“Hello sunshine! How it’s my best girl doing?” he exclaimed, his sleepy voice from this time in the morning melted you.

“I’m better now that you called”

“Remember I’m always just a call away from you, doe”

The hallway felt colder as you left the room, and the phone gripped tightly in your hand. Your heart raced against your chest, its rhythm echoing the uncertainty of the moment. As you pressed the button to call Joel, each second felt like an eternity.

The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring, Joel's voice filled the air. "Hello?"

"How did you get my number?” you asked

"I... "I... uh, well," Joel stammered on the other end of the line, a hint of unease in his voice. "Sarah got it from Tara.”

Your mind raced with a mix of emotions—surprise, frustration, and a touch of understanding due to your daughters’ becoming friends.

"You could have asked," you replied, the tension evident in your voice. "But fine, what did you want to talk about?"

There was a pause, and you could almost hear Joel gathering his thoughts on the other end. "I've been thinking a lot about the past, about us," he admitted. "I never got the chance to properly apologize for how things ended. I just want to talk, to understand, and maybe find closure."

Closure. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years gone by.

You didn’t want to have closure with him; you didn’t want to forget.

"Joel, it's been thirteen years," you said, a mix of weariness and frustration coloring your words. "We've both moved on. What's the point of digging up the past now?"

"I know, and I respect that," Joel responded, his tone earnest. "But I've carried the weight of what happened between us for a long time. Maybe talking about it will help both of us. Besides Sarah and Tara, we could talk about them."

You sighed, the complexity of the situation settling around you. "Fine, let's meet. But just this once. I have a life, Joel, and I can't afford to let the past disrupt it."

"Thank you," Joel said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "I appreciate this, truly. Let's find a time.

"Tomorrow,” you said, interrupting his rambling.

Tomorrow? It seemed like too soon you were conflicted between the desire to see him again and the guilt of not being able to erase that part of your life.

“Okay, tomorrow at lunch” he spoke after what it seemed like minutes “I’ll send you the address.”

“Okay.” You whispered, “Have a goodnight, Joel”

“Good night, doe” he replied, before realizing how he had called you, he ended the call leaving you with no chance to answer back.

You were speechless, and the hallway felt emptier than before. Nobody had called you “Doe” since you parted ways with Joel, as if the nickname was forbidden from the lips of any person who wasn’t him, carrying a reminder of a time when the two of you shared your own language.

“From now on I’m calling you, Doe”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head

“Because you looked so innocent with those bright eyes of you and you remind me of Bambi but I don’t want to call you that”

“What’s wrong with Bambi?”

“Nothing” he replied, “We could actually be like Bambi and Thumper”

As you walked back into the bedroom, Dwight looked up from his book, sensing the turmoil in your expression. "Everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, just Joel wants to meet tomorrow to talk."

Dwight raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I can go."

"No, I know," you replied, sinking onto the bed. "But it’s nothing bad... I actually know Joel from before. "You confessed without looking at Dwight.”

Dwight's expression softened as he processed your confession. "Before we met?"

You nodded, finally meeting his gaze. "Yeah, Joel and I have history. We were close—really close. We were actually best friends,” you said, omitting the “he is the love of my life” part.

Understanding flickered in Dwight's eyes, and he reached out, gently cupping your face. "You don't have to go through with this if it makes you uncomfortable. I trust you, and I trust whatever decision you make."

A mix of gratitude and guilt welled up within you. "I appreciate that, Dwight.”

He nodded, offering a supportive smile. "I'll be here for you, no matter what."

After that, Dwight closed his book and said goodnight to you, falling asleep a few minutes later. It seemed odd for you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird because of his attitude, as if he didn’t care about you meeting with another guy.

Dwight's seemingly indifferent response to your revelation about Joel left you feeling conflicted. Was it a sign of trust and confidence in your commitment to the present, or was there an undercurrent of something else?

As you drove to the restaurant Joel had suggested, your mind buzzed with memories of your shared past. The streets seemed to echo with the laughter and conversations of your younger selves. Navigating through familiar lanes, you couldn't escape the gravitational pull of nostalgia.

The restaurant's entrance loomed ahead, and you found yourself hesitating. The realization struck—this wasn't just a casual meeting; it was a reunion with someone who had once been the center of your world.

Once you stepped inside the restaurant Joel told you about, you were faced with reality. You were a married woman, going to have lunch not with another man who was your ex-boyfriend but with the love of your life. Your heart was beating so hard against your ribcage that you almost felt how your bones crashed at the impact.

You stopped at the entrance; your face was heating up. You wanted to leave, but before you could even make up your mind, those brown eyes found you, and you couldn't turn away.

Breathe in, breathe out.

One step, then another step.

It seemed like hours, but there you were, in front of the boy with brown eyes who put a bandage on your knee when you fell on the pavement at 5 years old. You were there in front of the teenager who kissed you at seventeen on a random night after doing homework in your bedroom.

You had decided to conquer the world—or at least the little corner of it that belonged to your shared imagination. As you ran through the streets, giggles and laughter echoing, it happened—the inevitable collision with the ground. Your knees met the pavement, and the sting of scraped skin sent tears streaming down your cheeks.

That's when Joel appeared, like a knight in a tiny superhero cape. His mom, hearing the commotion, had rushed him outside to play. In his hand, he held a box of colorful, cartoon-themed band-aids. With the unwavering confidence of a five-year-old, he approached you.

"Don't cry, okay? I've got something to fix you up," Joel declared, his eyes wide with sincerity.

As he carefully placed a band-aid on your scraped knee, something shifted. It was more than just a simple act of putting on a band-aid; it was the beginning of a connection that would thread through the fabric of your lives for years to come.

"See, all is better!" Joel announced, grinning proudly as if he had just mended the universe. “I’m Joel,” he said happily. “What’s your name?”

You were surprised and speechless; you felt enamored by the kid in front of you, but in your brain, the boy was still gross.

Joel's expression mirrored a mix of surprise and recognition. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as you both stood there, caught in the gravity of your intertwined past.

But it seemed to be the night you were back in the house he had bought with the help of his parents, where you were supposed to grow old together. It looked like that night you came back, hoping to begin again.

But it wasn't, and time didn't stop because two lovers couldn't survive in the currents of the sea.

"Hi, doe," he greeted you, standing up from his seat.

Doe.

"Joel," you greeted back, gracing a small smile.

"Lovie" is forbidden now.

"Please, take a seat," he said, signaling at the seat in front of him.

You didn't know how to react, what to do, or what to say, so you sat on the chair, trying to ease your heart's beating.

Joel's gaze never left your form; instead, it traveled down your figure, but the golden band on your finger stopped his curious gaze, and somehow he felt the urge to cry.

He had always pictured the shiny rock he had bought for you back those years ago, wrapped around your finger.

If he had told you he spent those late nights doing extra work only to buy that piece of jewelry for you, perhaps you would be the one wearing it now, and in this situation, it would be one of those moments you share lunch between your work schedules.

But that shiny ring wrapped echoes of missed opportunities, and the haunting what-ifs painted a poignant portrait of a love that had slipped through his fingers.

You had been waiting, the anticipation mingling with worry as the hands of the clock inched forward. The scent of a hastily prepared dinner lingered in the air, growing colder with each passing minute. Joel's absence, became a palpable presence in the room.

As the door finally creaked open, revealing Joel's figure in the dim light, a wave of emotions crashed over you. The relief of his arrival was quickly overshadowed by the frustration that had been building within.

"Joel, do you have any idea what time it is?" you snapped, the words escaping before you could temper the edge in your voice.

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. "I lost track of time at work. I'm sorry," he offered, attempting to diffuse the tension.

The apology, however, fell on ears numbed by the repetition of similar excuses. The words that followed, laden with accusations and frustrations, transformed the night into a battleground of emotions. The promises made in the glow of love were replaced by the harsh reality of unmet expectations.

"I can't do this, Joel. I can't keep waiting for you every night," you uttered your voice a mix of exhaustion and hurt.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm doing all of this for us. I'm working hard to provide for our future."

He had never sold the ring; he couldn't do it, thinking you would have come back to your home and built your story from the cracked fragments.

But he had made a mistake; however, that mistake that made you slip through his fingers brought his daughter to him, and he couldn’t find the strength to blame that night anymore.

And he thought that for you, it may have been the same; you have had a daughter too, and he knows that you love her more than life itself.

It was almost poetic; the mistakes that had separated you had, in a strange twist of fate, become the catalyst for a reunion. The bond between Joel and his daughter, the same bond you had with Tara, seemed to mirror the intricate threads that wove your lives together once again.

“So, how have you been?” he began asking.

“I thought you wanted to talk about our daughters,” you replied, deflecting the conversation to the common ground that had brought you back together.

Joel's eyes held a glimmer of nostalgia. "Come on, Doe, you know I care about you."

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded in almost a whisper.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of realization and regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he apologized, the sincerity in his voice evident. "I didn't mean to.”

“But I’ve been fine.” You finally said that, looking at him.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I can’t help but be surprised about you being Tara’s mother."

“Why? Is it too hard to believe I’m a mother?”

Joel's eyes softened, and he shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's surreal, you know? Seeing you as a mother, I mean, Tara is the same age as Sarah.”

“I got pregnant a few months after we..."

“We broke up,” he said, ending the sentence for you.

“Yes. I met Dwight one night, and I got pregnant.”

“You got over things soon, then,” he added in an undertone.

“What does that mean?” You asked in a defensive tone.

Joel sighed, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... seeing you move on so quickly, it's

"No, tell me!” you exclaimed. “Do you think it was going to be easy for me to stay with you while you take care of another woman who was carrying your baby? 2

“Yet, you still had a daughter with another man.”

“So what? It was forbidden for me to hook up with a guy because I was fucking broke. Yes, I ended up pregnant, but...

“But what?” he inquired.

“It should have been you!" You cried, not knowing why you were acting so childish. "It was always supposed to be you." You repeated, calmer, "Since we were seventeen, I picture you being the father of my child."

Joel's gaze held a mix of surprise and remorse, realizing the depth of your emotions. "Doe, I never meant to hurt you. I had my own struggles, and I made mistakes."

"It's not about the mistakes, Joel," you said, wiping away a tear. "It's about the dreams we had and how they shattered. I loved you, and I imagined a future with you.

The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with the weight of unsaid words and the echoes of a shared past. The restaurant seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of unresolved emotions.

“You know this is repeating again,” you chuckled between tears. “I’m here with you while I’m crying all over again. I had to leave my job and move back to the city that throws the past in my face, and I can’t find a job."You covered your face with your hands.

Joel's eyes held a mixture of empathy and regret as he listened to your words. The ache of the past lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the dreams that had slipped through your fingers.

"I wish I could change it all," Joel confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of shared regrets. "I never wanted you to leave, and seeing you hurt now... it hurts me too."

"But we can't go back," you replied with a resigned tone in your voice. "We're both different people now, living different lives. Maybe it's time to accept that some wounds don't fully heal."

“But we can be civil to each other, at least for our daughter’s sake,” he said, his voice soft.

You looked at him, your tear-streaked face reflecting a mixture of pain and acceptance. For a moment, you considered his words, acknowledging the shared responsibility of raising daughters who were connected by a blossoming friendship.

"Yeah," you agreed, a weary smile on your face. "We owe it to them to be civil, to show them that even when things don't work out, people can still be respectful and caring."

Joel nodded, a somber understanding passing between you. At that moment, you both recognized the importance of setting aside personal grievances for the sake of your daughters.

“You know? About the job, Tommy and I need an assistant.”

Your eyes widened at Joel's unexpected offer; the surprise was evident on your face. The mention of a job opportunity brought a glimmer of hope amid the emotional turbulence. It was as if a door, long thought closed, cracked open with the possibility of a new beginning.

"An assistant?" you repeated, the idea taking a moment to sink in. "Are you serious?"

Joel nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I am. We're expanding, and having you would be nice.”

"I appreciate the offer," you finally said, your voice cautious. "But-

“Just think about it; if you want the job, you can call me tomorrow or go to our office," Joel added, his tone sincere.

“You know what? He asked after your silence, leaning into the table, "You are still looking at me with the same eyes you did before.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. There was a moment of vulnerability in his eyes—a flicker of the past that hadn't entirely dissipated. The connection between you, despite the years and the changes, lingered in the unspoken words that floated in the air.

"I don't know what you mean," you replied, attempting to mask the emotions that swirled within.

Joel chuckled softly, a nostalgic warmth in his gaze. "Doe, you always had this way of seeing through me. Even now, those eyes of yours... they haven't changed."

"I'm married."

“So what? Can’t you have friends? He asked.

“What about Sarah’s mother? Wouldn’t she get mad at you for being with your ex-girlfriend?"

“That’s funny because we’re not together,” he confessed with a weird smile on his face. “We never were together. After Sarah was born, she left us.”

The revelation hung in the air, a mix of surprise and confusion settling between you. The complexity of his past mirrored your own, and in that shared vulnerability, there was an unspoken understanding.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you offered, genuine sympathy in your voice.

"It's okay," Joel replied, a shrug accompanying his words. "She is married to another man, and she had a son, but I won because I had Sarah.”

“It’s fun how our daughters brought us together,” you said calmly.

"It's true," Joel acknowledged, a wistful smile playing on his lips. Our daughters seem to be the common thread weaving through our lives now."

You smiled, feeling butterflies dancing inside your stomach. The closeness to Joel felt foreign yet so familiar, and all the sentiments making your way through your heart were there again, suffocating you.

“I should get going,” you said, out of the blue.

“But you haven't eaten yet.”

“I know, but it’s getting late, and I have to go back to my house.”

"Okay,” he said, knowing you were making a lie to run away again, yet he didn’t pressure you.

"I appreciate you taking the time to talk," Joel said, breaking the silence. "And about the job, just think it over. No pressure. Whatever you decide, I'm here for you, even if it's just as a friend."

“Thank you, Joel,” you smiled.

And when you walked away to leave the restaurant, you stopped by the door just to have a second look at him, and when you turned, he was looking at you just as you knew he would.

You smiled at him, and he smiled back at you, mouthing a quiet "take care" in a language only your interlocked gazes understood.

And once you stepped outside, he was left in the restaurant, following you with his eyes.

You weren't the mother of his friend's daughter, but the girl in two ponytails was crying because of a scratch on her knee.

You were once his best friend,

You were once his lover, but that word was a small portion of what you were to him. No, you weren't his lover, but his twin flame that painted every single day of his life blue—the flame that never allowed him to dream about anybody else but you.

And you were the love of his life.

But Joel would do anything to get back on the first step, just to keep you close. He would rather have you back as his best friend than not have you anymore, even if his heart hurts in the process.

You were never his, but he felt the string pulling you together, just like the unbreakable chain you had hanging around your neck since he had memories of you, and he was going to do things right this time because he wasn't able to play pretend knowing there was no gap between you anymore.

You drove around the city for an hour straight, navigating through the streets. Joel used to drive you around when trying to ease your mood after fights with your parents.

You had taken your love and packed it in a tiny little box to protect your heart from breaking.

And when you stopped outside your house, you cried. You sobbed like a little girl waking up from a nightmare. Joel still echoed in your mind, and you accepted that you would never be able to let that part of your life go, so you sobbed, and in that moment of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to grieve for what was lost.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t cry,” Joel said when you didn’t say your name after his introduction.

As the tears subsided, you took a deep breath, the weight in your chest easing slightly, and you stepped out of your car and walked to your house.

The key turned in the lock, the door creaked open, and you stepped into the coldness of your home. You thought about the offer Joel talked to you about, but accepting would be a suicide, and as tempting as the invitation seemed at the edge of your consciousness. However, spending more hours of the day seeing him seemed like being unfaithful to your husband.

As you walked into the living room, Tara glanced up from her phone, and you noticed the concern in her eyes.

"Hi, mom," Tara said, greeting you with a smile on her face.

"Hey, sweets," you said, smiling back at her.

"How was it with Joel?" she asked, setting aside her phone.

"It was... complicated," you admitted, sinking onto the couch beside her.

Tara placed a supportive hand on your shoulder. "Complicated how?"

"He offered me a job," you explained, "and it's not an easy decision to make."

"A job? Why?" Tara asked, her curiosity piqued.

"He thought it could be a good opportunity for us," you replied, choosing your words carefully.

Tara's eyes widened in realization.

“To rekindle our friendship,” you said, before she thought badly of you.

"Are you considering it?"

You sighed, grateful for your daughter's understanding. "I don't know, sweetheart. It's a lot to think about. It's not just a job; it's a connection to our past, to him."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Just make sure it's what you want.”

“And what about your dad?” you asked

“He is not your boss."

Tara's straightforward response made you chuckle. "No, he's not. But he's my husband, and I should consider his feelings too."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Mom, you're allowed to have a life outside of being a wife.”

You admired Tara's maturity, appreciating the clarity in her perspective. "You've grown into a wise young woman, you know that?"

A hint of a smile touched Tara's lips. "Well, I've had a good teacher." She leaned in for a hug, and you embraced her, thankful for the bond you shared.

You found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.

Later, after Tara had gone to do her homework, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, still not in sight of Dwight coming home, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed Joel's number. The call rang for a few moments, and then his voice filled the silence. "Hello?"

"Hi, Joel. It's me," you said, the hesitation evident in your voice.

"Doe?" he responded, surprised.

"What did I say about calling me that?" you asked, with a tiny smile on your face.

“Right. I’m sorry”

"I've been thinking about your job offer. Can we meet tomorrow at your workplace to talk about it?"

A brief pause followed, and then Joel replied, "Of course, I'll text you the address.”

"Okay,” you said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied. “Take care.”

The call ended, leaving you with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was coming into your life again.

Towards the end of the conversation, Tommy glanced at Joel with a skeptical smile on his face. "Do we really need an assistant?" he inquired, unaware of his brother's hidden intentions.

"No," Joel replied, a smile playing on his lips. "But we're going to have one."

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981

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gardens-light · 9 months

Text

Undercover

In order to find something worthy of blackmailing not just the K.S.I but also the government. All agreed on a simple plan. Divide and conquer. Knowing the next moment's were critical, as it was going to test the bonds of loyalty and trust... Yet, in the midst of chaos and serious planning. Bumblebee and Drift decided do a side mission of their own- involving you and Optimus...

Content: Course language. Events takes place in Transformers- Age of Extinction. (Major spoilers in this and in upcoming chapters.) Heaps of fluff. Optimus Prime x Human F/Reader.

Word count- 5k (roughly)

Sparkmate Series- Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (End)

"We're back!" Tessa's voice echoed throughout the main hall of the empty cathedral.

Bumblebee gave a little wave, while your attention didn't move from his thigh. Focusing on adjusting a couple of bolts, that the yellow scout has been complaining about for the past couple days.

"Hey." Cade greeted from the makeshift table. "I found a whole bunch of boxes of clothes. So Tessa, sweetie. You can find some long pants. Nice loose-fitting ones, and lose the short-shorts, okay? What you guys get?"

Tessa and Shane emptied their backpacks onto the table. Various fruits, long life items and random tools spilled in front of Cade.

"It's protein." Tessa simply said, placing the container in front of him.

"Look, I said the essentials, okay?"

"It wasn't easy." Tessa sighed, "we almost got caught."

Cade raised an eyebrow, as Shane placed a bottle of mouthwash onto the table. "You stole mouthwash?"

"I like to be fresh, when I'm making out with your daughter." Shane spoke with a smug smile.

Tessa chuckled, while you and Bumblebee looked away. Trying to hide your cheeky smiles, as the pair of you giggled under your breathes.

Cade's brows knitted together, reaching out for the bottle and throwing it across the table. "Yeah that's not happening. Ever!"

Tessa and Shane gave each other awkward smiles.

"A little bit late for that." Your teasing tone whispered to Bumblebee.

---

Walking into the main hall of the cathedral with laptop in hand. The sound of small giggles caught your attention, your movements coming to a halt as your eyes looked away from the screen. Your soft gaze falling onto Tessa and Shane whom cuddled in their little ‘love nest’ corner. Her head resting against Shane’s chest as they sprawled out on the couch, the gentle glow of the dusk sunlight bathing them in a soft colourful glow, as it streamed through the stained-glass window. Numerous candles surrounding them setting the scene just right.

A small smile tugged the corners of your lips, I’m glad they’ve found some calm before the storm.

“Ah-hem. Excuse me.” Cade’s voice echoed throughout the hall, “there’ll be no smooching in front of me. Thank you.”

Speaking of storms...

The couple broke apart, feeling Cade’s disapproval stare upon them.

“You’re so old, Dad.” Tessa complained, “who even saids ‘smooching’ anyway?”

A small prickle of envy crawled in your chest, as you hugged the laptop. Lowering your head a little, attempting to hide your suttle frown.

“It can be so difficult sometimes.” Cade sighed, while drinking a protein shake. His annoyed stare looking up at Optimus, “I’m telling ya. No respect these days.”

Optimus nodded folding his arms across his chest, “I went through something similar with Bumblebee.”

The small prickle of envy snipped your yearning heart, like a flower's thorn upon your skin. Bringing the laptop a little closer to your face, as your cheeks grew a little warm. As the ‘almost kiss’ between you and Optimus replayed in your thoughts.

“Afternoon, Y/N” the sound of Crosshairs' voice caused you to jump a little.

“Cr-Crosshairs? Sorry, you startled me.”

“Really?” you felt his green optics study you. “Something on your mind?”

“Just... running through the plans.” You spoke with a fake smile, “making sure everyone knows the drill, and what not.”

You raised an eyebrow as Crosshairs briefly turned to Drift. Glancing over his shoulder at the blue Autobot, whom gestured in your direction, then to a set of stone stairs.

“Is everything alright, Crosshairs?” your puzzled tone caught his attention.

“Yea. Yea.” he assured with a teasing smile, “just remembered that the Big Boss wants to see you.”

You tilted your head a little. Pressing the laptop harder against your chest, as your heart skipped a little.

“Optimus?...” your voice was low, trying not to sound too surprised.

“Yeah. He said it was something important, or whatever.”

Your confused gaze switched between Optimus, whom still muttered something to Cade, and back to Crosshairs who just stood beside you. Fidgeting around his pistol.

“Ok... well um... I guess I should head over to him-”

A small yelp escaped your lips as he quickly got in your way.

“No! No!” his whisper-shout came out a little louder than intended. “I-I mean...”

Crosshairs gestured you to come a little closer, as he squatted down to your level.

“Crosshairs, what’s going on?”

The Autobot sighed, as his optics fell onto your unamused and confused expression. “Look... I don’t know what the Big Boss wants to discuss with you. Honestly he was very vague about it-”

“Optimus is rarely vague about anything-”

“My thoughts exactly. So I’m assuming it’s something important but also private.”

Crosshairs attempted to hold a convincing smile, as your eyes studied his features.

“Okay...” raising an eyebrow again. Your expression matching your unsure tone, “where do you think he’d would wanna talk?”

“My best guess would be the tower behind you.”

You briefly followed his gesture, pointing at the stone stairs behind you.

Crosshairs shrugged at your silent question. Your eyes studied him one more time, before hesitantly approaching the stairs.

“Well, you almost fucked that up.”

Crosshairs glanced up at Hound, giving the Autobot daggers as he came out of hiding, once assured you were out of earshot.

“Shut up.” Crosshairs hissed, standing to his full height. “I told you, I’m not good at this mushy stuff. If you’d ask me, I think this whole plan is pathetic.”

“¬ you can’t handle the truth!¬” Bumblebee buzzed. His blue optics narrowing at his comrade.

“Autobots?”

All froze as the sound of Optimus’ voice interrupted them.

“What’s going on?”

“¬Y/N wants¬ to see you¬ outside¬ Sir.”

Optimus’ titled his head to the side, his optics giving Bumblebee a questioning gaze. “Why?”

All speechlessly shrugged. But a annoyed whirl wheezed out of Bee, rolling his blue optics at his comrades, while impatiently grabbing Optimus’ servo.

“Bumblebee? What?-”

“¬Outside!¬” Bee simply repeated. Pulling his leader towards the large arch, which lead towards one of the cathedral’s courtyards.

Optimus looked over his shoulder, giving a confused expression to the rest of the Autobots. Drift looked away, trying to hide his knowing smile. While Crosshairs and Hound simply sighed and walked away.

---

Approaching the small stone balcony, a gasp left your breath as your wide eyes fell upon the most curious of sight.

A mixture of fairy lights and string lights lit up the courtyard below. Hanging upon trees and their overhanging branches, dancing up the stone pillars which held the dome roof of a small gazebo. Delicate white lanterns lit by candlelight, was suspended above the gazebo. Their strings stretching from the balcony’s stone frame, to the nearby fence.

Roughly potted flowers lined the courtyard’s flowerbeds, matching the drooping flowers in the large stone pots upon the balcony. A small chuckle escaping you, as your eyes fell upon a bench. Clearly from inside the cathedral, but broken down to fit upon the balcony’s edge. Dressed in loosely thrown flower petals, as it rested against the iron railings of the balcony.

This is by far, better than Tessa’s love nest.

Placing a hand over your mouth, attempting to hide your shy smile. As the sight of Bumblebee dragging Optimus by his servo came to you.

The prime muttered something to the yellow scout, but Bumblebee only shook his head. Optimus’ optics tried to avoid your soft gaze, as Bee turned and went behind him. Giving the leader one final push against his back, before scuttering away.

“This is... unexpected.”

Your sweet tone caught his attention. Optimus’ shy gaze slowly left the floor and onto your blushing face.

“As it is for me.” He spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “A thousand apologies, Y/N. This isn’t- I-I mean, it isn’t my intention-”

“It’s alright, Optimus.” you assured.

Your warm smile made his spark skip a beat. A gentle hue of warmth returning to underneath his metal plates.

“It’s makes a lovely change from seeing graffitied walls and boarded up windows.”

Optimus returned your warm smile, “indeed it does...”

You clutched onto the laptop tightly, holding it against your chest. As though it would somehow stop the rapid beating of your heart. Warmth came to your cheeks, as you shyly looked away from him.

His scanners picked up your pulsing heart and shaky breath.

Say something! His processors commanded. Anything!

“The laptop in your hands? I um... do not remember you having it before.”

Idiot!

“Um... yeah.” You begun to fiddle with it. “I found it in the station back in Texas. I’ve been going over the plans for tomorrow.”

Optimus nodded, “familiarizing oneself of the strategies and plans, is highly wise. That way you’d most certainly be prepared for anything.”

You awkwardly nodded. Your foot slowly tracing invisible circles upon the balcony floor.

I am going to whack Crosshairs with a wench next time I see him! Your thoughts scolded.

Optimus’ digits became fidgety. His servos clenching and unclenching, as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other. Edging a little closer to the balcony which came to his chest plate.

His optics widening a little, as you prepared to turn away from him.

Please don’t leave...

“I-I would like to hear the plan.” his voice spat out.

You gazed back at him with a raised eyebrow.

Optimus cleared his throat, “please... I would appreciate if you’d ran a few details by me again.”

“Sure... of course.”

---

A sad whirl wheezed out of Bumblebee, lightly slapping the palm of his servo against his face plate. As him and Tessa moved away from the closed balcony doors.

“I agree.” She muttered, “it is painful.”

Her eyes watched as the yellow scout slouched against the bricked wall. A warm smile tugging at her lips, as Bee’s optics gazed down at his peds.

“Hey. We can still help move things along.”

Bee perked up at her cheerful tone. His hopeful gaze returning to her.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a basketball downstairs-”

“And I saw~ broken bits~ of mirror!” the Autobot buzzed.

“Perfect!”

---

“And with that, we should be straight in, straight out.”

You looked up at Optimus with a soft smile. His gentle expression smiling back, as the redness of your cheeks never faded. His optics finding difficulty to look away for your soft lips.

His spark tried to drive his body towards temptation, while his processors teased him with the ‘almost kiss’ back at the station.

“I cannot help...” Optimus spoke, requiring more focus upon his words than usual. “I cannot help but be concerned for your safety. As if anything were to happen...”

His sentence trailed off into silence, as his optics slightly widened at the sight of you reaching out to him. The cooling fans within his vents working overtime, as the Autobot tried to regulate his climbing body temperature. Your cool, soft touch sent volts of electricity through him, as your fingertips lightly brushed the back of his servo. Not knowing that you made his Spark yearn for you even more.

“You shouldn’t be worried about me. I can take care of myself.”

Your voice sounded like a sirens song, to Optimus’ audio receivers.

“Perhaps something like this would ease your mind.”

Butterflies tangled your nerves, as they fluttered in your stomach. Your heart skipping a beat, as the bazaar idea came to you. Your cheeks radiating similar warmth to Optimus, as you felt his gentle yet lingering gaze. Concentrating on each breath you took, as his optics memorized every detail of your body. How your hair subtlety moved in the cool night air, how your clothes loosely hugged your figure. Yet also leaving each curve of your hips and thighs to one’s imagination.

“Here.” you shyly spoke.

Taking off the ring upon your finger, and placing it into the palm of his servo. Optimus briefly studied the simple iron band, before returning his gaze to you. Your sweet smile making his breath get stuck in his throat.

“It’s my ‘Lucky Ring’- stupid I know. But it was the first thing I ever forged with my Dad, it’s... not perfect. But I feel like it’s brought me a lot of luck, so I was thinking... perhaps... you could have it.”

Optimus gulped, “Y/N... I-I can’t-” placing his free servo over his aching Spark.

You slowly skootched over to him, closing the gap between you.

“Please, I want you to have it.” You carefully guided his digits to enclose around the ring. The small item simply getting lost in his closed fist.

“So whenever you see it, you’d think of me. And that as long as you carry this, a part of me will always be safe with you.”

Optimus caved in to his body’s temptations. His servo leaving his chest, and quickly wrapping around your waist, gently pulling you closer.

“I do not require an item to think of you. For you are always running through my processors.”

The blush across your features spread towards your ears, your face never felt so warm. As the wires within the Autobot’s abdomen crossed and entangled themselves. His Spark’s rhythm matching your pulsing heart.

Optimus’ servo gently retracted from your waist, allowing his index digit to trace your curves before holding it out in front of you.

Your starstruck gaze trailed down from his loving optics, a breathless gap escaping your lips, as the metal plates around his wrist shifted. Thin cables slithered out like snakes, as he brought your iron ring towards them. Immediately threading themselves through the band, securing it tightly against his metal plates, only allowing the ring to dangle a little.

Placing a hand over your silent gasp, as Optimus opened his chest plates. Reveling his pulsing energy core, blue sparks zapped away from his Spark. His hopeful optics watched his core glow brightly in your eyes, his chest raising and falling, while his vents worked overtime.

This... vulnerable feeling? His processors questioned. Is this how it feels to find... a Sparkmate?

Your eyes widened as a glowing shard left his chest, it center glowed slightly dimmer than his Spark.

“This is the Great Matrix of Leadership.” Optimus explained, as the ‘S’-shape shard dance and hovered in the palm of his servo. “It’s the only thing in this universe that can revive the Spark of a Cybertronian.”

“Optimus... it’s beautiful.”

The Matrix rapidly spun in his palm, a blue flash bursting from it’s center, as it shrunk to the size of a small pendant. Optimus gently threaded thin copper wires, which braided themselves together, through the tip of The Matrix

Your heart jumped into your throat, as Optimus guided the necklace towards you.

“It is my gift to you. So a piece of me is always with you-”

“O-Optimus?-”

“It will protect you from any harm. And if should anything ever happen to me, you’d be the one to ignite my Spark. For it’s you, who makes it pulse through my wires.”

While the familiar sensation of a loving bond enveloped the pair of you. His knuckles caressed your cheek, as he gently placed The Matrix necklace around your neck.

“Y/N... believe me, this is not something I do, nor say lightly." Optimus gently admitted, "I can’t give you normality, or anything a regular human could offer. But what I can give, is everything that I am.”

A loving sigh escaped his lips, as you briefly caressed his cheek. Your hand trailing towards his neck, and your fingers tracing the back of his helm. Optimus’ chest closed again, as he placed his free servo around your waist again. Gently sweeping you off your feet, and bringing you closer to him.

"By my Spark, I would protect you. Adore you. Cherish and support anything that's important to you. If doubt ever aches your heart, I will not rest till I can do everything I can, to free you of such feeling."

He placed a gentle kiss upon your forehead, running a digit through your hair. As his optics shined with hope and love.

"And if you ever wished for a piece of the night sky. I would go to its depths, and bring you back the brightest star."

---

“What are you two doing?” Shaned asked raising an eyebrow. As his puzzled gaze fell upon Tessa hoisting up a mis-shaped, makeshift disco ball, while Bumblebee helped guide it. Attempting to not allow the object to knock against the broken window.

“~Kiss the girl~” the Disney song buzzed from the scout’s radio.

“Their leader has fallen for my sister.” Tessa briefly explained, “something about her being Optimus’... what did you call it, Bee?”

“A~ Sparkmate~”

“Yeah... that...”

Shane placed his hands upon his hips. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “and that explains the uh, disco ball, how?”

“~setting the mood~ for ~true loves kiss!-”

“What racket are you two making now?” Crosshairs sighed.

All three turned to the green Autobot, as he crouched near the landing of the stone steps.

“Her sister, your boss.” Shane briefly spoke.

Crosshairs folded his arms across his chest plates, “you two still wasting time with that nonsense? I told you, there’s no such thing as a ‘Sparkmate’-”

“~what would~ you know~ about~ Sparkmate’s?” Bee challenged, letting go of the makeshift disco ball.

“Bee!” Tessa cried, as the rope almost lifted her off the ground.

The scout quickly grabbed the mirror coated ball, saving Tessa from flying a tall height.

“It’s a interspecies relationship.” Crosshairs groaned, “such thing has never been heard of back on Cybertron.-”

“~Love~ comes in~ different shapes!-”

“Ugh, guys.” Shane’s small voice interrupted, as his surprised expression gazed out of the window. “You should take a look at this...”

---

Eyes closed and embracing one another. A satisfied hum rumbled in the back of Optimus’ throat, as his lips mimicked yours.

Your heart fluttered, as The Matrix necklace rested against your chest. Your free hand trailed down from the back of his helm, towards Optimus' chest plate. Feeling the vibrations of his Spark, as it burst like small firecrackers.

A muffled moan slipped from you, as his glossa entered your mouth. Deepening the kiss and exploring your flavour, he gently bit your bottom lip. Encouraging your tongue to enter his mouth.

The desire of wanting more knotted in Optimus' admonian, as one of his servo’s explored the curvature of your back. Reaching down towards the waistband of your trousers, slipping his digits underneath the fabric. Butterflies in your stomach, caused the lowest pits to do backflips. As you felt Optimus' servo play with the lace of your undergarments, before giving your ass a cheeky squeeze.

A warmth built up within your core, as your body pressed against Optimus’ chassis. Small volts sparked throughout his wires, as your bust pushed up against him. Taking a moment to pull away from the kiss, as his optics took a cheeky sneak at your cleavage.

S-Sweet Primus!

A flickering flame built up within his core, as dirty thoughts intrude his processors.

His servo cradled your back, as you leaned back a little. Allowing the prime to plant soft kisses along your collar bone, and up towards your neck.

“Y/N... my Sweet Spark.” His toned rippled against you, causing excited shivers to run up your spine.

“Optimus-”

‘Crash!’ ‘Shatter!’

“Bumblebee!” the sound of your sister’s voice interrupted the silence. Followed by a sad whirl wheezing from the yellow Autobot.

You and Optimus looked at the window, which overlooked the balcony. Just seeing a glimpse of Shane and Crosshairs ducking out of sight.

An awkward chuckle erupted between the pair of you, as you and Optimus slowly broke away from one another. Your fingers and his digits tracing each others arm and down towards the palm.

“We uh... should head back inside.” You lowly spoke. Cheeks blushing from the afterglow.

Optimus tenderly kissed your cheek, before returning to his full height. “Indeed... perhaps, we could continue this another time?”

Next Day

“Calm down. Calm down.” Shane nervously muttered to himself, as Bee slowly rolled up to the back entrance of K.S.I.

“Y’know... in times like this, the idea is to keep cool, not look cool.” Cade sighed in the passenger seat. “So why don’t you lose the sunglasses?”

Shane removed the item as Cade briefly glanced at him.

“About a month ago, I thought I heard noises in the middle of the night. Was that you?”

Shane gave him a wide eyed stare, “what? You’re asking me this now?-”

“Don’t lie to me, kid. You see that guy with the gun out there?-”

“There’s so many guys with guns!” his panicky tone hissed.

“Let’s get out the car and tell him we’re about to break in.” Cade’s voice kept it’s calm and collected tone, “we could admit it was your idea. Cause I don’t care, I’m old, I’ve already lived long enough-”

“You have a real bad habit of having these conversations at the wrong time, man!-”

“You wanna come clean, or you want me to make a mess?”

Shane’s heart leapt into his throat, as Cade cleared his throat. Attempting to politely get the attention of one of the guards, “Sir, can I talk to you for a second please?”

“It was me. It was me” the Irishman lowly repeated, as the guard forced Cade’s door shut. Giving Cade a stern expression while shaking his head.

“Taking it in for scanning?” another guard address Shane, while Bee rolled down the driver’s window.

Shane silently nodded, holding up the forged K.S.I staff badge. The guard scanned it, looking over the pair before approving them to go ahead...

The Camero rolled through a hanger of polished concrete floors, and wooden walls painted black. Shane and Cade scanned their surroundings, avoiding eye contact from passing staff members.

“We took old, alien technology and made it better in every way.” A feminine voice echoed over the P.A system, “introducing Stinger.”

Bumblebee rolled to a gentle halt, as Cade’s wide eyed stare glanced up at a pink Transformer. Which was displayed in the middle of the hanger.

“That’s a bad-ass robot.” Shane admired, leaning closer to the windscreen.

“Kinda looks like you, Bee.”

Bumblebee revved his engine, disagreeing with Cade’s observation.

The Texan got out of Bee’s passenger seat, slowly approaching the display. He looked around the hanger, before activating the video recording system, that Crosshairs’ hid into Cade’s smart watch.

“Can you see this, Sweetie?” Cade whispered to you through his ear piece.

“I see it, Dad.” Your polite tone confirmed. “What the hell are these guys doing?”

“Looks like, they’re trying to build their own versions of the Transformers-”

“Well, at least they’re picking cooler cars than this.” Shane interrupted.

Bee revved his engine again, pushing his stirring wheel out of the dashboard and into Shane’s face.

“¬You talk to me like that?¬” the yellow scout buzzed angrily.

“Dad? What’s going on?” your voice scratched through Cade’s ear piece.

“Nothing, Sweetie. I’ll send more stuff your way if I find anything.”

Cade quickly deactivated the recording, approaching Bee’s passenger door again.

“See what happens, when you try and be a smart-ass?” he hissed at Shane.

Shane crawled out of the Autobot’s altmode. As an advertisement projected itself onto a screen, behind the Stinger display.

“Inspired by Bumblebee. But better in every way” the femiline voice continued through the screen.

“~What?~” Bee’s radio harshly buzzed. “~Son of a-”

“No! No!” Cade yelled at the Autobot, whom decided to do burnouts in the hanger. Marking up the polished concrete floor, “you gotta calm down!”

“Bee! Stop messing around!-”

All froze as the sound of voices filled the hanger, Cade and Shane’s nervous stares glanced up at a group of people walking through doors on the opposite side of the hanger.

“Hey!” one of their voices called out. “You two! Grease moneys!”

"Oh shit..." Shane muttered. "That's Mr Joyce, the CEO of K.S.I." He nervously tried to hide behind Bumblebee, as the individual dressed in a fine tailored suit, and glasses approached Cade.

“What the hell is going on here? And what’s with this vintage crap?” He hissed in an hushed whisper.

Bee revved his engine as Mr Joyce gestured towards the Autobot.

“We’re not scanning collector junk.” Joyce's tone held an amused tone, matching his expression. As he continued to talk to Cade, “what is it that you think we make here? Hmm? We make poetry here! We’re poets! When you work for me, you get to make one mistake. One. Understood?”

“Yes Sir.” Cade professionally spoke, “understood. It won’t happen again, Sir.”

“It certainly won't.” Joyce sighed, “now... let’s get this pathetic thing out of here. And you, too.”

Cade silently nodded, feeling Joyce's stare look over him again. Before returning to the rest of the group, and escorting them out of the hanger.

Shane released a heavy sigh of relief, that he had been holding in the whole time.

“You and Bee leave here quietly.” Cade spoke, as he looked at the Irishman over his shoulder. “I’m going to try and have a look around. Hopefully Y/N is doing better than us...”

---

Your heels clicked along the marble floor, as you walked across the lab of the basement level. Scientists, engineers and various staff hovered around tables. Your hand clenching into a fist inside the pocket of the lab coat, while your free hand fiddled with The Matrix necklace. Your eyes looked at the multiple pieces of alien tech, which scattered across the metal tables throughout the lab.

Your saddened gaze fell onto the heart-wrenching sight before you. A small gasp getting trapped in your throat, as your heart sunk deeper into your chest.

You poor darling. You thought, as the lab-techs melted and pulled parts off, of a decapitated green Autobot helm. What have they done to you?-

“Metal.” A blonde woman wearing a smart three-piece suit approached your side, her blue eyes following your gaze. As you played with your smart watch, discreetly sending the video footage to Drift.

“Just metal. Well, that’s what I always thought of them.”

“You’re wrong.” She gave you a puzzled side glance, as you tried to hide the breaking of your voice. “They’re more than that. They’re living beings with souls- like you and me.”

You pulled a weak smile, “I uh, spoke to one... once.”

“And you’re working with Transformium?”

She studied your silent nod, before turning her attention onto a clear canister filled with a gray substance which looked like sand.

“I’m out there digging for it.” She sighed, “there’s just not much left to find.” Her eyes flickered back to the Autobot’s helm, “so that how badly you guys need more, huh? Reduced to melting old Deceptions?”

“That’s not a Deception.” You corrected, “that’s an Autobot. The ones who fought for us-”

“They slaughtered Ratchet!” Optimus’ angry voice yelled through your ear piece. Almost hurting your ear drum. “I’m gonna tear them apart!”

A loud sound of something falling echoed throughout your ear.

“Excuse me.” You kindly spoke to the blonde woman, as you took a few steps towards one of the exits. “Optimus? Can you hear me?”

Only radio static responded to you.

“Crosshairs? Drift? Can any of you hear me? Please! Don’t do anything rash.”

More static.

An uncomfortable knot twisted in your stomach.

Why do I have a bad feeling about this?-

“Security to Level 3, please. Security to Level 3.” A voice echoed over the P.A system.

Now what?

---

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Cade ran across the third level of the K.S.I building. Alarms going off over the P.A system, as security followed him.

Dodging between frozen staff members, and bursting through random doors. Cade almost made it back to the lift, which lead down back to ground level.

But he had to come to a skidding halt, as more security guards cut him off. Aiming their weapons in his direction.

“Up against the wall! Hands behind your head!”

A heavy sigh left Cade, as he peacefully co-operated. As the security grabbed his arms, placing them against his back and pinning him against the window.

“Corporate espionage.” A familiar voice caught Cade’s attention. Looking over his shoulder to see Mr Joyce, “that’s a very serious crime, Mr. Yeager. How I didn’t recognize you before baffles me, but no matter-”

“Look! Before this goes any further, I want a lawyer!” Cade protested. “Th-The Justice Department. Somebody I can trust! I’m just trying to protect my family, okay? Not from your company! From the government!”

“I can take it from here, Mr. Joyce.” A new individual entered the scene, Joyce studied the new stranger before walking towards the lift at the end of the hall.

Cade studied the new individual. A middle age man stood before him, well dressed like Mr. Joyce but his scalp reveling a receding hairline. Firm yet studious eyes hid behind thin glasses. He made a simple gesture at the security. Allowing Cade to face him fully, while rubbing his wrists a little.

“My name is Attinger, Mr. Yeager.” He introduced, “and who do you think I work for?”

Cade studied Attinger’s sly smile.

“You’re trying to protect your family, that’s admirable. And I’m trying to defend the nation from a alien war, we’ve had a taste of what that looks like.”

He carefully approached Cade, “and we’re certainly not going to tolerate another. Now... there is a version of this conversation, where you get to back to your barn. Your youngest daughter graduate with honor's, while your oldest gets a full-time position with any company within the U.S.A. I’ll even advocate for her personally for a six-figure salary, should she choose to work with me. And life as you know it, goes on.”

Cade raised an eyebrow, as Attinger continued.

“You and your daughters have no idea, what you gotten yourselves into.”

“And what’s the other version of this conversation?” Cade challenged, bring a frown to Attinger’s features. “Sending in your ‘hired help’ to murder my little girls? Or are you going to man up and do it yourself?”

“Depends on your preference, Mr. Yeager... I don’t ask much. You can still turn things into your favor. All you have to do, is convince your eldest to tell me where Optimus Prime is.”

A cheeky smile came to Cade, as the reflection of Bumblebee in the nearby window caught his attention. “I didn’t raise no snitch-”

‘Crash!’

---

Screams echoed throughout K.S.I as Crosshairs and Hound accompanied Optimus. Bursting through high windows, showering everyone below in a rain of glass, as the Autobots made their way through the lower levels.

Crosshairs raised his pistol above his helm, firing warning shots as the trio entered the lab.

“Get out! All of you!” Optimus roared, as people scattered away from him.

“Science fair’s over, meat-bags!” Hound’s voice thundered.

“Destroy the lab!”

The Autobots happily carried out their leader’s orders. Crosshairs and Hound fired at the piles of alien technology, kicking tables and igniting all manner of equipment.

“Excuse me!” You squeaked, trying to push through the flood of people exiting the lab. “Out of my way, please!”

“Destroy it all!”

Your pounding heart ached a little, as Optimus’ rageful voice yelled commands.

“Hey!” Joyce's voice roared over the gunfire, storming over to the Autobot leader. “Hey! Stop! That’s company property!”

“They’re not your property!” Optimus challenged, as he stood over Joyce. Allowing Hound to satisfyingly kick a table filled with alien parts.

“They were my friends!”

Joyce’s studious gaze analyzed the situation.

Finally pushing through the crowd, your eyes widened as Hound clocked his cannon. The weapon releasing a humming sound, as he aimed it at Joyce.

“Oh, you not talking so much now!” a smaller Autobot teased. “Not so tough when Hound is in front of you, huh?”

You watched the small Cybertronian climb onto the barrel of Hound’s cannon, his optics glaring daggers at Joyce.

“Go ahead.” Joyce calmly taunted, “show us your true colours, once and for all-”

“Just give me the word.” Hound smiled, “I’ll splatter him-”

“No! Don’t!” you cried.

“Why don’t you tell Itchy Fingers here, that this is all the spoils of war?” Joyce challenged, “dead metal. Innovation. That’s what we do here, it’s simply science! Because if we don’t do it, somebody else will! Because you cannot stop technology!-”

“We’re not your technology!” Optimus roared.

You ducked as the Autobot blindly kicked machinery into your direction. Causing sparks to erupt from power-ports, and machinery bits fly over your head.

“Optimus! Stop!” you begged.

“Let me vaporize his ass!-”

“Don’t do it, Hound!”

You quickly approached Joyce, standing between him and the barrel of Hound’s cannon.

"Out the way, Y/N." Hound's tone of voice sounded more like a warning, than a pea.

"No, I wont." You gazed into his green optics, range faded as sorrow filled them. "You're better than this Hound. Please... lower your weapon."

Hesitating for a moment, the Autobot grumbled. His cannon slowly shutting down, placing the weapon over his shoulder.

“I broke the code. I own your whole genome.” Joyce spoke with a smug expression. Confidence returning to his tone, since you've became his 'shield.'

“Keep digging your grave!” You hissed turning your whole body to him. “I’m not here for your sorry ass!”

Optimus crouched down to your level, lowering the barrel of his weapon. As his servo went from the weapon's trigger, and reached out for you.

“Y/N...?”

“We’ll tell the world what’s happening here.” You promised. Looking up at him, giving his index digit a comforting touch.

Your voice almost soothing Optimus’ rage filled Spark.

“Interesting... you allied yourself with them?’” Joyce questioned, gesturing at you and Optimus. His curious gaze switching between the pair of you, "or... am I sensing something, a little more?-"

"I'm giving you one chance." You firmly spoke, turning your attention back onto Joyce. "Stop doing this. Or the whole world will know what's happening here! What you're doing them!"

Joyce snickered at your words, “the world? The world would approve, my dear. We can make them now. Don’t you get it? Humanity doesn't need the Transformers anymore-”

“You’re wrong!” You said, shaking your head. “Humanity will always need the Cybertronians.”

A weak smile came to Hound, “you tell him Y/N.”

Optimus studied you and Joyce, puffing out his chest and releasing a unsatisfied huff.

“Autobots... we’re done.”

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 1 month

Text

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the endings

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. click here for game day (group) chapter.

⋆˙⟡ wc: member endings are ~1k each, group endings are less than 500 words each! (in total: ~5k)

⋆˙⟡ reader: no pronouns used for reader at all in any of the endings :)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ endings summary: choose your own ending! jiwoong, hao, matthew, hanbin, taerae, group (quasi-poly), and group (revenge) are all included. most are angst/fluff and some are suggestive.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: there is no smut in these endings, but they allude to smut that happened previously or suggest smut that would follow these endings. please, minors dni still with this post! member endings are all happy (with angst). revenge ending is also happy, depending on what makes you happy! lol.

I'M SO SAD IT'S OVER. writing the bully series was so much fun! thank you to the anon who suggested it in the first place a couple months ago and for everyone who has given positive feedback/input! i appreciate it so much. these endings are all crafted with so much love! let me know which one you love most. maybe i'll put a poll at the bottom lol. ily, catch you in the next series!!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

jiwoong 🎭

“so i’ll hand out these scripts and we’ll get started right away,” professor lee announces, walking around the room and handing out scripts for everyone’s assigned scenes. mina sits next to you as usual, except this week she’s staring daggers at jiwoong from across the room. you guess it beats her making googly eyes at him.

mina had called you last night to rant again about how much of a jerk “jiwoong-sshi” is. note the absence of the word “oppa”. you were sorry that he’d stood her up, but you knew what kind of a person he could be long before last week.

and she unfortunately didn’t seem to care how much of a jerk jiwoong was when you were the one bearing the brunt of it.

but you don’t want to dwell on it. you’d just fucked him and four of his friends in the campus activities lounge and had no plans to tell her. she’d asked you how the “revenge” went, but you’d kept it all pretty vague. mina was no prude, but she might have the urge to gossip a bit with news as insane as that. you wouldn’t blame her if she did.

still, you didn’t regret what you did saturday. not even a little bit. in fact, it made you feel kind of proud every time you thought about it.

you spend all of class working on a scene with mina in which you play a really outrageous set of characters trying to escape arrest. it’s a role that you’ve never opted to take before— one that requires you to be bold, funny, and brave.

professor lee praises you after you present it at the end of class. “excellent work. what’s gotten into you, (y/n)-sshi? whatever it is, let’s keep peeling back that shell!”

you smile with pride, eyes scanning the rest of the room until they happen to land on kim jiwoong.

he’s smiling, too.

when class ends, you pick your bag up off the floor and toss in your marked-up script. you’d normally throw it in the recycling bin, but you want to keep it this time. as a reminder of what you’re capable of when you’re sure of yourself.

mina giggles as you walk out the door together and into the hallway. “i’m surprised, but you really pulled that off!”

“i’m not.”

both of your heads whip around to find kim jiwoong leaning against the wall behind you.

“you just needed some... encouragement,” he says with a smirk, but there’s a noticeable warmth in his eyes.

“and what exactly do you need in order to be able to show up to a commitment you made?” mina asks with a scowl. your eyes narrow at him, too.

“listen, i–... i’m really sorry, mina,” he responds sincerely. the fact that he even got her name right has you stifling a gasp— let alone the apology that prefaced it. “i shouldn’t’ve stood you up. that was mean. so i’m sorry.”

mina sucks in her cheek, looking at the ceiling as she considers his sentiment.

“but i actually have something else to apologize for, too,” he adds quickly, gaze moving back and forth between the both of you. “i... i wasn’t really interested in you in the first place. i was—... i used you. to get a reaction out of the person i’m actually interested in.”

his eyes meet yours. your lips part in shock at his sudden confession. you stare at him for a long moment, unspeaking until—

“AREYOUKIDDINGMEYOUABSOLUTEDICKOFAHUMANBEINGYOULIETOANDSTANDUPMYFRIENDANDLEAVEHERINFUCKINGTURMOILOVERYOUANDTHEN—.”

you glance over at mina, expecting to see tears running down her face but instead...

she’s grinning. from ear to ear. and not in a joker sort of way— just genuine happiness.

“i knew it,” she says, clasping her hands together in front of her face and jumping excitedly. “i KNEW it! i knew you both liked each other!”

“you—... what!?” you exclaim, eyes bugging at this bizarre turn of events. “what do you mean, ‘you knew we liked each other’!?”

“i’m also confused,” jiwoong says with a frown. “considering i didn’t really know until, like, yesterday.”

“well, i knew you were going to like each other. eventually,” she says with a nod. “you know, shy, quiet person and arrogant, attractive person trope. it’s destiny!”

“if you really thought that, then why did you wanna go out with him so bad?” you ask through furrowed brow.

“‘cause he’s hot. duh,” she says, shaking her head with a smile as if your question was very silly. “can you blame me for wanting a taste first?”

“well, if it’s just a taste we’re talking about—,” jiwoong starts to offer with a smirk.

“one more word and the only thing you’ll be tasting is—” you interject, balling your hand into a fist.

“aw, first lovers’ spat! i’ll leave you guys to it,” mina says quickly before sprinting off down the now-empty hall.

you look down at your shoes awkwardly. “i have nothing else to say to you.”

“then, you won’t mind if i talk?” jiwoong asks, not waiting for a response to continue. “when hanbin made me start bullying you last year, i honestly didn’t want to. you were pathetic enough already without my help.”

“gee, thanks,” you reply with with a frown.

“but then i sort of started to have fun with it. the way you reacted was absolutely intoxicating. you made it all so rewarding— coming up with a new plan to drive you crazy every day,” he explains. “then last week, when we started that competition, i found a whole new way to drive you crazy. and i liked it a lot more.”

“this is the most convoluted apology i’ve ever received,” you remark with a sigh.

“after saturday, seeing you like that... you were far from pathetic. and it made me proud. i think, somewhere along the way, i just became really fond of you,” jiwoong confesses, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “and i also desperately want to buy you better clothes.”

“okay, i’m leaving now,” you announce, turning on your heel.

“what a coincidence. me too,” jiwoong says, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours as he starts to drag you with him down the hall. “you’re hungry, right?”

you start to protest, but as you look at his handsome side profile— dark hair covering the tips of his ears— you realize you are, in fact... hungry.

“starving,” you answer.

he stops walking to look at you, eyes widening with surprise. “yeah? what would you like to eat then?”

staring at his lips, you can’t help but lick your own. “mina’s right, y’know.”

jiwoong’s head tilts, the corner of his lip upturning slowly as he registers your expression. “is she?”

“mhm,” you answer, pressing your lips to his. he responds quickly: soft, lazy, and stupidly addictive. you can’t believe you let him get away last week without kissing you. you could give him just one chance, couldn’t you? “but what she doesn’t know...”

he attaches your lips again, free hand cupping your jaw.

“is that one taste of you...”

jiwoong inhales sharply as you gently bite his bottom lip.

“just isn’t enough.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

hao 🎻

you rush into orchestra on tuesday, already five minutes late. unfortunately, your regular bus never showed at the stop. and then your back-up bus also never showed. which means you had to walk all the way to campus when you hadn’t planned to— your violin case in tow.

rehearsal having started already, you make a beeline for your seat and frantically open your violin case. luckily you’d warmed up your instrument before you’d left your house this week and your bow is ready to play when it hits the violin strings.

or, it would be, if you didn’t just realize you forgot your sheet music.

“oh, for fucks sake,” you mumble, looking up at the sky and begging for the sweet release of death in this tragically embarrassing moment.

a soft creaking noise draws your attention to your left, where you find hao’s music stand is suddenly angled in your direction.

he doesn’t say anything or look at you. he just keeps playing. and so you follow the first chair’s lead.

rehearsal goes surprisingly well. you’re sure you managed to correct all of your mistakes from last week after being able to put more rosin on your bow.

“third and fourth chair are falling behind the tempo,” hao replies when professor ahn asks him for notes about the performance. your eyes widen when he names a violinist other than yourself that needs correcting. “it makes it harder for first and second chair to successfully introduce and complete the next movement.”

first and second chair? hao was voluntarily grouping you together?

professor ahn seems as surprised as you. she nods, writing down her own notes in the binder on her music stand. she waves her hand, dismissing the orchestra for the day. you clean your violin, getting it ready to be put back in its case as your classmates begin to file out of the orchestra room.

“(y/n)-sshi,” professor ahn calls suddenly from the doorway. your heart drops to your stomach at the mention of your name. “you actually played quite well today. i’ll assume it’s because you had the help of the concertmaster’s annotations. don’t be late again.”

you nod quickly, bowing your head respectfully to her. “thank you, professor-nim. i’ll play even better next time.”

you’re left alone with hao as usual, both cleaning your violins with the utmost care. when you finish, you place your instrument in its case before fishing around in the side pocket and pulling out something small.

hao locks his violin case, placing it sideways at his feet. finally, he looks at you.

you hold out the cake of rosin that he’d given you last week and told you to bring to your next rehearsal. you’d be remiss to notice that even though you didn’t show him until after class, he never told professor ahn that you’d stolen it like he threatened.

hao examines the rosin, completely ruined from what you’d both done with it. there was no cleaning it and you couldn’t use it if you tried.

you expect to catch some attitude, but, to your surprise, he smiles. “guess it couldn’t be salvaged, huh?”

“guess not,” you agree with a shrug. “at least you got some use out of it.”

“mm,” he hums after a moment before reaching down and reopening his violin case delicately. his hand disappears into one of the side pockets and pulls out a fresh cake of his premium rosin.

and then he hands it to you.

you stare at it in your palm, wide-eyed. “w-what are you—”

“you’re a pretty decent violinist,” hao says matter-of-factly. “sometimes— not often— but sometimes i feel like you have the potential to be almost as good as me. but you’ll never reach it if you don’t start using higher quality products to care for your instrument.”

“oh,” you reply, brow furrowing as he locks up his violin again. “so you’ve decided to take pity on me now?”

he smirks. “something like that.”

“i guess it’s better than pure hatred,” you respond, rolling your eyes as you tuck the box of rosin into your own violin case.

“i never hated you,” hao says with a frown. you sit back up, lips parting as your eyes meet his. “i didn’t particularly like you, but i only told professor ahn about the mistakes you were making because they were careless. you always came in the next week with those same mistakes completely perfected.”

“so you were motivating me through public shame?” you clarify, one brow piqued in disbelief.

“doing whatever it takes to improve the sound of the orchestra is what sets a great concertmaster apart from a mediocre one,” he explains, deciding to paint himself as a misunderstood martyr.

“oh, i’m sure it was so difficult for you to step up and take one from the team,” you mock, a laugh escaping you at hao’s audacity. “do you hear what you’re saying? you’re so fucking full of yourself. who gave you the right to play god and—?”

hao leans in, connecting his lips to yours mid-rant. your breath hitches in disbelief as he pulls back.

“would you be mad if i said i wanna get to know you better?” he asks, hand resting on your thigh.

you look down at his long fingers on your soft skin. “furious,” is what you answer.

he presses his lips together in a hopeless smile. “i’ll take it that means you don’t feel the same way then.”

“you always think you know everything about everything,” you huff, grabbing his hand in yours and bringing it further up your thigh. “but you don’t. so i guess you will have to get to know me better if you wanna keep being an insufferable know-it-all.”

as soon as a smile appears on hao’s face, it’s replaced by the cutest frown. “i’m sad now.”

“why?” you ask, not sure how your answer could’ve possibly made him sad when it was the one he wanted.

“i took for granted how absolutely fucking adorable you are when you’re angry,” he whines, a disheartened little pout on his pretty lips. “kind of makes me wish i could keep making you angry from time to time.”

you blink at him, looking around awkwardly as a reluctant smile grows on your face. “i mean—... i guess i’d have to worry about my playing skills suffering if you stop completely. that wouldn’t be very responsible of concertmaster-nim.”

“no, it wouldn’t,” he replies, biting his lip in a smirk. you’re fully aware of what this title does to him. “so what should i do to keep you playing well?”

you look up at the ceiling, considering your options. “maybe you could see what other things in the music room fit up my—” “that’s depraved,” hao scolds, shaking his head at you in shock before a grin peeks through. “are you free right now?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

matthew 💪

with three weeks left of your soccer unit in phys. ed, you braced for an awkward class on wednesday. as you wait outside in the warm, spring breeze with your classmates, you waited anxiously for matthew to show up.

he doesn’t.

coach yang blows his whistle, signaling for you to form a straight line in front of him. luckily one of your classmates asks the question for you.

“coach-nim! where’s matthew hyung?” the younger boy asks in front of you. “we wanted to talk to him about the game.”

“ah, matthew-sshi is on a strict regimen of weight-training and cardio until the championship,” coach yang answers with a sigh. a little quieter, he adds, “and maybe that’ll teach him to stay in line.”

maybe, you think. maybe not.

it’s a surprisingly pleasant p.e. class. your classmates are respectful, giving you as much grace during the game as possible. your sunbaenim from your calc class even pushes you behind him when a ball comes a bit too quickly towards your face.

“thanks,” you say with a smile.

he smiles back. “don’t mention it.”

this class sure was different when someone wasn’t trying to kill you the whole time. that being said, you’re pretty disappointed that matthew isn’t here. you can’t help but wonder how he would’ve treated you today after saturday night.

when class is over, coach yang hands you a hose, some rags and a ball trolley. he still can’t look you in the eye after what happened. “here’s your supplies. shouldn’t take you more than an hour.”

you nod ashamedly, getting to work right away.

“and a word of advice,” coach yang adds over his shoulder. “don’t be afraid to put him in his place from time to time. you played well today without him. it’s nice to see you have some more confidence, (y/n)-sshi. good luck.”

the last thing you were expecting today was a pep talk from coach yang. you walk over to the right side of the field and pick up a muddy, grass-stained ball and bring it over to the hose. washing it thoroughly and buffing any stains with a rag, you drop it into the ball trolley and make your way to the back of the field to retrieve a couple more.

you grab one from behind the goal, turning around to fetch the other one. but as you do, you come face to face with matthew— tossing the ball gently back and forth between his hands.

“hi,” he greets shyly.

your lips press together in an awkward smile. “hi.”

he doesn’t say anything else for a moment, so you brush past him— bringing your ball back to the hose. he follows behind you quietly, placing his soccer ball on the ground beside yours. you pick up the hose and douse them both in the cold water. matthew picks up a rag and kneels down on the ground next to you, buffing the soccer ball you’d brought over.

you pick up the one he brought over, doing the same. “that one was mine.”

his eyes widen, holding out the ball to you wordlessly in an attempt to give it back.

you can’t help but laugh. “i was just kidding.”

“right,” he replies with a nod, returning to cleaning the ball. “sorry.”

you raise one eyebrow at him quizzically. “are you okay?”

“hm?” he asks before nodding quickly. “oh, yeah. i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” you question further. “because this is my punishment and you’re helping me when you should be getting ready for practice.”

matthew shrugs. “it was my fault.”

“it absolutely was,” you agree, tossing your soccer ball into the trolley. “and you got away with it scot-free.”

suddenly, matthew’s hand reaches toward your forehead— thumb brushing over the tiny scar from where the ball he kicked had scraped your skin. “i shouldn’t have.”

well this is... new. matthew taking accountability for his actions? you never thought you’d see the day.

“i—... um...” he stutters, starting to pick at the grass in front of him. “i think i should probably be punished. for that. and for a lot of things.”

oh.

so he’d really liked it.

“oh. should i tell coach yang to—,” you play dumb, starting to stand up like you’re about to march right into his office yourself.

“NO! ... no. no,” matthew grabs your hand, keeping you seated next to him. he bites his lip, clearly embarrassed by what he’s about to say. “want you to do it.”

“huh,” you reply with frown. “i thought you didn’t really prefer people who were tainted.”

“you aren’t tainted,” he says, shaking his head. “that—... that was really immature of me to say. and gross. and i’m... i’m sorry.”

you look at him for a long moment, studying his eyes to see if he’s being genuine or not. there’s no obvious signs of lying. he’s very nervous, but it’s not because he’s being untruthful. maybe it’s because he finally is.

“and i can also assume that you said sorry to the waterboy?” you ask, pressing your lips together in an attempt to not laugh at his panicked expression. “and that defense player on the other team? actually, you should probably just draft a mass apology and send it to every university team you’ve ever played against. it would save some time.”

matthew nods sullenly. “yeah. i can do that.”

you have to admit, you like matthew quite a bit when he’s like this. he’s agreeable, apologetic, and distressingly adorable.

“i appreciate your willingness to cooperate,” you reply, patting him on the shoulder gently. “i think... maybe... we could make this work.”

matthew’s eyes light up at this. “really? you’d wanna keep doing... this?”

you smile. “yeah. it doesn’t sound so bad, now that you’re being nice to me.”

matthew smiles with embarrassment, avoiding your gaze. “i guess i should’ve tried this approach last year. but i—... have you ever heard of alpha male podcasts?”

“matthew,” you groan, palm flying to your forehead in disbelief. “you’re gonna unsubscribe from every single one of those, okay?”

he nods frantically. “of course. they didn’t get me anything anyway, except a light ‘roid addiction.”

“do not tell anyone that, oh my god,” you reprimand, hitting his thigh. “you’re also gonna throw all of that out immediately.

“ah, it was so expensive though,” he winces, tilting his head as he weighs the consequences. “can’t i sell them instead?”

“JUST GET RID OF—,” you shout, cutting yourself off when matthew suddenly leans over and kisses your cheek.

he grins. “you’re so beautiful when you’re disappointed in me.”

“you’re—... you—...” you stutter until matthew leans in again, pressing his lips to yours this time. he pulls back, leaving your brain hazy. “please don’t be so mean to me again.”

he shakes his head decisively. “i won’t. i promise.”

you smile, stomach fluttering as he beams at you.

“but, like... you’re okay with being mean to me sometimes, right?” matthew asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“oh, absolutely,” you answer with a nod. “i’ll start now.”

he laughs passively, obviously interpreting this as a joke. “sure, sure.”

you stand up, hovering your foot over his crotch. “finish cleaning these soccer balls. now.”

matthew’s eyes widen with fear, hopping to his feet immediately, bowing his head to you, and sprinting off to the end of the field to complete his task.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

hanbin 📝

“hanbin-ah!” you shout, running down the dimly-lit, empty hallway. how far could he have made it in the few minutes since he’d stormed out of the activities lounge without so much as a word.

“hanbin-ah...”

a banging down the hallway to your right seems to signal his location. you turn down it, running until you reach the end and a long hall of public lockers unfolds before you. to your left is a very distraught hanbin, clanging his locker door about as he holds a small book in his hands.

the floor is littered with torn up pieces of paper, that seem to be coming from the book he’s holding.

“FUCK,” he yells, ripping out another page from the book and crumpling it up— tossing it onto the ground, where it lands at your feet.

you bend down and pick it up, carefully unfolding it and reading what’s written:

what the fuck does (y/n) see in junseo hyung-nim? i thought that poem was for me. could (y/n) really choose him over me? is he better than me? i don’t understand. what did i do wrong?

it’s a diary entry— your name, mentioned twice. the confession contained in it sends a chill down your spine. hanbin had posted your poem about junseo sunbaenim out of spite.

out of jealousy?

you pick up another crumpled paper and unfold it, reading:

i just hung up all the copies of the poem around campus. i got the other guys in on it, too. maybe this’ll teach you not to take people for granted. maybe it’ll keep you thinking about me.

hanbin throws his empty journal across the hallway, sitting down on the ground with his back against a locker as he runs a hand through his hair in distress.

you walk over to him cautiously, standing in front of him and waiting until he looks up at you. you hold out the pieces of paper from his journal and drop them on his lap. “so you decided to ruin my life because you couldn’t have me?”

hanbin reads the writing on the crumpled papers, tears suddenly spilling over and streaming down his cheeks. he wipes them away as quickly as they come. his chin dimples up with sadness. it reminds you of something...

you look in his locker, finding his messenger bag and opening the flap. you dig around gently until your hand wraps around it.

you sit down next to hanbin, back against a locker as you place the little, plush hamster in his lap. he stares at it for a long moment before finally picking it up in his hand and giving it a gentle squish. a tear falls onto the hamster’s nose.

“you found this the other day?” he says, rubbing the back of his hand across his cheeks again.

you nod. “he’s cute.”

hanbin smiles. “i was hoping you’d think that.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, a confused pout forming on your lips.

“i was hoping you’d think he was cute,” he says, running his thumb over the hamster’s fur, “when i bought it for you.”

“what?”

“on the class trip to the national library last year,” he continues. “we sat next to each other on the bus and you pulled three plushies out of your bag like it was the most normal thing ever. and you told me all their names and what they wanted to be when they grew up.”

“hanbin-ah...”

“and we took those polaroids of each other outside on the grass. and ate kimbap at the picnic table in the garden. and ran around together finding the weirdest books we could. and then, in the giftshop, they had a bunch of cute plushies themed off of children’s books and...” hanbin rambles wistfully. “and i bought this one for you while you weren’t looking.”

“hanbinnie, i’m so sorry,” you interject truthfully. you see the full picture now and you never had before. “i shouldn’t’ve been so oblivious as to make you feel like i was leading you on, but i was. and i never should’ve told you about that poem in the first place. i’m sorry.”

he blinks back at you before shaking his head adamantly. “it’s— it’s not your fault.”

“but i hurt your feelings,” you assert, meeting his gaze. “and i never wanted to do that. you were my first friend i made at university. actually, you’re the only friend i’ve made at university. how pathetic is that?”

he shakes his head again, brow furrowing sadly. “it’s not. it’s—... it’s my fucking fault that that happened. it’s... it’s all my fault.”

“hanbinnie, it’s—... it’s okay, you—,” you try to alleviate his burden, like the moral person you are.

“no, don’t do that. don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not,” hanbin asserts, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm. “i made you share something you didn’t want to. and i betrayed your trust. and i—... fucking—... all because i couldn’t handle my own emotions?”

you chew your cheek nervously. “listen, it’s okay—.”

“you’re the nicest person on the fucking planet if you can sit here and say that’s okay,” he says, a sad laugh escaping him. “i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but... i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to fully express to you how sorry i am.”

you don’t respond, stunned by hanbin’s genuine apology.

“i could try, though, if you want me to,” he blathers on anxiously. “i could write a hundred thousand words worth of apologies and you could rip them all up and make me start again and—.”

“he looks like you,” you interject suddenly.

he frowns. “hm?”

“the hamster,” you clarify, holding out your hand. eyes wide, hanbin places the hamster in your palm. “he looks a lot like you.”

hanbin doesn’t say anything, his eyes trained on the side of your face as you squish the little plush.

“it’s funny, actually,” you hold the hamster up for him to see. “looking at this hamster and trying to be mad at him is a lot like how it feels when i look at you.”

eyes still wide, hanbin’s bottom lip finds its way between his teeth— not sure how to answer to your overwhelming mercy.

“you’re right. that wasn’t okay,” you say as you bring the hamster to your lips, giggling after you give him a little peck. “but this is okay.”

“this?” he repeats.

“doesn’t this feel pretty nice?” you pose, eyes locking with his. “us getting along?”

hanbin nods slowly. “yeah. it does.”

“what do you say we continue this?” you ask with a smile. “indefinitely.”

“i—...” he stutters as a smile grows on his lips as well. “i’d really like that.”

“me too,” you agree, eyes abruptly narrowing. “but it’ll cost you.”

his brow raises, swallowing hard at your words. “absolutely. anything. name your price.”

you hold up the hamster to the side of your face, doing your best to mimic his little expression. “i want him.”

if hanbin’s eyes could turn to cartoon love hearts, they would. but because he’s a human person, his pupils simply dilate. “you—... i—... he’s yours. he was always yours.”

you grin, giving the hamster a hug. “thanks.”

“thank you,” he says, still reeling from your cuteness. “i’ll miss him, but he’s where he belongs now.”

“maybe you can visit him sometimes,” you offer, biting your lip shyly. “you’re clearly his biological father, after all. i’m sure your presence in his life is nothing less than enriching.”

he laughs. “some father i am. i didn’t even manage to give him a name.”

you smile. “he has a name.”

hanbin tilts his head curiously. “he does?”

you nod. “his name is binnie. jr.”

his cheeks turn red at this suggestion. “really? you want to name him after me?”

you don’t answer. instead, you ask softly, “hanbinnie?”

“yeah?” he replies eagerly.

“do you...” you start, finding the confidence to finish your question. “do you still like me?”

hanbin’s breath hitches in his throat. “um...”

“it’s okay if you don’t,” you assure with a sigh. “i just... a year ago, i didn’t even know someone like you would be interested in me. you’re so handsome. and smart. and the soccer team’s star player. i never even considered the possibility that you felt that way about me. but now, i—... i have more confidence. maybe you accidentally gave it to me, but i have it nonetheless.”

he looks at you intently, waiting for you to continue.

“and i think i realized that... i want you to like me,” you confess. “i wanted you to like me the whole time. i just didn’t want to admit it because i was afraid it was too much to ask for. and i—.”

“(y/n),” hanbin interjects with the fondest smile imaginable. “i like you so much i think my chest might explode.”

you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. neither can he. hanbin brings his hand to cup your jaw, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

“oh and i’m sorry i fucked all your friends right in front of your face,” you say, pulling back momentarily.

hanbin laughs, shrugging it off. “i totally deserved it. and... it was pretty hot.”

“keep kissing me,” you request with a smile.

“don’t have to tell me twice.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

taerae 🎤

after a completely bizarre session of portraits and quotes for the campus newspaper, the boys all awkwardly grab their things and head out the door. as you place your clipboard and pen on the activities director’s desk, you see a familiar backpack shoved behind a chair. you forgot you’d stashed taerae’s bag and phone in here when he didn’t come back for it on friday.

you walk over to it, picking it up off of the floor and slinging it over your shoulder. you shut off the lights, walking down the hallway until you spot your former best friend— sitting alone on the entrance steps to kang hall in the spring night air.

you plop yourself down next to him, placing his bag on the step in front of him. he turns to you, eyes red and watery.

“oh, tae,” you whisper, head falling instinctively to his shoulder.

“why’re you comforting me?” he asks with a sniffle. “you should be punching me in the face or something.”

“would you prefer it?” you joke, trying to get him to smile. “because i can absolutely just—.”

“this is good,” he says with a breathy laugh.

“good,” you affirm, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “i love you.”

“(y/n),” taerae seems to plead. “i can’t—.”

“i love you,” you repeat. “and i miss you so much.”

“i—...” he stumbles verbally, but grabs your hand in his. “i—.”

“when did you lose your virginity?” you ask, tilting your head curiously.

he gulps. “uh... a couple years ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” you question, a little hurt that he’d kept this big news a secret from you even when you were still friends. “to who?”

taerae shakes his head anxiously. “it’s not that important.”

“oh, come on,” you urge, squeezing his hand. “i told you i lost mine to sungchan oppa during that pool party at mina’s dad’s house.”

he flinches at this. “i remember.”

“it was that same pool party where you threw up in the pool,” you say with a smirk. “an eventful night for both of us.”

“mhm,” taerae mumbles shortly. he was definitely growing more bothered with each mention of that party.

“and to think, a couple of years later we’d do what we just did,” you muse in an attempt to dig something more out of him. “we’ve come so far from you throwing up in the pool at the thought of kissing me.”

“i never said that!” taerae exclaims with frustration. “you said that. and i just... went with it.”

you shake your head, brow furrowing confusedly. “then why did you throw up?”

“because—... because i was nervous,” he says softly. “i was so nervous to kiss you that i threw up in mina’s dad’s pool and then i was so embarrassed that i couldn’t even open my mouth to deny that i was disgusted by the thought of kissing you.”

you blink at him in shock. “did—... did you have feelings for me?”

after a long moment, he nods. but there’s more tension lingering under the surface. you know there’s more that needs to be said.

“i really liked you,” taerae confesses softly. “i never wanted to weird you out or anything, but i just liked you from the first day i met you. i loved being your friend, but i just couldn’t help it. when you told me at that party that you’d hooked up with sungchan hyung... i just got so jealous. i thought i could be cool about it, but i was drunk and...”

your eyes are wide, clinging onto his every word.

“and i hooked up with someone, too,” he admits with a pained expression. “i thought it might be the only way to make you jealous back, so i—... i—...”

you hold your breath.

“i hooked up with mina!” he exclaims quickly, looking down at his lap in shame.

“YOU WHAT!?” you scream, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look you in the eyes. “that’s not fucking funny!”

“i know it’s not,” he replies despairingly. “i regretted it instantly afterwards. no— while it was happening. i was so disgusted with myself. i hated lying to you, but i just couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. i thought i wouldn’t have to until last year, when hanbin hyung came up to me in the hallway after class.”

your brow furrows at the mention of hanbin’s name.

“he said he knew what i’d done with mina. apparently he had a few friends that went to the party,” he explains sadly. “and that if i didn’t do exactly what he told me to, that he’d tell you what i did and he’d make things even worse for you. i just couldn’t let either of those things happen.”

“how—... how did you even manage to bag mina?” you ask in a daze.

“well, i mean,” taerae grimaces. “it’s mina.”

“she’s a total slut,” you nod, catching on immediately. “more power to her.”

“the most power to her,” taerae agrees quickly.

“why didn’t she tell me?” you wonder.

“oh, that one’s easy,” taerae answers with a shrug. “she said she’d rather die than let anyone know we slept together.”

“that sounds like mina,” you affirm. so the truth was out. it’s hard to wrap your head around everything all at once, but you were definitely relieved that taerae didn’t actually hate you. he was just an idiot.

“i’m so sorry, (y/n),” he apologizes genuinely. “for everything.”

you sigh heavily. “i’m sorry, too.”

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “what do you mean? you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“i’m sorry i bragged to you about losing my virginity. i could’ve been more sensitive with that information,” you reply. “and i’m sorry that i said you threw up in the pool, because you didn’t want to kiss me and never asked you what the truth was. i could’ve been more considerate of my best friend.”

“i love you,” taerae says abruptly. “being without you this year was literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you nod in affirmation. “let’s never do it again.”

“never,” he agrees with a wide, dimpled grin. that smile you missed so much. you watch it fade naturally, replaced by a fond gaze. but you desperately want to see it again.

so you do the only thing that you can.

you kiss him.

he pulls back after a moment, that perfect grin shining back at you. it’s enough to light up the night sky.

“i know i was using the past tense before, but,” taerae says, biting his lip. “i still really like you.”

you smile, pulling him back in to meet your lips again. “prove it.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.��　　　　 . ✦　

group (poly) 🥵

you look around the room, every boy avoiding eye contact with you in an attempt to quell the awkward tension. it feels amazing. exactly how you were hoping it would.

"so, uh," jiwoong starts, scratching the back of his neck. "are we gonna do those interviews now?"

you shrug. "you can just text me a quote, if you want. probably easier actually."

they all agree nonverbally, the uncomfortable haze still lingering in the air.

"you can also text me about when you'll be free again," you add, the boys heads turning rapidly to look at you.

"uh... which one of us?" matthew asks with a frown.

you shrug. “whoever’s down.”

“you—… you wanna do this again?” hao asks, lips parted in shock.

“why not?” you answer honestly. “i had fun. but if you’re not into it, that’s okay too.”

“i’m into it!” hao replies a bit too quickly. “i just meant that… i didn’t know you would be.”

“i guess before last week, someone would’ve had a hard time convincing me that i’d wanna do this once— let alone twice,” you admit with a smile. “but i think i’ve proved i changed.”

“and you’re okay with… changing?” taerae asks, worry in his eyes.

you nod definitively. “yeah. i am.”

“so, after all this, you’ve decided you just wanna fuck all of us whenever you want?” hanbin asks, standing up from the desk he’s sitting on and walking over to you. “you really think you’re hot enough for that?”

you smile at him. “no one’s forcing you to participate.”

hanbin frowns, studying you as you hold eye contact.

“don’t be too upset, hanbinnie,” you say with a pout. “you’re the one who wanted me to fuck your friends in the first place. you just forgot to consider i might end up really liking it.”

he stares at you for another long moment. and then, he smiles. “i guess you’ve won your own game then?”

you smile back. “i guess i have.”

“then i have to pay the price, fair and square. we all do,” hanbin nods with respect— an undeniable warmth in his gaze. “congratulations.”

you look at the other boys around you— excitement reaching their eyes as you grin. were they really all yours now?

“thanks,” you say happily. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

group (revenge) 😈

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you look around the room, every boy avoiding eye contact with you in an attempt to quell the awkward tension. it feels amazing. exactly how you were hoping it would.

"hey, is that camera on?" jiwoong suddenly asks, pointing at the camera you set up by the photo wall to take portraits for the campus activities interviews.

at least, that's why you told them you set it up.

"there's a little red flashing light," hao observes with a frown. "to the left of the lens."

"did—... did you record this?" matthew asks, fear palpable in his eyes as he looks at you.

you hop off the desk you're sitting on, grabbing your shorts and shimmying them on. walking over to the camera, you hit the record button again to stop filming. then you, take the camera off it's tripod and throw it in your bag that's sitting on the ground beside it.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you boys," you say, making your way towards the door.

hanbin stands up, grabbing your shoulder. "what are you gonna do with that?"

you shrug. "nothing."

his brow furrows tensely, not sure whether to relax or not.

"yet," you finish.

"(y/n), please," taerae begs from behind you. "please don't post that."

"i'm not gonna post it," you say, rolling your eyes. "i'm in the video, too, remember?"

the boys look around at each other, not sure what to do.

"but if i have to," you threaten, unlocking the door, "i won't hesitate. could anything be worse than what you've already put me through?"

"wait, (y/n)!" jiwoong calls. "we're—... we're sorry. we're all really sorry for everything."

"i'm sure you are," you reply, opening the door and exiting the activities lounge...

"i'm sure you'll stay sorry for a long time, too."

202 notes · View notes

biscuitboba · 1 month

Note

Hii, do you have some zolu/luzo ff rec??

Hii!!, uhh i have over 100 zolu/luzo fics downloaded YES OF COURSE, i'll try and list down some (many) fics with one chapter only cuz i'm not sure if i can stop recommending if i include multi chaptered fics... (But if you want some rec for the multi chaptered fics just let me know!! Ohh and maybe some ongoing fics?)

This is gonna be a very long post😭🙏

Bleed like an Idiot by Augment [13k words]

Rating: Mature (for mild gore/torture)

Something something about their fear of disappointing/failing each other, the perfect amount of angst, so good

Not that Luffy wouldn’t die for each and every one of his crew, and he knows, though he will make sure it never ever happens, that they would die for him. But to supersede Zoro’s dream like this, that makes Luffy feel so hideously guilty it locks up his lungs, and his jaw, and he can’t speak, touch Zoro, anything.

The salt & the sea by novks (thychesters) [25k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Modern setting, reincarnation au. Zoro being the last person to regain his memories (of his past life) and luffy being lowkey annoyed by it lol

It’s like with Nami, hitting him full force, but it’s so much more than that as the reality of it all comes crashing down around him. Zoro, his (first mate, first friend in this world of pirates, first crew member and first one he swore an oath with), his—he isn’t even sure what to call him. There’s too much but too little to describe him.

Zoro. Zoro, who—no, no, no offense to Nami—should have been first. Zoro, who’s a constant, and he’s practically vibrating with the need to reach and touch him, make sure he’s really real. His tongue darts out to wet his lip as he steps forward, crowding into his personal space and finally grinning because I found you!

Luffy wants to call him an idiot, because it figures he would get lost finding his way home.

But Zoro just blinks at him, flushes, one eye still framed by a familiar scar and says, “Oh, sorry,” and makes it so much worse when he says, “Do I know you?

Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs [14k]

Rating: General Audiences

Zoro's bad at feelings, but he is trying ok!!

“First mates… we devote our lives to our captains. Our entire beings. We live for them, breathe for them. And they expect us not to fall in love?” He smiles, small and knowing.

Zoro’s eyes widen and he sputters, trying to muster a response. The man only laughs more.

Being a good first mate was easy enough for Zoro. That is, until the… feelings.

If I Had to Give a Reason by MiniPandaBuns [5k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tooth-rotting fluff, Zoro and his view of luffy, #feelings, love confession, idiots in loveee

“I wonder what you see in him.”

"Too much." He'd say. "It's endless. All of my reasons can't be condensed into words."

I love him simply because he exists. Because Luffy is Luffy, limitless and free.

Inseparable on the face of Impossibility by the11thhour [25k]

Rating: Not Rated

Luffy is taken by some bad guy, his boyfriend and family (crew) to the rescue! #superworriedzoro:(

A fun trip to a new island takes a turn for the worse when a mysterious group of pirates cause trouble and Luffy goes missing. The crew led by Zoro embark on a mission to get their captain back while his vivre card burns away.

When the Dew Falls Up by louluna [10k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Time travel au, there are two zoros!!

As the bright light enveloped his body, Zoro knew his day had gone to absolute shit.

New year's kiss by grimsoul [4k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Post wano, the title is pretty self explanatory i guess.. fluff, very sweet!!

Luffy didn’t understand back then but the couple seemed so happy. Kissing someone to strengthen a relationship must have really worked.

It’s been long since that time so Luffy had almost forgotten about it. But then as he sails again now with his crew—the title of an Emperor latched to his name, their journey getting closer and closer to the One Piece, to his dream—a new year approaches them.

Found in the Crack of Your Palm by The_Furthest_City_Light [11k]

Rating: General Audiences

#luffybeingsuperdemisexualatzorofor11k (personally demi luffy is my favorite headcanon of him!)

Zoro’s hands are big, thick and knuckly and covered in calluses from his swords. He has a strong grip, too, and strong muscles because he trains them to be strong.

None of it explains the way Luffy’s body lights up when Zoro clasps the back of his neck, like every nerve is alight and trained on the palm cupping the baby hairs at the back of his skull. His stomach knots over itself and he wants to eat everything in Sanji’s kitchen. Zoro’s skin is a little rough and sweaty from fighting and warm.

Zoro is close, his forehead nearly butting Luffy’s and Luffy couldn’t move if he wanted to, trapped there by the closeness and the touch that makes him aware of Zoro’s skin against his in a way he’s never been before.

Zoro’s eyes bore into his, digging deep into Luffy and dragging out—something, buried in the base of his spine. He feels like the earth is tilting, and freefall seems like it might be fun.

the moon asks a question by d_s_writes [1k]

Rating: General Audiences

A very short fic, but can't stop thinking about the rest of strawhats and their idea of love vs luffy's, like- he really gagged me here😭

Zoro doesn’t understand—how can he feel all the things that the others had spoken of, yet none of it the same time? He felt that each of their versions of love were merely motions of love, rather than love itself.

He doesn’t get it. Love has never been a word, or a sense of belonging, or any of those things. He had only ever really thought of love when he looked at Luffy.

OR: An investigation of the lives and loves of the Strawhat Pirates.

Robin knows by leopardgeckoz [3k]

Rating: General Audiences

Oh moment for both zoro and luffy but especially for the oblivious captain

In which Nico Robin has always known how her captain and first mate feel for one another, and the scenario's in which the rest of the crew discover it.

Alternatively

"Every passing hour of Luffy's silence drove Zoro further and further into madness. He wanted Luffy's smile, his laugh, his chatter, but his captain had spent the better part of the day on the complete opposite sides of the ship as Zoro. Out of sight, but most certainly not out of mind. If anything, his absence plagued Zoro's even more."

step 1: die by swordsmans [11k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Roronoa zoro and his unstoppable self destru sacrificing tendency for his one and only captain (featuring sanji!)

After two years with Ivankov, Sanji knows something about Luffy that Zoro does not.

ship to wreck by novks (thychesters) [9k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Zoro and luffy but from nami's perspective?? Mutual pinning and luffy's oh moment

Nami is the first one to notice something is amiss, but then given her current competition is Luffy and Zoro, it isn’t surprising.

“Do you love Zoro?” She doesn’t bother beating around the bush. Doesn’t bother with easing into it with any metaphors or small talk, one of which Luffy would have little interest in, and the other of which would go over his head.

He stares back at her, and for a split second she feels like she’s gone and shoved her foot right into her mouth. Something flickers through his eyes, but she doesn’t have time to fully study it before his features shutter again.

Luffy tilts his head. “Of course I do.”

Part of her wants to cheer, shout aha! because she knew it, dammit, but then he proceeds to barrel right over that.

“I love you too,” to which she freezes, and then: “And Usopp, and Sanji, I guess. You guys are my friends.”

She wants to scream.

But Patience Boasts by Augment [9k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ughh i love the way this fic portray zoro and sanji's dynamic… anyways, lowkey wingman sanji!

Sanji and Zoro have very different love languages.

Kizuna by YokoHogawa [5k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

#nakamaship, basically

Usopp carefully watches Luffy over the sandwich he is biting into, and he can’t help but worry.

Sanji has an anxiety problem.

Something wakes Zoro at the crack of dawn.

Half a step (into the sun) by TheOctopusofWriting [29k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Demon prince zoro, that's it, that's the point.

Zoro was the exiled prince of an island of demons. He spent the first portion of his life wandering from island to island without any place to really call home, that is until he follows a boy in a strawhat out to sea and finds the home he'd been looking for

to cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades [10k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Smth smth the bond between captain and first mate...

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his

Take Me Out to Sea by MiniPandaBuns [3k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audience

Just them being all sweet and wholesome<3

Luffy and Zoro take a pleasant little swim together, despite the fact that Luffy can't swim and Zoro told him no. Many times.

He just can't refuse his Captain. Even if he does, Luffy still wins, because he's just Luffy and that's how it goes.

everybody wants your time by dwaal [3k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Uhh abo au, omega zoro and alpha luffy, jealousy, bonded mates, making out, y knoww~

An unclaimed omega on the seas can be a liability. It's commonplace for captains to bite any of their crew to prevent any incidents, but the marks are usually temporary.

Zoro is intensely aware of this, as Boa Hancock proceeds to make herself at home on the arm of his captain's chair

it's an ambush! by tuhituhi [3k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Zoro meeting his bf's brothers for the first time!

Luffy's middle name should be B. for Blindside the way he's constantly taking Zoro off guard. Or maybe the D. stood for Devious, or Devil- any of them would fit, considering the Situations this man has put him through. OR

Zoro meets Luffy's brothers. Was he expecting this? Technically. Was he prepared for this?

Not in the slightest

end of summer (now i know) by taka0 [2k]

Rating: Mature

Just luffy being very sappy (and a tiny bit horny) about his zoro<3

Luffy loves all of Zoro while they lie in a hammock.

Ocean theology by swordsmans [40k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Reincarnation au, yearning and devotion, symbolism-

“Zoro—”

“Did you know?” he repeats, desperate, and Luffy just looks at him. And he wonders, then, how much of this has been preordained—how much of this is real, how much of this is him. How much of what he’s felt since they were wedged side-to-side in a shitty wooden boat on the East Blue has actually mattered, and how much has been the universe pressing him down into the mold of someone else's heart.

And then Luffy is gripping his horns, bringing his forehead down to meet his, repeating, “Zoro? Zoro?” like his name is a mantra, like he’s gone somewhere far away and gotten lost on his way back.

And Zoro blinks at him, then, and sees both of them at once—both of them—and he grips Luffy’s face in his own hands (claws) and presses his lips (violent, full of teeth) against his. Because this is who he has been waiting a thousand years for, the brightest and most beautiful of them all, the one thing he could never have—could never see, not if (Luffy, Joyboy, Nika) had made different (worse) choices—the thing that could never thrive in the darkness, just like he could never (has been unable to for centuries) survive without it—

let thy sword be thy tongue by queerweather [14k]

Rating: Mature

Sword language, sword personification, swords- zoro not being so normal about his captain, whats new?

It’s strangely exhilarating, imagining himself on his knees in front of Luffy, blindfolded. Like he really is getting executed this time. All of Zoro’s senses stand at attention and his mouth fills with saliva.

The flat of Kitetsu’s blade presses cold against Zoro’s cheek. “Zoro,” Luffy scolds. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Zoro is not afraid of Luffy handling his swords; Zoro is afraid of how Luffy handling his swords might unravel him.

The only animal by batman [10k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content)

It's about roronoa zoro and how he pines for his captain

It wasn't until Kuraigana that he realised how the world had split into two kinds of touch: swords and hands.

Luffy's hands.

(In a stolen week between islands, Luffy touches Zoro again.)

Sunward bound by iffervescent [13k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top zoro)

Ace luffy & sex positive luffy!!

Zoro's a pirate bounty hunter, which means he's used to going after the pirate he wants and getting them. Except this time the pirate he wants is his captain and now he has no fucking clue what to do.

Expressions by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha [2k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)

Them being disgustingly in love whats new?, sexy times (plot what plot)

Monkey D. Luffy knows, that despite popular opinion, Roronoa Zoro is a man of many expressions.

hanabi | 花火 by narramin [8k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)

Just the captain and his first mate being silly while enjoying their date in wano (eventual smut)

firework /ˈfʌɪəwəːk/

noun

plural noun: fireworks

• a device containing gunpowder and other combustible chemicals which causes spectacular effects and explosions when ignited, used for display or in celebrations.

• a display of great skill or energy.

Luffy and Zoro finally reunite in Wano, visit a gambling den and go on a less than traditional festival date night.

a tale of two gods by grimsoul [6k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top zoro, implied switching)

Sun of God x God of death. a fiery tryst between two gods

“Ne, Zoro, come with me,” Luffy said, giggling, pulling him closer. “You’re going to be a part of my court.”

Contrary to what most people believed, hell was a rather cold place. Zoro had been quite used to it, the lack of light, the vast glaciers, his body no longer as fragile as it was eons ago, and so a simple touch like this from Luffy, from the sun, made him feel like his flesh was scorched—melting away easily like winter in summer’s heat.

They were close, so close that their foreheads were almost touching, and despite the burn of it, Zoro didn’t push him away. He smirked, his one eye glowing just as red as Luffy’s.

“Don’t decide something on your own, idiot.”

running just to keep my hands on you by nevermordor [6k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, switching)

They are so competitive in pretty much everything lol

The thing they do is kind of like a game, because Luffy likes games, but it’s also kind of a competition because Zoro can’t not turn anything and everything into a competition. It doesn’t have a name and there are only two rules, because more than two would just be making things boring and overcomplicated.

1. Whoever takes out the most guys in a fight is the winner

2. Whoever is the loser has to do whatever the winner says

“Why’s it gotta be a whole game and stuff," Luffy says. "That’s gonna take too long.”

“It makes sex more fun," Zoro explains. "You gotta win it, you gotta earn it. Like anything good in life. Like pirate king or greatest swordsman.”

Luffy considers this.

One on one by EclecticIsMyMiddleName [6k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)

Post canon, domestic married luffy and zoro my beloved… they are so in love?? It's sickening

Zoro's just trying to get ready for the day, but Luffy has other plans

Prayers Carried on Waves Reach the Sun by anarchycox [8k]

Rating: Mature (sexual content, switching)

Sun god luffy & demon zoro ftw

Luffy is the sun god, Nika. Zoro is a demon. And his boyfriend. They make it work. On earth the Thousand Sunny is the ship of worship for the sun god, the crew Nika's priests. When they call for help, Luffy and Zoro go to their aid.

Luffy decides they should stay a while, and Zoro loves him enough to do so.

Being human is a pain and stupid, but for his Luffy, he'll endure it.

Ok i need to stop here cuz it's getting way too longgg, but i'm just so ill about the two of them sorry not sorry😭😭

#zolu #luzo #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece #fics recs #honestly whats stopping me from recommending over 50+ fics??#self preservation!#also uhh to anon... reminder to read the tags before reading the fics!!#also is zoluzo an actual tag?

178 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 9 months

Note

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand.

❀ Word Count: 4188

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED.

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried.

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family.

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up.

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games.

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask.

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr.

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you.

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches.

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it.

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling.

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text.

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous.

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire.

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix.

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable.

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy.

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there.

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler.

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm.

It’s you. You’re the storm.

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you.

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target.

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air.

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him.

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel.

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach.

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known.

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing.

“I’ll miss that. Take this.”

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open.

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me.

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier.

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic.

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris.

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down.

All he can do is scream.

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core.

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions.

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise.

Penance and praise are not the same, though.

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest.

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically.

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner.

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon.

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench.

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child.

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands.

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar.

It smells like… Yoongi.

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?”

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.”

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands.

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat.

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.”

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?”

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight.

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.”

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile.

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time.

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers.

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #bts suga smut #yoongi angst #halis happy agust

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ruershrimo · 3 months

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 1: nostalgia

ao3 link for additional author's notes | playlist | next

chapter synopsis:

'“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise. The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.' --- ' It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I'm thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)'

word count: ~5k; tws: none for now

2-4-2015

Dear Fushiguro Tsumiki,

How are you today? I’m so sorry that we haven’t talked in so long.

Forgive me for asking so many questions in this letter— I know too little about writing them; my mother is the one who asked me to write this saying that it would help me keep in touch with my friends or write better (either of the two, I can’t quite remember).

Between an urban area or a rural area, which would you prefer? I’ve had to go all around the place because of my mother and I’m still all the way in Tanegashima now. If you were to go from Tokyo to where I am, you’d have to either go for a drive lasting more than 20 hours or book a three hour flight.

I’ve only stayed in the city once— that was when we were still in the same school, and we could all fit in my aunt’s apartment since my father was outstationed for the whole year. But I digress. Personally I prefer the city. It all feels so modern, and so much less empty than how it’s like here on this little island. I mean, we have the space centre, so I can always visit that, but after the third or fourth time you’d probably get a little bored of it too.

I wish I could go to Tokyo again one day, though. I’d definitely take the time to visit you, too. I read on a pamphlet once of how pretty everything gets in Tokyo during winter time, especially during Christmas. We don’t really celebrate Christmas here but the pamphlet reminded me of that one December when we spent it at my aunt’s, we ate lots of KFC and had a little party while my aunt sang songs and drank enough alcohol to prove she had a liver of steel a million times over.

It’s nice to reminisce on these things, and it’s nice to reminisce on when we were still there too. I know I never told you this enough, but I was so happy when you walked up to me on the playground that day and asked if you wanted to be friends. I really, really liked your hair and wanted to ask you the same. I was just too shy to do it, and thought that if I would I’d end up messing things up and mortifying myself. I miss that and you and I miss 2010 and I miss Tokyo, and walking back from school with you and Megumi (you were like my cool older sister), and I really, really miss doing each other’s hair. It was the most joyful I’d ever been in my then 8 years of life and every day was a new fragment of happiness to keep in my heart like a picture in a locket.

Now I really want to go there again, and maybe go to the Shinjuku-Gyoen, or see the lights at night. I wish I could stay for a whole year and see how the trees can change from being highlighted cherry blossom pinks, to lush greens with summer dew on them, to golden ginkgo leaves. I’d keep them with me, too. I hope you can take me there one day and we can see everything together again. My apologies if I’m asking too much of you.

Also, how is Megumi? I miss him too. Is he the way he was, still? Is everything okay between you and him, still? Unlike elementary school, the boys in junior high are all taller than the girls, so since we’re the same age do you think he’d be taller than me too? Is he taller than you, or are you still one of the tallest girls in junior high like how you were in elementary school?

It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I’m thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)

28-2-2011

The train to the airport is arriving in a minute, and you’re sure your mother won’t let you just wait for the next one, so you’re stuck clutching your little luggage bag as you look at Tsumiki and Megumi, that inseparable pair, and their snowy-haired “benefactor” (whatever that means. You think he’s more like their father sometimes, though).

Even if you knew it was inevitable and that this day would eventually come, especially with your leaving Tokyo being pulled even earlier than you thought it would, a part of you pretended that you’d still get to stay with them for a little while longer. In Tokyo you’d solidified your place and built your roots— you had friends, were doing alright in school and had even begun to be less anxious about everything. Now you’d be uprooted again, you thought as your fists trembled, Now you’d be back to square one.

2011 had started as a busy year— your father had begun preparations to move somewhere else where you and your mother could follow him and the three of you would be together again. It was busy for Tsumiki, too, who had more school matters to tend to due to her being one of the best, most well-rounded students in her year (you didn’t know much of the details).

…it had also begun with you seeing a dog when you were alone with Megumi once. It had these unique markings on its head, with alabaster fur and jaundice-hued eyes. And Megumi then had a panicked look in his eye, asked how and why you could see them as well as whether you’d seen them before, which you suppose caused him to be busier after that, too. Tsumiki and Megumi’s benefactor visited you and your mother the night after, asking to speak with your mother and your mother alone. He paused before you, almost shocked, you supposed, but you couldn’t see through his pitch black sunglasses (he was one weird guy, seriously— pitch black sunglasses? Really?). To which she frowned, as the man uttered that you could be a “window”, but that you could still be able to use “cursed energy”, or something. You’d heard of neither of those, and weren’t able to eavesdrop or discern anything else they’d said.

Then nobody else mentioned the dog anymore.

If you questioned any of them, you’d only be told that the dog was a stray, and that those markings must have been a particularly special birthmark. Yet you knew it was all a lie, but after multiple tries you gave up on wondering.

When you’d first learned you’d be moving yet again, you cried and screamed for your mother to let you stay, and for what felt like hours. After relaying this to Tsumiki, she just put her hand on yours before hugging you— always wise, always kind, always smiling, you can’t say this enough about her. Megumi patted your back before she pulled him in as well, and for once he didn’t shove her hand away. You couldn’t even bother to be confused at that— you just continued to weep as Tsumiki comforted you, whispering, “I can’t promise I’ll always be able to talk to you, but I’ll try my best to keep in touch when I can. And even if we don’t, we’ll always be friends, okay? So we’ll meet again someday, don’t forget that, okay, [Name]?”

A day after that Megumi told you to stay safe. Nearly ordered you to swear you’d stay safe and protected, always. He said that the world was dangerous since it was full of dangerous creatures and people who could kill you at any moment, but as long as you were on an island like the one you were moving to, you’d be fine. You furrowed your brow at that as he held your hand and felt him squeeze it— subconsciously, most likely.

“Well,” Tsumiki starts, a tinge of sadness in her tone, her eyes slightly swollen. Megumi’s expression is unreadable but his fists are balling the fabric of his shirt and his leg is shaking. It makes you want to sob and cling to both of them and you know if you did they wouldn’t ever let go, “I guess this is goodbye, [Name]…”

Before you realise it, tears start pooling in your eyes and soon they’re trickling down your face uncontrollably, just like the day when you’d first met her. “We’ll still be friends, right?” You won’t leave me, right?

“Mhm!” Tsumiki smiles— she was always smiling, always, even when she was about to cry along with you. Her lip was trembling and for a second you swore you could detect that in the ever-stoic Megumi, too. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. We’ll be friends forever, so we’ll surely see each other soon enough,” Tsumiki assures you, close to sniffling, “We made a promise to always be friends, right? So you’ll see the two of us again in just a few years’ time no matter what.”

“Okay,” you sniff, “I’ll see the two of you when we’re all grown up, and… and I’ll be taller, too! I promise I’ll visit Tokyo next time!”

“...that’s good,” Megumi says, his leg still shaking discreetly, joining you and Tsumiki’s conversations in a way he’d rarely done.

Tsumiki nods, “Yeah. That sounds really, really good, [Name]. Wait—! Let me give you something. You can call it a gift!”

She takes it off, and her hair unfurls like flowers from bouquets after they’re untied, placing the red-ribbon hair tie securely in your palm.

“Your hair tie?” you ask, “No, it’s okay—!”

“Please, just… just keep it, okay? It’s a gift from Megumi and I to you, [Name]!”

Then you’re in her embrace again as you clutch the hair tie, while after a little hesitation Megumi joins in and you swear you can see their benefactor smiling— not just the smile he had when you first saw him, this one in particular seemed proud, fatherly, the same way your father did when you told him about how you were able to read through a whole book with beginners’ kanji in it.

“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise.

The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.

15-3-2011

The phone continues to vibrate in your hands as you anxiously tap your foot on the ground. You’re sure it’s going to end up sore. Frantically, you press it almost forcefully to your ear when it stops ringing. “Tsumiki, Megumi!”

“[Name]!”

“Are you alright? I saw the footage of the earthquake on the news, are you safe? Were you and Megumi evacuated, are you all safe? Please tell me whether you’re safe—!”

“Megumi, it’s [Name]!— Don’t worry, we’re safe now.”

Relieved, you sigh, “That’s good, that’s good,” you say, “It must’ve been really scary…”

“Mhm— everything started shaking as if we were on some boat in the middle of the sea and the waves started getting wilder, and it was like the ground was rumbling.”

You shiver. “That sounds so scary…— I’m glad you’re safe, though. I don’t know why stuff like that has to happen so quickly sometimes, and so suddenly, too. And it takes so many people along with it. I thought I could’ve lost the two of you.”

“Well, we made a promise,” she tells you, “So don’t worry. —Oh! Megumi wants to talk to you. Here, Megumi.”

“Are you alright?” he inquires, “Have you seen anything scary in the countryside?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t seen anything. Why?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know.” Now that sounds like a bold-faced lie.

“Uh-huh, okay.”

-20-5-2011-

“Hello? Is this Tsumiki? I need to ask if she’s alright—”

“Oh, little [Name]?” a man says over the phone— the benefactor, you remember, “So sorry, she’s pretty busy right now… call next time, okay?”

-21-5-2011-

“Hello? This is the Fushiguro house contact, right?”

“Sorry, Tsumiki’s busy at the moment. Me too, actually.”

“Megumi!” you smile, bringing the phone closer to your cheek in excitement, “How is everything?”

“Good, to say the least,” he replies, “We’re just a bit busy. Sorry, but I’ve to hang up soon.”

“Oh, oh-okay! Bye bye, Megumi!”

“Bye.”

-13-7-2011-

“Hi, [Name] speaking. I called twice last month and a few days ago. Are you still busy?”

“A little— well, Tsumiki is,” the voice on the other side says. You know it’s not Tsumiki, not yet at least. “She’s really sorry, [Name].”

“No, no, it’s okay! I don’t want to bother any of you either, so thank you for telling me!”

“Well, if you want I can try to get Tsumiki right now,” the voice offers.

“Really? Thank you so much!”

The pause that ensues after is followed by the fifteen happiest minutes of your life since February this year.

“[Name]? Is that you?”

“Yeah! Hi, Tsumiki!”

She gasps slightly in the way that children do when in awe or when someone finds out they’ll be eating their favourites for lunch. “Hello!”

“How are you?” you ask.

“I’m good! Really busy, though, so I’m really sorry if I can’t call you as often… but everything’s been alright. You?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head even if she can’t see it, “I’m good, too!”

-18-8-2011-

You don’t know when you started heading to the phone and keying in the number, doing everything but ringing it. You’re busy, too— you’ve less time now to ring them up, and the last time you did, Tsumiki still apologised but sounded a little distant, just that one bit too busy to be able to tend to you. One step farther away from you. And Megumi was seldom ever the one by the phone. Still, you could understand why. You supposed they always had something going on that you never understood or never asked about. That would explain the incident with the unusually marked dog. No, they weren’t sketchy, but there was definitely something they must have known about the world that you didn’t.

Now you don’t know if you can even muster the courage to talk to you or write to you. The distance between you has widened exponentially and you hesitate just a bit more every time you hold the phone and press its buttons.

Then the phone rings, and after you hesitate once more, you put it down.

9-2-2016

If there’s one thing you remember from about half of your life ago, it’s that your first crush was probably Fushiguro Megumi.

You’re honestly surprised it wasn’t actually his sister. That over Tsumiki and her abundant compassion and beautiful soul, you’d feel your heart leaping and overflowing with warmth because of him instead. Constantly angry, never for once not irascible, always serious and aloof. You’re sure that if you’d met him now instead of back then you’d find him some asshole who you just wouldn’t be able to understand— why’d he always have to seem so angry?

Yet it was a struggle, trying to understand him. It really was. Maybe you didn’t really have to understand anyone, much less Megumi. He never ceased being so serious and easily angered but you could tell from his eyes that he must have not intended to hurt anyone; half of the time you understood him: like when you could see that glint in your eyes that replaced what would have been a ghost of a smile on his lips, the other half of the time you didn’t: like whenever he shoved Tsumiki’s hand off his shoulder, and Tsumiki just continued to smile. Now, that really confused you. You’d thought about that for days before coming to the conclusion that you’d probably never find an answer.

Conversely, Tsumiki was kind and patient. If you’d met her now you’d have fallen in love with her immediately and she probably wouldn’t even notice in that terribly goodhearted, unknowingly innocent way of hers.

In retrospect it should have been more obvious: he scowled at you and if it were anyone else who did so to you back then you would have merely cried and closed in on yourself, yet you never did when it came to him. You just continued to stick to him like those kind of glue residuals left behind after you take a sticker off a table or a price tag from the back cover of a book. You were probably annoying like that. And to some degree you suppose he’d given you his own form of special treatment by letting you do so anyway.

If you’d known what you were feeling back then you probably wouldn’t have admitted anything, anyway. Probably you would’ve kept it all within you, quiet and unnoticed, trying to drown yourself into life’s backdrop like an insect engulfed in resin.

But you’re older now, more mature and slightly more outspoken; you’re going to try to be confident and meet someone, this one person alone who you can only meet now without his sister there just because you used to have a crush on him and—

You don’t think you’d be able to admit anything either. Yet to yourself he’s the first. He always will be, and you’re not sure whether that sounds pathetic, miserable or disgustingly, hopelessly delusional, considering you don’t even want to pursue anything yourself.

It’s going to be Valentine's Day soon and you’re quite sure that most of your school friends are making Valentine’s chocolates for their boyfriends or their crushes. In all truthfulness, you might as well not feel blue about it— you’re 14, that’s still pretty young, you don’t have to rush things like relationships or confessions through and you’ve been told to focus on your studies instead— but the thought that you’re going to be alone is still kind of depressing.

10-4-2015

Dear [Name],

Don’t apologise— it’s partially my fault. I ended up being really busy that year due to something we had to deal with.

But anyway, it’s been so long! I miss you every day as well!

Megumi and I’ve been great, and I hope you’ve been too. It’s been a long four years since we last talked (it’s already 2015, how time flies!), but you still sound the same. It’s like you’ve got better handwriting now, though!

Aside from the fact that I’ve been swarmed with stuff to do (I joined the student council, yay!), junior high has been okay, to say the least— and hey, I’m still pretty tall, you know? Plus, a lot of the teachers say I’m surprisingly tall for my age, heheh. Things are going the same as always. I’ve got accustomed to the loads of homework we have now too. But it’s like Megumi’s been having a problem lately— he’s getting into fights, beating people up, things like that. I wouldn’t call him a delinquent, though: moreso someone who beats the delinquents up instead. I know what he wants to do and why he does it, but I don’t want him to fight other people and get himself or others hurt.

I’ve tried to tell him this before, to be honest. I’ve tried it many times but each time I must sound more annoying to him than the last— I don’t want to force him to do anything, though, and I understand that part of why he does this is because of his own ideals. I just want him to not raise his hand against others. So I have to resort to this.

Sorry for spilling it all on paper like this… I just wanted someone to talk about this to, and I thought you would listen to me, I suppose. Sometimes it’s hard— sometimes I really do feel like his parent instead of his sister and it makes me feel so lonely, really.

Oh dear, what do I do to make him hear me, seriously…

Anyway, I totally get what you mean— I’ve stayed in Tokyo all my life, but I’m sure that if I was uprooted and had to live somewhere else I’d have lots of trouble. Tokyo to me is my home, and my whole life is here. Moving somewhere else would probably shatter it completely, I think.

And please visit when you can! Maybe if your mother allows it, we can come to us instead, one day! And it’s not like we can’t visit you either. Our door’s always open. Once this school year ends, perhaps we could stay with you for a night or two! (If you would have us, of course).

Besides that, I don’t really have much to say. I did have a good day today, though. I went out with some of my friends from school after our classes ended and we ate some donuts. They were so tasty!!! Honestly, whenever you have the time, I really recommend going there with some of your friends after school!!

Regardless, I think this is all I have to say in this letter. I promise I’ll try my utmost best to always set aside time to write to you!!! Get some good rest whenever you can, okay? Miss you always!

Sincerely,

Tsumiki

(P.S.: Do you have an email or a phone number of your own yet? If so, please shoot me an email or give me a call! I can reply more there since I have those now and can use those instead of always relying on our house contact. You can keep the hair tie, too, by the way! It can be like a memoir (*^▽^*). And it’s for you, after all!)

13-3-2015

You remember seeing a little dog one time back in your hometown when you were around six or seven years old.

It was a tiny little thing, with the fluffiest black fur you’d ever stroked, and though every second it was barking louder than your mother could ever handle, it was adorable and seldom threatened to bite anyone. And it liked you— it never barked at you and let you shower it with pets despite how much it had frightened you initially.

He was irritable but calm, someone who frowned and scolded but never raised his hand against anyone— not even that “benefactor” of his who you’d never heard him talk about without mentioning how much he’d like to punch him someday. You genuinely don’t think he’s ever done so, either. He doesn’t seem like the type: from what you remember, if he were to think he’d hurt someone he knew or evidently cared about— as much as he’d like to deny this, however— he would blame everything on himself, you think. He’d feel the guilt rake through his body and lacerate his skin, piercing through his ribs. Yet he’d keep living, and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it; he’d be so quietly miserable.

That’s what he was like: quietly miserable. There’s a certain sorrow in the way he does things; you could tell this from the start despite how young and inept at articulating yourself you were at that age. But you’d always known and sensed that there was a sadness running through him, coursing through his veins, one that you could feel like heat from the warm blood beneath one’s skin.

Today you wonder if he’s the same, if he still seems like the saddest person you’ve ever met, if he still seems like he would have been the saddest and most doleful had he not always tried to act as if otherwise, living defiantly against it. If he hadn’t always been able to keep living while suffering quietly like a child with nothing but muffled sobs in the desolate corner of an empty classroom.

But at eight you thought maybe you could liken Megumi to a puppy. Or something like that. He certainly reminded you of that all-bark-no-bite puppy from the past. You wondered how it was now, whether it was still being fed and taken care of.

Tsumiki was vastly different, though— the kindest girl you ever knew, with neat, soft hair and the type of handwriting all the girls in her class wanted to have. She was always smiling, always kind— you thought she was immensely wise for a girl around your age; you always wanted to be as amazing of a person as she was: always hardworking, always clever, always kind and forgiving, no matter what.

…you don’t even know why you’re thinking about some kids you met once who you’ll probably never see again. Just two kids who you never kept in touch with. Or at least never tried to. You had their contact— you tried talking to Tsumiki a few times, but for some reason she could only ever reply once or twice (she apologised profusely for not being available any time she picked up as well), and as time passed the way the distance between the two of you grew, by the summer of 2011 you’d begun holding a telephone close to your ear without keying any number in it, as if clinging onto it would provide you with any sort of closure.

You miss them, though: smiley Tsumiki and frowny Megumi.

Leaning back into the mattress, you trace your fingers over the hair tie on your wrist, fingers rubbing against each thread of fabric in its red ribbon.

Could you even talk to them or face them anymore after ceasing contact with them for years, though? Heck, you don’t even know whether they’re alive or not. Would they be angry at you? Disappointed? Feeling as if they’d been wronged or left behind?

Still, you miss them. You really do.

Your mother’s calls bring you downstairs, and you eat until your stomach is full before washing your plate. The only other step in your routine now is to head up and retreat to your room again.

“Come down, [Name], could you?” your mother says, interrupting your trip back up, “I just want to talk to you for a second.”

Now, that… that was a bit strange. Your mother rarely ever asked you to talk to her. You spent enough time with each other as is, doing almost everything else besides being in school or at work in the same house, even if it never meant asking about each others’ day. It just was never part of the conversations you had with each other. You’d ask where she wanted you to throw things or how you could cook something, but she’d never go out of her own way to learn about your own day since you were about nine or ten, and it wasn’t like you ever did either. Perhaps she was trying to make the effort to?

“What is it?”

“You like writing, honey?”

“I mean, I guess so?” you reply hesitantly, “As long as it’s not for school or my grades don’t rely that heavily on a task, writing can be pretty fun.”

“Good, good,” she remarks, nodding her head, “Actually, I recently found something you may be interested in online. You still have your friend and her brother’s house contact, right?” she questioned. Instantly you know which friend she’s referring to and say yes— how could you not, after all? “Ever heard of pen pals, darling?”

Which brings you to where you are now: your mother leaning by the door frame of your room as you’re hunched over the table writing the letter. Surprisingly, she really seemed to care about this, even preparing the prettiest paper you’d ever seen, with pastel pink patterns printed on the paper’s edges, and though you struggled with what to say it first the words have begun spilling out of you despite how late it’s started to get.

You wonder whether she’ll reply. She probably will, though, but a fragile part of yourself surmises that she may not, and although you’d like to talk to her again you fear that because of the time that’s passed things may just not be the same anymore. You wonder if the years have made the three of you infinitely different than your eight and nine year old selves.

But that was growth, right? So you had to grow and learn how to talk to her, learn how to face her without thinking that she’d be angered or frustrated, or anything like that. And even if she did, even if it would hurt you, you’d be able to live. The world would keep spinning and all that would be lost were two friends who you lived without for about four years, ceteris paribus. Who could claim that the seventy or so years after those four would be any different?

That’s why you took the pen and paper and started to write, telling yourself you’d face it and finish the letter no matter what. Even if it was short. Even if it wouldn’t be enough to express four years’ worth of unspoken words, from funny things that had happened in school, or what you thought of whatever was on the news, or how your parents had gotten you a new phone.

As your eyelids gradually grow heavier, you watch how you fill two whole pages in the handwriting you have— you wish it could have been at least a tad bit more similar to Tsumiki’s, who never needed any boxes or lines to write completely straight and uniform for each character as if copying excerpts from finely printed books to the letter.

Soon, you’re reaching the end of the letter, determined to keep the handwriting legible even if you feel like plopping your head on the table and falling asleep— to some degree you still need it to look presentable, after all.

“(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)”

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you’d like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#it's finally up :)#yayy #take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi angst #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #fushiguro tsumiki #fushiguro megumi #megumi #ruer writes

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uzurimisery · 4 months

Text

chapter 6: the fold. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 5k

Warnings: MDNI, he's still insane and possessive, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

The time between then and the engagement party had felt short, going by too quickly, a whirlwind passing through you. It would be wrong to say you weren’t nervous, the sensation gripped you holding you close. Even if you did believe Coriolanus was sincere in his desire to be allies trusting him was another matter. Alliances were often forged with hidden motives.

You had seen firsthand the ruthless ambition that drove people to betray their allies, you had done the same, sacrificing presumed loyalty for personal gain. Trust was but a fragile illusion that could shatter in the blink of an eye. A fact made all the more apparent by your illusory relationship with him.

Despite the reservations, you were drawn to him. His ruthless and cunning nature mirrors your own, and there was no denying the sexual attraction between you both. But as the day of the engagement party loomed, the agitation never ceased.

You were about to take a leap of faith, place your life, your very future, and marry a man who had once been an annoyance to you. Yes, you had brought him back to the Capitol, but he had been more annoying than you thought. There was some hope, however. Coriolanus had recognised your strength, your potential, and he had been the one to extend the hand of allyship. Besides, as long as one of your parents lived he be hard-pressed to betray you.

A pin prinked at your side.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Tigris exclaimed as she rushed to soothe the wound. Her hands were cold against your skin.

“It’s alright. Hardly imagine it was intentional.”

“Of course not.” She was quick to get back to work, doing up the final adjustment stitch to ensure your dress fit perfectly.

It was simpler than Tigris had wanted it to be, insisting that your engagement party dress should be grand. You were able to convince her to focus on the wedding dress instead, which you were grateful for. Tonight could be simple, less caught up in the extravagant happenings of the Capitol. So your dress was simple. White silver chain mesh with a nude underdress and a solid white cape.

As she backed away she spoke again. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you admit, gently passing your hands over the soft fabric of the cap. Despite the simplicity, it was elegant. Slightly understated, but it suited you.

Her eyes were lit with concern. “Don’t be,” she was reassuring, voice laced with genuine warmth. “You look amazing.”

Looking great and feeling great were different things. Tonight, you weren’t sure if you’d be feeling great.

“Thank you Tirgirs,” your voice was thick with emotion. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Are you worried about him?” She was quick to pick up on your actual concern. Coriolanus Snow.

You steeled your gaze in the mirror and straightened your shoulders, trying to regain composure. “How could I not be?”

“He cares for you…” she trailed off. “At least I think he does. He’s different with you. More like the boy I grew up with and less, well, like he is now.”

You studied your reflection, searching for any sign of turmoil within. Your hair was in order, your makeup flawless, and your dress impeccably tailored. There was not a hint of emotion showing. Perhaps the shadow of the boy Tigris knew was the glimpses of warmth that you could feel from Coriolanus.

“I care for him as well.” The truth was easy, you did care for him.

Tigris paused. “That’s good then. The only thing worse than a political marriage is one where you hate each other,” her voice held a touch of sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from the mirror. Speculation would be endless, but tonight you needed to focus on the present. Standing there trying to determine, or wish, that there was the chance for you and Coriolanus to have something real, reach your goals and build the lives you want, and have something real. The past year had been messy, with a constant fluctuation of feelings but between the lines moments had felt true. When the two of you were alone it felt real to you.

Despite his previous explanation, you refused to believe that the shock engagement had been calculated as he claimed. Somewhere inside him he cared for you, you knew it, relieved it like gospel. Faithful to the higher power of emotion, praying that it was true. That he was capable of loving you like you loved him.

“We moved past hate a long time ago.”

“That's good then.” Tigris paused for a moment, hesitating to ask the question, her eyes flicking over you. “Do you love him?”

“Love?” you echoed, voice breaking on the word.

“Yes, love,” she was persistent. “Do you love him?”

It was hard to love a man like Coriolanus Snow but you couldn’t say that you didn’t love him at this point. The months of closeness laid the ground for positive feelings, and at every turn, he surprised you. The soft touches, passionate kisses when you were alone, the unspoken emotions fogging up the air between the two of you-- they had fed the selfish desire within you to have Coriolanus to yourself. A need to have him by your side. Greedy passion clawing at your legs.

The model of love you had growing up was your parents. They weren’t a typical loving couple, unconventional in all manners, but they did love each other and worked as partners. Each picked up the slack where the other faltered. What you had with Coriolanus felt like that. The balancing act, the tipping of the scales.

There was a pause before you answered. “Does it matter?”

Your feelings towards him were inconsequential in the grand scheme. It’d be worse to have them thrown in your face and laughed at knowing that you would still be going through with the marriage for the sake of your ambition. Love and ambition were a dangerous mix.

“I think so,” Tigris was soft, hand smoothing out any wrinkles of your dress. “I’d like to think that you and I have become friends over the past year and… I’d like you to be happy. I saw what a loveless marriage did to my aunt and I don’t want the same for you.”

Her words broke you down, shattering the barriers you had up. She was always so gentle and caring, it felt like she had no ulterior motives whenever you spoke. There was one thing she wanted, and that was the best for everyone. Even Coriolanus even if she didn’t agree with his actions. Tigris was a kind and gentle soul, something so rare for the Captiol.

The truth bubbled over the surface, a moment of closeness so rarely felt. The feelings you had rationalized away, hiding them behind logic, spilling out. It hurt, like ripping off a bandage, stinging and sharp, exposing the wound.

“Must you have asked me this after my makeup was done?”You joked, trying to shake off the tears welling in your eyes.

“Sorry.”

You exhaled, breathy and burdened. “Love is a complicated feeling and a luxury I didn’t think I’d ever be able to afford. It’s hard to explain what I feel for him, I don’t even know if I understand the feeling myself. I know that I want him in my life, and the thought of him not being there, being someone I can depend on, makes me feel like I’m going crazy. He’s someone I know will always have my back as long as I have his.”

Tigris chewed on your words for a minute.

“So you do love him then?”

“If this is love, then yes I do.”

“Have you told him?”

“I can’t,” you stutter slightly. “It’d be risking everything over my feelings.”

“But do you think you can marry him without telling him? Go your entire life not telling him?”

You were terrified of that. Telling him was vulnerability and uncertainty, threading waters as the tide came in threatening to swallow you whole. Your feelings could cost you your ambition, your power, and at the furthest extreme, your life. But not telling him, marrying with this secret, was even more terrifying. Trapping yourself in a relationship with him where you could never truly voice your thoughts.

It was a cruel dilemma. The future you had always wanted, influence and control, and love. How could you risk everything for something so uncertain? How could you jeopardize everything for a man who might not even feel the same? But how could you wake up every day by his side, the feelings burning you, and expect to be fine?

“I’m afraid of what he’ll say, of what he’ll do, of losing him.”

“I know it’s easy for me to sit here and say you should tell him, but I think you should. If you do love him, you owe it to yourself to at least try.”

Her words held truth.

____________________________________

The grand ballroom of the Gaul estate was filled to the brim with the Capitol’s elite. The air seems alive with the hum of excitement, bouncing around the opulent decor, mingling with the clink of crystal glassware. Even the president, who had never been the same after the death of his son, looked to be enjoying himself. There had been no expense sparred for the engagement party, Coriolanus could only imagine what the actual wedding would cost.

Surrounded by guests, Coriolanus found himself in the company of former Academy students. The conversation had been fine at the start, but the more that they drank to more it began to grate on him.

“You know I never thought you’d be the first to get married Coriolanus,” Apollo Ring hammered on. “I figured it’d be Florus.”

“Florus! I would have bet money on Io.” Domitia Whimsiwick chimed in.

Did they all have nothing better to do than bug him? The constant chatter, the forced camaraderie irritated him, like nails on a chalkboard they drug on and on. He knew that the party was about himself and you, but god did he hate having to put up with his former classmates. They thought themselves all to be friends, which included him in it.

Of course, he engaged with them, laughing at their jokes and acting like he cared about the conversation. The whole like he was surveying the room, waiting for you so he could finally have an excuse to dismiss himself from the conversation. After 15 minutes or so, he finally saw you.

Somehow, you had gotten more beautiful. It was a subtle shift in appearance, a change so small but it made you even more attractive.

Your hair was down, curling down your back, a change from your usual updos. Previously you told him they were “more practical” for working in the lab, but he did love it when your hair was down. He watched as you flitted from guest to guest, thanking them for coming with your signature red lipstick smile.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a genuine one, breaking through his front.

“Apologies everyone,” Coriolanus placed a hand on his chest and gave a slight bow. “The future Mrs. Snow has arrived.” The group wished him well, a few jokes about him being whipped, and went back to talking amongst themselves as he left.

His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The closer he got to you the more the feeling of contentment, something he rarely if ever experienced, settled in his stomach.

“You look stunning,” he spoke while wrapping an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead, conveying the tenderness he felt. Then with practise poise, he greeted the guest you were speaking to. “You should wear your hair down more.”

You smiled up at him. “Why thank you, Mr. Snow,” if hearing your voice was the reward he got for suffering the others, he’d suffer a thousand lifetimes. “I was just speaking with Mrs. Thornton about how you’re such a charmer.”

“Guilty as charged,” Coriolanus laughed a bit while turning the conversation the the older woman. “How could I not try and charm her when she’s this beautiful?”

“Oh, young love! I’ll leave you kids alone. Congratulations on your engagement.”

Coriolanus wanted to snatch you up and take you away from here. This was the part of politics he hated the most. The show of it all. Unfortunately, he was obligated to remain here until the last guest exited the building. His arm tightened around your waist, fingers drumming against your side.

“How long do you think this will take? I’ve had my fill of pleasantries and if I have to listen to Gaius speak again I might lose it.” His exasperation at events often entertained you.

Your laughter, a melody from the heavens, danced around the air, drowning out the ringing hum of conversation around you both. “Patience, Coriolanus. This whole thing is just for us, so probably be a while before it ends. It’s not like we can sneak away either.”

“You’re the only reason I tolerate these events, you know,” he whispered in your ear, watching the shiver run down your spine as he did. “Otherwise I’d have no problem avoiding them.”

“Well now, that doesn’t sound like a man who's excited to get married.” Your eyes met his own.

“To entertain over a hundred people at an engagement party? No, I’m not excited about that. But to get married to you? That’s another thing altogether.”

There was sincerity in his words. As much as he hated the required socialising, he was excited to marry you, to finally have a visible form of ownership of you. The prospect of sharing life with you added to that. He could taste the future on his tongue. One filled with you, laughter, and love. One where the two of you sat upon a gilded throne and ruled over Panem together.

“Are you excited then? To marry me?”

Warmth blossomed in his chest as Coriolanus gazed into your eyes. You were letting him see through the cracks and into your anxiety about the situation. You were still worried that he regretted the choice.

“Of course, I’m excited to marry you,” he admitted, voice soft and sincere, twinged with longing. “Who else can I trust to take over Panem with besides you?”

There was something in your eyes he couldn’t read, a flicker so quick he almost missed it. Something was wrong.

“First we have to endure this engagement party, don’t we?” you replied, cutting the conversation, while moving the two of you to continue flitting around the room and greeting guests.

It drug on for some time before finally everyone had been ushered into the gardens and the ballroom transformed into a dining experience. Coriolanus was glad, it meant there only be a few more hours until he was finally free from the party.

The ballroom had been completely transformed in just 15 minutes by the staff. Where there had been ample room for dancing, was now tables filled with placements and decor. The lighting had been lowered, with candles placed on the tables to better illuminate them, creating a romantic and intimate space. He had to admire the efficiency of your family’s staff as another team of them began leading guests to their assigned seats one by one. He, of course, would be at the table at the head of the room, next to yourself, and with both of your families.

After all the guests had been seated, Mr. Gaul rose and tapped against his champagne flute with a knife. He was well-dressed as usual, this time donning a black suit with white embroidery around the lapels. It was interesting that despite Dr. Gaul’s more prominent status, your father took over the majority of the public-facing events. Acting as her mouthpiece at a lot of them.

“Welcome, welcome everyone,” he boomed as a hush fell over the room.“I want to thank you all for joining us here tonight in celebration of what is bound to be the most influential wedding the Capitol will see this generation. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my daughter,” he spoke with a sly smile, making the guests chuckle.

Mr. Gaul paused, taking a sip of champagne, his eyes lingering on Coriolanus.

“Like any father, I had doubts on if Mr. Snow would be good enough to marry my daughter, but my doubts have been laid to rest. I’ve been lucky enough in my life to see love in all sorts of forms, and am glad to see the love shared between him and my daughter.” Coriolanus nodded at him, giving your hand a squeeze on top of the table where they were joined.

“Before I talk your ears off, my wife has a few things to say.” As your father sat, Dr. Gaul rose.

“Thank you all again for joining us this evening,” her sing-song tone echoed over the silence. “It truly is remarkable to witness the union between Gaul and Snow, two strong and powerful families coming together not for the sake of Panem, but for the sake of love.” Dr. Gaul's arms were wide as she faced the guests.

“With their love, I have no doubt this union will create a new era of prosperity and power for Panem,” she continued, resonating with pride. “Coriolanus, my sweet Y/N, you are the future of this nation, and I am confident that your union will lead us into a brighter, more prosperous future.”

The room erupted in applause, whistles and cheerings cutting through. Coriolanus felt drawn closer to you at the moment, your hand in his sending a jolt of electricity across his skin and through his veins. The implications of your marriage were transparent. Once the two of you were wed, even now before that, it was clear that the future of Panem was dependent on the two of you. To the untrained eye it was a beacon of hope, a promise of prosperity, unknowing that Coriolanus and yourself were ruthless. You would rewrite the narrative of Panem, and transform it into something of your choosing.

Beyond that, it was finally having you to himself. No more barrier between himself and access to you. It was a victory. His gross and sickly feelings of obsession, lust, and love, are being rewarded after months of wanting you. Your attention, your affection, your very being his. You were his prize, his trophy, his ultimate conquest and he’d place you on the highest throne beside his own.

As the cheering died down, servants came in with trolleys full of food. The air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, succulent meats, and vibrant exotic fruits. All just for the first course, as the guests began engaging in their own conversations, all of them sheep.

He turned to you, voice low with anticipation, possession threatening to spill. “Soon all of this will be ours. Snow and Gaul leading the nation.”

You turned, facing him, big doe eyes peering up through your lashes. He wanted to make you cry again, watch the tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. It was neither the time nor the place, but he wanted to-- no needed to-- be inside you. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Tonight,” his teeth nipped at the ridge. “We begin our reign. We will conquer Panem, and we will rule it with an iron first.” Coriolanus pulled away, moving to give you a chaste kiss.

When he kissed you, you didn’t smile into it like you normally did. You were passive, emotionless, simply going through the motions of it. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. What had changed in the short hours he had been apart from you? Why were you suddenly pulling away from him? He wanted to press you about the issue but this wasn’t the time nor the place.

For the rest of the meal, it was all Coriolanus could think about. Worry builds with every passing minute. The gentle warmth you brought into his life now felt passive, and that passivity unsettled him. Your interactions over the past week replaying in his mind, trying to isolate the moment when the shift occurred. It had to be after you had left his side to get ready tonight. You had gotten ready with Tigris, so she could be the cause, undermining him.

The more he thought about it, the more the problem escalated. What had Tigris said to you? Did something happen while you were getting ready? The questions echo in his skull, overtaking his thoughts. Had it been something he did? Did he say or act out of place? The fear of losing your affection, coupled with the uncertainty of the situation, weighs heavily on his shoulders.

Maybe you had learned the truth: his feelings for you. You had figured out his feelings and were pulling away to avoid addressing them. He knew that there was a very real chance that you were burdened by that truth. Coriolanus grappled with the fact that his attempts at subtlety had failed, exposing him and making him vulnerable. The fear of rejection, his emotions being laid bare for you only to be met with rejection, making him nauseous.

When the meal finally ended and guests filtered out, you were missing. You had been by his side most of the night and had only gotten up to see out guests, just like he had. But now you were missing.

Coriolanus walked the estate looking for you and failing. It was like you had vanished.

He nearly screamed when Dr. Gaul appeared out of nowhere, startling him. “Looking for something, Mr. Snow?” Her smile is wide and crazed.

“Yes. I’m looking for Y/N.”

“How unsurprising. She’s in the greenhouse, and likes the solitude after events.” Just as quickly as she had shown up, she started to leave. “Oh! Don’t forget my warning Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus made his way to the greenhouse, driven by urgency and anxiety. If he could just explain things to you he could resolve the situation and ease his worries. As he entered the building, the smell of damp earth and flowers assaulted his nose, a stark contrast to the rest of the evening.

There, amidst the foliage of a massive monstera, he found you seated on a stone bench, your shoulders shaking. You were crying. The sight of it stabbed his heart as he hesitated, unsure how to approach you.

With a deep breath, he spoke, soft and slow, careful to startle you. “Y/N?” He watched you jump, rushing to swipe your eyes as he sat down next to you, your back stiffening.

“Sorry, just overwhelmed.” Your excuse was weak.

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me.” Coriolanus was not a man who pleaded or begged, but he would be a beggar if it meant calming you.

“Can I?” You looked so small in this moment, fearful like a child.

“Of course you can.”

Instead of soothing you, you only began to cry more. He felt so helpless watching your tears fall. His control and composure crumbled with every tear. The usual confidence he had waning. He wanted to understand the cause of your distress, understand why you had been so different tonight, but the answer felt further away than it did at the start. The need for answers was overshadowed by the need to make you stop crying.

His hand grabbed your own, running his thumb over the top of it as he often did. “Y/N, I want to help. Please just tell me what’s wrong?” for you it felt normal to beg.

He wants Coriolanus Snow in this moment, he was just a man, earnest and sincere, watching his lover cry and unable to comfort them. The weight of your sadness pressing against him. All he wanted was to find the right words, the right actions, the right anything, to bring you comfort and make you smile again.

“I just need to know if this is real. If I’m safe with you. If you don’t view me as another stepping stone. Because I can’t stay here, keep doing this with you, if you don’t feel the same way. It’s eating me alive.” your body wracked with sobs.

He could only watch. Coriolanus had never seen you so raw and exposed, your shoulders trembling. It was you letting him in, in every sense of the word. This is where he had to put himself on the line. Did he have enough courage to trust love one more time? To be this close? To let you see the most broken and paranoid parts of himself? To lose control?

This is what he had wanted. You broke down and begged him for the truth, your own feelings finally exposed for him. He had wanted you so overwhelmed with your own feelings that they damaged you the way his own did. But not that he got it, had you are your lowest, he hated it. Coriolanus hated seeing you cry because of him.

The decision was agonising. Fear of failure, fear of being exposed, but more so, the fear of losing you. Sitting here, listening to your choked-up sobs, mascara beginning to stream, beautiful at your lowest. The silver gown that started the change in him.

He had played such a dangerous game; he lost to himself when he started seeing you as a person. You were supposed to be nothing to him, another pawn, a reason for your mother to further his trajectory. How was he supposed to know that you’d be so perfect for him? Your strengths cover his weaknesses and his yours. Genuine connection, not possession. A revelation.

He would starve if he only ever ate on Sundays. He would starve if only had you on Sundays.

With a trembling voice, Coriolanus spoke, a final confession of his own feelings, of his sins. “I only want this with you.” his hands held your face forcing you to lock eyes. His eyes are bare of any calculation and ambition, just the depth of his feelings for you. “I look for you, always, and in everything I see. You’re in the grass, in the trees, in the lab, in everything, you’re everything to me.”

The tears streamed down your face, and he wiped them away. He was crying now. They blurred his vision, but you shone through it all. He kisses you, soft and tender, before continuing.

“I’m so incredibly flawed.” his voice was thick, the self-doubt that whispered in his ears at night leaking out. “I don’t deserve you, and I could never deserve you.”

“You’re death and rebirth to me. My reason to forgive, to let someone in. And every time you leave my side it’s like the world around me dims, and nothing shines anymore. It gets harder to breathe.”

You tore down his defences and stripped him of protection.

“I told myself I’d never let someone in like this again, to make room in my heart to house your own,” speaking it out loud felt like ripping off a bandaid.

“But I’ve never felt this way for someone before. You’ve changed me, altered me so deeply that there are parts of you that took over parts of me.”

You had changed him and made him feel compassion and empathy again. The dormant emotions he swore off now are reborn and only for you. Your being had seeped into every aspect of his own, forever informing him of you. At this moment, Coriolanus’ soul naked and in front of you, the final walls came crashing down.

“I was just so scared to admit it, to give away my final card. To admit that it all has no meaning if you’re not there beside me and that I need you to make it matter. But it’s more than that. I was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way. I can never tell what you’re thinking, never control you like I can others, I just have to trust you.”

It hurt to expose himself. The kind of hurt that felt good. A cut on your hand that you can't stop picking at. A bruise that you prod. When you push yourself hard at the gym and wake up the next morning sore. The dull ache of injury, a reminder that through all the pain, all the suffering, you were still human. He was still human.

“I love you, Y/N. I have for months.”

His voice trembled, the admission hanging in the damp air. He had never allowed himself to feel love like this before, to surrender so completely to another person.

“I love you too,” the relief he felt was instant. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, focus on something--anything else. But I realised that I couldn’t marry you without telling you.”

Coriolanus’ hands cupped your face and he kissed you. Deeply and wholly. His touch was tender, filled with the very depths of his feelings for you, the kind that words could only partially convey. It was more than just a kiss, it was your soul's entwining. The acknowledgement that both of you had toiled over something for so long. There was no urge to control the situation, only to be in the moment with you.

As you kissed, the greenhouses faded. It was only the two of you, hearts beating in unison. The act dropped, the lines were forgotten, and the actors were just people. The politics were irrelevant. It was just the two of you, as it always should have been.

@serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad @harrysbitvh123 @secretsicanthideanymore @ayyyeeeeidk @hinata7346 @kisstheskin @sumo-b98 @duds31 @mrsjobarnes @whorefortim @joonvrs @sabrinasbd @itsmeduckieee @dangelnleif

#tdoaa #the death of an actor #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #hunger games smut #hunger games #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #uzuri writes #coriolanus snow x reader smut

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whalyrae · 1 month

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THE OLD GUARD - CHAPTER 4

"We don’t get a say on how it ends, we never have. But we can control how we live."

Summary : You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her)

Genre : soulmate au, demons bts au, witch y/n au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : eventual smut, angst, mention of depression, death, suicide, past trauma, violence, blood, past (sexual) abuse, past torture, PTSD, scars, self harm, and more.

Tag list : @blackrockshooter780 @babyymeme @starrlo0ver @suckerforv @mushroom-main @m1sss1mp @prettydancingdamzel @i-have-no-life-charlie @avadakadabra93 @veronawrites @kawaiikpoplover268 @didi-9310 @ghostlyworld @carolinexkpop @gooooomz @00ihatesnaku

A/N : After months of struggling with life, health, mental health issues... I can FINALLY POST AGAIN !! This chapter was really hard to write (I cried a little at the end ngl :D), I have constant writer block, constant impostor syndrome... I have the perfectionnism trait but in a toxic way really TT.TT Don't hesitate to like and reblog !! Also don't be afraid to leave a little comment or if you have any questions, here or in anon in my inbox !! they are really really welcomed, I love reading all your impressions and thoughts !!

Also thank you so much !! I was inactive for a very long time and I still got daily alerts with people who liked/kudos the chapters and the story :(( I can't express (yeah i'm an author and i can't express through words LOL) how much i'm grateful :(( ♥♥

ps : ah and sorry if there is any mistakes or anything it's almost 2:30am when I post this and I had an really emotionnal day fgkfdhlfk LOVE YALL MUAH ♥

Playlist link : The Old Guard Playlist

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

She was wondering whether it would be better to ask Handong to stay with her. She had assured her that she would handle the situation and that Handong could go home. She knew that Gahyeon would need her at their coffee shop.

However, now that she was in the living room of the seven boys, her soulmates’, after bringing one of them in an utterly unconscious state for a reason as unknown to them as it was to her, she was starting to regret this decision.

She couldn't understand what had happened with Jin the moment their eyes met. She couldn't say anything, the words were stuck in her throat as they stared at each other without a word. He parted his lips as if he wanted to say something, but just like her, nothing came out.

He'd known she was his soul mate, of course he could feel it. Just like her. But had he recognized her? Did he know that the two of them were the firsts of their soulmate bond to meet, long before any of the other six were born? She couldn't be sure and didn't have time to find out.

She had seen his features contort in pain, and without a word, he had collapsed. Luckily, Handong, who had seen them, was able to catch him in time, preventing him from falling to the ground and potentially injuring himself.

Thanks to a spell that increased her strength tenfold, she could carry him without Handong’s help and any difficulty to the place where he lived with his mates. But she couldn't stop herself from hurrying, worried sick about him.

And that's where she is now. Jungkook helped her carry Jin to the living room, laying him on the sofa. While Yoongi woke up Taehyung and Namjoon. Jimin and Hoseok hurried to get a damp cloth on Jin's forehead.

Namjoon and Taehyung stormed into the room, not hiding their surprise at seeing her there in total panic.

However, they didn't ask any questions. Yoongi probably had to explain to them what happened and what was going on.

She was standing in front of the sofa where Jin was lying, staring at the unconscious demon, his features distorted by pain. The sight of him was enough to make her stomach twist with soreness.

"Hey, Noona..." Jimin's soft voice startled her. He was standing next to her, a comforting smile on his lips, "Everything’s going to be fine, don't worry..."

She didn't even know what to say. She didn't dare to look him in the eye, or any of the other boys. The guilt she'd been carrying around with her all these centuries was only getting stronger.

She could hear voices behind her, probably the boys talking amongst themselves, or maybe they were trying to talk to her. She didn't know. Nothing around her was clear and precise. Her vision was blurring, her heart rate had been racing for a while and she was getting worse.

She gasped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round abruptly, facing Namjoon. The other boys were behind him, except for Yoongi who was next to Jin.

"Hey," he greeted her with a gentle smile, "don't worry, everything's going to be fine,” he repeated Jimin’s words, “You're having a panic attack, I'm gonna help you, okay? Look at me."

His voice was soft and reassuring, it had a calming effect on her. His presence and warmth invaded her whole being, despite the anxiety attack she was having.

She raised her eyes to meet him. Slowly, he tells her to take long, deep breaths. The first time, she breathed in and breathed out. Then a second time. And a third.

Finally, her breathing returned to normal and her heart rate calmed. Seeing this, Namjoon gave her another smile, his fingers caressing her shoulder to calm her down.

She had the strange impression that Namjoon probably possessed some kind of power capable of influencing the emotions, feelings, or even bodily reactions of the people he touched. Or maybe it was just the soulmate effect.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes... Thank you..." She replied with a small smile, seeing Hoseok approach her with a glass of water. "Thanks… and sorry, I wish we'd met under different circumstances..."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm enchanted to meet you."

Hoseok gave her a big, bright smile, which he succeeded in communicating to her.

"I guess you guys have questions... and why did I show up with Jin in this state..."

She turned her attention to Jin. A wave of emotion suddenly washed over her as she realized that yes, he was there, in the same room as her. Her soul mate, the first to cross her way, the one she'd lost so suddenly and brutally centuries ago. A mixture of joy, sadness, guilt, and apprehension.

"Do you know what's going on with him? And why is he in this condition?" Hoseok asked curiously, taking back the glass she'd just drunk in one long sip.

She bit her lower lip nervously. She had to tell them. Jin was their soulmate, just like he was hers.

But where to start?

"Come on, settle down here."

Yoongi straightened up to install her on the sofa, right next to Jin still unconscious. He'd then sat down next to her, while the others had taken seats in front of her, Namjoon and Hoseok on the low table, the maknae on the floor, clinging to each other.

The sight made her smile gently. But quickly the smile disappeared, replaced by apprehension. The words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. She knew that the moment had come, that once she'd told them everything, they'd hate her, reject her, and she’d lose the people she'd waited for all her life.

"Noona... I can smell your fear all the way up here..." murmured Jimin, her eyes landing on him with surprise, "I'm an empath, by the way..." he explained with a shrug.

"You don't have to be an empath to sense the fear radiating from her." chuckled Taehyung, teasing his companion who gave him a nudge on the shoulder, "Oops, sorry sweetie."

"I know that from the moment you will know the whole story, you'll never want to hear from me again and I... argh that's the last thing I want," she admitted with a sad smile. The events of the last few days had paralyzed and overwhelmed her in some ways when it came to making the right decisions, and she was extremely upset with herself about this.

"But I think I need to stop being scared, and selfish like I have been."

"We could never hate you," Hoseok said firmly, the others all giving signs of approval, "no matter what you've done."

"Tell us all the horrible things you ever did, and let us love you anyway."

She recognized Namjoon's words. And she wasn’t surprised that he could quote Edgard Allan Poe, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

She couldn't deny that his words made her feel a tinge of comfort, because he was sincere, and every one of the other boys thought so.

But they didn't know the whole story yet, so the chances of them thinking differently once they knew the whole truth were pretty high.

"Where to start..." she took a long breath, "Jin... I met him before I even knew I was immortal. That was... uh... it seems like an eternity now, at the beginning of the 15th century."

She expected the exclamations of surprise that followed.

"Wait... you mean you and Jin hyung..." Jungkook fell silent to think.

"Why didn't he ever tell us about you then? And why have we never met you before ?” asked Yoongi skeptically, "You're our soulmate, his soulmate, how could he..."

"It's more complicated than it sounds..." she sighed, scratching the back of her head nervously. "I always knew I was a witch, my mother was a witch herself. I lived in a village in France during the period when the witch hunts began. It was also during this period that the Malleus Maleficarum was written."

"I know this book," Hoseok sighed loudly as he shook his head, visibly annoyed, "this pile of garbage written in the late 15th century, which supposedly explains what a witch is, how to recognize one, interrogate them, and kill them."

"A load of bullshit yeah," Namjoon added with a chuckle, "I rarely waste my time reading books, but this one..."

"Tell me more !" Jimin exclaimed, "I read it too, well, not all of it, it's so... misogynistic and sexist!"

"I... was one of the witches who had to go through all the torture and experimentation to write this... book or whatever it is. And most of the women who suffered all that crap were just ordinary mortals," she admitted with a little restraint.

Horrified exclamations were heard from the maknaes and Hoseok. Yoongi and Namjoon closed their eyes for a few seconds, repressing the anger rising within them.

Talking about these events did not leave her indifferent; these memories were among the worst she had ever known, and she still sometimes had nightmares about them.

She remained silent for a few moments, before finally speaking up.

"That's not the point. Jin is the point. When I met him, he was a merchant passing through the village." A small smile appeared mechanically as she recalled this memory, "It was love at first sight. Of course, it was. He knew I was his soul mate, but I... I didn't even know what a soulmate was. He taught me. He taught me so many things..."

She turned her head towards Jin, still unconscious beside her. Oh, how she'd missed him. He hadn't changed a bit.

"I immediately sensed that he wasn't human, just as he'd guessed that I was a witch. So much better in a way, it made things easier."

Delicately, she let her fingers stroke his forehead, brushing aside a few strands of hair, a tender smile on her face.

"He stayed in the village after that. I had taken over the bakery from my parents who had passed away from an illness a few months before I met him. We weren't the richest, but we were happy.”

The other boys couldn't contain the grins on their faces. Of course, this story was beautiful and worthy of a fairy tale. But they all knew that fairy tales were only fantasy stories. The reality was not nearly as lovely.

"We lived... two years like that before everything went to hell."

She felt her hands tremble as she recalled what she was about to say.

Jimin sensed her nervousness, fear, and sadness. He left Taehyung and Jungkook's embrace to kneel before her, gently taking her hands in his for comfort.

Her gaze met his, and he offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. But she couldn't relax.

"The witch-hunt had begun and was becoming increasingly virulent and violent. The villagers had always thought it was strange that I hadn't suffered the same illness as my parents. I knew the rumors about Jin and I. But until now, we'd managed to keep a discreet, almost unnoticed presence. Until she came along."

Jimin squeezed her hands a little tighter as he felt her anger rising.

"That demoness... came to our village, supposedly a cloth merchant. She fell for Jin. Was it love, or just a physical attraction? I don’t know. She succumbed to his devastating charm, like so many others before her." She chuckled, imitated by Yoongi.

"As you would expect, Jin did nothing but ignore her and rebuff her advances. She didn't appreciate it at all… I learned later that this half-succubus demoness was renowned for finding prey and not letting go until she got what she wanted."

"A real nasty leech..." muttered Jungkook.

She noticed, however, that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok expressions had changed. They had exchanged glances, seeming to pass a message to each other that she didn't understand. She decided to ignore it for the moment.

"Things got worse after she arrived, after Jin's rejection." She took a long breath. "She's the one who delivered me to the villagers, who exposed me. When we realized her plan, that she was planning to take Jin with her by force, by any means necessary, we wanted to run away. We'd go to Asia, or America, or wherever, to another continent, away from her, away from all of this. But that demoness had planned everything… We were young, unaware, and inexperienced, unlike her. I was barely 25, and he was 23... we just wanted to..."

She paused to calm herself, her heartbeat quickening again. Fortunately, Jimin was able to calm her, just by being here, his soft hands on hers, and she was grateful for that. She thanked him with a small smile, which he returned by stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. How could a demon be so angelic?

"She specialized in memory magic..."

"Oh, I'm getting the hang of it..." muttered Namjoon, clenching his jaw.

"That bitch…" added Yoongi, making her huff.

"The villagers arrived in the middle of the night. We didn't see it coming. The demoness took advantage of this moment to attack Jin and cast a spell to erase me from his memory. The last time I saw Jin was before they put a bag over my head when he was unconscious in her arms."

She lowered her head, and it was only when she felt Jimin's soft hand on her cheek that she noticed a tear had rolled down.

She knew what the demoness had done, she knew that she'd erased Jin's memory, simply because she'd come to see her a few days later in the cell where she was being held captive. She explained everything, adding that she had offered to give her over to the Catholic order of Dominicans who wrote the Malleus Maleficarum. Which happened, the day after she came.

"When I finally escaped... After several months," she continued anyway, her voice trembling, "I looked for him, I... crossed France from top to bottom, and Europe... I looked for him everywhere, for many years... I never found him... until now..."

Jimin's hands gripped hers a little tighter. She looked up at him, then at Yoongi, who had moved a little closer to her. Their shoulders were touching, his way of showing her some comfort.

"So that's what happened..." muttered Namjoon, who had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed, looking thoughtful.

"I hate humans..." blurted Jungkook as he hugged Taehyung tightly, his companion nodding in agreement.

"And so, you thought we'd hate you, or I don't know what other nonsense might go through your little head when we know the truth?" Yoongi asked, holding back a laugh. “I don’t see why. I mean. It’s genuine, really.”

She arched her eyebrows in confusion. She thought that it seemed logical. She hadn't been able to protect Jin, she’d left him in the clutches of this demoness who'd probably done a thousand and one things to him that she didn't even want to think about. She hated herself for it.

"Hyung." Hoseok sighed, shaking his head, "stop."

"I failed to protect him, he's my soulmate and... I abandoned him and..."

"You didn't do any of that, Y/N."

Namjoon approached her. He took Jimin’s place and knelt down facing her, placing his hands on hers.

"You're both the victims. You've met someone stronger, older, more experienced than you and she took advantage of it. You did everything you could. You did your best. You could never be blamed for that. We could never blame you for that. ."

"And Jin hyung won't blame you either, I'm sure," Hoseok added with a small smile. "When he will regain his memory, when we will give him back what that demoness stole from him, he'll be the happiest man in the world to have you back with him, with us. Believe me."

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to cry, not yet.

Yoongi wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"It's over now," he whispered against her hair, "you're not alone anymore, you won't be. We've found you, you've found us."

She couldn't hold back the few tears that had started to fall. How could she not break down, after all those centuries spent alone, thinking that her soulmates didn't want her, living with the guilt of having abandoned the only soulmate she’d ever known.

They said the same things as her friends when she told them everything a few days ago.

None of them thought for a second that what happened to Jin and her was her fault.

That feeling of being understood, of not being judged, of being accepted despite her past mistakes and scars.

That feeling of being in the presence of her soul-mates.

She hadn't felt so at peace in what seemed like an eternity. Ever since Jin and her were separated.

°°°

"Noona... I have a few questions..."

"Here we go... the kid and his questions. Wait, I'll get you an aspirin and a big glass of water."

Jungkook glared at Yoongi, who had gotten up to go into the kitchen, a sneer on his lips.

Jin still hadn't woken up, but after a simple soothing spell and an herbal ointment she’d carefully placed on his temples, he was calmer, his body more relaxed.

She hadn't wanted to stay, not wanting to risk another attack if Jin woke up again. She learned through Yoongi about the migraine attacks he'd had since the day she met Namjoon.

But the boys convinced her to stay. Namjoon and Hoseok had disappeared into their library, explaining that they were going to rummage through their books after a potential counter-spell. She wanted to go with them, but they insisted she stay with Jin and rest.

It didn't take long to realize that Jin's seizures had a direct link with her.

As her soul mate, and despite his forced amnesia, his subconscious knew who she was. But it wasn't strong enough to bring back the memories the demoness had made disappear. Well, they hadn't disappeared, technically; she'd just hidden them very well somewhere in his psyche.

her scent on the clothes of Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook had been the trigger for his subconscious to awaken, for his memories to struggle, to resurface and make Jin realize that yes, he did know her, as his intuition suggested. Yes, the person on the hill was her, yes every memory he thought belonged to someone else was his, and that the blurry person sharing them with him was none other than her.

The migraines, the loss of consciousness... were only signs that his body, mind, and soul were fighting to bring his memories back to where they belonged, to finally give him back what that demoness had stolen from him.

Or at least, that's what she’d come to conclude on hearing Yoongi's explanations.

"Ask me anything Jungkook, don't worry," she replied with a small smile, still sitting next to Jin.

Yoongi had returned with some drinks (no aspirin, to Junkook's great relief) which he gave to the three maknae, still sitting opposite her, and to her, then sat down on the coffee table.

"I was wondering, how did you find out that you were... immortal? I mean, what does that actually mean?"

She'd been expecting this question. Even for demons, immortality was still a rather vague concept. Nobody is immortal. Demons and vampires aged slowly, very much more slowly than human beings. But they weren't really immortal.

"I died for the first time after the Malleus Maleficarum experiments, they sentenced me to be hanged to death, like all the witches at that time."

She heard the exclamations of surprise from the maknaes. Yoongi remained silent, listening to her attentively.

"I actually died that day. Except... except a few seconds after I took my last breath, my heart started beating again, and I came back to life."

None of them could believe their ears. Yoongi couldn't hide his surprise either, and she knew that a thousand questions were forming in their heads.

"The second time was a few days later. At a bonfire." she continued, bowing her head, "The thing is… I feel all the pain, all the way to death. But for some reason, I live again and again. No matter how people try to kill me, no matter how I die, my wounds heal themselves, my organs reform."

"Is it due to a spell?" finally asked Yoongi with his eyebrows furrowed, "or maybe some kind of witch, a hybrid with a phoenix..."

"I think you're going a bit far, hyung..." Taehyung chuckled slightly.

"Hey, every proposition can be plausible, gamin."

She couldn't hold back a smile. It was obvious that they'd known each other for several decades now, that they'd been through a lot together. In a way, she was relieved that at least they hadn't had to go through all that alone.

"I've never known the reason, or why I became like that," she finally continued, scratching the back of her neck, "I just am. Several times I thought I wouldn't get up this time from certain injuries, especially during the wars, but I always got up again. And just like that, more than 600 years have gone by."

"Maybe it's just that fate didn't want you to die before you met your soul mates, who knows." Yoongi chuckled, shrugging.

"If you think the universe and destiny are that kind of romantic..." Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"I'm tempted to believe that theory, it's much sweeter and more romantic than a curse put on you..." added Jimin with a little pout.

"Sometimes things just happen, and they're impossible to explain. Even for creatures like us." she let go with a sigh and an embarrassed smile, "In any case, I've stopped looking and obsessing over it, I've just accepted it."

"Still, it must be painful to die, over and over again..." Jimin cocked his head to the side, feeling a wave of sadness as he thought of all she'd had to go through in her long life. As an empath, his reaction hardly surprised her.

If they knew. She didn't want to dwell on how some humans and even other creatures had taken advantage of her immortality to put her through the many horrors she’d experienced. This wasn't the time to talk about all those things.

“Our pretty soulmate is strong and courageous.” Yoongi finally broke the silence after a few seconds, “She’ll talk about it when she feels ready.”

She bites her lips. She wanted to tell him to not call her pretty, but she felt that it was destined to fail. Yoongi seemed to be stubborn, maybe a little too much.

“Do you guys think Joonie and Hobi will find something ?” Asked Jungkook, looking at Jin with worry.

“For sure they will!” exclaimed Jimin, “Namjoon has books that are centuries old and unique, Hobi and him are the most intelligent demons ever! They’ll find something, surely!”

Jimin was passionate, his trust in his partners was blind and absolute. It was probably the same for all of them, she was sure about it, but Jimin was the one who showed it the most.

“In the worst case…”

“Taehyung don’t start…” mumbled Jungkook, as the others sighed.

“Let me finish! In the worst case, if we don’t find anything for Jin hyung, the solution is simple, very simple. We’ll create new memories, so many new happy memories all together!”

“If something was robbed from you without your consent, I think you'd like to have it back. Don't you think so?" Yoongi asked, his voice softened as he ruffled Taehyung’s hair who nodded with a sad pout.

He was just as worried as the others. There were so many unanswered questions, so many theories without explanations, so many problems without solutions yet.

“Namjoon and Hoseok always find a way to resolve problems, you should be used to it now.”

That voice startled all of them. All five heads turned to the sofa beside Yoongi and her. To everyone's surprise, Jin was staring at them, or rather, at her.

“Jin you’re awake !”

While the younger hurried towards their eldest, their faces racked with worry and relief, she reflexively stepped back.

She couldn't get very far, as her back bumped into a chest. She turned to face Yoongi, who placed his hands gently on her shoulders. He could read the stress and apprehension on her face. He couldn't imagine what she must be feeling right now, coming face to face with the one she'd lost centuries ago.

"Where are you going like this?" he asked at first in a slightly teasing tone, before he leaned towards her and whispered, his voice softening, "Relax, everything's fine."

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. She'd spent her whole life looking for Jin and his other soulmates. Now they were all here. They were all in the same house. Everything still seemed so unreal that she didn’t know how to react or what to do.

“Y/N ?”

She froze when she heard her name coming from Jin's lips. The others in the room gave him a surprised, confused look.

"Hyung, do you..."

"Remember her? Us? Unfortunately not, I don’t. But I heard you guys talking earlier, I wasn't totally unconscious. Thanks for the herbs, by the way, they really appeased my headache."

Her eyes widened at his words. Had he heard everything? Did he know the whole story, just like his other soulmates? In a way, she didn't know if she could handle a new explanation, which was a bit of a relief. On the other, she was concerned about his reaction, since he was the one who was affected.

Jin straightened up to sit on the sofa, helped by Jimin. Yoongi was still standing behind her and gave her a gentle nudge, so that she didn't push herself aside.

Jin's eyes landed on her. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her. She could feel the stress twisting her stomach, her legs going limp as cotton. She felt weaker than she had ever felt before.

"Can you come a little closer, please?"

Jin's voice was soft; she perceived no anger, no resentment on his side. He had kept his comforting aura, the same one she'd known so long ago, the same one that had reassured her countless times.

She soon faced him and lowered herself slightly to be at the same height as him.

How was someone supposed to react to finding their soulmate and youthful amnesiac love, lost in tragic circumstances centuries ago?

She was torn between tears of joy and relief, but the guilt that consumed her seemed to be the most dominant feeling at the moment.

"Jin I..."

She pursed her lips. Her voice trembled. For sure her body would betray her right now.

Jin offered him a tender smile and shook his head.

"Shht, it's all right." he murmured his words as he gently grasped her hand, "come here."

Without waiting for a response from her, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

At first, her eyes widened in surprise. Quickly, she couldn't hold back any longer. Her arms followed and she hugged his waist as if her life depended on it.

"I know what you're thinking," he began, his hand running gently through her hair, "I'm not angry or anything, how could I be? It was never your fault, nor mine." He paused before letting out a small sigh, she could hear all the pain, the sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry you've had to carry this burden all alone all this time…"

Her whole body was shaking. His voice was shaking, as if he were holding back his own tears. She was fighting inside. She was fighting herself not to break down. But her traitorous body still betrayed her, and she couldn't even control her tears, which had started to flow uncontrollably.

But his words. His words resonated not only in her heart but in her entire soul. She didn't know how much she needed to hear those words from him until now.

"We'll find a way, and everything will go back to normal, it will be even better, I promise."

After all these years, these centuries of living with the weight of guilt, the weight of regret, the feeling that she'd never be able to meet her soul mates... she felt all this weight recede, making way for a quietude and lightness like she'd never known before.

An eternity of torment, torture, and pain was finally over.

It was as if she'd been deprived of oxygen all her life, until now, as if her breathing had been cut off, and now she was finally getting it back.

And even though she was currently crying her heart out in Jin's arms, she could also feel Taehyung's warm, reassuring hand on her back, Jimin's, Jungkook's, and Yoongi's presence in the room, Namjoon's and Hoseok's, even if they weren't in the same room with them.

Her cries were no longer cries of sadness. There was only relief, and it was becoming more of an evacuation from all that time of pain and isolation.

All those smells, all that warmth that invaded her body at that moment, brought her calm and relief she'd never be able to explain, not even in a day, a year, ten years, or even a hundred years.

The reunion with Jin that day, feeling him against her again, as well as having the presence of her soul mates around them, those who were destined for her. After all this time where her heart and soul had been crying out for help, she had finally been heard.

The darkness was finally disappearing, as the clouds and obscurity finally allowed the sun a chance to shine.

And despite her tears, she couldn't help smiling, because at last, she knew that happiness really was within her grasp.

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carakook · 2 months

Text

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

"You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute."

→ Chapters list ←

⚘3. Flower or Weeds?

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Tonight is all about getting closure from Jungkook so that you can try to move on… but you find yourself wanting to savor your last moments with him rather than dwell on answers to questions you don’t think you really want to know.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 5k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (no smut this chapter, but it is talked about), mentions of toxic masculinity, mentions of arguing, vulgar language, breaking up (sort of?), mentions of rough sex, you will probably cry? let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter three! So originally this was supposed to be a very long chapter… but I got carried away, and ended up having to split it up because the WC was way too high. 🥲 The next chapter is going to be released at the same time as this one, so you can read it directly after. Sorry this took so long, I didn’t expect to add so much but I did, and then some stuff came up this weekend. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, the one after this will have lots of smut but also… I cried writing it lol. Thank you for reading. ❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Too Much - The Kid LAROI ft. Jungkook

♪Duvet - bôa

♪My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

♪Scaredy Cat - DPR Ian

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Closure is something that is needed anytime something ends. Not everyone gets the luxury of closure; some live their lives constantly thinking about the whys, the what-ifs.

Which is why you should be thankful Jungkook stepped up and offered it to you. You were too chicken shit to ask for it because you knew if you reached out to him, it wouldn’t be for closure; it would be for forgiveness. You’d beg him to take you back. He didn’t have to show up today. He could’ve left you wondering why and what if for the rest of your life. You both need this to move on.

And even in knowing this, you’re dreading it. Because closure means there’s an end… that this is truly ending.

Both of your flowers are about to be uprooted and planted elsewhere, far away from each other. The not knowing is what really makes you feel sick. Where will he go? Will he be nurtured, watered, fed? Will he continue to bloom, or will he wilt much like you are now?

Will he be ok?

What about you? Are you about to be placed in a greenhouse that will carefully protect your wilted petals? Or will you somehow find a garden where you belong and can flourish freely without siphoning the life of a flower that you swear doesn’t belong to you?

Or will you fucking wilt away and die?

It sure feels like you could die. Seeing him on his knees begging nearly killed you, as ridiculous as the gesture was. Seeing Jungkook so desperate and broken has fucked with your head almost as much as the prospect of losing him has.

You never wanted to lose him. Never. But this entire situation… has left you drained. You both know it can’t go on.

One last night, you both swear. Just one. For closure, of course…

You were thankful that the pizza guy showed up shortly after Jungkook got on his damn knees and begged (something you will never get over, by the way.), because neither of you knew where to start, he didn’t really plan this far, swore you’d cast him out. And you have no idea what you want out of this.

He insisted on paying for the pizza, seemed a little too eager to do so. But that’s not abnormal. If there’s an opportunity to buy you something, anything, whether it’s pizza or a necklace that costs half your paycheck, he will do it. He wants to do it.

The little things, they fuck you up. It’s like he’s adding salt to the wound.

Also… Jungkook is an emotional eater at times. He was thankful for the distraction because now he can avoid the awkwardness just a little longer while he stuffs his face with the pizza originally only meant for you.

So now you’re both sitting on your couch. His eyes are glued to the TV as he eats, and he looks irritated. Not because he’s actually irritated, just because that’s how he looks when he eats something yummy. Another one of your favorite things about him. He’s too precious.

The little things. They fuck you up. Again and again. Something as small as watching him eat pizza makes you want to give in to the sin and just let it be.

Maybe you could somehow steal the flower…

“This pizza tastes like sex,” he comments around a mouth full, his cheeks puffed out, and eyebrows scrunched as he chews.

You snort in response because there’s no way that cheap-ass pizza tastes like sex. He’s acting as if it’s a pizza from Italy or some shit. Dramatic.

“Don’t know if a pizza tasting like sex is a good thing, Kook…”

He immediately disagrees, shakes his head, and scrunches his brows further. He starts babbling about how sex is beautiful, the best thing in the world, blah blah blah. But you aren’t listening, not really.

Instead, you’re staring, taking in every little detail of him. The way his mouth moves when he speaks, the freckle below his lower lip moving with it. The way his eyes glitter when he talks about something he’s passionate about, such as sex-tasting pizza, apparently. Fuck, you swear there’s an entire galaxy in those eyes. Never seen eyes so expressive before. Stars and sparkles inside of his irises at all times. Or the way that not once has he looked at you since he started eating and babbling. Not once have those sparkly eyes full of stars glanced your way.

You know why. You know he’s procrastinating. He’s trying to make this seem normal like any other day you’d hang out and fuck around. He’s prolonging it.

You aren’t sure if it’s intentional, but he does this often. He’s so bad at saying goodbye. He would drag it out every single time you used to leave after a night spent together. Would keep saying bye, but then start talking about something, anything. Would tempt you to stay. And it worked every damn time because you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave him ever; you’d stay wrapped up in him for the rest of your life if possible. It’s why you never rushed him when he’d do it. You let him.

You want to let him now. But if you let him, he may never leave. You may never let him go.

You really should speak up, be blunt. Tell him that he didn’t come here to chit-chat and talk about why sex is beautiful or how this pizza is comparable to it; he came here to end this.

But if you did that, you’d have to acknowledge the prospect of closure again.

For you to receive proper closure on your end, there are unanswered questions that you need answers to.

You aren’t sure if you want the answers anymore because most revolve around his wife. The luckiest woman in the world, you think.

There are curious questions such as what her name is, how he met her, how long they’ve been married, and what she’s like… these aren’t important, just things that you’ve laid awake wondering at times when the guilt or jealousy started becoming too much.

Then there are questions like does he love her, why he did this, does she love him, why he did this, is he happy, why he did this, will he stay with her forever, why he did this…

Why did he do this to you both?

You know you’re both in the wrong. You’ve been sleeping with a married man, fuck, you fell in love with a married man, and you knew that he was married. That is wrong. So so so wrong. But you didn’t know at first. If you did, nothing he said would have convinced you to even look at him twice.

But it became regular. You slept with him once. Then you did it again. And you kept doing it. And at that time, while you were wearing those rose-colored glasses adorned in petals and leaves that fell off of him every time you crossed paths, you swore he was the one. Fell so quickly it was alarming.

Finding out he was married should have stopped this all. But you were already so fucking gone for him, so stupid in love, that you did it anyway. You told yourself that maybe one day he’ll leave her for you. You can run away together, build your own garden together, and live happily ever after.

It was delusional to think like this and you know it.

It’s exactly why you’re in your current position.

But you will never move on without the answers to those questions. You need to know, or it will plague you. This man planted your seed, nurtured your sprout, and made it grow beautifully into a flower. But the same man also put up umbrellas and blankets in an attempt to protect you from the rain and harsh sun, the harsh realities of his life, which really just made you wilt. You needed the rain, and you needed the sun; without it, you became tired and suffocated and confused.

He wanted so badly to protect you from the selfish choices he was making, but in the end, it just hurt you. Prevented you from flourishing to a full bloom like him.

And now you must pay the consequences, ask these questions you dread asking, and hear the answers that just might break you.

“Kook… we need to talk. Can’t put it off or you’ll stay forever.” You smile sadly as you pull him out of his rant.

He blinks at you, cheeks still stuffed with his third slice of pizza now. He knows you’re right. He knows damn well what he’s doing, he always knows. Always drags goodbyes out on purpose because he can’t fucking stand them.

He thought maybe if he distracted you, you’d forget why he’s here. It would turn into a normal night, and this entire thing could just be categorized as a brief nightmare… A man can dream.

He nods, looks sort of like a scolded child, and it makes your heart crack. Makes you want to cry, coddle him, coo at him, treat him like a damn baby even though he’s a grown-ass man.

“Right, sorry.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sets his piece of pizza down, looking at it as if it kicked his dog. Starts biting at his lip ring.

You hate it when he does that.

Because you fucking love it when he does that.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… give you whatever you need to move one. So please tell me what you need. Just want my girl happy.”

His girl.

Funny, because it seems like a slip-up. It’s not. He knows what he said. He meant it. Doesn’t care if you scold him. Because as long as he’s here before he says bye for good, you are his girl.

You wish he wouldn’t say shit like that right now though. Just makes it so much harder for you. Reminds you that yes, you are his girl. But no, he isn’t your man.

If only you knew that he really is your man. You fucking own his heart, his soul, his body, his damn brain. You live in it rent-free. You consume him. Without you, he wouldn’t even have a flower, wouldn’t even know he’s capable of blooming.

But he knows he can’t give himself to you fully, not as long as he’s married.

Another reminder as to why he’s here.

You sigh, rub your forehead with the back of your hand. Because fuck, you don’t know either. You could ask the curious questions, the more necessary questions, you could pick his brain and pick him apart too, but you don’t want to deal with the heavy shit. Only what is needed.

Because you know that once he walks out that door, you’ll be fucked for a while.

So you grab his hand, the one that’s moved up and started tugging on his lip ring nervously. You intertwine your fingers, and hold on for dear life.

Deep breathes. This is needed.

“Why… why did you do this? Why did you cheat on her to begin with..? Have you done it before or like… fuck. I just wanna understand.”

The moment you ask if he has done it before, he lets out a laugh. An almost pained laugh, because of course you’d think that. Once a cheater, always a cheater. That’s what is often said. And Jungkook totally agrees.

But god, it isn’t like that at all. He is so against cheating. He thinks it is so selfish and so wrong. Yet here he is, in your apartment, while his wife is on a business trip somewhere in Paris.

He’s not a cheater. Doesn’t want to be called that. You just became an exception. What was going to be a mistake turned into the best thing to ever happen to him.

He’s not a cheater, he swears.

He leans back on the couch, jaw ticking as he keeps his eyes on the TV. He’s not watching it, couldn’t even tell you what’s playing, honestly. He just can’t stand to look at you right now. Not when you think he’s some dirty cheater.

He squeezes your hand to ground himself. So soft and small compared to his. Dainty and pretty, he’s always loved your hands. He swears they fit perfectly in his, as cliche as it is, like puzzle pieces.

Two wildly fucked up puzzle pieces that were from two completely different puzzles but somehow managed to fit more perfectly than any of the pieces that were supposed to fit did.

“No… you were my first when it came to cheating. Gonna be my last too. I’m not a cheater.”

What a contradictory thing to say. He knows it, too. He knows how ridiculous he fucking sounds. But he swears he isn’t a cheater. That’s not him. You’re not his mistress…

Just his fucking soulmate. Nothing too heavy. Fuck.

He sighs, scrunches his face a bit before letting his head fall back onto the couch. Still can’t look at you, so he fixes his eyes on the ceiling instead.

“Before we met, me and my wife… our marriage got complicated. I started noticing things I didn’t notice before, and she… changed. Wasn’t acting like the girl I used to love, but like a stranger. It was like as soon as she got comfortable in our marriage, she switched up… became the complete opposite of who I thought she was once we both graduated college.”

He wavers momentarily because he’s terrified you’ll think he’s making excuses. He’s not. He just doesn’t know how to fucking admit this shit. Has never talked about it with anyone. Has never admitted how utterly fucked his marriage is.

He doesn’t want you to see him as less of a man like his wife does. He’s fucking terrified that your last impressions of him will be similar to his wife’s ongoing dislike for him.

“We kept arguing, kept having issues… and she grew distant. I was having some issues, uh… getting it up. And when I tried talking to her about it, she just checked out it seemed. As if my dick malfunctioning made me unloveable or something…”

He scoffs at that, shakes his head. To this day it makes him feel like shit. Makes him feel unworthy of being called a man, her man. Makes him feel gross and broken. As if maybe instead of a flower, he’s a weed. A pesky weed she can’t seem to get rid of.

“There were other things of course, but that’s when she really pulled away. Wouldn’t look at me, or touch me… wouldn’t even give me a fucking hug. So it drove me kind of crazy, made me start doing stupid shit. Was a bad time.”

This is when he finally chooses to look at you. As much as he can’t bear it, he is itching to see if you’re looking at him with disgust yet. Has he become a weed for you, too? Fuck, is that all he ever was for anyone? Was he ever even a flower?

As he looks at you, he doesn’t see disgust. Doesn’t see anything, really. Which is almost worse because that means your walls are up. You’re building a fence as he speaks, as he shares his dirt-covered secrets with you. You’re protecting your wilted flower. He can’t blame you, but god, he fucking hates it.

“So I went to the club that night I met you, didn’t know what I was looking for. Just wanted to get some sort of rush, or attention… honestly was gonna flirt around but I never planned on actually cheating. I just wanted to feel… fuck, wanted, I guess… it was my fucked up way of proving to myself that I wasn’t unloveable. Pathetic, I know.”

He’s right about one thing: you are putting walls up. But not for the reasons he assumes… it’s because it breaks your heart to hear this shit. He keeps his eyes downturned as he speaks, and you see something in them that you’ve never seen before. They aren’t shiny and glittery and full of stars like they are usually; they’re full of shadows. Self-loathing. Resentment. Sadness.

He hates himself, you realize. It’s something you never noticed until now. Because when he’s with you, he doesn’t look like that. His eyes glitter the most. Full of hearts and stars and flowers, like in those cartoons.

It’s because when he’s with you, he doesn’t feel that way. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t hate himself. He feels full and loved and wanted.

When he’s at home, when he so as much thinks of his wife, he feels the opposite. He feels like fucking dirt. Like weeds.

So easy to forget about when he’s with you.

He debates on how much detail to go into about that night, about why he was so tempted by you. Should he tell you he got butterflies? That you stroked his ego in a way no one else has? That he thought for the first time ever, maybe his wife wasn’t the most pretty girl in the world, maybe it was you?

That he wanted to fuck your brains out but kiss you stupid afterward?

He doesn’t know. He wants to tell you these things because he wants you to know how loved you are. He doesn’t want to end this with you feeling guilty and undeserving because of what you’ve both done. He wants you to know that no matter how misplaced it may seem, you are the most lovable person he has ever met.

So fucking easy to love.

He clears his throat, tries to prevent himself from getting choked up. Squeezes your hand again for comfort, just because he can.

“Obviously I did cheat that night, with you. You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute. Was hard not to want you, especially with how you reacted when you noticed me staring… it doesn’t make it right, but I really didn’t plan to pursue you long term. Just wanted one night with you, wanted to feel wanted. Wanted to be touched and loved on so fucking badly, god…”

The glitter in his eyes returns.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you I was married. And I know I was so wrong for that. I should’ve told you, shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. But I didn’t see the need to because I swear it was only supposed to be for a night, Y/N. I swear. Wasn’t even going to stay after we had sex. Was gonna go back to my wife and beg for forgiveness…”

The glitter turns into stars.

“But the way you touched me… the way you looked at me… the way you talked my damn ear off when we were done… I was so fucked for you. Probably sounds crazy, but it was bad enough that the sex was so good, that you were so damn beautiful it physically hurt me… what made me act stupid and ask for your number and stay the night was how sweet you were. How you really did make me feel wanted, you spoke to me like I was precious or some shit and all I did was fuck you.”

Because he is precious. If you grab a dictionary right now and look up the word precious, you are absolutely certain Jeon Jungkook will be the definition.

So fucking precious.

No longer stars, but hearts and moons and planets fill his eyes. The warm lights in your apartment reflect beautifully, making it so prominent, making the things you refuse to acknowledge too obvious.

He’s looking at you now. So adoringly. So hopelessly. And you see it again; you see exactly what you have refused to acknowledge every time he looks at you: he is so fucking in love with you, maybe even more than you are him.

Clear as day. Something you can’t possibly ignore or even deny in this moment. A Bearded Iris at full bloom, gifted with strength, love, care, hope, and admiration dedicated to you. The tips of his petals are adorned in a rich lavender color, and he swears that the color was stolen directly from your Aster. Speckles of you all over the Iris.

All because of you. Always you. Only you.

Much like your Aster, the flower rumored to have grown to resemble stars when there simply weren’t enough in the sky, his eyes glittered with those little stars, also only ever because of you.

His flower. His star. His love. His fucking soul. That’s what you are; that’s what you have been. Mistress by technicality, but god, you were never that to him.

You were everything. You are everything.

Seeing it, really seeing it, it changes everything for you.

But it still isn’t enough of an excuse to let this go on.

“So in short my marriage is fucked. Has been fucked for a while, way before you. I didn’t go out that night with the intent to cheat, but I did, because I’m a selfish bastard. And I kept it going with you because I’m a selfish bastard. Im so fucking selfish for you, Y/N. There is no excuse. But I don’t regret it. Don’t care if I go to hell, or if karma bites me in the ass someday. I would do it over and over and over again because I grew to love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life, including my wife.”

And he did. He means that with his entire being. He grew to love you quickly, he grew because he loved you, he grew because you loved him.

You say nothing at first because it’s a lot to take in. He was honest, didn’t sugarcoat anything, and admitted to being selfish. Both of you are so selfish for each other, yet selfless when with each other. It’s all so fucked.

He’s being vulnerable, and you know that he is. He’s looking at you now, biting at his lip ring again. He’s terrified that you won’t like what he said, what he admitted. He’s overthinking heavily because if this is your last night together, he doesn’t want to leave with you thinking he’s an awful man. He’s not. He swears he’s not. He doesn’t want you to see him through the same glasses his wife does.

He swears to god that he will get on his knees again and beg for your forgiveness. He’s not above blubbering and begging again until you forgive him one last time.

But you don’t think any of that. God, you could never. You’re silent because you see him. You really see him. You see all of the things that you were in denial about before. The love, the trust, the adoration, the soul-crushing dedication that he has for you. You aren’t wearing any glasses… Not the rose-colored glasses you had on at first, not the smudged dirty glasses his wife wears, not the funhouse glasses that he wears when looking in a mirror, nothing. You just see him. Eyes clear, and nothing obstructing your vision.

Even with all of that, he’s still a coward. He’s still choosing to end this rather than leave his wife, who you hate even more now knowing what you know. But unlike before, you understand. You may not understand fully, but you don’t fault him.

This wasn’t him being selfish because lust was clouding his judgment. This was him being selfish because he truly did love you. Love makes people selfish. You’d be a hypocrite to fault him for that when your love for him has made you oh so selfish too.

And while all of this has given you the ability to breathe, given you some sort of closure you didn’t really realize you needed… it’s not enough to keep this going.

It can’t go on.

You could keep prying. You could ask more questions. You could dig through his dirt and find unnecessary answers about his wife. Feed your growing curiosity.

Or this can be enough. This can be the closure and the answers you need to move on… and maybe you can enjoy this last night together.

Just one more night.

Instead of feeding your growing curiosity, you can feed each others flower with your shared soil before you’re both uprooted and taken far away from each other.

“Y/N, please say something, I feel like I’m about to puke.”

You blink up at him, realize it’s been a few minutes since he last said anything. You were silent for an awkward amount of time, and his mind is reeling, full of anxiety because he has no fucking clue what you could possibly be thinking.

You give him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, squeeze his hand again before speaking.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. Zoned out.”

He bites his lip ring hard because, again, he has no idea what you’re thinking. Are you disgusted? Do you think he’s less of a man? Do you hate him now? Is his flower no longer as beautiful as you once thought now that you see all the creepy crawlers underneath his soil?

“Thinking about what?”

He tries not to sound too eager to know, even though he’s very fucking eager. He feels like his entire body is itching because of the anticipation; the not knowing kills him, too. Usually, he’s so good at reading you, your facial expressions, your eyes in particular, he swears he can read you by those alone. But he has no idea what is going through your head right now.

In reality, he’s just overthinking. He feels guilty. Guilty for how things have turned out and guilty for hurting you. The guilt makes the cogs in his brain move way too fast and causes him to be unable to process the shit he usually could.

You know this; you can easily tell by how he’s playing with the hem of his shirt and biting his lip. Also, the fact that he refused to look at you before but now literally will barely blink because his eyes are so intently on you, cataloging every tiny expression you make.

You hate how unsure he is now that he spoke the truth, as if all of this causes your love for him to wither away. It doesn’t. Not at all.

“Thinking about how that’s all I need regarding closure… would rather not talk about it anymore. Would rather just enjoy our last night as lovers together… if you want, of course.”

Now he’s the silent one… because, fuck, really? That’s it? You aren’t going to go in on him for being a scumbag cheater? You aren’t going to ask a billion questions about his wife? You aren’t going to take your weed-eater and cut him out like the weed that he suddenly is?

That’s it?

He stares at you, blinking a few times, as if maybe the more he blinks, the less delusional he’ll be. But your face says the exact same thing his did. You love him. You love him so goddamn much. He isn’t a weed; when he looks into your eyes at this very moment, he sees his reflection… and it’s the Bearded Iris. It’s him.

He’s your flower, just as you are his. You don’t hate him, you don’t even resent him… you just love him for what he is.

This makes it so bittersweet for him because for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel totally worthless or unloveable. If you can love him, if you can see him at full bloom, then surely he isn’t broken and unworthy of love. It’s so sweet.

Bitter because he can also see the finality in your eyes. The love never disappears, but the goodbyes are silently written in your eyes. You’re stern in your decision. Jungkook is good at being delusional sometimes, but in cases like this, it’s impossible…

He knows it has to end. If you want it to end, he won’t fight. He doesn’t want to make you wilt anymore than he already has.

He just wants you to bloom. Even if it isn’t for him, he just wants you to heal, grow, and bloom all over again.

You can’t do that when he is weighing you down, tugging on your roots beneath the soil.

So he nods. Rubs at his eyes for a moment because he feels like he could cry, but he doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want your last night together to be full of sadness, just wants to savor it.

Feels like the last day on earth, almost. A similar feeling you get when watching those zombie apocalypse movies, and you see people and their loved ones spend their final days together before turning into zombies.

Maybe a bit dramatic, but there’s some truth to that… he knows once he loses you, he will become a zombie.

He brings your hand that’s still in his to his lips, and he places the softest kiss there while looking at you through his lashes.

“I’d like that. So much.”

You give him another sad smile. You feel the same, as if this is the end of the fucking world and this is your last night together.

You almost wish it was because then you could die together. You wouldn’t have to live with grieving each other when you’re both very much alive.

You wouldn’t have to watch his flower be torn out of the ground and carried away. You wouldn’t have to wilt anymore.

Dramatic. So fucking dramatic. But god, love feels dramatic. Especially love like this.

Next Chapter Here

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #18+ only #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #i love jungkook

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atinylittlepain · 11 months

Text

Apothecary - chapter nine

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

ring around the moon, trouble coming soon.

warnings | 18+ smut, ANGST - i'm not going to spoil anything but fr shit gets real and very sad here so please take care

wordcount: 5K ish

a/n | i am so nervous to share this chapter. listen, this was a very difficult chapter for me to write. i have to thank @beskarandblasters for holding my hand and keeping my secret through it. all i can say is, it hurt me as much as i imagine it might hurt you and i am truly sorry. this is where the progression of the plot dictated me to go. as mentioned, this is the last chapter for a while, but there is much much more to come once i return in august. my inbox is always open, come tell me what you think <3

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“I think Ellie was disappointed.”

“Why d’you think that?” “I don’t know, I think she was expecting a little more razzle-dazzle.” Joel chuckles at that, pulling her closer into his side on the couch and landing a kiss to the top of her head. The fire crackles and pops, the glow of the fireplace crawling up the walls of the living room, hazy and golden.

“Should’ve done that little candle trick, darlin. Kid’s eyes would’ve popped out of her head.”

“Pfft, I’m pretty sure your eyes almost popped out of your head when I showed it to you.” They share a quiet laugh, settling down into each other, the warmth from the fireplace melting muscle and bone into an easy tangle. It’s the last night of Samhain, a time, she had explained to Joel, to burn away the passing year before the darkness of winter settles in. While Ellie had been excited for the late night fire, she had seemed a bit unsatisfied with how simple and quiet the whole thing had been, excusing herself with a dramatic yawn to her room in the outfitted garage. But Joel doesn’t mind if it means that he gets a little more time with his woman just to himself.

“So, was this a good, um– is holiday the right word?” Though he feels a bit foolish asking it, she just smiles, tilting her chin up at him from where she’s resting against his chest.

“Holiday works, yeah. And this was the best one I’ve had in a while.”

“Really?” Her smile broadens, nodding at his question.

“Mmhmm, because I got to share it with you and Ellie.” He may not understand all of it, the traditions and history, how any of it can even be real, but what he does know is that it means something for her to share this with him, with them.

“I’m glad that you did, darlin, and I know Ellie is too. I– thank you.” Her brow quirks at that, leaning back to fully look at him.

“What’re you saying thank you for?”

“I don’t know– everything. Just, thank you.” He does know, his mind rolling through memories. He could thank her for taking Ellie under her wing, keeping her out of trouble and getting her excited about something. He could thank her for being patient with him, being honest with him, giving him a second chance and then some when he first tried to figure her out. He could thank her for moving in with him, for waking up next to him every morning, for taking his hand in hers whenever they walk through town. He could thank her for that first time they met, how she whirled around him, all warmth and no pretense, so easily letting herself into the small pinprick of light that was his world. He could thank her for a lot of things, but the language fails him, so he settles for everything, sealing his words with a slanted kiss as she twists in his hold to deepen it.

He feels like a teenager again with how bad he wants her all the time, pushing and pulling to get her splayed out on the living room rug, the fire casting a radiant waltz over every new inch of skin he reveals. When he tugs her jeans down her hips, hands a greedy drag, she huffs out a laugh that draws his attention back up to her face.

“You’re very insistent tonight.” She says it with a quirked grin, head tilted to look at him where he’s kneeling between her legs. His heart catches at the sight of her, shirt discarded, bare from the waist up, her jeans still halfway down her legs, hair wild and lips darkened by his kisses. And suddenly his insistence turns a little quicker, a little headier, a little darker, not giving her any answer but pulling her pants off the rest of the way before settling back between her thighs, his open mouth dragging up soft skin before hovering over the faded cotton of her panties, her hips jolting with each of his hot exhales.

He can’t tear his eyes away from her, propped up on her elbows to look at him, brows pinched at the way he ghosts his lips over her, nosing at her clit through thin fabric. He’s never wanted anyone like this, so unconditionally, however he can, in whatever way he can, a surrender so complete it scares him. But getting her like this, sighing for him, whispering his name, it’s enough for him to give it all up to her, more than willingly.

When he finally stops teasing her, getting her completely bare for him, giving her his mouth in the way he knows she wants it, it’s like the sweetest prayer, every sigh a sacrament, her fingers threading through his hair to guide him a holy hail. The woman he worships and the pleasure he provides. He indulges in her, a delicate devouring of her, licking into her before nosing up until his lips drag over her clit, tongue finding that spot, a persistent press. He knows every moan, every jolting muscle, every crumbling exhale, another piece of her he gets to hold.

Her heel digs into his shoulder blade, knee bent and askew as she tenses all at once, hips canting up into his mouth, before going slack with a ragged breath of his name, a brilliant vision of release. A kiss to her hip bone, one to her heaving stomach, the valley of her breasts, the curve of her chin before he stops at her lips, both of them insistent in their shared tangle.

Where he worships, she wills, hands moving with certainty, working him out of his clothes until his skin can press against hers. The heat from the still-blazing fire sets sweat beading, cheeks flushed in warmth as they move together.

“So good like this, darlin. My woman, mine.” Her back arches up, the peaks of her breasts drawn taut against his skin where they’re pressed together, humid and hazy, all heat, all need. She’s perfect around him, cunt swollen and dripping as his hips spear into hers, her heel an insistent press into his ass. Stay here, be mine, stay here, I’m yours.

He ducks his head down, skin pulling away with a smarting stick they’ve started to sweat so much, his teeth catching on the curve of her breast, her cry washing over him when he bites down.

“Joel.” There it is, long and raspy, the only way he likes to hear his name, dripping with need, slipping down her throat. The slap of skin, the salacious sound of her cunt taking him again and again and again. And it’s greedy when he brings his fingers down to smear over her clit, groaning at the way she clenches around him, desperate to pull that pleasure from her one more time.

“Please.” Oh how closely pain and pleasure dance in the crumbling of her brow, the way her lips part around a frown that hinges into a cry when she unravels around him, wet and aching, the tendons in her throat jumping, inviting his mouth to press against them as he goes spiraling after her, his warmth smearing in the crux of her thighs.

They fall asleep to the slow, whimpering embers of the fire, a faint smolder of shadows cast over their still embrace, the night pulling them into the pagan new year.

…

“Have you seen Stevie today?”

“Not since this morning, why?” She shrugs at Ellie’s question, checking over her shoulder at the pot of herbs steeping on the stove before focusing back on her.

“I don’t know, I just– she’s usually around the shop at this time of day, I swear it’s like she’s figured out exactly what time you come over from school.” Ellie hums in agreement, swiveling a bit side to side on her stool next to the butcher block.

“Sometimes she likes to follow Joel, y’know, maybe she wandered outside the gate with him this morning.” That thought seems to distress Ellie, her eyebrows jilting up in a worried pinch that she’s quick to calm.

“Don’t worry about that, kid. Little miss may like to follow him, but she knows better than to wander outside. Anyways, she’s probably just found a little trouble to get into.” She’s a bit too distracted to worry much more about Stevie, she knows she can handle herself and her mind is stuck on the fact that Joel’s patrol shifts are ramping up again. It still nags her thoughts whenever he’s outside the walls, that maybe this is the time that he ends up like all the others, a constant eye on the clock until he’s back.

“You know he’s gonna come back, right? He always comes back.” Ellie’s quiet words snap her back out of her head, grateful for the easy comfort she offers.

“I know. Just, still gotta worry a bit. But I know. I bet we’ll see him and Stevie both waltzing toward us when we head down to the dining hall for the community dinner.” Ellie lets out a groan at the mention of their obligation to join in at the once-a-month shared meal, something Maria recommended as a way to keep the rumor mill quiet. She had never thought about it that way, that her keeping to herself made all the talk worse, and all the talk then made her want to shutter herself away even more. But being around the other folks of Jackson more, and not just when she’s treating them, has seemed to further quell all the swirling rumors. Hence, community dinner night.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m pretty sure Dina is gonna be there.” Even though she’s certain they’ve been dating for a few months now, any mention of Dina is a surefire way to set Ellie blushing, which she tries to hide behind a scrunched up expression.

“I mean, yeah, I guess, it’s whatever. But I’m swiping an extra piece of pie for my troubles.” She has to laugh at Ellie’s huffy claim, shaking her head before turning back to the stove.

“I won’t tell if you come help me pour this stuff into these bottles.”

…

It’s not that he minds it exactly, he understands that it’s a good sign that people are seeking out her help. But he’d rather not hear about some man’s rash in the middle of his dinner. Ellie shoots him a grossed-out expression around her spoon, and Joel is inclined to agree with the sentiment, though his woman seems to have no trouble talking with the man about a salve she can give him for his particular ailment. The dining hall is close and warm, folks sharing tables with each other, conversation easy and echoing in the high-ceilinged room, and Joel can’t wait until it’s socially acceptable for them to leave.

“If you stop by the shop in the morning I’ll have that all whipped up for you, ok?” The man thanks her quietly, nodding to Joel as well before he walks back over to his own table. Joel, meanwhile, is trying and failing to remember the guy’s name.

“Artie Peterson, he works on the council with Maria and Tommy.” Once again, she seems to know what he’s thinking before he even opens his mouth, giving his thigh a quick squeeze before tucking back into her meal. But it isn’t long after that Maura Nichols is coming over with her plate.

“Hey y’all, is it ok if I sit with you?” She’s quick to welcome Maura over, pulling out the empty seat next to her for the woman and starting up an easy conversation with her. Joel can’t help but notice the worry lining Maura’s eyes, the quick glances away, and he reckons that she’s probably looking out for Matthew, guarding against another scene like the one he made at the town meeting. The thought is enough for him to try a little harder, leaning his elbows on the table to at least look like he’s intently listening to the conversation, nodding along to what Maura says.

“So are you two thinking about having a ceremony?” Ellie chokes on her sip of water when Maura asks that, snapping Joel back into attention, his woman letting out a nervous laugh beside him.

“Um, a ceremony for what?” She asks it on a breathy chuckle to Maura who’s still looking expectantly between them.

“Well I just assumed, two people in love and all, you’d be wanting to get married.” At that, Ellie starts coughing around a bite of pie, something between a laugh and a wheeze as Joel thumps her on the back until she settles back down.

“Oh, uh, I mean, we haven’t really talked about it. I don’t think that’s really our speed, right, Joel?” She turns her head to look at him, eyebrows creased in a clear plea for back-up.

“Yeah, I– we– that’s not, not really on the radar right now.” Maura nods, looking a bit chastened at their reaction to her questions.

“I’m sorry, me and my big mouth didn’t mean to pry, I just meant to say that you seem so good together, that’s all.” His woman graciously accepts Maura’s comment while Joel sinks back into his thoughts, Ellie muttering something about Dina and slinking off in the periphery. He was certainly surprised by Maura’s words, but even more surprised that the idea of a ceremony didn’t feel so ridiculous to him. He knows it’s silly, frivolous, something like marriage not meaning a damn thing in this world, but he doesn’t mind the idea of something official, something permanent.

He spends the rest of dinner somewhere between his seat next to his woman and a vague vision of a ring and a vow. But he shakes that thought clear of his mind when they step out into the cool night air, Ellie a few strides ahead of them, calling out for Stevie as they walk home.

“Sorry about Maura’s whole ceremony question. I didn’t mean to speak for you, I just sort of panicked.” She squeezes his hand, a nervous glance his way as they continue walking. He finds that he has to clear his throat before responding.

“No, no, that’s fine, darlin. Kind of a useless question to be asking anyways.” Part of him hopes that the quick flash across her face is something other than acquiescence, something closer to disappointment, but he doesn’t have much time to consider it before his attention is pulled away by the sound of Ellie letting out a clipped gasp.

Everything happens slow, as if underwater, Ellie kneeling down on the porch, curled over in a shuddering heave, Joel’s mind going blank with fear. And everything happens slow until it doesn’t anymore, her hand breaking from his as she makes a stilted jog up the porch steps, body going rigid as she sees whatever Ellie is hunched over.

What? It’s more of a shriek than a word, high and jagged in her throat as she sinks to her knees next to Ellie, letting out a string of staccato yelps. It’s despair distilled, the sounds she makes, Joel’s heart a tight fist as he tentatively steps onto the porch.

She could be sleeping, if you didn’t look closely. Laying on her side, having dozed off after catching the last rays of sun. But there is no rise and fall of her sleek, black fur, no stirring when Ellie lays a shaking palm over her belly.

Stevie’s not sleeping.

She’s trembling, reaching for the lifeless animal before jerking her hands away as if she might get burned, Ellie pulling her into a tight hug as she all but dissolves into sobs. And Joel feels helpless, standing over them, unable to figure out how to fucking fix this. But when his brain catches on the one thing that makes sense, that feels like an explanation and a solution all at once, he finds himself stumbling down the porch and back toward the main drag of Jackson, toward the Tispy Bison where he knows he can find who he’s looking for.

In another life, when he and Tommy lived on the road together, his brother had described what Joel did as like flipping a switch. Something would fall over his eyes and his mind, his body moving with a violent knowledge, purpose in the pain he inflicted. It’s how he moves now, cutting through the crowd in the bar and finding Mason in the back of the room, the grin on his face expectant, like he’s been waiting for him. And though the man opens his mouth to speak, Joel doesn’t give him the chance to get any words out before he’s grabbing him by the back of his neck and dragging him out of the bar on unsteady feet, slamming him hard against the alley wall.

“Tell me right now that you didn’t do it and I’ll think about not killing you.” Mason’s smirk splits into a slippery grin, not even struggling in Joel’s grip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miller. But if you ask me, people oughta keep a closer eye on their pets.” It’s all he needs to hear, enough for him to pull his fist back before letting it swing scare into Mason’s jaw.

This time, he doesn’t stop swinging.

…

At some point, she must have worn herself out enough to fall asleep, sitting slumped on the couch, her neck tipped back in a painful crunch. Her eyes are so heavy, so swollen, that she can barely open them when a light squeeze is pressed into her shoulder.

“Joel?” Her voice is hoarse, barely cracking a whisper, too quiet for Ellie to stir, tucked close into her side and asleep. He’s kneeling in front of her legs, both his hands coming to rest on her knees, eyes searching her face, and suddenly she feels like she’s going to fall apart all over again.

“Where– where have you been?” It had been a blur, an awful haze, wrapping Stevie’s body in a thick blanket and tucking her into a box, both of them unsure what to do next except for cry. At some point, it had registered somewhere in the periphery of her mind that Joel wasn’t there, but it had been a fleeting thought, a deeper and darker wave of emotion washing it away in the night. And though she tries to be concerned about it now, any worry, any questioning is swept away with a fresh flood of tears.

“I’m so sorry, darlin. I’m here now, I’ve got you.” He shifts to sit on the couch next to her, pulling her into his side as she starts to shudder, her sob breaking into the fabric of his flannel. Her mind can’t stretch much further than the span of this grief, stop-starting itself to a jagged rhythm of disbelief followed by realizing over and over again that this is real, that her girl has left her. It feels like a horrible, lurching ride that she can’t figure out how to get off of.

“W-we need to bury her.”

“I know, darlin. We will. Just rest right now, ok? I’ll take care of everything.” They speak in a quiet hush, Ellie still sound asleep on her other side.

“I always knew it’d be time for her to g-go eventually. But it just– it feels too soon, feels too fucking soon.” Believing what she does, knowing what she does, it doesn’t make the agony any less complete, any less brutal. And once again, all she can do is cry as Joel pulls her a little closer.

…

They bury her in the backyard, beneath the towering cottonwood she had a proclivity for climbing. He knew that Ellie had grown attached to Stevie, but he’s still taken aback by just how torn apart she is, saying a few words over the freshly-covered grave before tears take over her voice again. But it’s the sight of his woman that keeps breaking his heart, a silent sadness taking over her slackened features, eyes and cheeks red with salt, her voice faint and uneven as she says goodbye.

He moves them both through the rest of the day, making sure they eat, coaxing glasses of water into their hands, keeping a fire burning in the living room where they’ve curled up on the couch. Joel knows grief. He knows that it comes in strange waves, reality stretching thin and frail in the beginning. But it still frustrates him that he can’t do more, that he can’t take their pain into his own hands and make it go away. Whatever he can control, he does. Whatever he can fix, he does.

When both of them have managed to fall asleep in the still of the night, he quietly slips out the front door, half-expecting Stevie to fall into step beside him, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest, a particular loss he didn’t know he’d feel.

Tommy is waiting for him at the stables, pressing up off the wall of the barn as Joel approaches.

“Let’s take care of this.”

The body has already gone stiff, wrapped up in an old sheet, both of them having to work to get it slung over the back of one of the horses, a heavy blanket draped over top of it to ward off prying eyes. Luckily, no one on patrol bats an eye when Tommy Miller asks for the gate to be opened for him and his brother.

They ride out toward the plains, the moon casting the hills in purple shadows. And, after deciding that they’ve gotten far enough away, together, they dig.

He had gone to his brother the night before and told him everything. And Tommy had made a few things clear. He would help him, but no one could ever find out, they would never speak of this again, and they would get it done as soon as possible.

They work through the night, the sun curling golden fingers over their shifting backs, stripped down to their undershirts, sweat sticking cool in the crisp morning air. When they finish, a fresh plot of overturned dirt lays before them, what rests below something only they will ever know, with any luck. Joel opens his mouth to speak, but Tommy stops him with a palm held out.

“Don’t, Joel. I’m not gonna judge you for what you did, but I ain’t gonna talk about it either. Blood helps blood, but I don’t wanna hear another thing about this. It’s done. Let’s get back to town before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

…

She wakes up the same way she did the morning before, curled on the couch with Ellie tucked into her side. It was a deep but restless sleep, nothing could have woken her from it, but now opening her eyes, she feels like she could fall back into it all over again. She hears what she assumes is Joel puttering around in the kitchen, the soft clink of dishes, the click of the stove coming on and the hiss of the kettle.

She knows she can’t stay on the couch again today, knows that people need her, so she presses her grief down until she can just barely swallow it, quietly getting up without waking Ellie and padding into the kitchen.

“You must think me really pitiful to be brewing actual coffee.” He doesn’t say anything, simply taking the few strides to reach her and pull her into a tight hug, her face pressing into his shirt, inhaling him so deep she can’t cry.

“I’m fine, really. I am.”

“No one’s expecting you to be fine, darlin. Stevie was, well, she was different, wasn’t she?” She finds herself letting out a weak laugh at that, nodding meekly against his chest.

“Yeah, she was.” Silence, and suddenly she feels like it’s a really good idea to stay exactly like this, swaying lightly in his hold, her nose buried into the fabric of his shirt, for the rest of the day, a sign in and of itself for her to disentangle herself with a shaky sigh.

“I’m not gonna miss any more appointments. Don’t wanna let people down.” Joel nods, holding onto one of her hands between them.

“I think people would understand if you needed another day, honey. But I also think it could be good for you, get out, take your mind off it for a little while.” He pours her a cup of coffee and gets started on breakfast, Ellie shuffling in and slumping down at the dining table next to her. She curves what could be a smile across her face, resting one of her hands over Ellie’s.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna go into the shop today. Would you– would you wanna come help out after school?” She shrugs, a quietly murmured yeah, I guess as Joel sets down plates for all of them.

There’s no two ways about it, the morning is hard, making her house visits, half expecting Stevie to be trailing her heels, half expecting to catch a glimpse of her girl as she moves through town. People are surprisingly kind about it, offering quiet apologies that she thinks might be more painful than if they just didn’t say anything, though she knows they mean well.

It’s both a relief and a reminder, getting back to the shop, and she’s desperate for Ellie to show up so it doesn’t seem so quiet. But soon after she does come over from school, Maura comes in as well, carrying a small bundle of flowers, some of the last of the season.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Some folks don’t understand how hard it is, losing a pet. But they’re as much family as anyone else, aren’t they?” She accepts the flowers from Maura with a small smile and a nod, still surprised by how easily this woman extends her kindness.

“I also wanted to see if you heard the news.” Her brow furrows at that, looking over to Ellie who seems equally unsure of what Maura’s talking about.

“Oh, you haven’t. Well, apparently Mason skipped town. Folks hadn’t seen him in a day or so, and Tommy finally let people know that he decided to leave last night. Why anyone in their right mind would want to go out there on their own is beyond me, but I say good riddance.”

It doesn’t feel right, though she can’t place exactly why. She looks to Ellie, whose face is set in a strange, steely expression, something hidden, working through something in her mind. Her thoughts flicker, moving her before it’s even fully formed in her mind, an instinctive knowing, like when you go to reach for something but find it missing.

“Maura, could you stay here with Ellie for a moment? I need to go check on something real quick.” Ellie calls after her, though she’s already out the door and heading for the stables.

Joel looks taken aback when he sees her walking a straight line toward him, but before he can get a word in edgewise she’s grabbing him by his wrist and tugging him into the stables, into the darkest corner behind a large stack of hay, her words coming out in a hushed torrent.

“Tell me right now that you had nothing to do with it.” His mouth is slack, brow furrowed, a picture of perfect surprise as she points her finger into his chest.

“What– nothing to do with what? What’re you talking about?”

“Mason is gone, and I swear to whatever powers there are, if you had anything to do with it I need to know now.” She can see the bob of his throat, eyes still wide at her outburst.

“Mason made his choice and he’s gone, that’s all.” She nearly laughs at his response, how dizzyingly vague it is. She knows him well enough to see that he’s keeping something from her, something in the set of his jaw, the huff he lets out as he speaks, and she wants more than anything not to see it, not to know it.

“That isn’t– that’s not good enough. Joel, I need you to promise me you didn’t have anything to do with this, please.” The tears start falling before she can stop them, and he’s quick to close the space between them, taking her face in his hands, his eyes steady on hers.

“I promise. That man made a decision and he left, end of story.” She lets him tuck her into his arms, lets him quiet her sobs, lets his palms run warm currents up and down her back.

He lies to her, and she lets him.

.......................................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #apothecary #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller au

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aikotos · 4 months

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💙 How to buy Japan-only Persona merch

(AKA how to not be scammed by Ebay resellers)

With P3RE around the corner there has been a boom of P3 merch and I often see people wondering how they can buy all the stuff releasing on Japan or getting scamed by western scalper prices, so I thought a merch guide would come in handy.

I will talk about:

Kinds of merch & their usual prices

Persona figures: Kinds & prices

Shops with international shipping

Japan-only shops

Proxies & how to use them

Different proxies

If you have any more info or I'm mistaken in something, feel free to add to this!

💙 Merch & their pricing

These are the most common merch types & their usual retail price (in yen).

Keep in mind that "character tax" is a thing and often merch for the most popular characters has insame price. It's up to you if you want to pay scalper prices or keep an eye to find a good deal.

Acrylic Stands [アクリルスタンド] - Image printed onto transparent plastic with a small base so you can display it on a surface. Price: Depends on size, 1200-1900k

Acrylic keycharms [アクリルチャーム] - Same as acryic stands but with a strap, usually a lobster or metal chain one. Price: ~700

Acrylic frames [アクリルフレーム] - Frames meant hold inside photocards or acrylic chamrs/stands, kind of a mini mini ita bag or shirne. Price: Around 1.5k, 3k if they come with accesories to be put inside. They're sold via lottery often.

Keycharms [チャーム] - Mini-figures with a strap meant to be hang from phones and such. Price: ~400, usually sold in gatchapon & blind boxes

Can badges [バッジ]: I think we all had these. Price: 500-800

Plushes [ぬいぐるみ] - Everyone knows what are these as well. Price: Depends on the size, 1.5-2k for small or keychains ones, over 4k for bigger ones.

Nuigurumi [マスコット] - Usually called just "Nui". They're mascot plushes, but in the case of Persona, they're the 10cm chibi pushes of characters, often with a strap so you can hang them from your purse and such. The character plushes from the 25th anniversary are Nuis. Price: 1.5-3k

Nui clothes [ぬいぐるみポンチョ - おきがえポンチョ] - Ponchos and onesies to dress up your Nuis. I don't know if they have a catch-all name, but the 2 I mentioned are the most popular lines. Price: ~400 for gachapon ones, ~1.2k for the ones sold normally.

Clearfile [クリアファイル] - An art print on a plastic sheet, often they're folders as well. Price: 300-700

Tapestry [タペストリー] - Art printed onto fabric to be hang from a wall. Due to their size they're often expensive to import. Price: I'm not sure, sorry 🙏 I don't think the Persona ones are too expensive, maybe around 3k.

Character/ CD drama [キャラクターCD - ドラマCD] - Audio stories, some of the P3 ones are canon btw! Price: 1-3k

Artbook [アートブック - 画集] - Collection of official art by one artist or series. Price: Depends on how many pages the book has, around 3-5k

Guide - In the case of Persona, they're guide for the games. Sometimes they explain lore and such too. Price: 2-4k

Fanbook [ファンブック] - Book often focused on the series' lore, fun facts, answering fans' questions and such rather than art. Sometimes they even share art made by fans for that fanbook. Price: 1-3k

Novel - Light novels,Persona 3 has a few ones. So far not a single ones has been officially translated. Price: 1-3k

Anthology - Collection of comics/novels made by fans (or mangakas, Sogabe has participated on P3 anthologies before!). Each artist draws/writes one chapter, and while they're not connected, they often share a theme. They're not official content per se, but are licensed by the IP's owners to be sold in stores. Price: Around 800

Doujinshi [同人誌] - Self-published works by independent artists. Most often when people say "[Series] doujin" they're refering to the comics made by said independent artist, sold in very small numbers (to avoid legal troubble) at events. If they're derivated from an IP, most often these comics are sold at production cost with barely (if any) any profit margin, again due to legal matters. Contrary to popular belief, there's actually lots of SFW doujin comics so you definetly should try checking some out!. Price: 200-500

There are tons of more merch (Pita Nui, Noseberi....) but these are the most common ones. I usually just type [ペルソナ3] ("Persona 3", change the number for others) and browse everything there unless I'm looking for something non-persona related like Nui clothes.

💙 Persona figures

Figures need their own section since they're a trickier subject.

There are different kinds of figures, and their price changes depending on it. The main types are:

🌟 Scale: Pre-painted high quality figures, their name comes from the fact that most of the time the figures as sized in relation to the character's actual height (for example a 1/7 scale figure of Yukari would be 22-23cm tall, 1/7 of her height). Due to the materials and all the work they require, their price is expensive, usually 12-30k yen. I recomend buying them with their box unless the figure has very a static pose, due to the small details they can break during shipping.

🌟 Garage Kits: Figures modelled and casted by independent artists and sold in very limited numbers at events via 1-day licenses (unless it's a GK of an OC, then some artists sell their kits online). These figures come unpainted and unassembled, you have to finish them yourself. Since they aren't official,the artist has some freedoom so you can find some funny ones (like catgirl Aigis) Their price can vary, current ones cost as much or more than scales, but older kits can be found for very cheap (1-3k yen) specially if the character or artist is unknown. Remember you're paying the hours and hours a single artist put onto the figure, each piece had to be modelled and casted manually and resin is expensive, that's why the price is high despite being unpainted.

🌟 Prize & Noodle Stoppers: Pre-painted mss-producced figures made to be won via crane games and merch lottery, hence the name. Their quality and QC is way lower than scales, but you can still find some cute ones & their quality has improved lots in the recent years. Their price is low, around 2-3k yen. Anything more than $40 is a scam, don't pay re-sellers that price. Usually, you will find prize figures for $15-20, that's a fair price. Since they're made for crane games, they're very sturdy so you can take the plunge and buy them boxless for an even cheaper price ($5-10), they will arrive safely most of the time.

🌟 Semi-prize: Lately companies have been jumping onto the "premium prize figure" trend. While not reaching the scale quality by a huge margin, they often have better casting and paint job than prize figures. Some semi-prize lines are "Pop Up Parade" (quality varies between figures), "Tenitol" and "Artist MasterPiece+" Their price is low/medium, around 3-5k yen. Still, just like prize figures, I recomend looking them for around $15-25, they're not worth more than $45.

🌟 Action: Pre-painted figures made to be posed and played with. Nendoroids and Figmas fall in this category. They're usually around 10-12cm tall, but there are some as big as 30cm. Their retail price is around 5-12k yen depending on the brand. Action figures in scale or with actual clothing can fall in the 17-20k yen range I personally wouldn't pay more than $60 for ones like Nendos and Figmas due to their size, but it's up to you.

"But how can I differenciate between all of these?"

If while looking for merch you see a figure but are unsure if the price is fair, go to the website "My Figure Collection" & write the name of the series/character on the seach bar (I think MFC uses Surname - Name as the entry name) and click on the resut.

Click on the number there to see all the figures from said series/character. Now simply look for the figure you're interested in and check its table to see important info about it.

If you scroll down, you can also see user coments & photos, which can give you an idea of how much people sell the figure for (not always a fair price tbh) and how the figure looks like irl

💙 Where to buy: international shops

You will use most of these sites to buy new merch and preoders. I don't recoment places like Ebay since they often inflate the price of everything and even sell bootlegs (though you can sometimes find good deals there)

CD Japan: Great selection and prices, customer service is wonderful as well. If you live in EU, you can pay your purchase's VAT thru them to avoid handling fees.

Ami ami: Has lots of stuff, but some can only be shipped to US and a few eastern countries due to licensing issues. Has a great 2nd hand selection, but mostly for figures.

Hobby Search: I haven't used this one myself, but they're legit as far I know.

Hobby Genki: Mostly for figures. They let you undervalue your invoice (useful for EU VAT)

Solaris Japan: For figures, they have a second-hand section as well (some are good deals, some are not). They let you undervalue.

Mandarake: 2nd hand Japanese stores under the same wing. The prices are great, but depending on the store, shipping can be pricey (mostly for figures). It can be tricky to oder more than 1 thing as well.

Suruga-ya EN: 2nd hand Japanese store. The international website has less stuff than the JP one and their search system is weird ("Persona 3" and "Persona Persona 3" are different tags??) but you can't beat their prices. Lately they have been running lots of free shipping campaigns, keep an eye on that.

💙 Where to buy: Japanese shops

These are the shops where you can find good deals and any kind of merch. While in the international shops (except Mandarake and Suruga-ya) are only able to offer merch producced by Atlus, these can sell collaboration merch as well.

You will need a proxy to buy from them. For search, just put [ペルソナnumber] ("Persona") and browse. If you want something specific, try the words I put on the merch type section.

Suruga-ya JP: Same as its ENG counterpart but with way more stuff. Great to find single items at lower prices. This is one of the best places to buy doujin from as well. I think starting at 3k yen spent the national shipping is free, but don't quote me on this.

Mercari JP: Pretty much the Japanese Ebay. The best thing about it are the merch bundles (you can save lots) and "junk" items (figures with missing accesories and such, they can be dirt cheap). Since you have to contact the seller directly, some proxies charge extra fees for Mercari orders (and some sellers refuse to sell to proxies)

Yahoo Auctions: Auction site, you can find great deals and obscure merch there. Some listing are a "ready to buy", so you dont have to bid. Yahoo Auctions is blocked in EU, so you will need a VPN to browse it (I use Opera's free in-browser VPN, its works for what you need it)

Booth: Marketplace for japanese artists. You can find from prints and charms to 3D models and music. The national shipping price is always 750 yen.

💙 Proxies & how to use them

First off, a proxy is not a shop, but an intermediary. They sometimes have in-website shops so you don't have to change tabs to browse different shops, but all they do is to buy what you tell them to & then sent the item to you.

Each proxy has a user guide, but most of them work like this:

You sent them the link of the item you want

They sent you the invoce for said item

You pay the item (+ proxy fees & national shipping, if any)

They buy the item

Once it arrives to their warehouse, they pack the item & sent you the international shipping invoice

You pay the international shipping.

They sent you the item.

Akihiko is now on your house.

So what you will always have to pay is the item price & the shipping from Japan to your house, just like any other online purchase.

The optional payments are:shipping within Japan & proxy fees. And if you like in EU, the VAT of the item+shipping value (luckly, proxies almost never put the shipping price on the invoice)

It may sound complicated, but is very easy actually. All you have to do is sent them links & wait for "you need to pay" emails.

💙 Different proxies

Pretty much any proxy will do the work, the big difference is often how expensive they are. This is something you will need to research yourself to see what option is better/cheaper to you, but here are some proxies:

DeJapan

Fees- None if you only buy 1 thing. 100y/item if you buy more than one thing

Mercari Fee: 200 yen (handling fee)

Customer service - Amazing

Can bid on Yahoo Auctions? - Yes

Can buy from physical stores? (not online ones) - Yes. 200y/oder fee

Can buy NSFW items? - Yes

Can undervalue? - No

Boxes - Okay

Good for - Buying in bulk, probably the cheapest proxy. No currency exchange fees

Complains - Shipping options can be limited (For examply they don't offer Small Packet to some countries when other proxies do). They can take a bit to buy and package orders.

Buyee

Fees- Too many to count.

Mercari Fee: 300y/order

Customer service - Bad

Can bid on Yahoo Auctions? - Yes

Can buy from physical stores? (not online ones) - No

Can buy NSFW items? - When they feel like it

Can undervalue? - No

Boxes - You can use them as your new house

Good for - Buying a single item, specially with discount coupons. If you only buy 1 thing, these coupons can save you lots.

Complains - Too many fees specially if you buy more than 1 thing. They throw the original shipping boxes onto a bigger box unless you contact them directly, so you will get an elephant-sized box with a elephant-sized shipping cost to match. Seriously, only use them for a single order

Zen Market

Fees- 500yen/item

Mercari Fee: No

Customer service - Good

Can bid on Yahoo Auctions? - Yes

Can buy from physical stores? (not online ones) - No

Can buy NSFW items? - Yes

Can undervalue? - No

Boxes - Small, very sturdy. They weight quite a bit.

Good for - Buying one item. Also you can pay EU VAT thru them.

Complains - The new 500y/item fee piles up fast, not recomented to buy in bulk. They're slow to buy. You have to put money on the ZM wallet to pay.

Japan Rabbit

Fees- Per-item fee (depends on shop) + >10% of your order total (depends on how much you spent). Minimun fee is $9 regarless of what you spent.

Mercari Fee: $3/item

Customer service - Amazing

Can bid on Yahoo Auctions? - Yes

Can buy from physical stores? (not online ones) - Yes, but only in stores located in Tokyo and Yokohama.

Can buy NSFW items? - Yes

Can undervalue? - Yes (despite claiming otherwise, probably due to legal matters. You can undervalue after the items arrive to their warehouse)

Boxes - Very small, they're masters at tetris

Good for - To undervalue (but I their 10% fee can cancel a good chunk of what you save in VAT). They're fast in buying & packing.

Complains - They got very expensive, specially now that they charge with USD instead of Yen. I dont know why would you use them now. I guess great service comes with a price to match...

Neokyo

Fees- 250y/item + 500y for packaging

Mercari Fee: None

Customer service - N/A

Can bid on Yahoo Auctions? - Yes

Can buy from physical stores? (not online ones) - Yes, 1k yen fee

Can buy NSFW items? - Yes?

Can undervalue? - No

Boxes - Okay from what I have heard

Good for - They buy very fast. Buying in bulk

Complains - All payment options have a 3% fee

Other proxies:

From Japan - I have heard good things about it, but they changed their site & I find it hard to read, so I can't comment much on it on how its currently. Looks like they dont have many fees either?

And that's all!

I hope you have fun buying, I started using proxies a few years ago and I got addicted lmao

You're the only one who gets to say what to do with your money, but I would use the retail prices I mentioned as a reference when buying to not get scammed with high prices.

Also if you want a specific merch, the key is patience! Check 2nd hand sites every 2 days or so until you find it.

If you have any problem or question, feel free to send me an ask/DM!! (except for bidding, I have never used Yahoo auctions)

#talk #persona 3 #i keep seeing people buying prize figures for #over $100 when theyre not even worth half of that and #it hurts me; please take care of your wallet ToT

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604to647 · 5 months

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Safest with You - Ch. 4 (The First Date)

2.8K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din takes you out on a first date.

Warnings: First date fluff, lots of kissing and possibly too much description of 🫣, a little pet name usage (pretty bird, sweet girl, sweetheart), brief mention of parental illness and passing.

A/N: So... you may have noticed I increased the chapter count - I'm sorry! I really wanted to stretch out the longing these two have for each other and build up their neediness; so I split "The Courtship" into two parts and am using it to make the second part Din's POV (it's time for us to see what's going on in that pretty head of his!) But then the first part turned out to be 5K...and that's just two long so I split it into two as well. I'll post Ch. 5 shortly (it's written, just needs to be edited) - the point is to make them wait, not us 😂 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

You emerge from the subway station to see Din waiting for you, ready to walk together to the taco place he picked. The way his face lights up when he sees you makes you glad you took the extra time in choosing what to wear tonight.

Din looks devastatingly handsome; freshly showered after what was probably a long afternoon of sparring, his hair now fluffy again and looking so touchable, you have trouble keeping your hands to yourself. His dress shirt is worn casually, untucked and with the top buttons unbuttoned, which somehow makes him look impossibly big; and when he offers you his hand, you happily take it, heart thumping at the way he slots his thick fingers through your much smaller ones. He smiles down at you, hoping to convey how excited he is to finally be taking you out, telling you how beautiful you look and asking after the rest of your day.

The two of you chat effortlessly as you walk to the restaurant, and once you’re seated, the conversation switches to the business of the food. You jokingly let Din know that food is very important to you and is weighted very heavily when determining the success of this date. Din looks at you with a serious expression, “You don’t have to pretend you’re joking.” Without skipping a beat, you match his solemn expression and deadpan, “Good.” Both of you crack at the same time, and you have to grab onto his muscular arm you’re both laughing so hard. You swear you feel an actual jolt of electricity in your fingers.

After you’ve ordered, you ask Din a question that’s been on your mind ever since you found out where he worked: What sort of gym business brought him downtown on the day you met? Din looks thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to decide how to start his answer, and when he speaks, you can tell that he’s about to share something heavier than the usual first date chatter. You learn that about 5 years ago, Din’s father fell ill, and he decided to leave his personal security job to take care of his dad and help run the gym. When his father passed, Din chose to stay and carry on his father’s legacy, taking over ownership and operation of the gym, which had been his pride and joy. When Din pauses, you add gently, “After you, of course.” Din smiles, somewhat sadly. Something strikes you, “That wall you showed me, with all the news articles about you – your dad put that up?”

That seems to brighten Din a bit, and nodding, he continues, “The gym was a big part of my childhood and younger years, where I trained and fought. Dad was a really involved parent, and he had a big hand in my training. I have a lot of great memories of him and I together in the gym. But it was more than just the boxing for him; he also opened the gym up to all my friends and gave us a place to go to stay out of trouble, giving everyone a safe place to go after school if they didn’t have one. He ended up opening it up to all the community kids; if you were under 17 you could come in any time and train, use the equipment, or just hang out, do homework, whatever. No membership fees, no questions asked. He was a really good guy, my dad.”

Din looks wistful and reminiscent.

“So stuff like that is a big part of why I decided to stay instead of going back to my old job. Dad loved how the gym was important to the community and really believed in the neighbourhood taking care of each other, and I wanted to keep it and all the good it does going in his memory. This way it’s still open to the neighbourhood kids to come and hang out and train, or just have somewhere to go and be safe; I don’t know if that would still be the case if someone else took over the gym and just cared about turning out winning fighters or something.”

“Awww, Din, you’re a good guy too. Your dad would be so proud.”

You’re so grateful to Din for sharing something so personal and being openly vulnerable, you forget your original question, but Din hasn’t, “So I retired from my old job, but the people I used to work with, we were… we are still really close. Like family. I grew up with most of those guys; most of them are the same friends that used to hang out at the gym when we were kids. They’ve always been there for me and Dad, even more after he got sick. Great guys. Stepped up when I needed to take time away from work to help Dad and understood when I told them I was leaving. Every one of them has had my back a million times over. So once in a while, they’ll ask me to come back in and help with something.”

You finally understand, “And the day we met, you were downtown on an assignment from your old work buddies.” Din nods. You think you’re coming to appreciate some things essential to Din’s character; in addition to being strong and protective, he’s also deeply loyal and compassionate. “That’s nice of you. It’s personal security work, you said? Your friends probably feel safer with you around. I know I would.”

Din grins, “Good. I’m glad you don’t find me scary.”

“Not in the least,” you give Din a fond look and he is gratified; Din is used to people being wary of him because of his appearance and size or even his reputation as a fighter among certain crowds, and he doesn’t think he could stand it if you ever felt in any way unsafe around him.

Carrying on the conversation, you share with Din that you’ve remained close to some childhood friends as well; some of your closest friends are actually from home. You had all moved to the city at different times, but eventually reconnected and are now inseparable. You’re grateful for your friends the same way Din seems to be for his.

“Are any of these friends the ones who are reading the same book as you? Do they know you’re seeing me tonight?” Din is curious if he’s been worth mentioning to your friends, now that he understands how much they mean to you.

You let Din know that yes, in fact, some of those friends are one and the same and that everyone in the group chat knows about your date.

“What do think you’re going to tell the group chat about tonight?”

“Well, so far, it’s a really good first date. But night’s still early… and the food hasn’t come yet,” you grin, “They’ll get the full debrief tomorrow. We have a standing brunch date every week.”

Din puts on a mock worried expression, “Got my work cut out for me, then.”

“Something tells me you’ll do just fine,” you place your hand on Din’s; he turns your hand over in his and brings it up to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss while looking at you with adoration in his eyes.

From there, the conversation continues to flow easily, with no lulls or awkward silences.

Over delicious food, Din learns that you’re a workaholic and always have been, but you love your job and your team, despite the somewhat long hours. He asks you to tell him a little bit about your work and he finds that you’re whip smart, with an analytical mind; poking a bit of fun at yourself, you confess that you’re an overthinker and that work is probably a way to use this power for good instead of evil. Long hours of working that brain overtime leaves you with not much free time, and your preference is to spend what little of it you have in a lowkey manner, with close friends and your dog. You shyly admit you might be too obsessed with your dog, Al (short for Alfredo, like the pasta sauce), and when Din asks to see and then proceeds to enthusiastically coo at the 812 pictures of Al you show him on your phone, you think you might actually be making heart eyes at this teddy bear of a man.

The first time you’re both quiet is when Din walks you to the front of your building; after an evening of non-stop talking and laughing, this intimate moment of silence feels well earned and full of promise. The evening has been more than lovely; you’ve learned so much about this handsome, kind man that you’ve fantasized about for the last week, and he has somehow surpassed anything you could have imagined. Now you’re aching for him to touch you in ways beyond the gentle and respectful way he has throughout the date; you’re ready to feel the strength you felt radiating off of him in the coffeeshop pressed against your body. Looking up at Din as you step in his space, you tip your face up to his while your hands find their place on his waist. Following your cue, Din leans down and gently cradles your face with his hands, thumbs on either side of your cheeks, fingers softly stroking your neck and hair for a moment before bringing his lips to yours.

As Din’s mouth fits softly on yours, you close your eyes and return his kiss like it’s all you’ve been wanting to do for the last few hours, which if you’re being honest, it has been. You map Din’s lips with your own, inhaling his breath and exhaling your own breaths of quiet contentment. Din meets each brush of your lips with an equal tenderness, pressing into them with his own over and over. Then, as if through some silent agreement, a sense of urgency overtakes the both of you and you each reach for the other at the same time to deepen the kiss. Your hands work their way up Din’s chest until they lace around the back of his neck and you use them to pull yourself up into him; Din’s arm’s have enveloped you and he presses his hands on the small of your back, firmly urging you even closer. On instinct, your mouth opens eagerly, and Din slips his tongue in, pushing against yours with hunger and purpose; you’re delicious and he can’t get enough of you. Greedily craving even more, you wrap your arms around his neck, needing to get impossibly close to Din; nothing else exists in this moment for you except Din and the way his mouth moves against yours. His facial hair is scratching your chin and the friction is starting to feel hot, but not unpleasant; you let out a low hum of pleasure that vibrates through to Din. He groans and gently bites down on your lower lip, pulling lightly as you finally break apart. When you open your eyes, you find that you’re both panting slightly, chests heaving in tandem as you try to catch your respective breaths.

“Holy shit, pretty bird. That was some first kiss.”

“Din…”, you whisper, your voice low, your desperate eyes meeting his.

You don’t even get to finish your thought before Din is on you again, kissing you with the same intensity and passion as the way the first kiss ended, but now with less urgency. He wants to savour you, taste you, and show you through his kisses how much you’re affecting him. During this second kiss, he doesn’t press you against him but instead lets his hands roam; his one hand trails up your neck and finds a home on the back of your head, threading through your hair and you lean into his hold. His other hand strokes your back, fingers kneading as it travels from your shoulder blades and down to your lower back, almost dipping to your ass, but only getting close enough to graze the top with his fingers. You might whine a little from the anticipation - oh how you want him to grab your ass. You know he’s being respectful, but this kiss and the one before it has you burning with desire for this man; you can feel a wetness starting to pool between your legs, and you want, need Din to just handle you. Your tongues chases his, trying to convey your neediness. More, more, more.

“Din…”, you try again, murmuring into his mouth when his nose gently bumps yours and his mouth gives yours a moment of reprieve.

“Mmmmhmm…?” Din presses his lips lightly on yours again, unable to be apart from them.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

Din’s mouth stills against yours before he pulls his face away slightly, “Oh. Uhhhhh…I…no.”

In an instant, you feel a tightness in your chest from misreading the situation, and shrink away from Din, out of the warmth of his arms, “Oh. Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Fuck. Din blames his light headedness from kissing you for his harsh and misleading response; when he sees you trying hard to keep your face neutral, he’s desperate to correct and explain himself, “No, no, no, pretty girl. I do, I do want to come up. But, I also…don’t. I-”

Din is running his hands through his hair nervously, looking flustered in a way that astonishes you: this big force of a man, looking unsure and tripping over his own words. It’s endearing, and your tenderness towards him wins out and you put your hand up to his cheek; Din immediately leans into your touch.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed, worried that he’s ruined things, but when he opens his eyes, he sees you looking at him with softness. When you see Din’s finally face relax, you chuckle, “That’s confusing.”

Din takes a deep breath, “I know. Pretty bird, I would love to go upstairs with you. I really do. And without sounding too presumptuous, I would love to do all the upstairs things with you. To you. I want to. I want you…but…”

You wait with bated breath for him to continue.

“…but I also…I want to… court you.”

Whatever you were bracing yourself for, it wasn’t this, “Court me?” You’re not sure you heard him right.

Now Din is running his hands through his hair again, looking sheepish and self-conscious, “Yeah… is that dumb? I…want to do things the proper way with you. Take you out, get to know you, treat you special…court you? I know if we go upstairs, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you, and things will go fast and… some of the nice things I want to do for you will get forgotten, maybe left behind…and… I want us to take our time. Is that dumb? Sorry.”

Din’s eyes can’t quite meet yours, so you press a soft kiss to his lips to which he gives you a small smile. “It’s not dumb at all, Din. It’s super sweet. Surprising, but sweet.”

“Why surprising? Did you think me a hussy?” Din pretends to look scandalized.

You giggle, “I mean, it’s pretty clear that I’m the one being a hussy here, old man.”

“Old ma-..?” Din doubles down on looking offended.

You kiss him again before he can retort, “Okay. Let’s take things slow.”

Din kisses you slow and calm, all the urgency from earlier gone, as he settles into the relief of knowing he hasn’t inadvertently pushed you away. Closing your eyes, you melt into Din’s embrace, letting him know with your actions that you’re not going anywhere.

“Do you want to meet the dog and go for a walk with us?” you mumble into Din’s shoulder, somewhat shy about inviting him to do something so familiar and domestic.

“Nothing I want more, pretty bird.”

“Nothing?” you arch your eyebrow, teasingly. Then practically skip into the building, giggling, as you hear Din chuckling behind you.

Al takes to walking with Din immediately. The nighttime walk is lazy and comfortable; hardly any words are exchanged, but Din’s arm around you, and the soft kisses he presses into your hair throughout, tells you everything you need to know about how Din feels the date went.

Before letting you go for the final time tonight, Din kisses you deep and slow again; this time letting his hands wander down to where you had needed him earlier, palming your ass with both his hands, groping you lightly and making you yearn for more of him yet again. Turning you towards your building door, he gives one side a light slap before bidding you goodnight with a wink, leaving you dazed and lightheaded as you head in with the dog.

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