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lia404 · 3 days

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Get to know me better game—2 in 1 because I'm 6 months late

Tagged by: @baratrongirl and @missmewachu

Thanks for being so patient while I was figuring out how Tumblr works again and why I had a blue dot beside "Activity" (as in, notifications about tag games I've been sent 6 months ago. Better late than never 🤦‍♀️) Thankfully the tag games you sent my way are very similar so it won't be hard to do 2 in 1!

Last song I listened to: Chipzel - Courtesy - YouTube

The 1st track of Super Hexagon, composed by Chipzel. Chipzel's music has been a pick-me-up since 201...4 I think? And since I fell back into Super Hexagon around a week ago, the music has also found its way back into my work playlist.

Currently reading: Trick question! There is what I am MEANT to read, and what I am ACTUALLY reading.

What I am MEANT to read is To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose, which has absolutely all the elements I need to love a book. The problem is that my brain absolutely refuses moving further than Chapter 1, and I've been stuck for MONTHS. The good news is that when it happens, I usually struggle until the moment my brain finally snaps and I read the whole book in an afternoon. Wait for me, Moniquill Blackgoose, I'll soon be raving about your book.

What I am ACTUALLY reading is... well, it's more re-reading, but I'm going through Happy Hour by Inkflavored and Keep the Light Shining by Clydeside, two Yu-Gi-Oh AUs that have been incredibly healing for me in the past months, for very different reasons. I wanted to re-experience them to see if I could turn them into fanbinding projects (if the authors give me the authorisation of course, but I haven't reached this level of confidence yet, let's give it time.)

Currently watching: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS.

Do you believe me if I tell you that it was an accident? It kinda was though! I wasn't the one who played the first episodes I just kept going afterwards. That said, I have fully adopted Yusaku. I kind of wish he could meet Philip from Kamen Rider W. Things would go so well.

Currently writing: this one is plain cruel, because after a drought spell of almost 2 years, I finally feel like getting back into writing (thank you, current obsession.)

I have 3 WIPs, one PWP because I like a challenge, one backstory of a character that has basically become my OC, and one AU that @wisyhana created and that I'm using as a wonderful sandbox. I am between 2k and 5k into each, nothing is complete, I'm losing my mind. But at least I'm writing again, right?

Spicy/sweet/savoury: Okay yes no it's cruel again and you will not make me pick just one.

If you've followed me these past years you know that I have completely lost my sense of taste between 2020 and 2023. I was lucky enough, and honestly even the specialised doctor said it was a miracle, to have most of it come back to me abruptly in March 2023, after 3 years unable to enjoy a bit of chocolate or a nice gratin. Some tastes are lost forever, but so few compared to what came back that I just can only be very very grateful and very confident in saying SPICY SWEET SAVOURY I'LL TAKE THEM ALL. I LOVE TASTES. ALL OF THEM.

Relationship status: I have been told polyamory looks good on me.

And I am lucky to have the most patient and tolerant lovers ever. EVER. I love them so much and I'm so bad at showing it because I am a mess. There isn't a day where my heart doesn't overflow with gratitude that they are in my life and agree to putting up with my bullshit.

Current obsession: Listen, Mew put it SO ELOQUENTLY I can help but quote:

mentally ill traumatised japanese teenagers and their ancient egyptian guys who hang out in their jewellery all playing card games.

So, yeah, current obsession is Yu-Gi-Oh!, and with it Duel Links, and everything children-card-game-adjacent. I am currently trying to figure out why everyone in this kid's show is so hot and delightfully traumatised. Characters after my own heart, all ready to be projected on and used for cathartic writing purposes. Other obsession is MEW'S FAULT TOO ACTUALLY since it's my newly founded Clan in Flight Rising. Ask me about my dragon Atem.

Favourite colour: I like my colour like my wine—burgundy. (I actually like all sort of shades of purple, violet and red, but I don't know how to list them.)

Tagging: Wow uh who do I know around here who is still active?

@twilightknight17 for sure (although I'm sure you already did it), @wingsonghalo maybe? Uuuh, I think @the-wanderer-of-thoughts and @istadris? You know, considering how inactive I am here, I think it's already a lot, but if you're not in the list and want to do it too, be my guest!

#lia blabla #tag game #it's been weeks and i still have no idea what i am doing #why is formatting such a nightmare #and sorry this is so long wow #do people really actually read these things or are they here for the writer to pause and consider how they'd answer #lia in fandoms #i promise next time i figure out how to insert cuts in posts i thought it was something that was automatic

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burntotears · 2 years

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Title: Project Týr W/C: 17,225 Summary: Alex and Isobel commence work on a secret project that their partners are yet to be made privy to. But once everyone is in the know and a mission is underway, a new discovery about the past will send everyone reeling and put their lives on an unexpected trajectory. A/N: Part 5 of Marriage Ain’t Easy TW: mentions of rape

Alex’s disposition after the Álvarez heist started to alarm Michael. He had always been cautious when it came to any part of the alien lifestyle, but once they got back to Roswell, the behavior escalated. He and Michael were still connected by the bond and Michael could feel the utter paranoia he was exhibiting those first few days before it faded. The first thing Alex did was buy more security equipment than Michael had ever seen accumulated in one place before. He set up elaborate systems at their house, then at Kyle’s and Max’s (where Isobel was staying) places too. Even though they all had access to their respective systems, Alex wanted to monitor everyone’s and no one had the heart to tell him no because of how manic he was.

Once the systems were in place and he set up everyone’s phones with chips to keep them secured regardless of what they might be texting or calling about, his husband slowly started to ease back into a calmer demeanor. Michael stopped worrying so much about it then because with everything that had happened during the heist, he did not fault the man for feeling unsafe.

So Michael threw himself into studying the Truman tech they recovered–probably a little too obsessively. No one really commented on that aside to ask him how things were progressing, which he assumed was a polite way of giving him time to process everything. One of the few things he’d been able to uncover about it was that it was, in fact, created by his mother. He had no idea when, but their theories were after the Lockhart machine was built. Michael was of the impression that she might not have built any of it willingly, either. Lockhart had known that Nora and Patricia were working on the original machine together, so it was highly likely that the humans at Caulfield tried to make her build other things during her earlier imprisonment there.

“But why?” Kyle asked, looking at the pieces spread out on the Guerin’s coffee table.

“Advancement of human technology,” Michael said, taking a sip from his beer. He glanced at Alex over on the sofa who was engrossed in something on his computer and was hardly engaged in the conversation. That was par for the course these past few weeks, though Michael wasn’t completely sure why. Kyle was there and was always annoyingly involved even though he worked at Deep Sky where the mole was too. So was it just that Kyle was an idiot and didn’t recognize the danger or was Alex just too hyper-fixated like he tended to get?

[ Read on AO3 ]

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #malex fic #marriage!verse #(mine)#(my fic)#(malex)#(rnm)#sorry they are getting too long to post on tumblr guys #and the formatting is a nightmare #hope you enjoy #tw: mention of rape #abel #pod squad

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princessnamora · 8 months

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4, 16 and 25 for musical asks!

which song rips your heart out?

youtube

if you want make me cry, play this song! it's exactly what I've always imagined unconditional love should be, but has always seemed so unattainable that witnessing it even just in art is like seeing a unicorn - just breathtaking and awe-inspiring. like, his hair is Samson's whole image, his success, his legend, his identity - and then she cuts his hair - and all he does is kiss her and say she did a good job??? excuse me while I bawl my eyes out

and it has so many lines that just slay me! 😭

"You are my sweetest downfall"?

"I loved you first"?

"Beneath the stars came falling on our heads But they're just old light, they're just old light"?

omg this one!! most of the time the narrative is we're so small compared to the world, we're so insignificant to the universe, what are we to the stars - and this song is like no!! we're human beings!! we are full of more love and life and wonder than any star could ever be!! sure our world will come crashing down and history won't remember us and the stars will still be there when we're gone but we lived! and we loved! we were here and we were bright and vibrant and vital and that means something even if it didn't last! what is a star to our love? what is a star to US? they're just old light!

tell us the name of a song that most people probably don’t know but you absolutely adore?

youtube

please check out alela diane! I looove her music and want her to have all the success ❤

do you and anyone you know have “a song”?

youtube

i don't think I have 'a song' with anyone, but my mom liked this song, and now whenever I hear it I think of her 🥰

thanks for asking 😘

#ask #anonymous #sorry for the absolute mess of the formatting this post editor is an absolute nightmare

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skrunksthatwunk · 10 months

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so a thing that my brain does on the reg is it makes me get nervous about a scenario (ranging from probably-won't-happen to Definitely-Won't-Happen) and then i have to spend like 40 minutes meandering my way through an improv youtube apology video until my brain feels like I've addressed the scenario about as well as i can and lets me move on. usually this comes in the form of like

you accidentally said a forbidden slur (i.e. one i can't reclaim) while streaming/in a group conversation and now have to explain that your brain misfired catastrophically hard and that you've never said this word before (true) And You Have To Do It Well Enough To Be Believed

because like. i wouldn't believe that guy either, y'know? most people in that situation just cross that bridge when they get to it and do pretty bad, so maybe my brain is trying to help prepare me via interrogation. my point is that i spend a lotta my spare time pacing in my bathroom fending off theoretical murder charges (which are either phony OR true OR a secret third thing depending on the day).

as soon as i woke up this morning my brain gave me a new one:

what if people accuse you of faking your (middling) knowledge of french? and also you're a celebrity and have to prove it by speaking french live on a talk show or something.

which like. good morning to you too, brain. the first thing i did was (slowly, mediocrely) construct an appropriately indignant sentence in my head (i haven't used french since my ap exam like a month ago) and then

BUT WHAT IF PEOPLE THINK SOMEONE FED ME THE LINE

ok we'll have the audience write in questions live

WHAT IF THEY STILL THINK IT'S RIGGED AND ALSO WHAT IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE ASKING ((<- LIKELY AND UNCHARACTERISTICALLY ROOTED IN LIVED EXPERIENCE!!!)) WHICH WOULD PROBABLY MAKE IT WORSE

girl that's The Most i can do what do you want from me.

and then once i woke up more i had a realization in that blasted out, quiet way—like an astronaut drifting away from their ship untethered, forever. that

the prognosis of taking american public high school language courses is to remember jack shit (pardon my french). it's a classic babe it's near universal. we all know we don't know.

Babygirl, (And I Cannot Express This Enough,) No One Is Ever Going To Make You Speak French Live In ~5-40 Years To Prove You Took It In High School. Go Back To Sleep. there's only like two scenarios you can think of ever where that happens and there's like a 70+% chance you can just say no or ignore it. what a weird thing to fake in the first place too who would even accuse you of that.

anyway sometimes being a citizen of Braintown is funny and not exhausting in a kind of sad clown way but it's usually just kind of awful. something something c'est la vie

#held captive to the world's saddest strangest most confused lump of meat sitting in juice getting zapped with electricity ever #i cant tell if it's hard mode scripting or if i just fully have compulsions about this in ways im only realizing now #sorry if the formatting is a bit much this used to be a big wall of text and i thought yhis would make it more digestible #anyway i have Tendencies and Thoughts i should get Evaluated For because what the shit IS that #the sentence was smth like 'je deteste le tache donnez-moi hier soir' which like. shoulda been ce soir dumbass god get it together #(<- actually just glad i haven't forgotten it. also idk if the donnez-moi is right. every time i use hyphenated verb-pronoun stuff im #flying by the seat of my pants. also i think the 'je deteste' was different but idr how so there's what i prolly woulda done instead)#FUCK IT'S LA TACHE??? GOD THEY'RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE ME #making a new tag for these:#skrunk story hour #in case you want more of my stunning 2 notes talespinning #me: oh if i have ocd it's pure. also me: (see above)#idk idk. fully not sure tbh. but the fact that they tend to align with the intrusive thought subject matter (moral concerns) doesn't seem #coincidental to me.#but then again the fear of doing wrong vs the fear of being accused/misconstrued (often justifiably) are separate (albeit fused for me)#anyway tell me you had to go lawyer mode with your parents to justify feeling/wanting anything without telling me that. yes im blaming them #it all comes back baby. you can't buy fear of confrontation this bad in stores you have to grow it yourself #oh also im not going back and tagging old story times unless i happen to see ppl interacting them and remember bc i usually didnt tag them #and it would be a nightmare to dig through like 8 months of blog for it. sorry 🫶#i know im sorry. no one likes those posts better than me so i for sure know and am sorry #rare skrunk intrusive thoughts L where i can just look at it and go girl no. not only no but absolutely not. but only after i do the #homework it gives me about it. hell on earth #etc etc. moving on now

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lowkeyerror · 21 days

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The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #pietro maximoff

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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

Text

what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #wtfgu

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impactedfates · 4 months

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Hello there!! Can I request some headcanons / mini-scenarios for: Dan Heng, March, Welt, Himeko, Yanqing and Jing Yuan; with a normally soft-spoken Reader who has a wide vocal range (from contralto to hitting those high notes) and occasionally does song covers? Doesn't matter the genre, so long as Reader likes it.

So they might hear Reader singing something like a lullaby or a traditional Xianzhou song one day, to something that's still soft and sweet like a mainstream pop song on another day; to belting out something like "Kakusei" or "NEXUS" from the Promare OST. :D

★ A/N: I understood the request, I just hope I wrote it in a way you wanted! People with such a large vocal range are so talented istg, they gotta teach me. (I say as if I have ANY confidence to sing anyways)

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Head Cannons (And small scenario at the end :>)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Reader is a Nameless // Readers age is undisclosed so imagine them at whatever age you wish // Reader can play instruments! // Characters might be OOC I feel // Proof Read but I did it when it was 4am lmao

When you sing more soft songs, Dan Heng tends to enjoy listening. It helps him feel more relax and sometimes rids his mind of nightmares.

He's more used to hearing that kind of voice from you. So when one day, he walks in on you singing a song that's the exact opposite of how you usually sing, he's a bit surprised.

He never doubted you could have a big vocal range, however hearing you sing a song that's different to how he normally hears you sing is what surprised him.

He still enjoys listening, but more so when you sing in a softer voice, don't get him wrong. He still enjoys your singing voice and will support you. But he isn't one for a more loud song.

"[Name]...if you're going to sing more...on the loud side, could I request you do it else where?" Dan Heng sighs softly, being awoken up once again due to you. Despite his words hinting at annoyance, his facial expression was soft and kind. A soft sorry came from your voice as you quickly turned off the music you were using, switching to a more softer song. An old Xianzhou lullaby. "Here, I'll make it up to you. Sit on the couch and I'll sing a softer song" You smiled, Dan Heng chuckled as he obliged. He can't deny that your more softer voice doesn't help him fall asleep. He silently hums along to your voice, and in a sleepy voice he speaks to you before drifting to bed. "If you enjoy music like that so much, we can pay a visit to Serval okay?"

March 7th LOVES your singing voice. She would sing along to whatever song you were singing. She praises you every time she hears you and likely took photos of you singing.

She so supports you if you ever make a YouTube (StarTube?) account and posted covers, literally your number 1 fan.

When you post a cover of a song, she's always the first one to like, comment and listen!

When you post a cover of a song that's VERY different. (Let's say, Usseewa) and you hit ALL those high notes and, everything omg. She was surprised but immediately hyped you up.

She doesn't mind if you sing songs like that at all, your singing is amazing. Like I said, number 1 fan...she doesn't hid it either.

"I love you [Name]!" "Uh, the one with the blue camera and pink hair?" "OH. MY GOD. [NAME] YOU NOTICED ME, YOU NOTICED ME. I.LOVE.YOU" Serval laughed out loud seeing Marchs outburst, as if you two don't live with each other. You could only look away with a small smile, seeing March jump up and down and shaking whoever was beside her. Much to Welts "delight"

Welts very impressed with your vocal range. But he's also worried, he knows that if you were able too have a large vocal range, you likely know how to manage it.

Still, anytime he hears you singing songs like NEXUS or Kakusei he can't help but slide over a bottle of water for your throat.

If you ever join a concert with Serval then he IS buying tickets, though not everyone may go (Dan Heng) he and the rest of the Express will.

He also tends to buy any merch you may come out with if there is any. (Mainly for March but he does keep one or two for himself to support you)

He doesn't really have a preference when it comes too what songs you sing, just as long as your happy and it isn't really disturbing anyone.

If you ever start a StarTube channel, he might animate a few of your covers! Under a pen name though, he's not embarrassed, but I think he'd like it if you thought it was a different fan and not just him who's already liked your singing from the start. (If that makes sense)

"WELT! Weltweltwelt" You ran up to him, quickly showing him an animation someone did of one of your new songs. "ArahatosNumber1Fan animated one of my covers again" You said excitedly, bringing the phone screen back to your view as you scrolled through the comments. Many complimenting the animation but many also asking who sang the cover to which they were directed to your account. "This the guy that you said was helping boost your channel subs?" You nod happily, tapping your chin you thought for a bit. "Do you think they'd still animate my covers even if I sing a different genre? I want to go with something softer this time instead of a louder peice" "I'm sure they'll animate any song you wish to sing" He chuckles. And sure enough, a week after you posted a cover of Lost Umbrella, ArahatosNumber1Fan posted an animation to go along with it.

Himeko compliments you a lot for your vocal range. In fact, she got you a karaoke machine for your birthday! Of course, though. She doesn't let you use it during night time. She doesn't want to wake up because you decided to start singing Churira Churira Dadada at 3 in the morning.

I do think she prefers you to sing outside the train. While she does enjoying your singing and she has no problem if you were to sing in the train. However she also understands it may disturb many people so she does ask for you to sing in an area where you aren't disturbing anyone.

I feel like she also asks you to teach her how to sing or have a wider vocal range. She enjoys singing herself and would love to join in when you're out singing to keep you company!

Perhaps you two can make money by singing on the streets :> (Only if you're okay with it though!)

You strummed you guitar as the two of you reached the last note, Himeko took a small bow and looked up at the audience that had gathered around. All of them clapping and complimenting your voice. She laughed softly and gently packed up your things so the two of you could get going, checking to see if you were uncomfortable with the attention before she directs you back to the train. As you two entered, Himeko was quick to sit and count the amount of credits that were left in your guitar case, looking up to you she said with a smile. "A success, well done. They loved you" "It wasn't just me singing..." "Perhaps but...I'd say they have their favourites"

When Yanqing overhears you singing Xianzhou lullabys, he's quick to shower you with compliments. Your voice is so soothing! He could listen it for so long and it's effective too. You had to usher him out as he could wake the kids you just put to bed.

When he hears you singing a song like (man I'm running out of songs I know/hj) Noels Lament. He's impressed, how can you sing a song so softly and quietly and then sing something like this which needs a stronger voice??

He might skip a few of his training to find you and see what song you're singing, he makes it a guessing game! Will you be singing something so sweet and kind? Or something that might will make head turn??

"...Yanqing?" "Ha! I guessed right this time" "...Guessed...right?" Ah, you weren't meant to know the guessing game he had in his own head, quickly, he shuffled away. Scratching the back of his head. "Of where you were!" "I always walk in this area" "...I meant...what outfit you'd be wearing?" "I usually wear similar clothes?" ...Yeah, he's running off quickly, hopefully Jing Yuan won't scold him for skipping his training again right? Surely the general can understand he just has to see if his guess was right or not.

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly) Jing Yuan enjoys when you sing your heart out with songs like Candy Store or Mount Rageous. That's the type of sing he first heard you sing when he tried to find Yanqing when he skipped yet another training sessions.

Usually he would just sleep till Yanqing returned or just go on with his day if he never did. In either case, now he joins Yanqing to see what song you're singing before returning back to train.

When he hears you singing a less upbeat song like Sweet Dreams. He's slightly surprised but listens intently, it's different to what he often hears you sing but he enjoys it none the less, he sees your happy so he's fine.

He might even request to hear certain songs just to see how well you voice range can handle it. From the loudest song that could break glass, to a soothing song that can put even the mara struck to bed. And if you successfully sing them all, he congratulates you.

Overall, he's impressed as well as many others, likely talks to you and how well you sing to his friends.

You panted a bit as you finished a particularly long high note, Jing Yuan chuckles and slides over a cup of water which you accept quickly. Taking a drink to sooth your throat. "You voice really can do wonders, I'm more then impressed" He speaks, you nodded in response as he then offers a small treat for agreeing to sing a song for him. A song that made you go from high to low, soft to loud and all in all, tested how wide your voice range can be in a singular song. "I must apologies, I just wished to see how far your voice can go. I should've considered how tired your throat must be from singing that particular song" "No worries, it was fun to read and practice that song. I'm a bit surprised you know it though" "Oh? Are you now?" "Yeah...I mean...the song was released like a month ago and you're kinda a grandp-" "Alright I get it" He chuckled lightly, gently flicking your forehead.

I'm so smart writing Yanqings and JY sleep deprived right?/j Yeah uh they might be OOC, hopefully not thoughejfpgt.

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carakook · 1 month

Text

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“Although his tone isn’t accusing, you know what he’s really asking: ‘who the fuck is that?’”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘5. The Change in Seasons

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Six months later, Y/N is trying to cope and move on from ending things with Jungkook, and she feels she has come a long way… or maybe she’s just in denial.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 10k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of mild sleeping pill abuse (no overdosing, more so using sleeping pills when you’re sleeping just fine.), heavy grief, mentions of infidelity, mentions of awful coping mechanism, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, descriptions of nightmares, mentions of anxiety, mentions of mental health, metaphors involving religion (this story has no religious aspects just metaphors lol), 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: Bad news: chapter 5 ended up being 21k words long after I rewrote it and I could not fit it into one post. Good news: you get chapter 6 early for this reason! I’m sorry it has taken so long to get this out, and please forgive me for any grammar mistakes, but I really wanted both of these to go out asap and around the same time. Chaper 6 is being released sometime today, it’s finished, just needs to be formatted (I need to take a break for a bit lol.) Chapter 5 now consists of basically describing how coping with the aftermath of shit went for Y/N after everything was said and done, and how her life is going now. Chapter 6 is where it gets juicy, and you will see how Jungkook attempted to cope. I really hope you enjoy this, and I appreciate how lovely you’ve all been while waiting. Also forgive me for the lack of songs listed in each chapter… again I’m sort of just wanting to get these both out asap! Love you! 💜

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Hate You - Jungkook

♪Space Song - Beach House

♪Jealous - Eyedress

♪Go With the Flow - Queens of the Stone Age

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Six months later.

"Y/N, I really do love you." "Suuure you do." "No, baby, I do, I always have. Wish you would stop questioning me like that." You shake your head at him, running your fingers through his hair as you do so. You know that he loves you, you stopped fighting it a while ago... but you still like to fuck with him. You like how he always is so damn persistent in letting you know that he fucking adores you. You cup his face as he remains hovered over you, both of you sweaty and smelling strongly of sex. You made love again, and it was just as beautiful as the first time. "I know, Koo, I know." You place the softest kiss on his lips, which causes his eyes to crinkle up adorably, his nose scrunching along with it. God, you really do love this man. Your flower. Your Bearded Iris. Your literal soulmate. Suddenly, you have cotton mouth, so you reach over to grab the bottle of water resting on the nightstand as he affectionately nuzzles into your bare breasts, the sheets pooling over the both of you like a satin dream. The dim lighting in your bedroom makes him glow, your golden boy. You could stare at him forever. Things are just so... peaceful. No anxious noises of the city, dark out, quiet inside other than the sounds of both of you breathing and speaking softly to each other. This is heaven, you think. Nothing gets better than this. Pure euphoria and bliss, except the bliss is no longer accompanied by guilt and the ugly green weeds made up of jealousy.

Comfortable and arm hues of red and orange fill the room thanks to the city lights filtering in and your arm bedroom lighting, much like the changing season outside. Autumn always was your favorite season, until you developed a taste for vibrant spring flowers. As you take a greedy sip of the water, you notice the potted plant on your nightstand... you don't know how you didn't notice it before. You lean up, causing him to whine and maneuver himself down, kissing your tummy sweetly. A bearded Iris, purple and white at full bloom resides in the plain white ceramic pot. You furrow your brows, reach over to touch the leafs of the flower. You can't recall how the hell it got here. "Woah... this is gorgeous, did you get it?" You question Jungkook as he continues peppering your body with kisses. "Mhm." That's it? Just 'mhm'? When did he get this? Why don't you remember it? One of your fingers grazes one of the bigger petals as the cogs in your brain start working way too hard. For some reason, the fact that you don't recall this beautiful flower really bothers you. "When? You didn't even say anything about it." He grunts at you, reaches up, grasps your wrist, and yanks it away from the flower. You flinch, because... What the fuck? "Don't touch it. Don't even look at it, Y/N. It isn't yours." His kisses turn into bites and he goes lower, once he reaches your pelvis he doesn't even warn you before he starts suckling on your clit. Something doesn't feel quite right. You put a hand in his hair, your confusion and anxiety is written all over your face. You yank his head up, and he glares at you, as if he isn't the one who just snapped at you over a damn flower. "Jungkook, what the fuck? What do you mean it isn't mine? What's your problem?" His eyes are blank as he stares at you, and his gaze slowly moves over to the flower. He clicks his tongue but stays in position as he speaks. "Look what you fucking did, I told you not to touch it." he nearly growls as he nods towards the flower. Zap. You look back at the flower, pulling the sheets up to your chest because you suddenly feel too vulnerable, out of place. Your blood runs cold when you see it. The petals start turning brown and dry, falling off of the stem of the flower. Wilting right in front of your eyes, quickly, as if your touch was fucking poison. It was so vibrant and pretty moments ago, and now it looks morbid. Zap. "Why the hell is it doing that?" "I told you not to touch, it isn't yours." Your gaze finds him again, you fight the urge to try and pick up the pieces of the pretty flower and try to siphon your light into it, to try and save it. None of what's happening makes sense. The lights in your apartment change from warm red and orange hues to dark and icy, blue and black like winter, and when your eyes find Jungkook and really look at him, you nearly gag.

Petals adorn his face, but he's cold. His honey skin is turning pale, and the petals are turning brown just like the Bearded Iris next to you. His face is still blank, not a single emotion behind his eyes. It looks like he's fucking dying, every time a petal falls off of his skin he gets paler and paler. What the fuck is happening? Zap, zap, zap. "Jungkook- I- what-" "If I loved you, wouldn't I still be here? I would've left her. I wouldn't have left you. You shouldn't have touched that flower, Y/N, it wasn't yours. Now look what you've done to me." You blink back tears because you don't understand what he means. You don't understand why he's being so cold suddenly... he doesn't look like him. He looks like a clone, maybe a shell, maybe even a fucking demon. You have no fucking idea what he's talking about. You reach up to swipe at your eyes, try to will the tears away because they are blurring your vision and making things too murky. When you do get clarity again, he's... gone. In between your legs, all that resides are brown leafs and petals, as if he was never here. You start frantically calling for him, grabbing at the sheets as if you may find him hiding underneath. Full on sobbing now, because he isn't here, and he just withered away right in front of you after saying such cruel things.

Zap, zap, zap, zap, zap.

You flinch awake, automatically start feeling around your empty sheets, trying to pick up those withered petals of the man you once loved so much… only to realize it was a dream. Another fucking nightmare.

Your very own personal hell created after you lost your flower.

To this day you get the zaps that you did the first day without him. And to this day it shakes you to your damn core.

After he left that last time, it was a mix of melancholy, relief, and a new kind of guilt. Relief because you no longer felt the guilt, it had been as if a weight was completely lifted off of your shoulders, rocks were taken away from your garden that sat on the soil and made your roots much too constricted to grow any more. But with the relief came a completely different kind of guilt.

Guilt that you felt relief at all, because if you love someone, why would you feel any relief at them being gone? You watched your flower be taken away by gardeners who didn’t know how to nourish him. That’s how it felt, anyway, when in reality he walked out on his own, respecting your wishes to end this. So feeling relief made you feel like scum at the same time. You loved this man and he loved you, he loved you so goddamn much. But he was weighing you down, and both of you became well aware that you would never flourish fully with the weight of him being married on your chest.

What you were doing was wrong. Ending it was right… right?

You grieved him heavily. It felt as if he died. As if even if you wanted to, you couldn’t reach out to him anymore. You couldn’t stare at his pretty petals colored in shades of you and him, you couldn’t touch them and water them and feed them. You couldn’t talk to him and hope your words fed him like food and encouragement to grow like you always did.

Although technically, you could. If you truly wanted to, you could have texted him or called him. Every night for the first two weeks, you would stay up and type long paragraphs to him declaring how much you regret ending it, how much you miss him, and how much you love him. Because you didn’t block his number at first. You couldn’t do it, it felt wrong. It felt like if you did that, you were severing the final tie that you would have to him. You didn’t have him on social media, so texting was really your only way of contact. Blocking him felt like it would be what really made this all real.

You felt like if you blocked him, surely he would keel over and die of a broken heart once he realized and finally tried to reach out again, because you knew damn well this man would reach out again at some point.

Which is ironic, because on the fourth week, an exact month later, he did reach out. You suspect maybe it was on accident, because he sent a long ass paragraph confessing how much he regretted it, how much he loves you, how much he misses you, and how much he hates his wife… but following the paragraph, he promptly apologized. Said it was an accident.

Before he deemed it as an ‘accident’, you were ready. You started typing back an acceptance, asking to see him again, borderline begging to see him again. But him admitting he didn’t mean to actually send it made you pause.

Made you realize how dangerous this man really was.

This was the night that you blocked his number.

And holy fuck, that made grieving ten times worse. Because now there was no string tethering you together. The very last root that kept you both twined together was ripped apart. He was like a ghost now, just a memory. Nothing in your life tied you to him other than the mementos he left behind.

The mementos which you obsessively held onto each day. You looked at the pictures he left every single day several times a day, you would literally just stare and cry. The chain he left remained on your neck like a god damn collar, you refused to take it off as if it was branded into your skin. You showered with it on, slept with it on, never took it off. The clothing he left you wore frequently, and you refused to wash them. But overtime, his scent faded. It faded into your own scent which made you question your sanity, because the less you smelt him on his jacket, hoodie, and shirt, the more you questioned was he ever even real?

Or was this all some fucked up delusion you made up out of loneliness and desperation to feel loved by someone? To love someone?

The dreams made it worse. Every single goddamn night you had dreams about him. It started out as good dreams, the kind of dreams that were reliving memories or making fantasies of forever come alive. Both of your flowers were immortal and at full bloom in these dreams, and it was the only moments of happiness you had. The only thing you could do to feel better was sleep, and so you did.

You slept as much as you could. On your days off of work, you would take sleeping pills that you didn’t need, and you would sleep 14 hours at a time, just to have these dreams and feel close to him again. Dreams of making love over and over, gardening together, cooking together, living together, getting married, having little babies that looked just like him, a complete fantasy world that you made in these dreams that provided solace.

But when you woke up, it was like the grieving process never progressed. It never got better. It only got worse. And in the back of your mind you knew how unhealthy it was to be sleeping so long, you knew that you were technically abusing sleeping medication, you knew that you were putting your job at risk by waking up late every single damn day and being late to work too, and you knew that your mental health was degrading.

You were fucking torturing yourself but you didn’t know how to stop.

After you blocked him though, it’s like the dreams morphed. They changed completely, turned morbid and disturbing. You have no idea why, maybe because in some way, you still were holding onto those rose colored glasses and refused to acknowledge the bad parts of the relationship you had with him. But severing that last point of contact seemed to have bring light onto the guilt you felt while you were with him, the jealousy, the misplaced possessiveness that he never even knew about.

Much like the dream you had tonight, the dreams were weird and distorted. They always started out sickly sweet but ended on a bitter note. Ended with him disintegrating into a pile of petals after proclaiming he was never yours and never would be.

This is when you stopped sleeping all together. Instead of taking sleeping pills that you really didn’t need and sleeping for way too long, you quit those pills cold turkey and started to develop insomnia. Quitting sleeping pills after taking them for an entire month should have been done slowly, because your body becomes dependent on them. If you quit them cold turkey, it prevents your body from producing the chemicals it needs to sleep, often leading to temporary or even a permanent case of insomnia. So you just started staying up. It was so easy, too. So easy to be tired rather than have those fucking nightmares.

If you did sleep, it was 2-3 hours at a time because your body couldn’t take being awake any longer. But you never allowed yourself to sleep for long, you simply couldn’t sleep peacefully. The moment the nightmares would begin, you would force yourself to wake up. You’d wake up in a cold sweat, and then you’d cry for fucking hours. You’d feel guilty and jealous over shit you should’ve gotten over by now.

Sometimes, on really bad days, his wife would appear in these dreams too. And it fucked you up. A faceless woman would catch you in bed with Jungkook, and she would scream and cry and yell, blame you for ruining her marriage and her future, and then Jungkook would become faceless too. As if you never really knew him.

Things became bad, to say the least. Three months into grieving, heartbreak, fucking hell on earth, you were very unwell. And it became noticeable to those around you.

Which was arguably the worst part, because no one knew what was wrong or what was going on. Obviously you never told anyone about Jungkook, why the fuck would you? Sleeping with a married man and falling in love with him isn’t something to brag about. As much as he was your most treasured memory, he was also your most dirty secret. You doubted if you did tell anyone, they would feel any sympathy for you. Especially considering you continued to sleep with him after finding out he was married. You did this to yourself, really. No one feels sympathy for a fucking home wrecker.

That’s what you felt you were. A home wrecker, a mistress, the other woman. This wasn’t some case of you being fucked over by some sleazy guy who hid his marriage from you, you were both at fault, you both did wrong, and you felt like you deserved to suffer in silence. So you did.

You didn’t go out with your little group of friends anymore, you constantly made excuses and told those around you that you were fine, just a little depressed. You hid it well… until you didn’t. It became fucking impossible to hide when you felt like you were dying on the inside.

You work at a little art studio/store downtown, it isn’t much but it pays the bills and you’re happy doing it. You were, anyway. You were designated to instruct the themed classes that are hosted every night. You aren’t a professional by any means, you just love to paint, you love art, and you used to love seeing the lovers and families come in to have fun and learn how to paint silly little pictures with you.

But during the grieving process, you became noticeably bad at your job. You would show up late to the morning classes, you weren’t selling as much art supplies as you used to, and the night classes are what really started fucking you up. The night classes were normally full of couples who were on dates… dates you never got to indulge in with he-who-shall-not-be-fucking-named.

You would become bitter during these classes. Previously you were peppy, a bit funny, and very encouraging to those who wanted to learn. But you became dull. Of course you didn’t take out your feelings on these innocent customers, but the classes just weren’t as fun for the people paying for them.

Your coworkers noticed heavily. Your boss isn’t a bad guy, but he knew something was very off with you. The girls you worked with also noticed, more specifically Sohee who had continuously asked you if you were ok and tried to get you to confess what the fuck was causing you to become a lifeless zombie who had nothing but guilt and bitterness behind her eyes.

Your performance and constant attendance issues should have gotten you fired, really. You were almost betting that your boss would fire you at some point. But he didn’t, instead he awkwardly begged Sohee to get to the bottom of what was going on because even if you were sort of shit at your job at the moment, he was mostly worried. Everyone was worried, and you never even realized it.

Never realized how fucking obvious it was that this was heartbreak caused by love.

Of course you didn’t tell Sohee outright. You refused to. You were going to take this shit to your grave, you swore it. God and satan and Jeon Jungkook would be the only ones who knew that this shit ever happened.

Until she took you out for drinks, and you got shit faced drunk and spilled your dirty soil all over the place for her to see.

All it took was three bottles of soju and seeing a couple making out in the booth across from you to make you confess it all. Sohee listened, and you were sure she was going to chastise you and call you a dirty home wrecking whore after you were done.

But she never did. She only listened and consoled you.

She didn’t make you feel guilty and she didn’t undermine your feelings. She rubbed your back and wiped your tears like the Angel she is, and she told you it was ok. She told you that sometimes mistakes are the best things that can happen to us, even if they’re supposed to be mistakes. She held your hand and coaxed you out of the dirt, wanted you to see that your feelings were valid and you didn’t have to feel guilty for them.

On the other hand, she was also brutally honest. She asked curious questions, and when she found out you had been ‘grieving’ for nearly three months now, she scolded you. Not because what you did was wrong, but because you weren’t taking care of yourself. You were fucking torturing yourself and it wasn’t ok.

Everyone grieves after breaking up. That’s normal. Although this technically wasn’t a breakup, it somehow felt much worse because of that very fucking reason. It wasn’t a breakup, but felt like one.

What isn’t normal is never making progress in grieving. Instead of getting better and moving on, you stayed stagnant. Everything around you was changing, spring turning into summer and then turning into autumn, leaf’s changing from vibrant to warm and muted, people and places moving on about their days all while you stayed stuck in the same exact spot in your own head. A self made prison.

She explained how it wasn’t normal, how you probably needed to get help. How it’s ok to feel this way, but it isn’t ok to neglect and torture yourself. You needed help, and you knew it, you weren’t coping properly. But you were also stubborn.

Because despite being fucking sick with grief for Jungkook, you were also worried. You swore in your head that he wasn’t ok. Fuck, what if he’s actually dead? What if he’s being dumb? Is he even taking care of himself? How badly is her hurting? What if he’s lonely?

The main reason you couldn’t move on is because, again, guilt. It fucking plagued you still, but it was different. You convinced yourself that he was just as unwell as you, he fucking must be. Which made you feel as if you weren’t allowed to move on and try to be happy, or even ok. You tortured yourself for both selfless and selfish reasons. You didn’t know how to stop.

That same night, you stayed at Sohee’s place. She was determined to knock some damn sense into you. You weren’t super close prior to this, but she genuinely could not stand seeing you so dead inside. She felt awful for you, and she was a good friend. Sometimes good friends have to be a bit harsh to get through.

So as you were on her couch sulking, watching TV, she asked questions about Jungkook. You didn’t think anything of it. You rambled on and on about Jungkook, assuming she was just letting you get it all out. You didn’t think anything of it when she asked for his full name and birthday, or when she asked you to describe what he looked like, or when she asked what his occupation was.

But boy, the moment she shoved her phone in your face while you were rambling on and on about how he reminded you of a flower, you suddenly regretted telling her anything.

“You need to get your shit together, because he’s doing just fine.” She told you, and at first you refused to look. Because you didn’t want to know what was on her phone screen.

What would be the damning evidence that you’d been torturing yourself while he was actually moving on, rather than suffering with you.

But she was just as stubborn as you were, and she made you look. You did. And you swear a part of you healed and broke all at once.

You have no idea how the fuck this crazy bitch did it, but she found his wife’s Instagram. Finding his account is one thing, but hers? The faceless woman who was haunting your nightmares and accusing you of ruining her life? The faceless woman who now has a face and a name and an entire fucking life for you to see?

A life with your flower, your lover, your ultimate fucking demise. All right in front of you.

You were silent as you scrolled. So many curiosities that you held in the past were now answered. Such as how she looked… and she was gorgeous. She had wavy honey blond hair which was clearly dyed but looked so perfect on her, most of her pictures she had blue contacts in that hid her pretty brown eyes but still somehow made her look ethereal, she was fit with the perfect body, her makeup was natural but flawless… she was flawless in every way.

You gathered that she is a journalist that specializes in fashion. She’s often traveling just as Jungkook used to claim when he was with you. She goes to fancy fashion shows and takes pictures and writes articles. So professional and put together in every way.

Nothing like you. And at first, you caught yourself comparing yourself to her harshly. Wondering what she had that you didn’t…

Until you scrolled to her most recent posts.

And your lover stared at you through the screen mockingly.

First you saw a picture of them kissing. Jungkook was smiling onto her lips. The caption reads ‘He flew us to LA just so I could see Coachella’. This was posted two months ago.

Two months ago… not long after you ended things.

Two months ago when you were crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe or see, calling out for him to come back to you… while he was at fucking Coachella with his wife.

Was he ever even grieving? Did he ever even care?

You silently scrolled on, and one more post is all you fucking needed.

Posted today, another picture of them kissing, on a yacht at night. ‘Throwback to our honeymoon, can’t believe it was 3 years ago, he’s taking me to Japan for our anniversary to recreate it!’

He went on a fucking vacation while you were on your coworkers couch babbling about how much you love and miss him and how he’s prettier than a flower.

How fucking shitty does that feel?

The emotions happened quickly. You felt resentment, jealousy, anger, maybe even hatred towards them both. You had been suffering for months while he was at Coachella after you fucking blocked him. You had been worried this entire time when he had been doing just fine all along.

It felt like he did you wrong in a way… but those feelings went away just as quickly as they came.

Because this is what you wanted. As much as it fucking stings, you literally told him ‘love your wife more’. You meant it. Not just for his wife’s sake, but for his. He didn’t want to leave her, so he should at least try to love her again. Fuck, all you wanted was for him to be happy.

No matter how jealous or bitter you felt at actually seeing him happy, it brought you a sense of peace knowing that maybe he wasn’t suffering like you assumed. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was ok. Maybe his wife did love him and was nurturing him back to health without even knowing it.

It didn’t make it hurt any less, but it really did give you a bit of clarity.

Of course you cried about it. Fuck, you cried and cried and cried, enough to water an entire bush of flowers at that point. The only difference was this time, you weren’t alone. Sohee was with you, consoling you through it, letting you vent your feelings and frustrations. Letting you grieve.

But this time, you want to grieve proper. If he’s happy, you deserve to be happy too…

You are so thankful for Sohee because without her, you’re sure you may have withered away completely.

Shortly after this new sense of clarity, Sohee started helping you slowly pick up pieces of yourself. Petals and leafs and vines and roots, all scattered amongst the dirt, all slowly started gathering together.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to put these pieces back together. You can’t nurture a flower back to health once it’s died, after all… but you can start fresh.

You and Sohee became good friends, she helped you find healthier coping mechanisms, let you cry when you need to, let you vent when you can’t keep it in anymore, and most importantly she let you share the good memories you had with Jungkook. She never made you feel guilty, she just listened. And you are so fucking thankful for that.

And as time went on, you did get better slowly. After seeing what you saw, it was much easier to feel ok with trying to be happy. The guilt was mostly gone at this point, and all you wanted was to focus on yourself. Your sleep slowly got better, the nightmares slowly went away, and although you aren’t the same, you aren’t as dull either.

You start painting again, painting has always been one of your favorite things. You used to paint all the time, mostly portraits of those you loved… portraits of him after you first met became your favorite thing to paint. All of those are tucked away in a closet now though, along with the many pictures you have of him, because you don’t need any reminders of him of you can help it. Which is kind of a contradiction considering your favorite thing to paint now is flowers… but we don’t have to talk about that.

It takes time to heal and grieve after you cut the chord with someone who you swore you’d live and die with. It takes extra time when you never really started to move on to begin with. But you do start healing. Maybe you aren’t as social as you once were, maybe you’re lonelier now, maybe you’re starting to realize you still don’t know yourself quite as much as you thought you did.

But you’re making progress… slowly. No longer a flower that’s at full bloom, but also no longer a flower that’s wilting. Just a seed, your own seed that you water and care for rather than relying on someone else to do it for you.

And although you are now the one taking care of your own flower, Sohee is helping. Rather than relying on someone to water and feed your plant, you’re doing it together. You water, she feeds. Vice versa. Teamwork. Progress. You aren’t codependent, you’re just accepting help from a friend that you swear is an Angel sent from above. You are so thankful for her.

She pushes you, too. After she sees you started to paint and do ok at work again, she pushed some more. She constantly tried to get you to go out, meet new people, meet new guys specifically. Something that made you feel sick to think about, but also you slowly started missing having someone to love on. Someone to share affection and laughter with that wasn’t just a friend. You knew she was right, even if you didn’t actually date someone, it would be great progress if you actually put yourself out there and were open to the idea of letting someone in romantically, even just a little bit.

Someone who’s actually available for more than secret trysts.

Which is why you let Sohee set you up on a date. You’ve grown to trust Sohee heavily, maybe a bit too much. But fuck, no one can blame you for that when she is the one who dug up your dirty secrets and instead of judging you, helped you through it. She comforted you when you didn’t know how to comfort yourself. So you trust her judgment heavily, and if she thinks you should try to date, you think she’s right.

And Sohee has great taste in men, you’ve seen it first hand. She’s shared various stories with you about her hookups and exes, and the girl has similar taste as you, maybe just a bit more adventurous. A blind date with a man of Sohee’s choice doesn’t sound so bad.

You really didn’t expect the date to turn into anything, or even be enjoyable. You mostly did it because it was a step in the right direction of fully moving on. You were planning on trying to put yourself out there, sure, but you never planned to actually like the guy.

You didn’t expect Sohee to set you up with a man who looked like he could be a fucking model. You didn’t expect him to be your exact type. And you didn’t expect him to be so goddamn sweet and put together.

The moment you saw this man you knew you were in trouble. The moment he opened his mouth, you also knew you were in trouble. You were fucking terrified at the prospect of actually liking someone other than Jungkook. Even just being attracted to someone else felt wrong…

Shit, most days looking at your dildo felt wrong. You couldn’t even fucking use it.

So you were a bit of a nervous wreck when this man picked you up to wine and dine you. You weren’t nervous before you saw his face or heard his voice. But you were once you came face to face with him, it was as if he had a sign on his head that said ‘MOVE ON Y/N’, bright and neon, mocking you the entire night.

But as the night went on, you found this man wasn’t quite as intimidating as he seemed. He asked questions, wanted to get to know you, seemed genuinely interested in you as a person. He was nice to look at. Was pretty to listen to. He didn’t act bored either when you didn’t ask him questions, in fact, he answered the silent questions in your head without you even asking.

He could tell you were nervous, and although he didn’t know the true reason behind it, he thought it was adorable. Thought to himself, thank fuck for Sohee and her pretty friends. Because he was genuinely enamored with you.

He didn’t see the wilted flower that Jungkook did, or the dead flower mocking you every time you looked into the mirror. He saw a pretty little wildflower that he wanted to pick and take home with him.

You learned quite a bit about him that night despite never really asking. He worked in marketing for a fashion design company, fairly close to where you work, a 9-5 that gave him weekends off and paid vacation, full benefits too. He had a dog named Simba who he loved like a child. He didn’t have many hobbies but he did enjoy bar hopping and hanging out with his group of friends who he talked fondly of. He takes good care of himself, cares about his appearance and fashion choices, takes pride in being handsome, even has a fucking skincare routine that he talked about for nearly five minutes… but he’s still humble somehow. Doesn’t seem narcissistic or conceited, just sure of himself. Confident. He knows his worth, but also knows his place.

You really liked that, considering you haven’t been quite so confident lately.

He has a friend who he called Tae that he speaks highly of, you can tell he loves his friends dearly. He described him as a big teddy-bear-man-child, which makes him seem very loveable. Apparently they don’t exactly share the same friend group but they come together often.

His relationship history… he was kind of vague. He said he has had a few serious relationships, but they never last because the woman loses interest in him, and he hasn’t actually dated in nearly two years, but has had casual flings…

This could be seen as a red flag. Or… maybe he was hurt, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. You know damn well how that feels, in fact, he asked you about your dating history, and you were incredibly vague.

What were you supposed to say? ‘Ah, well, every relationship I have had so far failed, but I was with one guy who I loved more than anything in the world, but it didn’t work out because he was married. Oops!’

Yeah, no, fuck that. It was hard enough being honest with Sohee, she had to get you drunk for you to even confess. There’s was no damn way you were going to tell him.

You didn’t lie. You just said you were in a bit of a situationship with someone you grew feelings for, and when it ended it hurt very badly. Vague, but true. He doesn’t need to know details.

He never even asked for details, which surprised you. In fact, he said “It’s ok, we don’t have to rush into anything, I get it. But try to be open with me, yeah? I really like you so far.”

Too good to be true. Or maybe, just maybe, Sohee sent you an Angel in disguise, one she met while she became an Angel herself. Maybe he really is a good guy, and you got lucky for once. Maybe your karma for the things you did with Jungkook was your suffering in the beginning of grieving, and now you have a chance to redeem yourself.

You were tempted to cast him out after this night together. Because you were afraid. What was the catch? What was he hiding? Is he a serial killer? Is he even real? Are you making up these men in your head or something?

You had a decision to make: you could make the decision to take more time for yourself, count this as you putting yourself out there… or you could give him a chance. See where it goes.

You chose the latter.

You explained to him as he walked you to your door that you weren’t ready for something serious, but you enjoyed spending time with him too. And he was ok with that. He said he’d like to take you out again anyway, and you agreed.

An easy routine began after this. The dates following the first one were tame and relaxed but always so nice. It was sort of healing in a way, honestly. He was so kind and always went at your pace, let you control everything. He’d be the one taking you out, but you got to set the pace. He never tried to kiss or touch either, never pressured you to move things faster. Eventually you started spending every weekend together, and often weekdays too. He’d bring you lunch or dinner at work and eat with you, he’d visit your apartment, sometimes you’d even go to his. You started spending the night together, he left his toothbrush at your apartment and you left yours at his.

This all happened within the span of the last few months, so maybe it was a bit fast, but you just did things as they felt right.

And yes, eventually you kissed. Eventually you touched. Eventually you fucked. And you were surprised that you didn’t feel guilty after. You felt… fine. The sex wasn’t out of this world, it was fairly vanilla, but you actually managed to finish and feel good about it afterward.

You think a lot of that had to do with the fact that you were touch starved, hadn’t been with anyone since that last night with Jungkook. Ironically, also like an addict quitting cold turkey. You went from getting touched and fuck at least three times a week, to nothing at all. Could barely even touch yourself properly. But also… he was good in bed. He was fine. It wasn’t too much or too little and he paid close attention to the way your body reacted, he didn’t just act like a wild animal chasing release like most men do.

The day you slept with him was the day you stopped thinking about Jungkook so much. It was like as time went on and you broke these little boundaries for yourself, little petals you held onto flew away with the wind. The petals weighed barely anything, but felt like they weighed the same as bricks.

Did you forget about him? Fuck no. You never could. You still think of him daily. You wonder how he’s doing, if he’s ok, if he’s happy… if he thinks of you too. But it isn’t compulsive like it once was, he doesn’t consume you. He’s just a memory you go back to.

Or maybe you’re in denial.

Because even then… you still wear his chain, you still sleep in his shirt, you still wear his hoodie around the house, and as the months grow colder, your jacket remains the cozy Calvin Klein denim that he gifted you.

You still look at the pictures, maybe not every night, but often. Relive the memories. Wonder if he does the same.

You still stalk his wife’s Instagram. Not obsessively, but every now and then you’ll check to see if she has posted more pictures of them. And most times, she hasn’t. But there are a few new ones… pictures of him smiling that scrunched up smile you’ve always loved, pictures of them together, and pictures of her alone. A reminder to yourself that you have no place in his life… that’s the reason for doing it you chalk it up to, anyway.

And every damn time Seojoon brings you a bouquet of flowers, which is weekly, you can’t fucking help but think of your Jeon Jungkook.

So… maybe you are in denial. But also, you’re coping, you’re moving on. You haven’t fully let him go yet, you’re not sure if you can, but you have been doing fine. You’ve been closer to happy than you have been ever since that last night with him.

He isn’t consuming your thoughts and feelings like he was in the beginning, but he is still very much there in your heart. Despite his petals floating away, some of his roots remain underneath the soil. He’s there… but not.

Which is why tonight’s dream has you so fucking shaken up.

You haven’t dreamed of him in months now. Ever since you started coping more healthily, the dreams faded along with the hurt and resentment. No nightmares. No dreams. Nothing. Just peaceful sleep.

You lay there panting, trying to calm your heart rate down by thinking of things that aren’t him. You look at the clock and realize it’s only 8pm, you barely even remember falling asleep so early. Seojoon agreed to come over after work tonight, but had to stay late at the office to finish some project or something. You must’ve dozed off waiting for him.

You don’t want to start the cycle again, but fuck, you sure as hell won’t be going to sleep again either. Not until Seojoon gets here, anyway.

Things with Seojoon remain smooth, uncomplicated. You’ve been seeing each other for a good three months now, and although there is no title to what you are, you’re basically dating at this point. You wouldn’t call him your boyfriend necessarily, but also you’re exclusive to him.

You like how things are. It’s nice. It’s not stressful, and you don’t have to hide. So when you have the sudden impulse to push him away and tell him you need space, you keep repeating in your head that you can’t let one nightmare fuck it all up. It was just a nightmare.

That’s all.

Instead of isolating like you normally would, and texting Seojoon to tell him not to come, you get out of bed and take off the oversized CK T-shirt and put on your dedicated painting T-shirt which is stained in various colors of paint, far too vibrant for the mood you’re currently in.

You set up the corner of your room as you always do, break out your easel and canvas and various paints, put on your painting playlist on Spotify, and you tell yourself that this is coping. This is a healthy way to cope. No, it’s not dwelling, it’s coping.

It’s coping, you’re sure.

You’re totally not freaking out about the fact that your flower became faceless in this dream, or that he was incredibly angry and cold towards you, or that he ended up disintegrating right in front of your fucking eyes again.

You’re totally not worried that you forgot what he looked like. Not at all. This is just coping.

And so you paint. You don’t really know where you’re going with it, and try to ignore the fact that you are trying to paint a portrait of someone who is now a ghost to you from memory alone. You don’t think of anything, really, you just let your hands move on their own accord.

You have no idea how much time passes before you’re standing before the painting you’ve created, questioning it. Pretending that you can’t quite remember how the eyes or mouth are supposed to look.

You know. You know well. You haven’t forgotten his face, the nose you’ve painted onto the faceless man is proof alone that you have not forgotten. Such a unique nose, a bit big, pointy, perfect in the most imperfect way. How could you forget such a beautiful piece of art carved by god himself?

It’s quite the opposite, really. You stare at the painting for a long time hoping it starts to distort. Hoping that you won’t recognize the single feature you’ve managed to capture. Hoping that somehow, someway, you’ll remember a different set of eyes and lips and beauty marks that don’t belong to the nose staring at you right now.

You start to feel a bit crazy, honestly. This faceless man with only a nose and petals falling off of his skin seems almost too real. Too close. It’s been over half a year now that you’ve seen him, yet here he is fucking haunting you after you swore you were over him.

You are, you still swear. You have to be.

You take your paint brush and glob a streak of bright red paint on it, you’re ready to destroy the canvas because for some fucking reason it won’t distort. You can’t stand looking at it anymore. So you huff, bring your paintbrush to the canvas and—

“That’s gorgeous.”

Fuck.

You slowly turn your head to see Seojoon standing against your bedroom door frame. Suddenly, you sort of regret giving him your spare key, because if he hadn’t spoken up sooner, he would’ve just witnessed you defiling the goddamn painting as if it killed your family. He would’ve thought you were psychotic.

“Ah, thanks. I was just messing around with some ideas I had…”

He arches a brow at you, and even his eyes find the painting again. You nearly feel yourself break a sweat, because what if he asks questions? What if he realizes this wasn’t just you messing around like some quirky art girlie, but this is an actual person you’ve painted?

The same person you vaguely told him about. The man that was never yours, but somehow is still managing to fuck with your head. If he caught on, he may ask questions, and you can’t explain. You’d have to lie.

That’s how you feel, anyway. And you can’t have that.

He lets out an intrigued sigh as he pushes off of the door frame and takes his blazer off, makes his way towards you. He stands right behind you, encircling your waist in his arms and resting his chin on the top of your head, just like Jung—

“That’s very intricate for just messing around babe. What’s it mean?”

He doesn’t sound accusing when he asks, just curious. Seojoon is always curious to know what goes on in your head, especially when it comes to the way you express yourself. And he has no fucking idea who is in this painting, if it’s anyone at all, but he knows he gets an odd feeling in his stomach when he looks at it.

You merely shrug in response as you put your paintbrush down and lean into his touch. This is the question you didn’t want to answer. Although his tone isn’t accusing, you know what he’s really asking: ‘who the fuck is that?’

You’re torn between being vague and lying outright. Lying is never good in a relationship… although you aren’t technically in a relationship to begin with. But again, this is something you will not discuss with him. You don’t want to. And you know in the back of your mind that lying and sneaking around is the very thing that fucked with your head to begin with, but…

Sometimes white lies are necessary… right?

“Doesn’t really mean anything, I was just going with the flow. Not sure who it is, can’t quite figure out the eyes or mouth.” You gesture lazily with one of your hands, placing your free hand on top of his on your tummy.

No need to tell him you know exactly who the fuck this is and you haven’t added the eyes or the mouth because you think you might have a psychotic break if you see his face again.

Seojoon isn’t stupid though. He can tell you’re lying. But he won’t call you out on it. He can tell maybe this is sensitive to you, maybe whoever this is hurt you… and also, he is no stranger to little white lies.

Nothing is ever as pretty as it seems, is it?

He nods, kisses the top of your head. But he can’t quite hear his eyes away from the painting because… it looks so familiar. He can’t place it, maybe he’s just reading into it too much but he swears he knows that nose.

“Huh. Looks kinda familiar. Don’t know why though.”

Immediately you feel alarm bells going off in your head. Why the fuck would it look familiar? It’s a nose on a face that’s otherwise faceless… it’s also kind of morbid looking.

You get this feeling in your gut that you don’t like, but immediately choose to ignore. Because you convince yourself this is anxiety being mixed up with intuition. You often question yourself these days, because you’re paranoid karma is coming for you. But you have to remind yourself that your feelings are valid, you suffered enough, no need to let the lingering guilt you feel over the past affect mundane moments like this.

It’s just anxiety, surely. It’s such a basic nose, it could belong to anyone. It’s a faceless fucking painting, he can’t possibly know who that nose belongs to.

Bullshit.

“Looks familiar because it’s not finished. Who knows, maybe it’s you.”

You tease him, nudging your ass into him which earns you a little grunt. You let out a half hearted giggle and shake your head… when in reality the mere idea of him being in the painting makes you feel sick. It’s not that you don’t want to paint Seojoon, or that you don’t think he’s pretty…

It’s because you know that nose belongs to someone else, the entire concept of this painting is based upon someone else. It could never be Seojoon.

Time to change the subject.

You remove his arms from around your waist and decide you’re done with painting for the night. Seojoon is here now, no need to dwell on the faceless flower man who haunts your dreams like a goddamn ghost.

You walk over to your dresser and take a makeup wipe to start wiping the little specs of paint from your face and arms as you ask, “How was work? You were super late tonight.”

Again, not accusatory. Just curious, because he doesn’t often stay this late for work. Maybe a few hours at a time but never this late into the night.

You’re too focused on getting the paint off of your skin to notice the way he avoids looking at you.

He begins unbuttoning his shirt as he speaks casually, “Ah, was fine. Nothing new. Some idiot fucked up the powerpoint presentation for one of our projects and I had to stay to clean up their mess, you know how it is.”

You really don’t know how it is, but you nod along anyway, you aren’t really paying attention. Just wanna hear about his day.

Maybe you should pay attention.

Before you can speak up, he continues, “Oh, that reminds me, Taehyung invited me to a little potluck type deal tomorrow night with some friends. Was gonna see if you’d wanna come, would be a great chance for you to meet some of my buddies.”

For some reason you get a bit of anxiety at the thought of meeting his friends. You’re not sure why, but again, that feeling in your gut persists. You chalk it up to the fact you’re on edge and paranoid because Seojoon walked in on something you feel he should not have. That damn cursed painting.

Anxiety over intuition. Surely.

You’ve yet to meet his friends, so it is kind of overdue. There’s no real reason as to why, it just hasn’t come up yet. He’s met plenty of your friends, sharing Sohee as a friend means you share other friends too. But you’ve still yet to meet his best friend or even his friend group.

You’ve heard a lot about them, Tae specifically, and he seems lovely. You want to meet him, meet all of them… so you aren’t sure why you have anxiety about it.

Get a grip, Y/N, one nightmare doesn’t mean it’s the end of the fucking world and everything bad is about to happen.

But even then, you ask hesitantly as you throw your makeup wipe away, “You sure? I don’t wanna be the annoying ‘girlfriend’ who wasn’t invited.”

He snorts at that, and shakes his head as he flops onto your bed with his shirt now open and loose with his belt undone. He places his hands behind behind his head as he stares at you, “Can’t be the annoying girlfriend when you aren’t my girlfriend babe.”

He arches a brow, sticks his tongue out playfully. He isn’t scolding you or pressuring you, not that you’re aware of, but is definitely hinting to the fact that you’ve both sort of avoided the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing up to this point.

You’ve avoided it because… well, you don’t know really. You just haven’t felt the need to label it, and if you’re being honest, you’re not sure if you’re ready for the label. On one hand, it’s just a label. So it isn’t that serious. Nothing would change really because you’re already exclusive to each other… that’s what you assume, anyway.

On another hand, it feels more permanent. For some reason it makes you feel pressured into admitting things you don’t quite want to admit. If he were to ask curious questions that he has yet to ask, you wouldn’t be able to lie about them under the guise of it being too private and personal.

You just might have to be honest about the flower who made you bloom and wilt all at once. The flower that was never really yours, but is the entire reason you’re hesitant to commit, despite never committing to that very flower.

He hasn’t made a move to make it official either though, although that’s purely out of respect. Little do you know, all of his friends know you as his girlfriend. His coworkers too. He’s already added that label. But out of ‘respect’ to you, he hasn’t told you that and hasn’t pressured you to add the label yourself. He did say he would go at your pace, after all…

That’s what he allows you to think, anyway. Seojoon is only a man…

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You retort as you grab a little hair clip and toss it at him, and then go back to your dresser with a huff, start undressing and finding something comfy to wear for bed. Not the CK T-shirt this time. You don’t feel right wearing it in bed with Seojoon.

He shamelessly stares at you as you undress, his eyes becoming a bit heavy lidded as he speaks, “I know I know, but they want you there. They all wanna meet you, I talk about you a lot on our nights out. You could impress them by making something yummy. Please?" He playfully pouts at you and you roll your eyes. You don't miss how his eyes remain glued to your ass even as he pouts, which in most cases is flattering... but tonight you aren't really in the mood. For very unobvious reasons to him, but painfully obvious reasons to you.

You know that he’s right though, you need to meet his friends. It’s not as serious as it feels. It’s only fair to him. You make your way over to the bed, crawl on, and snuggle up to him as you say, “I guess I’m just nervous… but I’ll go.”

He instinctively lifts his arm up so that you can nuzzle into him, his hand trails down your back, then to your ass where he squeezes, “Don’t be nervous, they’re just my friends, and they already love you from what I’ve told them about you. Some of the guys will even have their wives or girlfriends there so you can have girl time or whatever,”

You don’t wanna be pessimistic… but being with his friends and their spouses adds a bit more pressure… especially considering you aren’t technically his girlfriend.

He leans in, whispers in your ear as he squeezes your ass again, “Who knows, maybe they’ll even be jealous I’ve got such a pretty not-girlfriend.”

He chuckles and kisses the top of your head, makes no move to escalate things beyond squeezing your ass. He definitely wants to, but he won’t. Your pace and all that.

It’s true though, he’s excited for you to meet his friends. Even more excited at the prospect of them being jealous. He nearly brags about you on nights out with them because you are so unlike any girl he has been with before.

Seojoon is hot shit and he knows it. He’s one of those men that woman see on the street and think ‘damn I want him.’ He’s used to woman being willing to drop to their knees just for a chance with him. He’s used to woman going at his pace…

But you, you’re different. Because even though he was handsome, even though you were clearly into him from the start, you made him work for it. It’s different because woman are usually willing to do whatever he wants. But you, you had boundaries. You still have boundaries. You’re skittish like a stray cat, one wrong move and you may kick him to the damn curb. He has to earn you and your trust… he has to chase you.

And oh, he loves that. As much as he itches to put a label on it, he’s more than willing to be the one doing whatever you want at your pace. It’s kind of like wanting something he can’t have… it’s the thrill of it. And he’s proud of the fact that you have stayed this long, you’ve yet to push him away.

Maybe it’s not official, but it’s exclusive. That’s what you both think it’s supposed to be, anyway. Although his friends already know you as his girlfriend, and so do his coworkers. In his head, you are his girl. You don’t have to admit it, but you are. The label won’t change things as him and his friends see it, considering it was already there.

His little wildflower that he picked on the side of the rode, out of place on the side of a street full of cars. He put you in a little vase and slowly waters you with security and gives you freedom in the form of sunlight.

Even though you’re unaware that you sit stagnant in a vase on his kitchen counter… just like you’re unaware that you’re his girlfriend.

Some things you just don’t need to know. It’ll happen anyway, he’s sure of it. You’ll agree to be his soon.

But if you did know… if you knew that he was currently comparing you to any sort of flower, especially a fucking wild flower, while simultaneously considering you his girl when you never agreed… you just night have called it all off.

Flower comparisons are reserved for a man who’s faceless painting is staring at you right now. For you and him only. Not Seojoon… no matter what he is to you.

Bur you don’t know. You haven’t a damn clue. So he’s in the clear for now.

You roll your eyes at him, find the little hair clip that you threw at him sitting on the pillow. You pick it up, put it in his hair as you mutter, “Whateverrr. I doubt it.” And then promptly nuzzle into him again.

You do, in your head you don’t think there’s anything to be jealous of. But him? He thinks you’re the perfect arm candy. Every one of his friends will be surprised when they get to know you themselves considering you’re unlike his usual type, sort of an enigma. And then he’ll get to tell stories about your time together and exaggerate them to make them even better.

He’s excited. Much more excited than you are.

You both fall asleep soon after that, keeping up the idle chatter until you drift off. Thankfully, no more nightmares or dreams of your faceless flower man. Although it isn’t a peaceful sleep, it’s quiet. Always is better when sleeping next to someone.

Makes it easy to ignore that tiny bit of loneliness that you can’t quite ignore when no one else is around. The loneliness that you swore was gone until tonight. You can only hope that tomorrow these feelings will be gone, and the faceless man watching you sleep through a painting crafted by your hands will disappear from your thoughts when you wake up.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook angst #bts fanfction #bts imagines #bts smut #18+ only #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #i love jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction

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mrghostrat · 4 months

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psa if you send me an ask and it never sees the light of day, please don't take it personally. i read every single message (i crave them. i yearn) but when i say i don't like spamming my dash i am anxiously serious. i hate posting a lot at once, have a visceral aversion to long posts (despite tumblr giving us a perfectly good J key), and don't like to speak if i have nothing to say.

then i feel anxious about 'ignoring' people thphtfdsj it's a lose/lose i'm sorry i'm a nightmare to engage with

if you send me a compliment or reaction to a fic chapter, i will adore it but probably won't post it (unless i can reply privately).

if you send me something long with pictures and paragraphs, i will adore it but feel anxious about posting it, then put it off for so long that it just stays in my inbox forever.

if you send me a question but it's buried under paragraphs, i will also feel anxious about posting it if i've already posted a lot that day, so i might take a few days to answer

but if you've sent me a question (especially an advice one) and i don't reply immediately, it's 100% because i'm intending to sit down and give it my undivided attention, and am just waiting for a day that i can spend on it

i know tumblr isn't meant to be a neat minimalist gallery viewing experience, but i am a naturally quiet person who flusters in messy conditions and worries about being too loud, even in this silent text based format.

it's not just asks: my queue is limited to twice a day (just bumped it to 3, since the end of the queue was due for MARCH) and i have over 100 posts in there just because i don't want to spam when i'm online. is why i live in the tags. and even though i reblog things willy nilly, i'm adamant to tag all my original posts (whether it's wips or personal or selfies) so the knowledge that they're easily blacklistable makes me feel less guilty about babbling.

#like the violent urge to shove half of this under a cut hhhngn but i want ppl to see #i need u to know i love you and that im dumb #ghost scribbles #did you know you can hit j on your keyboard to scroll down a post? and k to go back again #so relieved that's still a feature from my veteran days

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limepigeon · 4 months

Text

Fallen Hero Fanzine 2024 - Info and Theme Poll

All info is under the cut since I don't want to clutter your dash too much! EDIT: Tumblr hates multiple choices for Polls apparently, you can vote but also write in replies (or send anonymous through dm, but please don't send multiple of the same option to get what you want, let's keep it fair!) if you want to vote for more than one option! (Sorry for the inconvenience!)

Hi everyone!

Since I got the feedback on the interest check for a possible Fallen Hero Fanzine it seems like we have some interest and I’ve been looking into various ways we could do this. As I’m big on collaboration and everyone getting a say, I was thinking that deciding on a theme for the zine could be our first collaborative step.

I’ve made a poll (found further down in this post) with 7 options for you to vote on. Descriptions/explanations are found right below the poll so make sure to read those before casting your vote. We’re keeping this first zine sfw, please keep that in mind if suggesting themes of your own. Voting doesn’t tie you to contributing to the zine.

Jumping into something headfirst without knowing what you’ll find on the other side is scary, that’s why I’ve written a short list of what I have in mind for this zine.

The zine will be 100% free and non-profit, this also means no compensation for the contributors. Theme: TBD through majority vote Number of contributors: Max 30 (I would love to have more but, unless someone can help me with admin stuff, I think that’s my limit for how much organising and planning I can do on my own). Rating: SFW. Innuendos, cursing, violence and the like is okay but not straight up sex. Format: Digital/e-zine, with permission to print at home for personal use only. I will put together a bonus version made for easy to print at home, with instructions for how to assemble it. Media types allowed: Any visual media suited for print as long as it’s your own (e.g. illustrations, sketches, photography, collages, short comics, cosplay etc). Keep in mind that if you make a collage or mood board, all pictures must be your own (or have the rights to). Any writing as long as it’s your own (e.g. short stories, poetry, analyses, personal anecdotes etc). Pages in zine per contributor: 2. Time frame and deadlines: TBD but I plan on us having it finished around September/October of 2024, with some reservations.

I hope this has been informative so far, if you have questions you can either reply to this post (so everyone else can see the question and reply), or dm me if you want to be anonymous.

Now, let’s get to voting on a theme! Descriptions for themes under the poll.

Nemesis - More action focused, showdowns, heroes and villains battling it out in their suits! Some softer moments could fit in here as well but if too many opt towards it I might steer some of the submissions to make sure the zine in whole stays on theme. Coming Home - New beginnings, finding your place. It could be sweet and cozy, finding friends, or stepping into your own skin for the first time. Interpret as you like, but the main focus should be on the concept of “home”, whatever that means to you or the characters you choose to portray. Los Diablos - Snippets and snapshots from the city and lives you are sworn to protect or destroy. HG’s lair, Herald’s apartment, or a sewer (sorry, secret base), as well as the people found in these places. Nightmares - The bad vibes (tm) one. The Heartbreak Incident, decanting, paranoia, all the nasty bits you don’t want people to find. This one is open to more possible body horror than the other themes. Ship specific - Pick this one if you want a more romance focused theme, and specify in replies which characters you’d want in centre. Please write Ship Theme before the characters in your reply. I have another idea! - Got an idea for a theme that isn’t in the poll? Pick this one and specify in replies what it is! Please specify even if someone has the same idea, or close to, as you. Please write Theme Suggestion before the theme in your reply. No theme - Don’t feel like sticking to a theme? Want to create an amalgamation of everyone’s mind stuff without any limits or guidelines? This choice is for you.

#fhr #sidestep #fallen hero #fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #fanzine #fallen hero fanzine 2024

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rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months

Text

a mini ficlette to say sorry for not uploading as much recently that ended up not at all being mini and being almost 1k words but im posting anyways bc i will get more consistent i swear

also posting on mobile (so the formatting is probably shit) so not doing taglist bc idk how to do that lol. will properly fix everything up when i get home have my precious laptop

enough blabbering, here is the ficlette!

“sarah!” you whisper again, but your friend doesn't budge. you sigh and climb out of bed, glad that its a california king, big enough for both of you to share comfortably, and for your thrashing not to wake her up.

you warned sarah that you were prone to nightmares and didn't mind sleeping on the floor or in one of the guest bedrooms, but sarah insisted it was fine to share as she's a deep sleeper. you look back at her as you slip out of the room, realizing just how true that is.

you walk down the stairs quietly, glad that the stairs don't creak too loudly. when you reach the first floor, you pause to make sure you didn't wake anyone up before wandering through the house. aimless pacing is your best solution to getting over a nightmare, moving your body to tire it out and easing your mind at the same time.

you hum softly to yourself, a comforting tune your mother used to sing to you when you were a child. you don't know the name of it, but the melody is cemented in your memory.

you admire the art on the wall, your eyes having adjusted to the moonlight shining through the windows enough to make it out. you see a movement out of the corner of your eye and gasp, turning when the noise reaches you of the front door closing.

“what are you doing awake?” rafe asks, his voice low as he sneaks back into the house. what you didn't know is that he stayed out late just to avoid you, not wanting to get involved with his sisters friend but unable to control his emotions when around you.

“i-i had a nightmare.” you explain, eyebrows knitting together as you wait to hear the judgement coming from rafe. a scoffing laugh at still getting nightmares, maybe him calling you immature, a child, but it doesn't come. in fact, his face softens.

“im sorry.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, briefly pushing it off his forehead before it falls immediately back into place. “what usually helps?”

“walking around.” you wave your hand in the air, indicating that you just wander.

“can i join you then?” rafe offers, and you give a small nod. “yeah. yeah, totally.” you smile as rafe comes to your side, joining each other in slowly walking around the first floor of the house. you're silent for a couple minutes before you start to hum again, not missing the smile that graces rafes face when your tune begins.

your music is interrupted by yawns, until you're doing more yawning than whistling.

“come on, let's get you to bed.” rafe says when you pass in front of the stairs, a firm hand on your back. you nod, letting him partially support your weight as you walk up the stairs.

“thanks, rafe.” you say softly when you reach his door.

“will you be okay?” he asks, a hand smoothing over your hair, his fingers twirling the end before dropping it. “i mean, with your nightmare.”

“i-i probably will be.” you say honestly. usually once you have a nightmare that wakes you, you don't have another when you manage to get back to sleep.

“you can-” rafe clears his throat, his eyes darting around your face. “you can sleep in my bed. if you want… with me.” rafe clarifies after a moment when you just silently stare at him.

“like… cuddle?” you question, wanting to make sure his intentions are very clear.

“yeah. cuddle. i can hold you so you don't have any more nightmares.”

“yes. yeah” you nod, “id really like that, rafe.”

“okay.” rafe smiles, opening his door and letting you walk in first.

you don't spend time looking around the room, heading right for the bed hoping that rafe doesn't see your shaking hands.

rafe moves with you, pulling back the covers so you can climb in, and you let out a soft sigh when your head rests against the pillows. you lay still as rafe adjusts next to you, pulling the covers over both your bodies.

you're silent for a moment, before rafe turns and looks at you in the low light, “gonna come closer?”

you let out a soft giggle, sliding to meet rafe in the middle of the bed. his arms wrap around you, your head coming to lay on his chest, feeling natural and right as you lay a leg over his, your bodies fitting together as if they were meant to be.

“if a nightmare wakes you up and for some reason it doesn't wake me up, just shake me awake.”

“okay… thank you rafe.” you say, laying a hand over his chest.

rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand coming to cautiously rest on your lower back, and when you let out a hum of approval, he begins to rub over your pajama shirt.

“what do you think sarah is going to say when she wakes up and im not there?”

“don't worry about sarah. don't worry about anything right now, y/n. let's just get some sleep and we can worry about things in the morning.”

“okay.” you nod, picking your head up to look at rafe, his skin reflecting blue from the moonlight. you lean forward and press a light kiss to his jaw, and then another stronger, more meaningful kiss to his cheek. you move for his mouth but pause before you fully make contact.

“in the morning.” you whisper, not wanting to make a serious move on a sleep deprived brain, and rafe nods, eyelashes fluttering.

“in the morning.”

#bruh #sorry this is like #messy and probably a terrible fic im just like #DEAD #but take this as my apology <3 some fluff #not gonna tag anything bc ill probably completely delete this post and reupload the fic #okay yayyy thanks love yall!

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xxmaxwellxx · 1 month

Text

Hello! Sorry for the delay but I’ve finished my first Yandere oc fanfic! Writers block and anxiety are a pain. Anyway, this is my first fanfic and I’m a tad dyslexic so forgive me for any mistakes! Please let me know if I missed anything with the trigger warnings and sorry for the formatting issues, I wrote this on my laptop. Also please give me constructive criticism and feedback! I’d like to start a blog dedicated to my writing and fanfic so any help is appreciated!

Tw: stalking, obsession and general Yandere behavior.

Gn reader (referred to with they/them pronouns)

Today was a nightmare, we had at least fifty customers during the lunch rush and what's worse is that a guy came in and was sitting at the same table for five hours and only left 30 minutes before closing, the clattering of plates echoing behind me as I wipe down his table, my body feeling like concrete, but I'm forced to keep going. Something crinkles and falls to the ground. Picking it up, I see it's a recipe with (XXX)-XXX-XXXX ‘call me ;)’ on the bottom. I let out a sigh, wading it up and throwing it in the garbage. Of course, he would do that. The guy who refused to leave was also a creep. Just as I'm about to leave, I notice a shadowy figure lingering outside the café, their gaze fixed on me. A chill runs down my spine, but I shake it off, attributing it to the exhaustion of the day. “Hey, I'm going to head out! Could you lock up for me?” I call out to Delilah, the nice old woman in the back. I grab my stuff after she responds in the affirmative. The bell ringing as I head out. I walk to the same bus stop I take every day, the last bus picking me up so often that the bus driver knows me by name.

Sitting down on the bench, I pull out my phone, scrolling through insta. A post from a famous influencer, a post of someone's dog in a newly knit sweater, someone advertising their small business. Just what you'd expect to see, but what I didn't expect was someone sitting next to me. I glance over at them, he’s wearing a white hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. Nothing out of the ordinary except for his face, what was up with his face? Sunglasses? Why was he wearing sunglasses at night? He turns his head and I quickly turn away and look back at my phone, but I can feel him staring at me, practically burning a hole in the side of my head. I shrink into myself a little, his gaze never leaving me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I can't make out his expression, his face completely obscured by a surgical mask. Should I speak up? Why was he just staring? Was there something on my clothes? Do I offend? The bus screeches to a halt in front of me, and I jump to my feet, quickly hurrying into a seat. Jeremy, the bus driver, gives me a weird look but doesn't say anything. I see the man board the bus, and I hope that he won't sit anywhere near me. That hope is instantly shattered when he stops in front of me. He's tall and intimidating. The light shines off his long black hair, creating a shadow over his face as he looks down at me. I can feel dread knotting up my stomach, I want to cry. I didn't even notice the tears gathering in my eyes, he holds something up, but I can't see it. I blink, the tears fall and I realize he's holding up my bag, “You forgot this.” his voice is low and gravelly like he just woke up. “Oh, thanks.” I say quietly, quickly taking my bag from him.

I look away, turning my gaze out the window, suddenly finding the passing cars more interesting than whatever he was doing at the moment. “I like your apron.” I side eye him, he's staring at me again. I didn't humor him with a response, “Where did you get it?” he's not going to stop talking, is he? “My grandma made it for me.” it wasn't anything amazing, just a blue and white striped apron with a cute rubber duck on the pocket. “It's very cute.” I hum in response, trying not to engage. Trying not to give him fuel to keep going. But despite my efforts, he does.

“I like your hair.”, “Where do you work?”, “How was your day?”, “Do you like work?”, question after question. A never ending string of words. I try to ignore him, to not give him enough to keep going. But he does. The bus stops, and I stop tuning him out to jump up, remembering to grab my bag, and hurry off the bus and away from him. I speed walk to my apartment building, up the side stairs and to my door. I reach into my pocket and I don't feel anything. My heart speeds up as a cold sweat covers my body. Where's my keys? I start to hyperventilate as I check my clothes. My front pockets, back pockets, apron pocket, shirt pocket. They aren't there. They aren't anywhere. I could have sworn I took my keys out of my locker. Did I drop them on the bus? Did they fall out on the sidewalk?

I let out a scream when I feel a hand on my shoulder, whipping around I see the man from the bus and I suddenly have something much bigger to worry about. I open my mouth to scream, at him, for help, I don't know, when he holds up my keys. The fluffy blue pompom and rubber duck keychains bouncing from how fast he lifted them. “I’m sorry, but these fell out of your pocket.” our hands brush as he quickly hands me my keys and speed walks down the stairs, he makes to the bottom and I shout a “Thank you!” after him. Maybe I judged him too quickly.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They touched me. I can't believe it, they touched me! I can't believe I've at last managed to approach them, emerging from the shadows where I've lingered for so long. Turning the corner, I slide down the wall, quietly giggling to myself because oh my god they touched me! The streetlight over head flickers as I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to muffle the laughs that are bubbling up and out of my mouth.

I followed them out to the bus stop they sit at every day, they're so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off them. They left their bag by the bench, I don't know why, but they seemed freaked out and left in a hurry. Poor thing must have had a horrible day, worse than I thought, if they're that anxious. I was taught to be nice, people like it when you're nice, so I brought them their bag. They looked so cute when they looked up at me. What wasn't cute was the tears gliding down their cheeks. My stomach was in knots as I handed them their bag. I hate seeing them cry, so I did what helped me. I asked them easy questions, trying to distract them from whatever was making them cry. They must have been really sad because they were giving short answers. As the bus came to a stop in front of their apartment building, I slipped their keys out of their pocket. Maybe a happy accident would cheer them up, even if it was artificial. My voice was stuck in my throat as I followed them off the sidewalk, my heart was beating rapidly as I followed them up the stairs. They're looking for their keys. Fuck. No turning back now. I can't be a coward now, I grab their shoulder and they scream. I look so creepy, god, just say something! “I’m sorry, but these fell out of your pocket.” I sounded like I total loser, but sounding like a loser was better than them fearing me, even if for a moment. It felt heavenly when our fingers brushed against one another, their voice like an angel when they shouted thank you. If only they'd let me hold their hand, walk them home, kiss them goodnight. But this will have to do for now.

I'll see you again soon, my love.~

#fanfic #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere #yandere oc

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

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Ayo heard you want horny brainrots well I (🦝) have been summoned.

I don't know what your preferences are. Men, women, both, neither but personally I would fuck just about anything that is off age and willing so that being said

I absolutely adore Beidou. She is so fucking hot. She's powerful, strong willed, breathtakingly gorgeous and overall just step on me, captain I am actually begging. On top of that, she wields a claymore, the back amd shoulder muscle she must have? On God?? Yes, MA'AM.

Realistically she probably has a bunch of scars and a sun tan and overall I think Beidou might be the hottest woman in all of Genshin. Genshin has many hot women but no one surpasses her. My queen. My goddess. My love. My main since day ONE. (that's a lie but she was in fact the forst character I pulled)

Alright I'm going to take my brain and wring it out like a wet towel to give you some more asks. Cya in the next one

✿ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 ♡︎

characters: beidou x gn! reader

warnings: fluff, angst, there will be nsfw but it’s not as wild as my other posts, both reader and beidou are switch, cute domestic shits, kazuha being y’alls adopted son (kinda)

notes: 🦝anon, my beloved, i have already made it clear that i’m a raging bisexual so yes, women♥️. women, men, sexy human look alike puppets with god and inferiority complex, idc gimme them all! went with head cannons format with this one i hope you don’t mind. also i’m so sorry my beloved 🦝 anon, i took so long to answer😭😭

aahhh yes beidou

i’m pretty sure everyone took one look at her and went “i’m sat”

and yes 🦝 anon she would have the muscles, sun tan i mean come on she stays out in the sea for as long as she wants, scars and damn did i mention muscles whew it’s getting hot in here

absolutely would spoil tf out of you

jewels, foods, all kinds of trinkets from the places she’s been to before

and if you were to talk it out with her and won’t get seasick easily, she won’t hesitate to ask you to come with her on her ship alongside the crux

after basically adopting kazuha, you two would almost become his pseudo parents in a sense

beidou is the fun carefree mom while you are the parent that frets over him as if he’s a baby

and everytime she sees you scolding kazuha over the smallest of things such as scratching his pretty face she won’t hesitate to tease you in all kinds of ways

general nicknames would be “darling” “your highness”(teasingly) “my treasure”

“[NAME]! MY TREASURE! GUESS WHO CLAPPED THE BIG NOBUSHI GUYS’ ASSES BAREHANDED!”

“OH MY ARCHONS BEIDOU YOU’RE BLEEDING!!!”

if you were to ever kiss her scars or wounds while treating her she would just melt

“ahaha… oh darling, what did i ever do to deserve you?”

due to her past of being hated by the village she was taken in, sometimes beidou would have a very horrific and detailed nightmares or thoughts of you leaving her because she is ‘cursed’

would hate to burden you but will gently stir you awake to ask for cuddles and kisses

“i-i’m sorry, treasure. i-i just… please? hold me?”

please don’t degrade her even as a joke

since you’re someone so dear to her heart, even if she were to laugh it off as a joke on the outside, she would be thinking all sorts of bad thoughts on the inside

i feel like she would give the best hugs and piggyback rides

if you’re both walking around and you’re getting tired or wounded, she won’t hesitate to squat down in front you or carry you bridal style

is so so incredibly gentle with you

she knows she’s strong, she knows she’s powerful i mean she struck down haishan, the leviathan while visionless

and due to that knowledge she’s afraid she might accidentally hurt you in some way, even when she knows you’re not some fragile doll

i can’t really see her being a sub honestly

i feel like she would be either a switch or a soft dom

is into face-sitting and i cannot stress this enough

whether it’s you sitting on her face with your juices gushing and squelching, your legs trembling to hold yourself up she won’t stop until she’s satisfied

“shh it’s okay darlin’ you’re doing sooo good. come on sit on my face, i wouldn’t mind and you know that”

or her sitting on your face as she grinds her slicky pussy into your mouth while moaning and calling you a good girl/boy as she grips your hair

it doesn’t matter which one it is, she’ll take it

will overstimulate you but in the gentlest way you get what i’m saying?

“aww there there. come on you can cum again. you can cum again right darlin’? yes you can treasure. come on cum for me. you can do it”

or it’s you absolutely worshipping every inch of her body

“haaangg~ oh yes, that’s it. keep mmggff! keep going. ah yeah, you’re making me feel so good treasure~”

sex with her would generally be very soft, slow and filled with praises

aftercare would be you two cuddling together after cleaning each other up and just talking of small topics like today’s weather, the next destination, which destination to go to next etc etc

just,,,, beidou🥹🫶

#nobu.writes #beidou x reader #beidou x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader angst #beidou smut #genshin smut #switch reader #🦝 anon

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quinns-shadowy-arts · 3 months

Text

Let Me Take Care of You

Day 1 of @steddielovemonth's February prompts aka Steddie Love Month! Rating: Mature CW: None Tags: Getting Together, Caring Steve Harrington, Post Season 4, AU- Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Making-out. WC: 1,039 Prompt: “Love is letting someone take care of you” submitted by: @starryeyedjanai

Note: This is my first time uploading my writing! This is also my first ever post to Tumblr, so sorry if there's any mistakes or weird formatting! This definitely isn’t the best thing I’ve written, but it has been a really long time since I’ve written something. So I’m still proud of it!

Steve and Eddie have been seeing each other a lot since March. After Vecna was killed, molotov cocktails blazing, and guns ringing out in triumph; Steve had pulled Eddie out of the Upside Down with his own two hands. He carried Eddie on his back to the Harrington house, where he nourished Eddie back to health. Steve spent everyday with Eddie, taking care of him. Restitching his wounds when Eddie ripped them back open, washing his hair with expensive shampoos and hair masks, and catering to Eddie’s every need while he slowly restored his body back to something more functional. Point is, Steve and Eddie spend a lot of time together.

It didn’t stop once Eddie was out of recovery. Steve still kept him in his home. Even after the government scrambled to repent for their negligence by giving the Munson’s a brand new trailer, Steve still dropped by to see Eddie.

That’s where they are now, in the new trailer watching a movie. Eddie picked out the movie, but he isn’t really paying attention. He is fiddling with the loose threads of his pants and tossing the occasional glance to Steve. Steve is paying attention to the movie, as far as Eddie can tell. Steve’s eyes are reflecting the light of the TV, the smile lines around his eyes deepen whenever he laughs at a dumb joke, his chest is rising with every breath; Steve looks good. He looks better than good, he looks dazzling. Eddie wants to jump him. He wants to crawl down the couch and onto Steve’s lap; to look into his eyes and make him smile for different reasons.

“Hey, you good man?” Steve asks, and maybe Eddie’s glances weren’t that occasional.

“Yeah sorry, just sorta- zoned out” Eddie smiles back.

“Are you sure? You haven’t been watching the movie that much. Have you been getting sleep?” Steve persists and Jesus Christ- he is so caring. He cares for everyone around him, the kids, Robin, Eddie; anyone in Steve's life is sure to never feel disregarded.

“Yeah, better than usual I think.” Eddie says. But then Steve slides over and wipes a tear off of Eddie’s face. He hadn’t even realized he was tearing up.

“Eds, you’re crying. What’s wrong?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow in concern. Eddie wants to kiss it away, to ease Steve the way Steve eases him back to comfort.

“It’s nothing man, don’t worry about it” Eddie mumbles. He would never be able to tell him. Steve has already seen him at his worst; bloody and oozy from still healing wounds, crying after a bad nightmare, naked and wet from the shower; but he couldn’t know that his best friend was crying from how lovey dovey he felt. Eddie couldn’t let Steve know about his mushy gushy feelings.

“Eddie, please tell me what’s wrong. Is anything hurting?” Steve looks at Eddie with big eyes and his brows furrow impossibly further. Eddie doesn’t want S to be so concerned over nothing. Maybe he can tell him why he’s all teary eyed.

“You just care so much, man. You give so much without anything in return. You always ask to make sure I’m ok, and you always haul the gremlins everywhere even though you know they won’t be paying you back for anything. I just want-” Eddie hesitates,

“I want to give you something in return. You make me feel so safe and cared for, I want to give that back to you.” Eddie finishes. Steve’s eyebrows raise in slight shock and blush begins to form on his cheeks.

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Eds. I take care of you because I want to, not because I want something in return.” Steve whispers. .

“But I want to give you something too, Stevie” Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes. They sit in silence, looking into each other's eyes. Eddie looks down first, he doesn’t mean to. He looks at Steve’s lips, they’re full and a beautiful apricot color.

S looks down once he notices where Eddie’s eyes have gone. He licks his lips without thinking about it. He sways forward slightly, maintaining eye contact with Eddie’s lips. Eddie wobbles forward in response, now they’re only a few inches apart. Eddie can feel Steve’s breath on his face. He so desperately wants to move forward, to connect their lips and let Steve know how he feels. But he’s scared. His heart is quickening its pace.His breath shortens in anticipation.

Steve moves in and their lips slot together. Eddie’s breath hitches;

‘Holy shit this is happening, Steve likes me? He’s kissing me holy shit holy shit holyshit-” And then he wasn’t.

“Sorry, you were looking at me and I thought that maybe you like me and you probably didn’t want that and I-” Steve rushes out, Eddie cuts him off by kissing him. He was too anxious and caught up in the moment to move before, but he wasn’t messing this up again.

Eddie moves his lips against Steve’s. He moves his hands up and onto Steve’s knee. He really wants Steve to know how much he likes him. Steve moves his hands up Eddie’s arms and onto his jaw. He kisses back with fervor.

Emboldened by Steve’s response, Eddie runs his hands up from Steve’s knee and into his hair. His rings catch onto some of Steve’s locks. Steve gasps at the tug of the metal,

“Eddie-” Steve moans

“Fuck, Stevie, I know” Eddie groans back. Eddie moves his hands back down to Steve’s shoulders. He pushes Steve backwards and into the back of the couch. Steve goes willingly, shifting his hips back to give Eddie space. Eddie throws his leg over Steve’s lap. He feels Steve’s dick rub against his ass as he fully sits his weight down. Steve exhales, a whine slipping past his lips.

Eddie pulls back and looks into Steve’s eyes. They’re lidded and looking back at Eddie. The apricot of Steve’s lips have bloomed into a rosy color. They’re slick with spit and slightly parted. Steve’s chest heaves and his lips slide into a small smile. Looks like Eddie accomplished one of his goals, now for the more pressing one;

“Let me take care of you, Stevie.”

#steddie fanfic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddielovemonth #first post #steve harrington #eddie munson #hopefully this isnt too bad!

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